by Beverly Long
“You were fourteen when she died,” he said. “You didn’t have the opportunity to see her through an adult lens. Maybe you’d feel differently now.”
“Maybe. But that’s not an option,” she said, pushing back her chair. “The only real option I have right now is finding Charity and asking her to submit to a DNA analysis. Then I’ll do the same. If we have the same father, we’ll know.”
She was right. Charity was the key to many things. “We need to find her friend Lou,” he said, setting down his coffee cup.
They were at the door of his house when she turned to him. “I want you to know, Royce, that I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth before. I guess I keep giving you reasons not to trust me, to think that I’m a liar.”
She was standing close and he could smell her perfume, could see the worry in her pretty blue eyes, could feel the tightly-coiled tension in her body. “Jules, make no mistake about this. I don’t think you’re a liar and I would trust you with my life. Now let’s go.”
* * *
I don’t think you’re a liar and I would trust you with my life.
He had no idea how much those words meant to her. For eight years, she’d shouldered the burden of him saying that she was a liar. It had angered her and saddened her, in that order. It had also tormented her in way too many dreams. The accident nightmare wasn’t the only one she suffered. Sometimes it was Royce standing at the edge of some unknown precipice, about to step to his death—which she somehow interpreted to mean him being gone from her life—screaming liar, liar, liar.
It was also a substantial relief to have told Royce the truth. It was the first time she’d been able to articulate her thoughts to anyone, and to have someone react in a calm, rational manner affirmed that she wasn’t a crazy person.
Now that there was no need for any more subterfuge, she could be absolutely forthcoming.
They left the house in the pickup truck. It took about ten minutes to drive to Everpark. It was a huge facility. There was a main building that had two wings, both as long as a football field. Then there were twenty or more condo-type dwellings. “My guess is that those are the assisted-living spaces,” she said, pointing to the smaller buildings. “You live there if you’re still mostly independent.”
“But you might need somebody to provide a little care,” Royce said.
“Somebody like Louisa Goodall,” JC agreed.
Once they were inside, they had to wait ten minutes for an administrator to see them. The waiting area was directly across from a large room that seemed like some kind of activity center. Seniors—some with walkers, some in wheelchairs and others more mobile—were playing cards and dominoes, or watching a game show on the television that was way too loud.
“That’s your future,” he said, teasing her.
“I was kind of hoping that I’d spend my golden years on a beach with a pool boy who had an affinity for wrinkles.”
He was prevented from answering by the arrival of the VP of Administration, or so her badge said. Marjory Bender looked about forty-five, and was dressed in black slacks and a blue sweater, and wore even more sensible shoes than JC.
“How may I help you?” she asked.
“My name is Tex and this is Chambri. We’re in a little bit of a pickle. Chambri’s younger sister has gotten herself into a jam and we need to talk to her friend. Her name is Louisa Goodall.”
The woman shook her head. “There’s no Louisa Goodall employed by Everpark.”
Royce showed no reaction to the news, just pulled his cell phone and flashed a picture of Lou. Marjory studied it.
“It’s possible that’s the young woman helping Agnes Lowry. Our residents who live in their own condos are able to hire help either directly or many use the same agency. It looks a bit like her but the last time I saw her, her hair had blue-and-pink stripes.”
“I’ll need Agnes Lowry’s address,” Royce said.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t provide that,” she said. “You know, resident privacy and all.”
She expected Royce to push but he simply gave her a big smile, thanked her effusively, like Tex would, and motioned for JC to precede him out the door. Once they were in the truck, he had his smartphone out.
“We need that address,” she said.
“Piece of cake, now that we have a name.” He pushed a few buttons. “1730 Hollyberry.”
There were parked across from Agnes Lowry’s driveway in less than a minute. “I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“Chambri doesn’t get nervous,” he said. “She’s too dumb,” he said. “Act sweet and empty-headed. I’ve seen people get pretty far with that approach. Just ring the bell and ask for Louisa.”
“What are you going to be doing?”
“Watching the back door. Give me your cell phone.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to do this the low-tech way. I’m going to use your cell phone to dial my phone. Keep it in your hand, on speaker, with the line open. I should be able to hear you just fine and will know if you’re running into any trouble.”
Her palm felt sweaty as she clenched the phone. Once he’d rounded the corner of the brick condo, she counted to ten, walked up the sidewalk and rang the bell. It seemed to take a long time for the door to be answered. When it was, it was by an old woman with white hair, wearing baby blue sweatpants and a sweatshirt with kittens on it. There was a man wearing a suit standing ten feet behind her. He was holding a cup of coffee.
“Mrs. Lowry?” she said. “My name is Chambri and I’m looking for Louisa Goodall. I understand she works for you.”
“Your friend is tardy.”
Huh? “I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” she said.
“I was a schoolteacher for forty-three years. Tardiness is something that I can’t abide.”
“Is Louisa here?”
The woman looked as if she wanted to smack her knuckles with a ruler. “Are you listening to me? She’s late. My son is not happy about this, either.” She pointed her thumb over her right shoulder.
JC smiled at the man. “What time was Louisa supposed to be here?”
“Stop calling her Louisa. Her name is Lou. She lives here. Of course, she gets time off in the evenings but she’s supposed to be available to me from seven to five every day.”
“When’s the last time you saw Lou, Mrs. Lowry?”
“She left here in a hurry just before six o’clock last night. I’ve told her not to drive fast on this street but she pays me no attention.”
Six o’clock. About the same time that Charity had gone missing. “You’re sure. About six?”
“I’m an old lady but I can still tell time. Since she’s your friend and all, if you see her, you better tell her to call my son.”
“Yes, I will,” JC managed. She turned to walk back to her truck but only got halfway before the man caught up with her.
“Can I have a minute?” he said. “I’m Martin Lowry.”
She was so disappointed it was hard to summon up her manners. But she did, extending her hand. “Chambri,” she said, keeping in character.
“I just want to be clear here. If you find Lou, please make sure she understands that she’s not welcome back here.”
“Mr. Lowry,” she said. “I’m not a friend of Lou’s. I know your mother made that assumption and I didn’t correct her. But it is very important for me to find her.”
The man shook his head. “I used to visit every other day. I could tell my mother was struggling a little and I wanted her to move into the main center where she’d have 24/7 care. It was her idea to hire Lou. And they seemed to get along pretty well. But now, I have to come twice a day because I don’t trust Lou. My mother is suddenly purchasing items online. When I ask her about them, she says they are for her. But I know they ar
e for Lou. You can tell, my mother has a strong personality but she’s no match for Lou. That woman has one of those personalities that just makes people want to go along with her. You might even say captivating.”
Had Lou convinced Charity to do something? What did it have to do with the two men who had taken her from the pool? Too many questions and almost no answers.
“Thank you, Mr. Lowry. I appreciate your time.” She walked back to the truck and got into the passenger side. Mr. Lowry went back inside. Seconds later, Royce was in the driver’s seat. “You can hang up your phone now,” he said gently.
She pushed the button. “What do you think?”
“Remember when I said that coincidences happen infrequently in real life?”
“Do you think they’re both in trouble?” she asked.
“It’s possible. Or maybe Lou was already in the car when those two men got Charity. Maybe it wasn’t an abduction at all. Maybe they all went out and got drunk last night.”
She sighed. “I need to get back to the hotel. With everything that’s been going on, I forgot to tell you that they added a rehearsal for tonight’s awards dinner.”
He nodded. Drove for another minute. “You’re still determined to do the awards dinner?” he asked. “After the fourth letter?”
Truth be told, the letter had done her a favor. It had gotten her to Royce’s house and then into his bed. “It goes against my grain to let a bully win. And that’s what I’d be doing if I pulled out at the last minute. They would have to scramble to find someone to take my place. And why? Because somebody with really rotten poetry skills wants me to be scared. It’s a little bit like terrorism, isn’t it? The terrorist wins when we’re afraid to leave our houses, go to a college football game, shop at the mall. Afraid to live our lives.”
“If it keeps you safe, I’m willing to capitulate to the bully.”
She shook her head. “You don’t really think that’s the right answer. And you said that you’d have plenty of resources there.”
He nodded. “I actually verified that this morning before I took my shower. That’s the only reason you got ahead of me,” he added, smiling.
“Sure, sure.” She leaned her head back against the seat. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I need to retire Chambri and resurrect JC.”
Chapter 21
When they arrived at the Periwinkle, they went directly to the ballroom. Wayne Isman was already there and Royce remembered Jules telling him that the man was tonight’s emcee. There was also a woman who was the special events manager for the hotel. Royce shook Wayne’s hand.
Jules introduced herself to the woman and then turned to Royce. “This is my...friend Royce Morgan. I told him he could hang out and watch the rehearsal.”
Friend. Had she almost said boyfriend?
There was no easy way to describe or define their relationship. Lovers. That seemed tawdry and trite. Their reunion had been so unexpected and then so quickly complicated by Charity’s appearance and disappearance that they likely missed some important steps.
The sex had been amazing.
No surprise there. Always had been.
The events manager pointed to the table where Jules would be seated. “There’s a seat for your guest, of course,” she said, looking at Royce.
“When it’s time for you to present, Ms. Cambridge,” the woman said, “Mr. Isman will introduce you. You’ll use those steps at the side of the riser to get to the podium. Your microphone will already be live. All you have to do is deliver your fifteen-minute presentation. I understand that there is a short video clip in it and that will be cued up and ready to go. We’ll test that this morning.”
Wayne and Jules both nodded.
“Great. Now let’s run through the program from the top.”
Royce motioned to Jules that he’d be in the back of the room. First, he called Detective Mannis and reported Jules’s conversation with Mrs. Lowry. He could tell by the man’s quietness on the telephone that he wasn’t happy that now he potentially had two young women who were missing.
Bad for tourism, for sure. Legalized prostitution was one thing. Women suddenly missing was a whole level of something else.
The detective advised that he’d circulate pictures of both Charity and Louisa Goodall to all Vegas police. Royce was happy to hear that. The more eyes looking for them, the better. He had to believe that they’d catch a break soon. There had still been no ransom demand.
“I’ve got some information on Cole Hager,” Mannis said. “He’s hanging on to his job by a thread.”
“Because of his drinking problem?” Royce asked.
“Oh, I don’t think investment companies care about that,” Mannis scoffed. “Rumors are circulating that he might be using his early access to financial information to benefit himself.”
“Insider trading?”
“He’s got a couple high-profile clients who have realized substantial gains in the past few months and...” Mannis’s voice trailed off.
“What?” Royce demanded.
“And one of his high-profile clients is Joel Cambridge.”
Royce almost dropped his phone. “Is Hager being investigated by the SEC?”
“Sadly, the Securities and Exchange Commission probably has bigger fish to fry. But I got it from a reliable source that his boss got wind of this and he’s the skittish type with strong risk-avoidance tendencies. Wants to distance himself from anything that might harm the firm. Hager would have probably already lost his job if his mother didn’t work in the governor’s office.”
Royce was confident that Jules was not aware that Cole Hager and her father were acquainted. She would have mentioned something when she and Royce had been initially discussing the meeting. Or said something to Hager during the meeting.
“Can you find out for me whether Hager is still in Vegas?” Royce asked.
“Already checked,” Mannis said. “He’s staying at the Wallington. Pretended that I was calling from a delivery company and that I had an expensive gift for him. Front desk person said his expected checkout date is tomorrow.”
Hager was not getting out of Vegas until Royce had a chance to talk to him. But first, he simply needed to verify that Hager had nothing to do with Charity’s or Louisa’s absence. “I think we need to get up close and personal with Mr. Hager.”
“Worried that he might have your two young women chained to the bed?” Mannis asked.
“I think it’s a good idea to verify that he doesn’t,” Royce said.
“I’ve already dispatched a unit. I’ll be in touch.” Mannis disconnected.
Royce glanced up front. The three were still in discussion about something. He had time to see where Sonya was in her internal investigation. He dialed the manager’s number and her assistant answered. When he gave his name, she asked him to hold.
“Mr. Morgan, I was just about to call you,” Sonya said when she came on the phone.
“Good news?”
“Depends on your definition of good. We’ve talked to over fifty employees, starting with associates in guest dining, since I figured they would have the best access to a uniform. Of course, other associates also wear our standard uniform. Housekeeping, our valets. You know.”
He didn’t and he didn’t really care. “What did you find?”
“My team talked to a woman who seems highly agitated about the questions that were asked. They thought she might know more than what she was letting on. This morning, I said something to her supervisor and he said that this particular woman had started acting oddly on the job, sort of jumpy and testy to the other associates, about two weeks ago. Given that, I’ve asked to speak to her. She’s in my waiting room right now.”
Right now. Sonya hadn’t offered but he desperately wanted to talk to the associate, force her to share
what she knew. He glanced at the front of the room. Jules was in deep discussion with Wayne and the woman.
He didn’t want to leave her here alone. But this could be the big break they needed. And Wayne was with her.
Wayne, who had been very trustworthy when he’d stayed with Jules yesterday morning while Royce chased the bottle thrower. Wayne, who had worked with Jules for years and continued to work on humanitarian projects.
“Sonya, I’ll be in your office in five minutes. I want to talk to that woman.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ve done my share of internal investigations, Mr. Morgan. I know what I’m doing.”
He didn’t care if she could stand on her head, rub her stomach and chew gum at the same time while she talked to these people. This was Jules’s life. Nothing was more important.
“I need to talk to that woman. Five minutes.” He hung up before she could protest.
He walked to the front of the room. Jules looked up from the program that both she and Wayne were looking at. She smiled and it hit him like a punch in the gut how wonderful it would be to come home every night to that smile.
“I need to go see Sonya Tribee,” he said.
“Is there news?” Her eyes lit up.
“Nothing for sure but enough that I’m going to talk with somebody,” he said, conscious of the fact that Wayne and the other woman were in the room. “I need to know that you’re going to stay in this room until I get back.”
“Of course.”
He looked at Wayne. “And you’ll stay with her?”
“Absolutely,” Wayne said. “Good luck.”
When he opened the door to Sonya Tribee’s office, her assistant looked up. “Sonya said you were on your way. Wait here please,” she said.
He didn’t bother to sit. Because if he wasn’t escorted back within thirty seconds, he was going on his own. He didn’t intend to be away from Jules any longer than absolutely necessary.