tell you the truth, I don’t care. I’m not investigating Match’s murder; the police are doing that. All I’m doing is getting the word out about his debts. That’s all.’
Buddha started in again with more chukking noises. It was like I hadn’t said a word.
‘If anyone had a motive, it was Sharon Margolis, not me. I loved Match. I’ll tell you something in confidence - I spoke to Match on Saturday.’
He nodded for emphasis.
‘If you’re looking into this, Miss Ventana, I think you should know Match was extremely nervous. I asked him twice why he was so anxious. He blamed it on the new compositions. Of course, I didn’t believe that for a minute. Match’s talent has been undisputed since the first day he picked up a saxophone. He is - was a professional. No, I think he suspected something. I think he knew someone planned to do him harm. And,’ he announced triumphantly, ‘Match told me Sharon took out a life insurance policy on him this past year - a very large one.’
He sat there, jowls quivering, chuk-chukking, and staring at me like he expected me to run out the door and throw Sharon into leg irons.
‘Mr Teagues, I’m not looking for Match’s killer. I—’
‘Talk to his son! Have you spoken to him?’
‘Sounds like I should.’
‘Of course you should. He’s in Alameda. Clark didn’t want Match to resurrect his career. They were tugging at Match from either side. His wretched wife, pushing him, egging him on, and the boy telling him not to listen to her. Neither of them did him any good. But Clark had good intentions. Ask him about Sharon.’
‘What kind of good intentions?’
‘Sorry?’
‘The son. Why didn’t he think Match should play?’
Buddha waved one of his big, puffy hands like he was swatting away a fly.
‘The music milieu - it could expose his father to unnecessary temptations. Match’s road to sobriety was a hard one.’
‘I thought Sharon helped.’
Buddha’s jaw dropped.
‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. She told you that?’
I nodded.
‘The only reason she wanted Match sober was because she believed he would start writing again. She wanted a meal ticket. Match always saw the best in everyone, even Sharon.’
‘Well, her plan seemed to have worked.’
‘She didn’t inspire him. He was clean for the last year and a half. He didn’t go back to music until just a few months ago. It had nothing to do with Sharon. Not at all. I credit Dickie Almaviva. After he came into the picture, things picked up. Sharon always tries to take credit for everything.’ Buddha looked annoyed so I changed the subject.
‘Did you hear anybody mention Match’s dying words Saturday night?’
‘Why, yes. As a matter of fact, Yvette - that’s Match’s daughter - told me he’d managed to whisper his killer’s name into...’
He stopped and studied my face more closely, then recognition dawned in his eyes.
‘It was you , wasn’t it? You were the one.’
‘I was there, yes, Mr Teagues. But Match didn’t say anything. He was already dead when he fell.’
Buddha shook his formidable bald head.
‘What a sad, sad state of affairs. That Sharon, she’s a wretched piece of work, isn’t she? Yvette isn’t much better.’ He was quickly losing interest in the conversation, so I went for a second new tack.
‘About the money...’
He waved his thick hand in dismissal.
‘Match didn’t owe me a thing.’
‘Mr Teagues—’
‘He’s the one who insisted I keep track. There was the bar tab, and sometimes we’d make bets. You know, I take on wagers sometimes for the races. Match wasn’t always so lucky, but we were friends. I never asked him to pay.’
‘Never?’
‘He was my friend. How could I ask him to pay when he’s barely made a dime in fifteen years?’
Buddha Teagues obviously didn’t know about Match’s partnership with Sig Malone.
‘Match made me keep track, but in all honesty, I never expected to see it again. I told him
Buddha started in again with more chukking noises. It was like I hadn’t said a word.
‘If anyone had a motive, it was Sharon Margolis, not me. I loved Match. I’ll tell you something in confidence - I spoke to Match on Saturday.’
He nodded for emphasis.
‘If you’re looking into this, Miss Ventana, I think you should know Match was extremely nervous. I asked him twice why he was so anxious. He blamed it on the new compositions. Of course, I didn’t believe that for a minute. Match’s talent has been undisputed since the first day he picked up a saxophone. He is - was a professional. No, I think he suspected something. I think he knew someone planned to do him harm. And,’ he announced triumphantly, ‘Match told me Sharon took out a life insurance policy on him this past year - a very large one.’
He sat there, jowls quivering, chuk-chukking, and staring at me like he expected me to run out the door and throw Sharon into leg irons.
‘Mr Teagues, I’m not looking for Match’s killer. I—’
‘Talk to his son! Have you spoken to him?’
‘Sounds like I should.’
‘Of course you should. He’s in Alameda. Clark didn’t want Match to resurrect his career. They were tugging at Match from either side. His wretched wife, pushing him, egging him on, and the boy telling him not to listen to her. Neither of them did him any good. But Clark had good intentions. Ask him about Sharon.’
‘What kind of good intentions?’
‘Sorry?’
‘The son. Why didn’t he think Match should play?’
Buddha waved one of his big, puffy hands like he was swatting away a fly.
‘The music milieu - it could expose his father to unnecessary temptations. Match’s road to sobriety was a hard one.’
‘I thought Sharon helped.’
Buddha’s jaw dropped.
‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. She told you that?’
I nodded.
‘The only reason she wanted Match sober was because she believed he would start writing again. She wanted a meal ticket. Match always saw the best in everyone, even Sharon.’
‘Well, her plan seemed to have worked.’
‘She didn’t inspire him. He was clean for the last year and a half. He didn’t go back to music until just a few months ago. It had nothing to do with Sharon. Not at all. I credit Dickie Almaviva. After he came into the picture, things picked up. Sharon always tries to take credit for everything.’ Buddha looked annoyed so I changed the subject.
‘Did you hear anybody mention Match’s dying words Saturday night?’
‘Why, yes. As a matter of fact, Yvette - that’s Match’s daughter - told me he’d managed to whisper his killer’s name into...’
He stopped and studied my face more closely, then recognition dawned in his eyes.
‘It was you , wasn’t it? You were the one.’
‘I was there, yes, Mr Teagues. But Match didn’t say anything. He was already dead when he fell.’
Buddha shook his formidable bald head.
‘What a sad, sad state of affairs. That Sharon, she’s a wretched piece of work, isn’t she? Yvette isn’t much better.’ He was quickly losing interest in the conversation, so I went for a second new tack.
‘About the money...’
He waved his thick hand in dismissal.
‘Match didn’t owe me a thing.’
‘Mr Teagues—’
‘He’s the one who insisted I keep track. There was the bar tab, and sometimes we’d make bets. You know, I take on wagers sometimes for the races. Match wasn’t always so lucky, but we were friends. I never asked him to pay.’
‘Never?’
‘He was my friend. How could I ask him to pay when he’s barely made a dime in fifteen years?’
Buddha Teagues obviously didn’t know about Match’s partnership with Sig Malone.
‘Match made me keep track, but in all honesty, I never expected to see it again. I told him
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