Brendan’s brows wrinkled. “What will that accomplish?”
Lacey grinned diabolically. “The Goose has been shacking up with his secretary, Roslyn. They’ve been playing house here in Las Vegas ever since the two of them were hired. It’s my understanding Roslyn has been Weatherbee’s mistress for years. When Mother Goose arrives and shows up on her old man’s doorstep, more than one of our feathered friends will be in for a big surprise.”
Marshall shook his head. “I dunno. Do you really think he’ll quit?”
Lacey nodded. “I’ll bet on it. Mrs. Weatherbee will drag The Goose onto the next flight leaving for Sydney, if she doesn’t shoot him first.”
A big smile grew on Brendan’s face. He looked almost cherubic. “It’s worth a try. I’ll make the arrangements as soon as I get in my office.
“How did you find out about Roslyn and The Goose, Rick?”
Lacey affected a humble attitude. “It’s my job to know that sort of thing, sir. I would be derelict in my duties if I hadn’t known.”
“You’re becoming more valuable to me every day,” Brendan complimented.
“Thank you, sir. I’m just putting into practice what I learned when I was with the Bureau.”
Wheels were turning in Brendan’s head. “Do you have dirt on any of the other directors?”
“All of them, sir,” Lacey smirked.
Marshall and Brendan headed for the showers. “You and I are going to have to sit down and have a little tête-à-tête,” Marshall said. “Perhaps you can help me with some other problems.”
“I’m sure I can, sir,” Lacey agreed deferentially.
Seventeen
“SECURITY. THIS IS RICK LACEY.”
The voice on the other end of the line was both businesslike and seductively feminine. “Mr. Lacey, this is Morgan in Surveillance. The subject just left her office. She has company.”
Lacey checked his watch. It was a few minutes before noon. He had been on his way out the door to go to lunch when the phone rang. He hoped he would not have to postpone his meal for long. “Okay, Morgan. Keep the cameras on her and feed the signal to my office.”
“Yes, sir. It’s already happening.”
“Thanks. You’re doing a professional job, Morgan,” Lacey complimented. “I really appreciate the dedication you exhibit toward your work. And I value your loyalty to me.”
Morgan was a voluptuous black woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. She always wore tight-fitting tops, mini-skirts, and four-inch heels. They emphasized her large breasts, long shapely legs, and awesome derriere. Lacey hadn’t made a move on Morgan yet, but he was grooming her by complimenting at every opportunity and making small talk whenever they crossed paths.
They’d had coffee together several times in the Help’s Hall. Morgan told Lacey she’d never been married, had no children, and lived at home with her mother. She was ripe for conquest, Lacey determined. A dark, juicy plum waiting to be plucked and devoured. He planned to invite Morgan to accompany him to the Security and Surveillance trade show in Los Angeles the following month. He would say that her attendance at the seminars was crucial to her advancement with Crest Resorts. Lacey knew once Morgan agreed to go to California with him it was tantamount to her agreeing to share his bed.
He hung up the telephone and turned on his television monitor. Lacey was horrified when he recognized the woman who was walking down the hall with Myra Kaplan. Christ, I didn’t know the two Jew bitches even knew each other, he muttered to himself. He would forget about lunch and watch the video screen for the next hour and a half, until Myra returned to her office and Nellie Sherman left the property.
MYRA AND NELLIE strolled leisurely down the hall past the ballrooms and meeting rooms, then rode the escalator downstairs to the casino level. A video keno player dropping four quarters per game had just caught seven numbers out of seven. A loud bell somewhere inside the machine was ringing to alert other players nearby that the man had just won $7,000. A small crowd had already gathered to watch a slot department floorman bring a stack of hundred dollar bills for the payoff.
They passed the cashier’s cage, where lucky winners were exchanging gaming chips for greenbacks and wannabe lucky winners were cashing personal checks or taking out markers. They walked by the Outrigger Bar, where Cicily Purdue had sat on one of the stools night after night drinking Bud Lite and making solicitous eye contact with every man who approached. They turned left at the poker room, where an assortment of stone-faced players, mostly older men and women, were trying to win a pot by bluffing; the highest hand was a pair of fours. At the Caramba Mexican Restaurant and Cantina, they stood in line for a short wait, then followed the hostess to a table.
A busboy brought a basket filled with warm tortilla chips and small bowls of red salsa, green salsa, bean dip, and guacamole to their table and asked the two women what they wanted to drink. Myra and Nellie ordered iced tea, then opened the menu and perused the extensive list of offerings.
“I’m going to have a combination plate,” Myra announced. “A beef taco, cheese enchilada, chile relleno, refried beans, and Spanish rice.”
“That sounds great,” Nellie approved. “But I’m trying to lose weight. I’ll just order a taco salad.”
Myra smiled but said nothing. She knew the restaurant’s taco salad was huge and had as much refried beans, meat, and cheese as the meal she had just ordered.
“Tell me about Jeff Herbert,” Nellie requested. “I still can’t believe he’s dead.”
Myra unloaded everything she knew about Jeff. The meeting Jeff said took place between Lois Lewis and Cicily Purdue. The sexual harassment complaint. His resignation. Michael’s visit to Herbert’s house. Finally, Herbert’s murder. Nellie gasped at each additional revelation.
“I worked just one desk away from Jeff,” Nellie said. “I know the sexual harassment complaint had to be without foundation. Someone was out to get him, that’s for sure. Just as someone was out to get me. I’m lucky they didn’t do something equally heinous to me. All they did was eliminate my position.”
“There. You’ve said it again,” Myra remarked. “‘They.’ Who are they?”
Nellie hemmed and hawed. “To tell you the truth, I can’t prove who they are, but in my heart I’m certain I know. Let me tell you what happened and then perhaps you can give me your opinion of who ‘they’ are.
“One night about five months ago, I decided to come back to work after dinner. At that time, the Blue Hawaii had just been open a few months. We were still doing a lot of hiring and most of my days were spent interviewing job applicants. I had some reports that were due to be turned in and I’d been getting behind on my paperwork. I knew I wasn’t going to be paid overtime or even hear a thank you, but putting in a few extra hours just seemed to be the conscientious thing to do.
“I arrived at the Blue Hawaii about nine p.m. The door to Human Resources was closed and locked, of course, but I had been issued a key and let myself in. I turned on the lights, walked to my desk, flipped the switch to turn on my computer, and started to organize my files. Then I heard a noise coming from somewhere down the hall.” Nellie took a bite of her taco salad.
“What kind of noise?” Myra pressed impatiently.
“I wasn’t sure. I was a little bit frightened, but not so much so that I was too afraid to check it out. It sounded like people talking, and, well, I wasn’t sure what the rest of the clamor was. As I told you, when I arrived at H.R. the door was locked and the lights were off, so I assumed I was the only one in the offices.
“The sound seemed to be coming from Lois Lewis’s private office, so I headed down the hall. Sure enough, the racket grew louder. People were definitely inside her office. The door was closed, but no light was coming from beneath it, so I knew whoever was lurking in there was in the dark.
“I put my ear to the door and listened.” Nellie dug into her taco salad in earnest.
“Go on, Nellie, what did you hear?” Myra
prompted anxiously.
“It was obvious the people inside of Lois’s office were having sex. Rough sex. Violent sex.” Nellie took another mouthful of her salad.
Myra finished the last of her enchilada before asking, “What did you do?”
Nellie shrugged. “I didn’t know what to do. At first, I was tempted to call Security Dispatch and have them send a guard to the office. I’d heard the woman cry out a couple of times. She said, ‘Don’t bite me so hard. That hurts,” or something to that effect. I thought perhaps she was being raped.
“While I was still deciding whether to call Security or pound on the door myself, it became evident the woman was not being raped. I could tell from her moaning and groaning and some of the things she yelped that she was really enjoying what she was doing. I figured if I called for a security guard, I might get someone in trouble. Besides, the woman sounded a lot like Lois Lewis, and it was, after all, Lois’s private office.
“So, I tiptoed back down the hall, turned my computer off, put my papers away, and prepared to go home. I didn’t want to be around when they finished and came out. But I wasn’t fast enough.” Nellie again concentrated on her lunch.
Myra wished Nellie would quit interrupting her tale at the most exciting moments. She felt like she was watching the Friday cliffhanger of a TV soap opera. “Nu, who came out of Lois’s office? Was it Lois? Who else was in there?”
Nellie shook her head. “I never saw Lois that night. It could have been her, or it could have been someone else screwing on the filthy carpet. Before I was able to get out of my office, Rick Lacey came barreling down the hall and blocked my office door.
Myra raised a hand to her mouth. “Ohmygod,” she exclaimed. You mean to tell me you actually caught Rick Lacey having sex with someone in Lois Lewis’s office?”
Nellie pushed aside her emptied plate. “Not exactly. I didn’t actually see Rick come out of Lois’s office. There’s a rear entrance to H.R., and he could have entered the department that way.
“Lacey acted like nothing had been happening. Like he was just making his routine rounds of the building. He wanted to know what I was doing there in the office so late, and I explained I was trying to catch up on my work, but I was all finished and ready to go home. I certainly didn’t want to let on to Rick that I’d heard him—heard somebody—having sex in Lois’s office. That would have been embarrassing for all of us. If Rick had been screwing Lois or whoever it happened to be, he couldn’t help but know I would have heard them. They were making enough racket to raise the dead.
“Rick insisted on walking me to my car. I sensed he wanted to make sure I was actually leaving, so the woman in Lois’s office could make her exit without being seen by me. I told Rick it wasn’t necessary for him to escort me to my car, but he said it was late and they’d caught a mugger in the employee parking lot just an hour or so before and he didn’t want anything bad to happen to me. So, I locked up the office and went home. Lacey walked with me all the way to my Honda.”
“And you never saw who the woman was?”
“No. As I said, she was still in Lois’s office when I left.”
Myra ordered flan and coffee. She knew the Blue Hawaii’s flan was every bit as good as the flan she’d enjoyed in Cancun. Perhaps even better. Nellie sufficed with just coffee.. She really craved dessert, she confessed to Myra, but she’d promised her boyfriend she would lose fifty pounds in the next ninety days.
“Did you ever confront Lois about the incident?” Myra asked.
Nellie shook her head. “No. Hell, no. I didn’t want to stir up any trouble. But I know it was Lois in there with Rick. It had to be. The following day, Lois was acting guilty as hell. All day long, she kept remarking to others in H.R. about how the night before her boyfriend had surprised her by picking her up right after work and taking her out to dinner and a movie. She apparently wanted to go on record with an alibi for her whereabouts, in case I told anybody about what I’d heard going on in her office.
“Lois never mentioned her supposed big date to me, though every time she told the story to someone else, I caught her slanting her eyes in my direction, as if she wanted to see if I had any reaction.
“At five p.m., when everyone was getting ready to go home, Lois asked me to hang around for a few minutes. Then she called me into her office and told me my job had been eliminated and I was being terminated.”
“And you think what you heard in Lois’s office had something to do with your being let go?” Myra asked.
“Nu, what else would be the reason?” Nellie replied with another question. “Only two days before, Lois had told me what a good job I’d been doing and how much she relied on me. We both knew the H.R. office was short of help. If my job was being eliminated, which I didn’t believe for a New York minute, she could have transferred me to another slot.
“I have to admit I never saw Lois that night, nor did I actually see Rick Lacey leave her office. Even though the voice I heard sounded like Lois, I couldn’t swear it was her voice in a court of law. But in my heart, I know Rick and Lois were screwing. I’m as sure of that as I am that I’m a hundred pounds overweight. I know that’s why I was let go.”
Myra was confused. “Because you’re overweight?”
Nellie laughed. “No, silly. Because I could spill the beans on them. Maybe they thought I’d put the word out about their affair and somehow it would get back to Marshall Brendan, or even to Lacey’s wife.”
“So the they you kept talking about—”
“Rick Lacey and Lois Lewis.” Nellie signaled for the busboy to refill her glass of iced tea. “Myra, we should get together sometime. You and Michael, me and my boyfriend. Let’s do dinner. Bring along your friend, too. I don’t recall her name—”
“Kimberly. Kimberly Cohen,” Myra said. “I’d like that, Nellie. Michael and I haven’t been socializing much lately, but I think it’s time we start getting out more. Give me a call.” Myra took a pen from her purse and wrote her name and home phone number and address on the back of a keno ticket. “Did you know Lois is pregnant? She’s about five months along.”
Nellie’s eyes opened wide. “No, I didn’t know. Ohmygod. Do you think—no, that couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.”
Myra grinned. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Lois could be carrying Rick Lacey’s baby.”
RICK LACEY turned off the television monitor. He was no longer in the mood to have lunch. He wished the surveillance system had audio in addition to the video. But he was trained to read expressions and body language. There was no doubt in his mind, no doubt at all, that Nellie had told Myra about his tryst with Lois.
Against his better judgment, Lacey picked up his telephone and dialed the four digits that would connect him with Lois. He knew in advance what her reaction would be.
Eighteen
MYRA STRAIGHTENED UP her desk. It was only three in the afternoon, but her work was done for the day and she didn’t have any out-of-town VIPs to meet and greet at the airport that night, so she reasoned it would be foolish for her to hang around in her office for another two hours twiddling her thumbs and trying to look busy. For once, she was going to be able to go home early. And for once, Michael did not have to critique a restaurant that night. The three of them—Michael, Myra, and Kimberly—could spend a pleasant, relaxing evening together at home.
Myra planned to stop at a supermarket on her way to the condo and pick up the groceries she needed for dinner. She had a special meal planned. It was one of Michael’s favorites. Corned beef brisket covered with a yellow mustard and brown sugar glaze, served with steamed cabbage and boiled red potatoes and fresh Jewish rye bread. She hoped Kimberly would enjoy the dinner also.
If I hurry, Myra thought, I’ll be able to have the table set and dinner ready to serve the moment Michael and Kimberly walk in the door. Perhaps I’ll rent a DVD and after dinner we can all snuggle up in bed with fresh popcorn and a pitcher of Kimberly’s margaritas and then we can—
The telephone interrupted Myra’s reverie. She first contemplated letting her voice mailbox pick up the call and record a message. Then, she worried that perhaps Michael or Kimberly were trying to reach her. Myra abhorred using the speaker phone, so she lifted the handset and pressed it to her face.
“Public Relations. This is Myra Kaplan.”
“Hello, Myra. This is Morgan Penny.” The sultry voice was barely above a whisper.
“Who?” Myra didn’t recognize the name.
“Morgan Penny. I work in Surveillance. Down in the basement.”
“What can I do for you, Morgan? I was just on my way out the door.”
“I need to talk with you. As soon as possible. It’s urgent.”
Myra gritted her teeth. She wished she had listened to her first mind and let the voice mailbox take the call. “Okay. If you can come to my office now, I’ll wait for you.”
Morgan was emphatic. “No. We can’t meet in your office. Not anywhere in Blue Hawaii. Please, Myra. I can’t explain on the phone. Don’t ask me to. You’ll understand when you hear what I have to say.
“I get off work at four. Do you know where Casey’s Sports Bar is? It’s close by. I could meet you there.”
Myra was becoming irritated with the unanticipated demand on her time, but she detected a cogent note of urgency in Morgan’s voice and decided it might be best if she met with the woman. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not hang around by myself in a bar for an hour or so waiting for you to get off the clock. As I told you, I was on my way out the door when you called. I will see you privately, though. Can you come to my condo? I have to shop for groceries and get dinner started for my family, but I’ll definitely be home by the time you get off work.”
“That’ll be fine, Myra. Just give me your address and I’ll be there. I should write down your phone number, too, in case I get lost and need to call for directions.”
WHEN MYRA OPENED THE DOOR, she saw an attractive, tall, curvaceous, Afro-American woman about her own age. She had chocolate brown skin. Her hair was cropped in a very short natural, the tight curls never extending more than a quarter-inch from her scalp. Her nose was delicate, except for a slight flare of the nostrils. Her lips were full and appeared to be soft and resilient, as if they had been pumped full of air. She had large brown almond-shaped eyes. She was wearing a halter and a miniskirt that was shorter than it had any right to be. On anyone else, Morgan’s attire would have immediately evoked suspicions that she was a hooker. Despite—or, perhaps, because of—her mode of dress, Morgan exuded sensuality and class. Her smile was friendly but nervous, Myra noted.
A Time For Us (Michael Kaplan Mysteries) Page 12