“It is a studio apartment; maybe you need to find someplace else to live until you’ve sorted things out with your daughters and decided what’s happening with Olivia,” Mel said.
“You can bunk with me for a small fee,” Ray said.
Marty glared at him. “No.”
“Marty, that’s rude,” Mel said.
“Sorry. No, thank you,” Marty said. “I’ll figure it out. Maybe I’ll sleep in the van tonight.”
“No, we talked about this,” Mel said. “No more sleeping in the van for anyone. If your daughters caught you doing that, you know they’d haul you back home in a heartbeat.”
Marty pointed a bony finger at the bag. “What’s that?”
“Mel’s outfit,” Ray said. He thrust it at Mel. “Speaking of which, we need to get going.”
“Where are you going?” Marty asked. “The wedding rehearsal is in three hours.”
“The Palms Country Club,” Ray said. “We’ve got a lead on who might have killed Elise. Mel is going undercover to see what she can find out. She’ll be back in plenty of time.”
Marty glanced between them and started to take off his apron. “The Palms? Hang on, I’m coming with you.”
“You?” Ray asked. “How are you going to fit in at a country club with a tennis pro?”
“Are you kidding? I can ace being a tennis player. All I have to do is know when to jam the drop-shot lingo at them. Besides, if I make a call indicating I’m looking to be a member and they run my financials, they’ll be all over themselves to let me in. It’ll give me a chance to snoop around and see if I can learn anything of interest.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Ray said. “You’re loaded. If you change your mind about needing a place to sleep, my fee just went up.”
“Why do I get the feeling that this is a bad idea—so, so bad?” Mel asked.
Ray thrust the bag at her. “Go.”
• • •
The Palms Country Club sat in the heart of the neighborhood. It was built in the fifties to cater to the wealthy and it had never changed. Mel chose to drive her car, and she turned onto the palm tree–lined drive into the country club, stopping at the gatehouse.
A man in uniform—a goldenrod-colored polo shirt with a palm tree logo embroidered on the upper left, and navy pants—leaned into her car window. He took in her tennis outfit, and Marty in his Bermuda shorts and golf shirt beside her. He glanced between them, obviously trying to figure out if they were related or if Marty was her sugar daddy. Mel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“Good afternoon, may I help you?”
Ray was under a blanket on the backseat of her car and Mel hoped the guard didn’t see the lump he formed. She decided to turn her charm meter up to that of super cheerleader wattage.
“Hi, I’m a guest,” Mel said. She did big gestures while she talked, hoping to keep the guard’s eyes on her. “I’m Melanie Cooper, and I brought my friend Martin Zelaznik with me, as he’s considering membership.”
“How do,” Marty said. He leaned forward so the guard could get a better look at him. The guard studied him for a minute and then wrote Marty’s name down on the clipboard.
“I’m going to call ahead and let someone in membership know you’re coming,” he said. “Just a moment.”
He ducked back into his booth.
“Is he gone?” Ray asked. “Ow, ow, ow, my back is seizing up.”
“Hush,” Marty said. He faked a coughing fit on the off chance the guard heard Ray.
“Here you go, Ms. Cooper.” The guard came back with a paper parking slip for her to hang on her rearview mirror. “Guest parking is just to the south of the entrance. Enjoy your day.”
“Thank you,” she said. She sped away from the station and through the open gates. “Okay, we’re clear. You can get up now.”
Ray burst out from under the blanket like a whale breaching the ocean’s surface. He sucked in a great gulp of air as if he’d been suffocating.
“Settle down,” Marty snapped. “Sheesh, you’re all red in the face and sweaty looking.”
“I don’t like small dark spaces,” Ray said.
“You were under a blanket,” Marty retorted. “Relax.”
“Both of you, pipe down,” Mel said. “I need to get to the tennis court in two minutes.”
She parked and they hurried from the car. Mel’s outfit was about two sizes too big and she wasn’t sure if she was mad at Ray for thinking she was bigger than she was or not. As it was, her skirt was being held up by a row of safety pins. Ray carried her tennis racket for her. He told her if anyone asked who he was she was to tell them he was her bodyguard.
As soon as they stepped through the front doors, a woman in a plum-colored suit tailored to fit her every curve greeted them.
“Mr. Zelaznik, what a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’m Courtney Reyes. Our membership committee chairperson just called and said I was to give you a full tour of the club. If you’re ready?”
Marty looked at the beautiful woman and then at Ray and Mel. His eyebrows were high on his forehead. “See ya, kids.”
He walked away without looking back.
“How does that ugly buzzard have all the luck?” Ray asked.
“Tennis,” Mel said. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Focus, Ray.”
“Yeah, yeah, got it,” he said. He took Mel’s elbow and hustled her through the building, passing a restaurant, a lounge, a gym, and a conference room before pushing through another door that led outside. They followed the oleander-lined walkway, which led to a series of tennis courts.
Mel could her the repeated pah of tennis balls being hit and she felt her hands sweat. Probably, she should have mentioned the only time she’d ever played tennis was in gym in high school, and during that unfortunate season she had only managed to hit the ball over the net once, lobbing it right into
