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We met Laia’s ex-boyfriend at his club, as before, though I wondered why a tennis pro who couldn’t play tennis on account of his injury would still be hanging out at his club. But then I guess a tennis club is probably about more than simply playing tennis. It’s also about meeting friends and influencing people.

Bud didn’t seem particularly thrilled to see us, though he was gracious enough about it. No one likes to be paid a visit by the constabulary at his place of business, of course. It might set tongues wagging and before you know it you’re a tennis pro no more.

“So what is it this time?” he asked, affecting a sort of faux cheerful attitude. “Another murder I didn’t commit?”

But Chase decided that pictures speak louder than words, and so he placed his phone on the table in front of the young man, and showed him some evidence of the person who was behind the recent harassment campaign, IP address and all.

Chase had been right, for Bud paled beneath his tan, and when he spoke again, it was with nothing of his earlier brawn.“Okay, so yeah, I did do that,” he said.

“You made fake profiles of Jay Green on several dating sites, and also several major online retailers, and then you ordered expensive items and had them shipped to Jay’s address, and also connected with several women, telling them to send Jay messages on his phone and call him at all hours of the day or night. Is that what you did?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I did,” Bud confessed, without raising his eyes to meet the cop’s. “When Laia broke up with me I guess I went a little crazy. So I decided to get even with the guy.”

“And so you started harassing him, until finally even that wasn’t enough, and you paid him a visit one night, and bashed his head in with a rock.”

This time the tennis pro did look up, alarmed.“Hey, no way, man. You’re not pinning that on me. Okay, so I messed with him a little, but I didn’t kill the guy.”

“And we’re supposed to take your word for that, after you lied to us?”

“Where were you last night, Bud?” asked Odelia.

“I was right here, having dinner with members of the board. I’m secretary of the board, you see, and…” It was as if the light suddenly came shining through. “But of course! I was here! I have witnesses. I have an alibi!” Several club members were eyeing him with unveiled curiosity, and so he quickly lowered his voice and tamped down his exuberance. “I couldn’t have done it, see? I was here when it happened, wasn’t I?”

“You understand we’ll have to confirm your alibi?”

“Of course! Ask anyone!” Then his face fell. “Or maybe don’t ask anyone. Just ask the president of the club. He’s my dad. He’ll confirm I was here all evening. The rest have no business with my personal business.” And to emphasize his statement, he stared intently at one of the peoplemost interested in eavesdropping on our conversation, until the person finally shrugged and looked away.

“Look, I know I’ve been a damn fool,” said Bud, “but I love Laia. I’ve always loved her, and when she hooked up with Jay I was worried, really worried.”

“What were you so worried about?” asked Chase.

“The guy was an artist, for crying out loud. And we all know what artists are like. Drunks, drug addicts and libertines, every last one of them. Smoking dope all night, organizing orgies, sucking down the booze by the gallon… And I didn’t want that for my Laia.” His face suddenly took on a sort of angelic expression, and he slowly rose to his feet. And when we looked over, we saw that none other than Laia herself was on final approach, and soon landed at our table.

“Oh, hi, Odelia,” said the young woman. “Detective Kingsley. I was supposed to have lunch with Bud, but if you need him, maybe we can postpone.”

“No postponing!” Bud almost yelled, but then settled down to a lower volume once more. “I think I’ve told you everything I know,” he said, and gave Chase such a pleading look that even the hardened cop couldn’t remain unaffected.

“Enjoy your lunch,” he said, and got up.

“Have you found the person who killed Jay and Dylon?” asked Laia.

“The investigation is still ongoing,” said Chase.

“If I were you I’d take a closer look at the person who sent us that blackmail letter,” she said. “People like that can be very dangerous. I’ve been reading about blackmailers, and it often leads to murder.”

“Thank you for the suggestion,” said Chase courteously, and then we left the two young people to enjoy their lunch.

“Do you think they’re a couple again, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I don’t know, Dooley, but it’s certainly something that Bud wants more than anything.”

“Maybe now that Laia has been badly burned in love, she’ll decide that Bud wasn’t so bad after all,” said my friend, the love expert.

CHAPTER 34

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On the floor of Laney Basula’s messy flat, a suitcase was lying, half-filled with items of clothing.

“Going somewhere?” asked Chase as he cut her a censorious look.