'That reporter-'
'Renee.'
'You know her?'
'Everyone on the Island knows Renee. She did a profile of Trey.'
'If she finds out you're here, she'll set up camp out front.'
She gestured at the screen. 'Where's Nick? Didn't he come?'
'No.'
'That's odd. I don't see any of the tour players. First round of the tournament in Houston is today, but still… you'd think some of the players would've come.'
'Freeze that frame, Bobby.' On the screen was the image of a very pretty and very young blonde woman. She looked like a high school girl. 'Is that Tess McBride?'
'No, that's Billie Jean Puckett. Pete's daughter. I don't see Pete.'
'What does he look like?'
'Like Rambo with a two-iron.'
'She looks like a kid.'
'She's only seventeen. She used to caddie for Pete, until he picked up Goose.'
'After Trey fired him.'
'Down in Mexico.' She frowned. 'You don't think Goose killed Trey?'
'Trey didn't pay Goose the hundred thousand he owed him. Goose wasn't happy about it. Bobby, fast forward to the cemetery.'
The tape sped up then slowed to normal speed. The scene showed a crowd gathered around a gravesite in a cemetery crowded with tall tombstones and small mausoleums as the casket was lowered into the ground. After the burial, the crowd lingered a while then drifted away. Except for Billie Jean Puckett.
'Why'd she stay after everyone else left?' Rebecca said. 'Why'd she come?'
They watched the image on the tape. The girl sat next to the grave and seemed to be sobbing. Rebecca stared silently at the screen. Finally, she turned to Scott.
'Why'd you think she was Tess?'
'Rebecca… Goose said Trey was having an affair with Tess.'
She shook her head. 'No. Tess played around, a lot, but not with Trey. We were friends, she wouldn't do that to me. Neither would Trey.'
'You did it to me.'
'I'm sorry, Scott.'
'No. I mean, it happens. Even when you think it'd never happen.'
'I would've known.'
'I didn't.'
'Will you take a polygraph?'
'To prove I didn't know about Tess?'
'To prove you didn't kill Trey. If you pass, the D.A. might drop the charges.'
'And if I don't pass?'
Scott didn't say anything.
'Don't worry, Scott, I'll pass. I'm not the Guilty Groupie.'
'So you'll do it?'
'Sure. And I don't believe Trey had an affair with Tess.'
That she agreed to take a polygraph told Scott all he needed to know about his client. But there was more he needed to know about his ex-wife.
'Why didn't you tell me the truth back then? How you really felt?'
They were walking the beach at sunset. It was peaceful out here, and with ten people living in the house, the beach offered the only privacy available for a confidential conversation between an attorney and client-or a man and his ex-wife.
'Scott, we learn when we're girls to lie to men.'
'Why?'
'To survive. So we don't hurt our man's fragile psyche and lose him and our place in life. 'Yes, honey, of course, you're the first'… 'Of course, you're the best'… 'Of course, I came.' '
'Did you lie to me about that?'
'No.'
'Are you lying now?'
'No.'
'How do I know?'
'You don't. Men never know when we're lying to them. Men don't want to know. Men can't handle the truth.'
'Do all women lie?'
'All women live in a man's world, so all women lie. They have to. At least all women who depend on a man for their survival. Everything we need comes from a man-our homes, our cars, our jewelry, our shoes-because it's a man's world. You see on TV these women writing books about dating and marriage, they're all titled 'How to Marry a Rich Man.' And the advice is to lie. Lie about your past, lie about your future, lie about your needs and wants and desires, lie about who you really are so he'll marry you. We lie to get married and we lie to stay married. We can't tell the truth and risk having our existence taken from us.'
'Men don't have a clue about women, do we?'
'Not a clue.'
They walked through the sand in silence.
'Scott, why do you think women buy millions of romance novels every year?'
'I don't know.'
'Because in romance novels the women aren't dependent on men, not sexually or financially. They're in control of their bodies and their bank accounts, they have the power, they have the money. Not being financially dependent on a man, that's a woman's true romantic fantasy.'
'I guess we should make women take polygraphs before marriage.'
'We'd find a way to beat it. Truth or lie, right or wrong, black or white-that's a man's life. Women live in shades of gray.'
Scott stared down the sand to the girls playing in front of the house with little Maria and Consuela in a Mexican peasant dress. Louis stood nearby reading his book.
'Will Boo and Pajamae lie to men?'
'Yes, they will.'
'I don't want them to.'
'Then go back to Ford Stevens and make millions so they'll be financially independent. So they can be honest with the men in their lives. So they don't have to hide who they really are. So they won't have to compete for their men every day of their lives.'
'Compete for their men?'
'Scott, a woman always has to compete for her man.'
'Why?'
'Because in every woman's life, there's always another woman.'
Rebecca spoke as if reading a verse from the Bible.
'The players competed on the course, we competed for the players off the course. More tour women working out in the fitness trailer than tour players.'
'That's what Nick said.'
She patted her flat abs. 'Two hundred sit-ups a day, an hour on the StairMaster, another hour on the Bowflex. I could compete.'
She was in very good shape. Which was evident in the skimpy yellow bikini. The sea breeze brought her scent to him. He breathed her in.
'And it's worse for a beautiful woman.'