He pressed a hand to his chest.“Damon. And it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now will you join me for a round of golf?”
“I’m sorry, Damon,” said Chase. “We’re just here to ask you a couple of quick questions.”
“At the very least join me at the Legends Lounge. It’s where I hang out most of the time anyway,” he confessed. “Best part about golf is the socializing. Now come.”
It was more of an order than an invitation, but so charmingly delivered it was impossible to spurn. So they followed the actor through the entrance and into a one-story building that was exquisitely appointed, all lacquered floors and polished wood paneling.
He led the way to the lounge he’d mentioned, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows they had an excellent view of the links, where folks were playing the noble sport.
“I have a terrible handicap, I don’t mind admitting,” said Damon as they took a seat in leather armchairs around a round glass-topped table. The actor held up his hand and a young pimpled waiter came scurrying over, a towel draped on his arm. “Vodka martini,” said Damon, then turned a questioning gaze at Odelia and Chase.
“Just soda,” said Odelia.
“Same here,” said Chase.
“Still that same old gag about not drinking while on duty, eh?” said Damon with a twinkle in his eye. “I believe in starting early and keeping going unstintingly until the preprandial juices start flowing and digestion arrives at its peak.”
“I would have thought vodka martinis were your meals of choice,” said Odelia, who’d read the stories about the actor’s famous binges.
“Oh, now, Odelia, you shouldn’t believe everything you read in that paper of yours,” he chided.
The waiter came over with their drinks and Damon quaffed deeply from his, then held onto it while he bowed his head.“Do your worst, Detectives. I’m ready for you now.”
“Is it true that you and Dick Dickerson didn’t see eye to eye?” asked Chase.
Damon nodded.“That is indeed true. Dickerson was filth, Detective. He was filth and he printed filth. And it didn’t occur to him that the people whose lives he tried to destroy were human beings with feelings and friends and loved ones that could be hurt in his barrage of lies and horribly distorted ‘articles.’ I hated him and never made a secret of that.”
“What did he say about you, exactly?” asked Odelia, who had some idea.
Damon gazed out across the spreading and rolling links.“Oh, this and that. You do know that he was a close friend of President Wilcox? And that he did all he could to secure him his election? In fact he went all out on that—slandering Wilcox’s opponents and burying every single piece of gossip about Wilcox himself. And since I’ve been one of Wilcox’s most vocal opponents from day one, Dickerson directed some of his vitriol at me, too.”
“Do you think he kept some of those stories in his safe?”
“Right. Dickerson’s famous safe. Where he kept Tinseltown’s darkest secrets. Why?”
“His safe was emptied out by whoever killed him,” said Chase.
“I guess that makes sense. Though I can assure you that whatever he had on me, he printed without delay.”
“So he didn’t try to blackmail you? To try and stop you from imitating the President?”
“He tried at first. But when I refused he responded with a barrage of garbage.”
“That must have stung.”
Damon smiled, and took another sip.“I wore Dick Dickerson’s scorn like a badge of honor, Detective. In fact if he would have printed something nice about me it would have worried me more. Though there was one story that caused me to contact a defamation lawyer.” When they both stared at him, he spoke a single word. “Hogs.”
“Hogs?” asked Odelia, struck by the coincidence.
“Dickerson claimed I engaged in coitus with hogs.” He grimaced. “And I have a fairly good idea who put him up to it, too.”
So had Odelia. President Wilcox really did like to get down and dirty.
“Does a picture of a rose mean anything to you?” asked Chase.
“No, it doesn’t. Why?”
“We found it in Dickerson’s safe. We think the killer left it there on purpose.”
“I see. To send a message.” He mused for a moment. “No, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”
“Where were you last night between two and four, Mr. Galpin?”
“Home. Asleep.”
“Alone?”
He grinned widely.“Come on, Detective. Do I look like a man who would kiss and tell?” Chase cocked an eyebrow at the actor and he relented. “Oh, all right. If you must know, I was in bed with Lauralee Gray. I’m sure she’ll corroborate my ‘alibi.’”
“The actress?” asked Odelia, impressed.
Damon nodded once.“I may be old but I haven’t lost my touch, Odelia.” He was wiggling his eyebrows at this, probably thinking it made him look more appealing. In reality it made him look like a lecherous uncle.
“One other thing,” said Chase, who, if his frown was an indication, didn’t seem to like the way Damon was looking at Odelia. “There’s a rumor that President Wilcox and Dickerson fell out over something. Any idea what could have caused that rift?”