Chapter Twenty
Juliette was still contemplating the ramifications of a potential dinner with Clayton when Charlie found her at the tent opening. He looked flushed and flustered, glancing over his shoulder at the Floyd Flock as they waved at him and blew him kisses.
“What did you say to them?” Juliette asked.
“Nothing really, I was just asking what they knew about the renovations on the club and Warren’s passing,” Charlie said, but his cheeks turned slightly pink. “You know, when they’re not shouting obscenities at you for skipping the line, they’re really quite charming.”
“Ah, they thought you were cute,” Juliette surmised. “Did they slap your butt?”
“They did!” Charlie said in surprise. “One of them slipped me her number and I assumed it was because she needed a consult, but that was very incorrect.”
“Oh, she wanted to consult something,” Juliette said. “Did you find out anything useful, other than that you’re prime cougar bait?”
“Warren certainly had his share of enemies and long-standing grudges among people who were supposedly his closest friends,” Charlie said.
“Every woman in the Floyd Flock had a story of how Warren had taken over a business, or bought one out from under someone else, or leveraged a secret to strong-arm someone into a deal. Apparently there was even a third family that helped found Pacific Pines, and Warren effectively cut them out of the club when they hit financial straits.”
“Not just cut them out of the club, but the narrative of its history,” Juliette said, thinking back to the pictures of Warren and the Piedmonts lining the club entryway. “What about June and Robert? Did they have any stories of Warren screwing them out of a business deal?”
“Ah, well, you were certainly right about the Piedmonts needing money,” Charlie said, glancing over her shoulder at a woman wearing a Chanel suit with heavy lipstick.
“Doris’s husband works at the bank where the Piedmonts get their real estate loans, and they’re heavily overextended.
As in, about to default on several thirty-year loans that have balloon payments due. ”
Juliette nodded. “I suspected as much based on what I saw from their financials, but they’ve been posting record profits for several years now. How is it possible for them to be overextended?”
“According to Doris, and this is very strictly off the record and I may owe her a private tennis lesson for it, they’ve been using the club as collateral.
Warren signed the documents as co-owner, but he came into the bank the other day asking about some paperwork he received, demanding to speak to the bank president. Throwing the word fraud around a lot.”
Juliette tapped her lip thoughtfully. “The Piedmonts get in over their head with their real estate business, put the club up as collateral to get more loans to pay off their bad loans, and forge Warren’s signature on the paperwork so he doesn’t get wise to their scheme.
They don’t anticipate the bank reaching out to Warren directly. ”
“Why wouldn’t Warren just turn them in for fraud?” Charlie wondered.
Juliette shook her head. “Warren wasn’t the kind of man to let a betrayal like that go.
He would have made sure they paid for their transgressions with public humiliation.
I mean, he basically threatened as much to Chipper Floyd.
Speaking of our mutual connection, what did the Flock have to say about their beloved idol? ”
“That he was wronged ten years ago and the poor man deserved a chance to restore his legacy,” Charlie said with a shrug. “The usual cult stuff.”
“Did anyone know why he had to leave ten years ago?”
“There’s certainly enough gossip about it, ranging from an illegitimate child he had with a senator’s wife to a car crash where he allegedly killed someone.”
“And these women still worship him?” Juliette shuddered.
“I need to get into that locker room and find that whiskey bottle. If I can give Detective Marks hard evidence that someone dosed Warren, I could at least convince him to reopen the investigation. I don’t suppose you can create a convincing distraction and allow yourself to get tackled by the security guards so I can slip past? ”
But Charlie’s gaze was fixed just over Juliette’s shoulder, his expression falling. “You might get your wish about security guards tackling us, because June Piedmont is headed our way now looking like an avenging angel.”
Juliette whirled just in time to intercept June Piedmont, who did indeed look wrathful. Well, as wrathful as a face full of muscle relaxers could. “Juliette Winters, what an utter surprise to find you here.”
“June, you’ve put on quite the display here, haven’t you?
” Juliette said smoothly. As if she were going to let a potential murderer get the upper hand on her—please.
She didn’t win Most Argumentative on her high school debate team because she demurred on the cross-examination.
“How could any potential new member resist foie gras and golf lessons from an infamous player? But that was the point, wasn’t it?
Open the ultraexclusive doors of Pacific Pines to bring in all those fresh new members and their fat bank accounts? ”
June’s eyes narrowed, which was going to give her a bad case of crow’s-feet if she wasn’t careful.
“How dare you? I knew you would cause trouble from the moment Warren mentioned that little book project of his, and you’ve done nothing but stir up problems since his terrible passing.
As if we aren’t all grieving enough, now I hear you’re going around interrogating and accusing our respected members.
I won’t stand for it, do you hear me! I won’t stand for it!
What we need right now is to heal and move on, not let common trash like you turn us against each other.
I want you out of my club and off my property this instant.
” June signaled the closest security guard, grabbing Juliette’s arm as if she might make a break for it like Duffel Bag.
Which was fair, because she wasn’t about to leave Pacific Pines without that evidence.
But before Juliette could make a scene, someone else beat her to it.
A tall, rail-thin Asian man in a black chef’s jacket with sleeve tattoos peeking out at the wrists came storming through the main tent flap.
June looked startled, her expression immediately shifting to fear and then a panicked sort of enthusiasm.
“Troy, darling,” she said loudly. “Your dumplings are once again the talk of the club. Why don’t you come meet—”
“Where is he?” Troy demanded in a voice loud enough to command the attention of the entire tent. “Where is that bastard Brad Ellingham? I’m going to kill him!”