by Nancy Warren
“Yes. It is.”
“How come you want to see it? The cops never asked for that. They only asked about the cameras outside his office.”
“I’m assisting the police in their inquiries,” she said. It was true in a way. Proving they had the wrong guy would definitely assist the police.
He accepted her story. “Okay. You can look but I can’t let you take anything away with you. Not without a warrant.”
“I only want to look at the footage. But the police will probably come for it fairly soon.” Unless the footage showed no action at all outside Mr. Forstman’s private elevator in which case her new discovery was about as valuable as one of Dwayne’s stolen casino chips.
“Okay. So long as there’s a warrant.”
He hummed while he worked, cracking his knuckles every few minutes as though that was part of the process. Eventually, he said. “Okay. There are three cameras that watch the area around Mr. and Mrs. Forstman’s private elevator.”
He cued up the footage. “You can see the time, right there, in the corner. It’s date stamped as well.”
“Great. Thank you.”
He pulled over a chair on wheels for her and sat back in his own. They settled side by side to watch the TV as though it was a movie and they were on a date. “Bet you wish we had popcorn,” her chubby host joked.
“Yes.” No.
She’d asked him to start reviewing at ten o’clock that evening to be on the safe side.
He put the video on fast mo and nothing happened. She watched the carpet and the walls from three different cameras. At ten thirty-five a figure appeared and Toni felt her pulse quicken. He slowed the tape to normal speed. The woman striding forward as though getting ready to do a high kick was Loretta Forstman. She wore a figure-hugging black dress that struck envy into Toni’s heart, her diamonds, and a scowl. Toni watched as she entered the range of the first of the three cameras, then was picked up by camera two and finally the third, right outside the elevator doors. She entered the elevator and, where Toni had called up, she entered a code.
Toni made a note of the time in her notebook. She also jotted down a question. Could anyone watching this footage be able to figure out the code? She’d have to ask Luke. Perhaps someone like her new friend Buddy, with a lot of time on his hands, could watch over and over again as she punched in that code until he figured out the number sequence.
More time lapsed. A cleaner with a cart trundled through. Picked up by camera one, then two, and then back again. The cleaner never made it to camera three because he didn’t bother going all the way to the end of the corridor. Sloppy.
Nothing happened. The minutes crept by.
It was eleven. Eleven-thirty. Coming up to midnight. She felt a tension in her belly. Her entire theory was based on Dwayne thinking he’d heard Forstman on the phone saying “Hey, babe.”
Eleven fifty-six. Fifty-seven. A figure came into view. Loretta again? The woman was tall, with the same long, blond hair. She had her head down and she was wearing a different outfit than Loretta had worn earlier. She wore dark pants, a loose jacket that looked like silk. High heels. “Come on, look up,” Toni ordered silently.
Either the woman knew about the cameras and didn’t want her face to show, or she was contemplating the pattern in the flooring, or thinking deep thoughts. She entered the range of camera two and she was still looking down.
Camera three caught her again. Now she pushed the button and entered the elevator. Yes! She picked up the phone. Didn’t enter a code, but pushed a button as Toni had done when she was first let up to the Forstman’s apartment.
Toni could picture the scenario. Dwayne leaving Forstman’s office, maybe pausing to get rid of the cigar so he’d heard not only the phone ringing, but Grant Forstman answering it. “Hey, babe.”.
The woman’s back was to the camera so Toni had no idea what she said but pretty clearly, Grant Forstman had replied with some version of, “Come on up.”
And then the elevator doors closed.
Toni pictured the woman riding the elevator up to his office. He’d expected a roll on the casting couch with the woman he’d promised would be Mrs. Forstman the Fourth. What he’d received was a couple of bullets in the chest.
“Yes!” she cried. “That’s it.” She turned to pat Buddy on his ample shoulder. “Thank you.”
Buddy didn’t seem as excited by her finding. “This is important? Miss, I don’t mean no disrespect, but Mr. Forstman was my boss. I don’t want it getting out that he was cheating on Mrs. Forstman.”
“Of course not. The police need to see who used the elevator the night of Mr. Forstman’s death. You know police work. It’s all dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.”
She asked him to play the last couple of minutes back again, but she couldn’t identify the elevator user. She copied down the exact times from the monitor into her notebook.
She rose from her chair and gathered her things. Replacing her notebook and pen in her bag, she thanked Buddy once again.
He cracked his knuckles. “Okay.” He sounded disappointed. She wasn’t sure if he was sorry about his boss cheating or that she was leaving so soon.
“Are you absolutely certain I can’t have a copy of that?” She felt an urgency within her to run it down to the precinct right away.
He shook his head. “Like I said. We have rules and I gotta follow them. You need a warrant.”
“Okay. The police will be here very soon. Probably tomorrow. Promise me you’ll guard that with your life.”
“Nobody gets to that film except over my dead body,” he promised her.
Chapter Seventeen
“Adults are just outdated children.”
— Dr. Seuss
Dwayne might only be out on bail, but he wasn’t the kind of person to worry about trivialities. He was free right now and with Dwayne that was good enough. He clearly believed now that Toni had managed to get him out of jail that she’d keep him out.
Tiffany was counting on her too and she was determined to do her best. Especially now she was certain that Dwayne hadn’t killed Forstman.
After the way Luke had yelled at her about her visit to the dead man’s office she’d almost by-passed him and gone straight to the LVPD with her discovery of the footage, but she knew the chances weren’t huge that they’d drop everything because the ex-wife of their prime suspect thought she’d seen the real murderer on a surveillance camera.
She’d called him right after she collected her car and headed back to her hotel. He’d threatened some very painful things when she admitted that she’d gone back to the casino and sweet-talked security into letting her see that footage.
Luke might be mad at her but she knew that he respected her intelligence and her instincts. If he told the local cops to check out surveillance footage, they were more likely to do so.
Even though he’d still been pretty huffy after she’d told him what she’d seen, she could tell he was interested. “The girlfriend, huh? You’re sure?”
“No. I’m not a hundred percent positive. She never looked up at the camera, but who would if they were planning to kill someone? Besides, Forstman had to know the killer. He had to let her up. She must be the person who phoned when Dwayne was walking out. How many people would Forstman call ‘babe?’”
“According to what I’m hearing, most of the showgirls in Vegas.”
That was true, but she liked her theory that his latest girlfriend had found out he wasn’t going to marry her or that he was broke or something that made her decide to kill. “She seemed so sweet. The last person you’d expect to kill anybody.” She recalled those tears. They’d seemed real.
“What about Mrs. Forstman? Sounds like she had more to lose.”
“I know. And I guess she could have changed clothes, come back down some other way and then called her husband from the lobby. She’d have to call him. She couldn’t access his office from the private elevator without his okay.”
“
So, she calls up the husband, suggests a night cap. A quickie on the office couch to bring back happy memories?”
“Something like that I guess.” She felt the frustration of almost but not quite knowing who was on that tape. “I sure wish she’d looked up. The guy in charge of surveillance wouldn’t give me a copy of the tape. Make sure the cops get it, okay? This is the evidence that will free Dwayne.”
“I’m calling them the second I hang up with you.”
“Thanks.”
“And Toni?”
“Yeah?”
“You keep your nose clean and let the cops handle this. You hear me? Killers have a reputation of being dangerous.”
“I’ll be good,” she promised.
She shared her story with Linda and only Linda. Her mom looked a little disappointed. “Suzie’s so sweet. I didn’t want it to be her.” She let out a sigh.
“I know.”
In honor of Dwayne’s first night back at the Double Nugget after his recent incarceration, he’d insisted his three angels, as he’d taken to calling them, come watch his show. She’d wondered if her ex would find himself unemployed seeing as he was accused of murdering the man who’d owned the Double Nugget. But it seemed the Double Nugget didn’t hold grudges.
In the Broadway revival number, Toni nudged her mother when Forstman’s girlfriend came on. “There’s Suzie.”
Linda watched for a moment in silence then turned to Toni. “She’s counting her steps. You can see her lips moving. And you’re telling me that bimbo murdered Forstman?”
“I saw her on camera.”
“That girl doesn’t look like she could kill a mosquito if it landed on her arm and was sucking out her blood.”
Toni had to agree that the showgirl wouldn’t be the first person you’d turn to if you wanted someone killed.
When Sunny and the Three Chers came out, Linda clapped so hard she was in danger of carpal tunnel syndrome. “Don’t they look so much better with the new makeup?”
Linda was justifiably proud of the sales she’d made to the female impersonators. Most people wouldn’t notice under the stage lights, in glittery costumes and outrageous headpieces that their makeup was more alluring, but Toni could see it right away. “They look fantastic. You’re an artist.”
“I have a knack,” her mom admitted.
Sunny and the Three Chers were as fun to watch the second time as they had been the first.
Dwayne, not so much. He came to the mic and glanced around the room. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your warm welcome. I am so happy to be back with you all at the Double Nugget.” He paused for dramatic effect and in the pause Toni could hear an already drunk patron loudly ordering a whiskey sour. “When a man’s been unfairly incarcerated,” Dwayne continued, “he has a lot of time to think.”
Linda snorted. “He was in there for three days.”
“He gets to know what really matters. I’d like to dedicate this next song to my three angels. My daughter, Tiffany, and my wife, Toni, and the woman I sometimes call Mom.”
As he rolled into “You are the Only One for Me,” Linda leaned over and said, “And he should hear what I sometimes call him.”
When the show ended, all the performers came out for a drink. Dwayne had insisted he was going to buy everybody a drink to celebrate his release from jail. Dwayne had the ability to make a party out of anything and she gave him credit. All the cast and a few of the audience members still hanging around seemed to be having a good time.
Linda sipped on a margarita and watched the waiter make the rounds. “So, who do you figure is paying for this? You or Brent?”
She was under no illusions that Dwayne was picking up the tab. He’d take credit for his generosity and stick somebody else with the bill. “Probably me. Unless he’s crazy enough to put a round of drinks on Loretta Forstman’s bill.”
Linda snorted with laughter. “Knowing Dwayne? I believe he would be dumb enough to charge his drinks to the wife of the man he’s accused of killing.” She dropped her voice. “The woman he’s probably sleeping with.”
As Toni was thinking of rounding up the other two angels and heading out, Buddy, the security surveillance guy, came in carrying a black case. With him was a uniformed security guard. As they walked by, she heard him say, “Sometimes they need a little adjusting. The cameras can be temperamental.”
He glanced up at that moment and caught Toni’s gaze on him. He did that mental run through where she could see him working out where he’d seen her before then he hit on it. “Toni. Hi.” He gave her a thumbs-up. “Everything’s under control.” And kept walking.
“Who was that?” Tiffany asked. “And how do you know him?”
“I don’t. It’s a long story.”
They’d promised Dwayne a ride home since his car was in the shop, but Dwayne was taking his sweet time. A female fan, a woman in her forties who could lighten up on the eyeliner, seemed to be halting his progress. He drank in her praise the way an alcoholic sucks back booze. She supposed in a way his need for attention was an addiction. She only hoped Tiffany didn’t notice what was going on.
She heard the woman ask if he were related to Neil Diamond. She was standing so close to Dwayne that she was going to have his belt buckle imprinted on her navel.
Her ex laughed, that rich laugh of his. “We’re distant cousins, but I’d never ride on another man’s coattails.”
“And I’m cousins with the Queen of England,” Linda said softly so only Toni could hear.
Dwayne said, “Thank you, darling. I appreciate that. But I’m here with my family.” She noticed his sudden passion for his family didn’t stop him taking the folded piece of paper the woman slipped him, however.
The next morning, she left the other two sleeping while she went down to the hotel gym for a workout. After all the big meals she’d been eating, she should stay here all day. After grunting and sweating off maybe one pasta dinner, she huffed her way to the health bar and bought three smoothies containing kelp and spinach and some kind of magic energy-boosting compound.
“I brought breakfast,” she said when she returned to the room.
Her mother eyed her. “Nothing green could ever be called breakfast, honey.”
Her much more health-conscious daughter opened one eye from her bed in the pull-out couch. “Thanks, Mom.”
Since she wasn’t near as health conscious as she wished, she poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot Linda had made in the room.
“A package arrived for you,” Linda said, gesturing to a corner. She could be forgiven for not noticing one cardboard shipping box in the midst of the clothes and paraphernalia of three women sharing a room.
“Fantastic.” She’d had one of her team pack and ship Loretta Forstman’s makeup order so it would arrive as quickly as possible. “I’m going to take it over to her. Tiff? You’ve got your essay to work on, right?”
“Yes, Mother.” In spite of the chaos of their lives, Tiffany was managing to keep up her schoolwork through the wonders of email.
Toni showered, did her makeup and dressed in jeans, dress boots and a white shirt. She was ready to kick some ass.
Toni rang Loretta Forstman from the lobby. She hadn’t called ahead because she didn’t want to be fobbed off with excuses. “Loretta, it’s Toni Diamond. I’ve got your product,” she said in her most enthusiastic tones. “I had them put a rush on it because I wanted you to have something special during this difficult time.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thanks, um—”
Toni could hear a brush-off coming a mile away. She said, “I’m in the lobby. I wanted to bring your product to you myself.”
“Okay. Come on up.”
Toni knew two things. One: that woman did not want her coming up to her apartment. And two: she could not resist the lure of a bag of brand new cosmetics. Toni had guessed right. Loretta Forstman was a woman after her own heart.
Except for the part where she might be a murderer.
&
nbsp; After watching Suzie perform at the club last night, she had to agree with her mother’s assessment. It was hard to picture Forstman’s girlfriend as a killer.
But Loretta? If she knew her husband was planning to trade her in on a newer model, and that he was about to go bankrupt? Yeah. She could picture it.
She rode the magic elevator to the top, thinking that Loretta could easily have come home, changed clothes and then gone back downstairs again and called her husband from the lobby. Maybe Luke was right and she’d reminded him of their earlier days when they’d frolicked in his office. Who knew?
But somehow she’d been able to get there, kill him and then climb back in the secret elevator and continue on home to her personal trainer and her life insurance money.
But how to prove it?
When she got to the top of the elevator, Loretta was waiting for her. She was standing outside her apartment with the door all but closed. She wore a long sweater so thin it looked like gossamer and must have cost the earth. Tight jeans. Her feet were bare, the nails painted blood red.
“I’d invite you in, but the place is a mess.”
“That’s all right. I only came to bring you your products,” Toni said. “Everything’s labeled and I’ve included the new catalogue for easy reordering. Also, my card’s in there. You need anything, or you have questions about how to apply it, you call me anytime.”
“Thanks, Toni.” She looked as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. “There’s just something about brand new makeup that makes me feel like a new woman.”
“I know!” Loretta might be a murderer but she shared Toni’s enthusiasm for cosmetics and their benefits for a woman’s self-esteem as well as her looks.
“Thanks.”
Before Loretta could retreat back into her apartment, Toni pulled her in for a hug. “Good luck,” she said.
Then she pulled away and turned to call the elevator.
As she got in she realized that she’d got more information from Loretta than she’d bargained on.
The woman’s gossamer sweater had been on inside out, like she’d thrown it on in a hurry.
And when she’d pulled her in for a hug, Toni had caught the unmistakable fragrance of Stetson cologne.