“Are they focusing on her to cover something up?” Mattheus asked.
“Could be,” said Roomey. “I hadn’t really thought of that. It can be pretty corrupt down this way. Paul and Kendra had money, position, a beautiful daughter. People get weird about all that.”
“Weird enough to kill?” asked Mattheus.
“All kinds of idiots floating around, who knows what they were thinking? Could be someone got jealous? Or maybe had a vendetta with Kendra?”
Mattheus wondered what they would have a vendetta with Kendra about, but let Roomey keep talking.
“Look, I’m not the detective. You are,” Roomey said. “I stepped over here because I wanted to help out.”
“I appreciate that,” said Mattheus. “Would you give me your card so we can keep in touch?” Mattheus said. “Seems like you have lots of answers.”
Roomey had no problem with that. He gave Mattheus his card quickly. “Got plenty of questions, too,” he said.
“Before I go now,” said Mattheus, “is there anything else you can think of? Any little detail at all?”
Roomey still looked troubled. “Well, there is one thing,” his voice dropped an octave, and it was hard to hear. “There was a private poker game each week between a bunch of us fellas, high stakes. Much too high, if you know what I mean.” He smiled unevenly, his face going out of whack. “Paul loved the game. He was good too, much too good if you asked me. That guy had the brain of an eel, slipping inside of cracks and corners, able to figure anything out. That’s what he lived for. Beating the odds.”
“He lost a lot?” Mattheus was fascinated.
“Just the opposite,” Roomed smiled again. “He cleaned up almost every time.”
“Cheated?”
“Nah, I told you, he had the brain of an eel.”
“So, why the hell did you guys keep playing with him?”
Roomey licked his lips. “The thrill of the game. It was worth it. I could afford it, but another guy couldn’t. He was in debt to Paul, big time. He just couldn’t stop playing. His debt kept growing. Paul liked lording it over him, having the guy cringe around him. Made Paul feel powerful.”
This was a completely different angle. Mattheus had to find out who the guy was, check him out. His bill could have gotten too big for him. What better way to get rid of it than to take out Paul?
“Thanks for telling me this,” said Mattheus. “Can you give me the guy’s names?”
“Nah,” said Roomey. “That’s private.”
“This is a murder investigation,” Mattheus grimaced.
Roomey nodded. “I know. I can’t give you his name, but I can tell you which guy in the casino knows who the players were in the game. There weren’t so many of us. It won’t be hard to track him down.”
This was one crafty guy. Mattheus was grateful. Obviously Roomey cared about his friend. “Anything else?” Mattheus pressed on.
Roomey still looked troubled. “Well, sooner or later you’re gonna hear this. Paul and Kendra were married a lot of years. She got a little lonely at the end. It wasn’t a big deal. Natural, if you asked me. Probably inevitable.”
It was natural, Mattheus thought, to get lonely, even after years with someone at your side. Mattheus suddenly liked the guy and respected him.
“How did you know she was lonely?” Mattheus wanted a little more.
“We talked a little bit from time to time. I’d call to talk to him and she’d pick up the phone.”
“She said she was lonely?”
Roomey got jittery. “Of course not. I just felt it. She’d hang on too long, want to talk more and more. That’s all I noticed.”
“And where were you the day Paul died?” Mattheus couldn’t help but ask.
Roomey slithered in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It’s routine,” said Mattheus, “nothing more. How did you hear about it?”
Roomey just smiled oddly. “Everyone who knew them was asked what they were doing that afternoon, but me. I was waiting for the time someone would ask me.”
“It’s routine,” said Mattheus repeated.
“Sure, I realize that. There was a design show at the museum in town that day. My drawings and models were exhibited at it. I was there all day. So were lots of others.”
Convenient, thought Mattheus. “And Kendra wasn’t there?”
“Usually she attends every year, but this time she woke up feeling lousy. Rotten luck for her, though.” His brow curled and his eyes glossed over. You could see how much it bothered him.
“You married yourself?” asked Mattheus.
Roomey drew back then, and tightened his jaw. He didn’t like the turn of the conversation.
“I’m not the marrying kind,” he said finally, between closed lips. “Never have been. Never will.”
Mattheus looked at him, on alert.
Roomey felt it immediately. “Is that another crime?” he asked, jittery.
It was something in the tone of his voice that put Mattheus off. “Of course not,” said Mattheus.
“How about you?” Roomey turned the tables then. “You the marrying kind?”