“Mind if I ask why you’re here? Especially since the pros don’t like you and you don’t seem to like them.”

“I’m investigating.” He leaned across the table, making a point of brushing her arm. “There’s been a murder.”

O’Brien played along gamely. “Really? You know, I think I heard something about that.”

Peregino jabbed his thumb at his chest. “I’ve got the inside track.”

“You do? What is it?”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Ace Silverstone was not in his cabin at the time of the murder.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went to see him, to remind him of the rules and regulations regarding private camera crews during tournament play.” He popped another sunflower seed in his mouth. “Only he wasn’t there.”

“So you think he’s the murderer?”

Peregino pursed his lips. “I think it’s pretty damn suspicious, don’t you? If he wasn’t in his cabin, where was he?”

Who knows, O’Brien thought. Getting a sandwich, maybe? But she played along. “Have you told the police?”

“Not yet. I will in time. I want to see if I can crack this case myself.”

“Yourself?”

“Why not? I am a cop, after all. Sort of. And if I pulled that off, the boys would almost have to respect me.” He brushed aside the centerpiece and leaned even closer to her. “But enough about these gruesome matters. I’m sure a pretty thing like you doesn’t want to talk about some nasty old homicide.”

O’Brien resisted rolling her eyes. Here we go, she thought.

“What say you and I go for a stroll outside by the fountain? I know a private spot in the magnolia glade where we could get to know each other much better.”

“Thanks, but I’m meeting a friend.”

“Yeah, right. We both know you didn’t come over to my table by accident, pretty lady. You saw something you wanted. So why don’t you just let me give it to you and stop playing hard to get?”

O’Brien suppressed her strong desire to barf. “I don’t think so.”

He grabbed her arm and gave her a strong jerk. “I’ll put something between your legs that’ll keep you warm till New Year’s.”

“I said, no.” She jerked her hand free.

He didn’t back off. “C’mon, you stupid tramp. Let me give you what you need.”

“No, let me give you what you need.” She picked up her champagne flute and upended it over his head.

The yellow-tinted liquid cascaded down his face and across his chest. “Stupid bitch,” he muttered.

“Did I forget the hors d’oeuvre? Damn, I think I forgot the hors d’oeuvre.” She picked up a deviled egg and smashed it into his face.

She brushed her hands off, then stood. Peregino’s lips parted, but she stopped him with a finger. “One more word, jerkoff, and I’m going for the punch bowl.”

Peregino remained mute.

It would be nice to find O’Brien, Conner thought, and besides, after that meal, if he didn’t move around a bit he was probably going to fall asleep.

From a distance, he spotted Freddy on the opposite side of the ballroom.

Conner’s step quickened. I’d like to have a few words with that man, he thought. And not just about the wedding festivities, either.

Conner started moving across the room, pushing his way through streamers and revelry. To his surprise, however, he found that Freddy was moving even faster than he was. A sudden rush for the men’s room? No, Freddy passed that by without even blinking. Where was he going? And why was he in such a hurry?

One thing was clear: Freddy was headed toward the central staircase. He hit the first step and started up, fast as was possible without creating a scene. Conner quickened his own pace. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to lose him.

Conner hit the staircase and followed, trying not to be spotted. He didn’t know what Freddy was rushing toward, but whatever it was, Conner suspected it wouldn’t go down if Freddy knew he was watching.

Freddy hit the landing, turned right, and started down a long corridor. Conner did the same, several steps behind. Fortunately, the corridor was dark, with lots of shadows he could duck into if necessary, and the plush carpeting prevented his footsteps from being audible.

They appeared to be passing a series of rooms-probably the administrative offices for the country club. At the end of the corridor was a large mahogany door with an oversized brass doorknob. Freddy quickly opened the door, then slid into the dark room beyond, shutting the door behind him.

Conner tiptoed to the end of the corridor, then pressed his ear to the door. He didn’t hear anything. If Freddy was having a secret meeting, they must be communicating in sign language.

Perhaps Freddy just needed to get something. Or get rid of something.

Whatever it was, Conner would never find out standing on this side of the door.

Gently, he laid his hand on the doorknob and turned. There was a tiny creaking noise. Conner froze: had Freddy heard? Or anyone else? He didn’t detect any signs of it. Slowly, he pushed the door wider…

The room inside was dark; the only light streamed in from the open window, and that wasn’t much. As far as Conner could see, it was a bedroom, and a magnificent one at that. Why would they have a bedroom in a country club? he wondered. And why would Freddy be in it? Surely he had more important things he needed to be doing at the moment.

Conner saw a passage at the opposite side of the room. Leading to a bathroom? he speculated. Or another room altogether? He didn’t know, and once again, the only way he was going to find out was by creeping over and taking a look-see…

Conner had almost made it to the passageway when he heard footsteps. Fast footsteps, from inside the room. Freddy was returning the way he came.

Conner leapt out of the passage, out of sight. He glanced back at the outer door. It was too far away. He’d never get there in time.

Damn! How’d he let himself get into this mess? How would he ever explain to Freddy why he’d been sneaking around behind him? Worse, if Freddy really was the culprit, this would be a sure tip-off that Conner was onto him.

Conner spotted a closet an arm’s reach away. Without even thinking, he pulled the door open and ducked inside.

It was dark in the closet, no big surprise. Though Conner couldn’t see anything, he could feel what he suspected were coats all around him, crowding him. He had to brace himself against the frame to keep from falling against the door and blowing his cover.

Conner heard the footsteps stop, somewhere just beyond the closet. For some reason, Freddy wasn’t leaving, wasn’t going back to the party. Damn! What if he decided to lie down and read Gone With the Wind or something? Conner might never get out of here!

An instant later, Conner heard a familiar creaking noise. Someone was opening the door to the outer corridor. He felt certain it wasn’t Freddy, though. Freddy hadn’t budged from his spot just outside the closet.

It seemed there was going to be a meeting, after all.

Conner pressed his ear against the door. He could hear voices, two of them, both low and hushed. He thought one of them was Freddy, naturally, but he couldn’t make out the other one. And he couldn’t understand what they were saying, either. Although, as the conversation continued, it became progressively clear that they were arguing. Their voices gradually rose and became more agitated. After a few minutes, they were loud enough that Conner could pick up some of what was being said.

“Why’d you come here?” He was almost certain that voice was Freddy. Even muted, it had Freddy’s distinctive squeal. “Do you want people to know?”

There was a muffled reply from the other person.

“What? Here? Surely you don’t think I’m going to do that.”

Do what? Conner thought, gritting his teeth. What were they talking about?

A few moments later, he heard Freddy say: “I tell ya, that’s not enough. I need more. Much more!”