Fred excused himself and proceeded on with the game on his own, and Davinworth waited until he was well out of earshot before grinning and speaking up.



"So you crack the case yet, detective?" he said.



"Workin' on it," said Colt.



Davinworth let Colt tee up first and take his shot. Somehow, it went even worse than the last few holes. The other man gave him a pitying look but didn't address it. Perhaps he felt as thought his own skill would do the talking for him, because it certainly did. The guy's technique seemed even better than Fred's, though Colt was hardly a qualified judge.



"So I must say, I'm curious to know where you're living," said Davinworth as they chased after their balls in the cart together.



Colt was not surprised to hear that at all. "Curiosity is the spice of life, ain't it? Wouldn't want to deprive you of it with mundane trivia."



"Oho. Such courtesy. However, I assure that I will not be disappointed. I have something of an obsession when it comes to land and housing. Ah, but you've already done your research on our little cabal, so you probably knew that already, didn't you?"



"Had an inkling."



"Tell you what. How's about we make a game of this conversation?"



"Aren't we already playing a game?"



"A wager, then."



Colt gave him a flat look.



Davinworth returned an apologetic expression and a chuckle. "I could give you a generous handicap, if you like."



"Already playing with one."



"An even more generous handicap, then?"



"Pass."



He laughed again. "Fair enough. Then how about we just take turns asking each other questions? assume you have several for me, so this will work out for both us. For every one that you answer, I'll answer one of yours. If you refuse, then I refuse."



"You realize that it was you who hired me, right? Hindering my investigation is a waste of your own time and money."



"Heh. Stubborn, aren't you? Do you really despise the idea of me asking you questions so greatly?"



Shit. If Colt didn't give ground here, then that would probably just serve to stoke this guy's interest in him even further, and that was the last fucking thing he wanted.



"Fine," he said. "Let's play, then."



"That's the spirit! Very sporting of you, my boy."



Whatever.



"And as a courtesy, I'll let you take the first question," said Davinworth.



Alright, no point in beating around the bush, then. "How well did you know Sheriff Margot?"



"Pretty well, I'd say. Watched him grow up, just like a lot of people here. Really makes a man feel his age, thinking back to when they were all children. Doubly so for Rex, now that he's gone."



Colt couldn't quite get a read on this guy's tone. Davinworth had a way of casual way of speaking that made it difficult to tell if he was taking the subject seriously. Given the severity of a murder investigation, it should've been obvious to even a total idiot that this wasn't something to speak about lightly, so Colt was inclined to think that this was Davinworth was just trying a little too hard to sound unbothered.



Or he was a total fucking sociopath.



"My turn to ask now, right?" said Davinworth. "Unless you found that answer unsatisfactory."



Colt considered trying to sneak a second question in by asking for elaboration, but eh. Whatever. "Go ahead."



"Great! Is there a Mrs. Thompson?"



An easy enough answer. "No."



"Then where's the mother of your children?"



"That was your question. It's my turn again."



"Tch, stingy. Fire away, then."



"Is there anyone you know of who might have wished harm upon the Sheriff?"



"Oh, no, no, of course not. Rex was well-liked by everyone in the town."



Mm, that sounded like bullshit. There had to have been someone. But it might've been bullshit that Davinworth genuinely believed.



Colt had to wonder how much he should actually say to these guys. He already knew Philip Richardson had talked to Malcolm Beaumont about him, so it seemed a safe bet that Davinworth had his own informants, too.



Or just friends in town to share gossip with. "Informants" might be an overly grandiose word for it. This was a town of less than a thousand people. If there really was some kind of dark conspiracy at play here, it could only be so big. Hell, Lagoroc's criminal population alone probably outnumbered all of Orden.



Colt debated bringing up the Muett Family. He had a feeling that they were one of the "interested parties" that had been mentioned earlier, but he didn't want to rely on just a hunch for something like this. As long as he was unsure of Davinworth's allegiances, then even just bringing up their name was a fairly large risk. It could spook him and prevent him from saying anything more, or worse, he could just be straight up working with them.



Nah, not worth it, he decided.



"So?" said Davinworth. "Where is the mother of your children?"



"Dead."



"Ah... I'm sorry for your loss."



"Thanks." He tried to give an appropriately weight pause before launching into the next question. Why did it have to be so difficult to feign affection for that damn woman? Maybe he should just concoct a new mother for them in his imagination and use that. It would probably be easier. "What can you tell me about Sheriff Margot's family?"



"Ah, now there, I'm sure you'll run into a spot of trouble," said Davinworth. "I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but the man had a penchant for finding problems in that particular area."



"You just said he was well-liked by the whole town."



"Yes, well, I suppose his own family was a bit of an exception. His divorce was unfortunately quite messy. Talk of the town for a long while, too, which I'm sure didn't help."