“I was wondering when I’d have this conversation. I thought he might come up as soon as I heard about Primo Ekerling.”

Stunned, Marge tried not to stare. “You know Primo Ekerling?”

Wenderhole scratched his stubble. “Close the door. I got a story to tell you.”

CHAPTER 29

DRESSED IN WHITE pants, a yellow polo shirt, and a brimmed cap, Phil Shriner had just finished with his power walk around the grounds of his retirement home when he found Oliver waiting for him in front of bungalow 58. Inside, the space was still claustrophobic with furniture, although some of the hardwood floor was peeking through. Shriner took a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and poured two glasses’ worth. He opened the patio door, went outside, and leaned over the railing. Oliver stood next to him and Shriner handed him a glass. The retired detective’s backyard overlooked the number 6 fairway. He checked his watch. “I’m due to tee off in a half hour.”

Oliver sipped the lemonade. “But I told you this might take some time.”

“I don’t have anything to add beyond our first encounter. I don’t know why you bothered coming out at all.”

“Then I’ll make it quick,” Oliver said. “I think you’re lying to me about Melinda Little.”

Shriner’s head snapped back. “Well, that was blunt. So I’ll be blunt back. Frankly, I don’t care what you think.”

“C’mon, Phil. You know how it works. You don’t want to make it hard on yourself. Just be straight and I’ll leave you alone.”

He stared at Oliver. “What’s your problem? You’re getting nowhere, so you’re bugging people to see what drops?”

“Okay. Let me get this out. I think that Melinda Little’s gambling problem predated her husband’s death. She was flushing money down the toilet way before the murder. We suspect that you knew that, too.”

“Maybe I suspected it, but I didn’t know it. And why would that matter?”

“Because, Phil, if she was heavily in debt before the murder, she might have viewed Bennett Little’s insurance policy as a ticket out.”

“I wouldn’t know. I told you I met her after her husband died.”

“We have witnesses that put you two together before Little was murdered,” Oliver fibbed.

“Then your witnesses are lying. I met her after her husband was already dead.” Shriner gave him a steely glare. “She had been gambling heavily, and I gave her a shoulder to cry on. She was desperate and I was rock bottom. I joined Gamblers Anonymous first and convinced her to come to a meeting. That’s the extent of our relationship. One forged in misery.”

“So tell me again about this scheme you cooked up because she spent the insurance money.”

“We’re mining old territory.”

“Indulge me.”