Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries)

by Camilla Chafer

  I also knew what I was going to do about Marissa Widmore. By the time I picked up the phone to call Elisabeth, I felt very decisive.

  "Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line was flat, but I recognized it as Elisabeth’s. She sounded defeated, much like my sister.

  "This is Lexi Graves," I said.

  "Oh, I've been waiting for you to call! You're taking the case?" Her voice lifted from flat to hopeful.

  "Not exactly," I said.

  "What do you mean not exactly? I said I would pay. At least, as much as I can. I don't earn much. I could pay more in installments," she offered.

  "Let me explain. My team don't think there's enough to go on. Marissa doesn't have family. She never stays at any workplace long. She doesn't have any roots."

  "I know all that. But I told you she wouldn't take off."

  "My team don't like working from hunches." I wasn't sure if this were strictly true. I did believe they weren't sure about working off my hunch.

  Elisabeth was confused. "So... you're not taking the case?"

  "No, I am," I reassured her. "I think you're right, that something has happened to Marissa. It's just... I can't work on it full time."

  "Is it the money? I can try and get more money."

  "No, that's not it. It's not going to cost you anything."

  "Really?" She paused, then when she spoke again, she went from confused to suddenly pleased. "You're doing this pro bono? That's amazing. Thank you so much!"

  I seized on that. "Yes. You're going to be my pro bono case. We don't like to talk about it, but it happens occasionally, so you can't tell anyone," I said hurriedly. I pulled a face as I scrambled for a plausible reason as to why I was offering Solomon Agency time, unauthorized, for free. "And my boss is working a big case, so you'll only be dealing with me. I'm going to give you my number and you can call me directly on that." I waited while Elisabeth got a pen, then reeled off my cell phone number. "I want to come by to see you on Monday. Will you be home?"

  "Yes, but not until the evening. I get home at six. Thank you so much."

  "No problem. I'll see you then." I hung up and leaned back on my couch, trying not to hyperventilate, wondering if I was doing the right thing. I imagined the look on Solomon’s face if he found out I’d just taken on a case, despite his wishes.

  I couldn't help it. I couldn't just leave the woman hanging, not when her friend had disappeared. I made a note in my contact file about the meeting, then locked everything away. I went downstairs to see if Lily was in and wanted to hang out with me, rather than sit by myself, paranoid that Solomon guessed what I was doing and would come by to fire me. Or Maddox would get wind that I was still actively investigating, and would be pissed that I hadn't told him.

  Besides, it couldn’t hurt that much. I planned on working Marissa's case alone and largely in my own time. I just hoped I wasn't on a wild goose chase, or worse, making a huge mistake. I was fairly certain there would be a pretty long line of people waiting to tell me that what I was doing was idiotic and a waste of time. Most importantly, however, Marissa, missing for more than two weeks, wasn't one of them.

  And now I was the only one looking for her.

  Chapter Six

  I'd gotten used to sleeping in as and when I felt like it, so getting up for my first day at The Montgomery Hotel was an enormous and unwelcome chore.

  I dressed in my navy skirt suit, matching it with a sleeveless, red top, and a pair of smart heels with red bows, and drove over to the hotel, coffee in hand, yawning the whole way.

  Parking in the area marked “Employees,” I walked through the back entrance, following the signs to the front desk.

  "Hi," I said to the concierge, placing my plastic travel mug on the desk. "I'm Mr. Killjoy's new assistant. I was supposed to meet him here at nine."

  "Great!" The concierge faux-beamed with glowing white teeth as he looked pointedly at my mug. I picked it up and his smile got wider. "I'll call Mr. Killjoy now!" he announced, as if telling me I’d won the lottery.

  "Thanks." I backed away from the teeth and sat in an upholstered chair, trying not to drum my fingers as I waited. I didn't have long to be honest with myself. I was nervous. Only Edward Killjoy knew I was undercover, and only he knew I was going to be spending more time investigating his staff than doing the usual assistant work. I didn't mind learning fast. As a seasoned temp, I had plenty of experience in getting to know new computer systems, filing, and floor plans; but I had very little hands-on experience of knowing whether I was talking to a saboteur. A stab of anxiety dug at my core and I had to remind myself that no matter what else, Solomon wouldn’t have sent me if he didn’t believe I could handle it. Also, I was probably the only investigator in the office who looked like an office temp, so maybe he didn’t have much choice.

  Again, I questioned whether I was really good enough for the job. It didn't escape me that my moment of crisis coincided with the realization that my colleagues didn't think I was up for it. At least, I assumed they didn't. It wasn't like we were Facebook friends, but their body language spoke loud and clear.

  Screw them. I wasn't just going to get the job done; I was going to do it well! And with that, I gulped down the last of my panic, turned on my sweet, but dim smile, and stood up to meet the man in the suit bearing down on me.

  "Lexi Graves?"

  "Hi!" I pumped Edward Killjoy's hand, mentally noting that the photo was up-to-date. He was completely bald, not even a dusting of hair around the sides, and he wore a nervous smile and a badge on his lapel that bore his name and title. "So good to meet you!" I said, my enthusiasm turning my voice into a Hollywood starlet squeak.

  "Thanks for coming in at short notice. Call me Edward. Let's go through to my office." Killjoy disentangled himself from my overly enthusiastic, nervous hand-pumping and beckoned me to follow. I trailed him through a maze of corridors before we arrived at an office in the staff area, far away from any hotel guests. He shut the door behind him and gestured for me to sit in one of the two seats in front of his oak-veneered desk.

  "Did you read the file?" was the first thing Edward asked as he moved behind his desk.

  "Yes," I said, soberly now. I searched for somewhere to ditch my coffee mug and settled for the space under my chair. "I've read the backgrounds on all your employees and I've seen the incident report."

  "I'm sure you understand we need absolute discretion." Edward leaned forward in his padded chair, clasped his hands together, and rested his wrists on the edge of the desk. He looked very troubled.

  "That's what the Solomon Agency stands for," I told him, which was possibly true, but mostly I said it because it sounded cool. Edward seemed reassured.

  "Good. I'm sure your boss explained why the sabotage is such a problem for us. If it gets out that we can’t manage our events, or that the guests have had their stuff stolen, we could lose so much business that the hotel would no longer be viable. We've already lost several large bookings due to rumors, as well as many more guest bookings. Except for the conference this week, our room occupancy is at an all time low."

  I took my notepad from my purse and flipped it open. "I thought the hotel was keeping the problem quiet?"

  Edward nodded. "We are. I don't know how it got out. I suspect it's part of the saboteur's plan. Whoever is doing this is telling people not to come."

  Ouch. Someone really had it in for the hotel. "Do you know why someone would want to hurt the business?"

  "I've no idea,” said Edward, with a shake of his head. “We've let people go, of course, thanks to the economy; but they're mostly all employed elsewhere now, so I can't see why anyone would hold a grudge."

  "Can you get me their employment records?"

  "I've arranged for you to have access to everywhere in the building. The employment records are kept in our human resources office with Louisa Moore, our HR manager. You can look through whatever you want. I told Louisa that you'll be doing some employment research for me, so she won't get in
your way."

  "Thanks. I appreciate that." It was good to tell the client that they were doing things right, and that they were a help, not a burden. Edward relaxed slightly and a spot of light illuminated a shiny patch on his head, appearing like a little halo. "You haven't been manager long. Do you think the grudge is against the hotel group, or you personally?" I asked.

  "I was appointed manager when the hotel was taken over; and not everyone was happy about leaving, or about my promotion. But I earned it,” he assured me. “I've been in the hotel industry for more than twenty years. I've worked every job. I've grafted to get where I am today."

  "I believe that. Can you get me a list of anyone who was, or could have been mad at you for your promotion? Say, anyone at the hotel who wanted your current job?"

  "Sure. I want to point out that the sabotage started months after I got the job, though."

  "It's just an angle to explore," I explained. "And please pardon this question, but have any complaints been made against you by any employee?"

  "None," Edward said emphatically, and without offense. "You're welcome to check with Louisa."

  I changed tactics because I didn’t want Edward to focus on the personal angle. "Tell me about the sabotage."

  Edward relaxed in his chair and rolled his shoulders, like he was limbering up. He was a muscular man, and broadly built, his shirt stretching across his chest. I saw no hint of a beer gut. "It started with little things, things that our guests would pass off as carelessness, or sloppy work, but things just didn't sit right when I looked at them altogether. Too many lost bookings for rooms or lost reservations in the restaurant. Then the refrigerators were left open two Friday nights in a row. Weekends are big for us. We get a lot of company dinners, as well as couples and families. We fully stock the refrigerators in preparation. Needless to say, those nights, everything spoiled and needed restocking. After the second incident, I got a guy in from the manufacturer to replace the locking mechanism on the doors. It seemed okay; then a month later it happened again, right before a wedding. The wedding breakfast was for two hundred, canapés and drinks for three hundred, and an evening buffet. We lost thousands, and that's not including the discount we had to bung the couple for being late on serving everything. We'll be lucky if they don't tell all their rich friends that we screwed up their special day."

  "Sounds stressful."

  "It was. Something similar to the wedding catastrophe happened two weeks later. We had an awards dinner for a bunch of suits. We had to call every vendor we knew and beg for supplies. Our vendors supply other restaurants and hotels too, so I can only hope they kept their mouths shut, or we'll be a laughing stock. This may seem like a big industry, but not when the mud starts flying," Edward finished, his voice edging towards despair.

  Most of this I already knew, but it was good to hear from Edward. He was one unhappy man and I got it. He finally attained the job he’d worked his entire career for, and some little shit was trying to screw him over. He appeared remarkably calm about it, even though it looked like he was counting the days until he was fired. "There were other incidents?" I pressed.

  "After the second incident with the refrigerators, stuff started disappearing from the guest rooms. Jewelry, phones, laptops, iPods. Expensive stuff. Some of the guests, understandably, wanted the police called in."

  "Did you call the police?"

  "No. We put in theft reports and reimbursed all the guests as well as interviewed every staff member. Not only do I now have guests who will never book here again, but I also have pissed-off employees from the wait staff to the chambermaids. Morale is rock bottom. No one trusts anyone."

  "And the rotas have been messed with too?"

  Edward nodded. "Yes. I now have to personally speak to every employee to confirm what days they're working. I have to keep the schedules on me all the time. It's a pain in the ass."

  "Can I see copies of all the crime reports, please?"

  Edward swiveled in his chair and opened a cabinet behind him, his fingers walking over the files until he pulled one out. "Here," he said, passing it to me. "This is all of them."

  "My boss mentioned something about canceled conferences?"

  "Yeah. Imagine three hundred guests arriving, and we don't even have the tables and chairs set out, never mind the sound system. Fortunately, my house manager, Sylvia Cooper, is amazing. It normally takes us a couple of hours, or overnight, to set everything up; but she got everything ready in thirty minutes while we poured free coffee and tea in the bar."

  "You think she's after your job?" What I meant, of course, was could she have done it? Then made herself look good by saving the day?

  "No. She wants a life." Edward smiled, like that was a funny idea. "That's not the only time she's had to do it either. I was worried we'd lose her to a rival. Now I’m worried she’ll walk out at the first decent offer she gets."

  "What's your gut feeling on all this?"

  "My gut? Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes, I think it's personal. Sometimes I think it's against the Addison Group for buying the hotel and including it in the chain."

  That was what I expected, having already come to the same conclusions. I tried a different question. "What sort of person do you think could be responsible?"

  Edward breathed in deeply and stared up at the ceiling, his fingers steepled under his chin. "Most of our employees can only access the things that are necessary to their job. Waitresses can't use the front of house computer system, for example, and the concierge would certainly stand out in the kitchen. So, either they can access a lot without being noticed, or they've found another way to do it. That's not much help, I know."

  I was noting this down. "It's very helpful," I assured him, looking up to offer a smile. "Please, go on."

  "Hmm, okay. Well, they would need to access the computers, either in-house or hack in, because that's the only way to mess with the bookings and the rotas." I made a note to ask Lucas to go into the system again and run diagnostics, before waving Edward on. He continued, "They would also need to be able to access the guest rooms."

  "How are the guest rooms accessed?"

  "Electronic key cards. We program the card to the room at the desk when the guest checks in and they keep the card for the duration of their stay. It gets deactivated when they check out and then we reuse the card."

  "How many cards do you issue per room?"

  "Usually, not more than two."

  "And if they lose their card?"

  "It can be deactivated from here and a new one issued."

  "So, someone could potentially program another card for access and hang onto the first one?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you keep records of activations and deactivations?"

  "Yes, always."

  "And housekeeping?"

  "They're issued an all-access card when they go on shift, and they return it when they're finished"

  I made another note for Lucas and smiled. "This is all really helpful, Edward."

  "Do you think it's enough to catch this person?"

  "Not yet," I said. "But it's a start. I hear there's a conference on this week. Have there been any problems or complications with that?"

  "It's more of a convention," Edward corrected. "And not yet. Trust me, I hate saying 'yet,' but so far it's been smooth. Not exactly classy, if you know what I mean. A bunch of geeks and these pony toys that little girls like. Did you ever have any Super Ponies when you were young?"

  "Sure," I said, remembering back to when my biggest problem was whether to get the turquoise-blue pony with the pink, glittery hair, or the purple one with the lime-green mane. "It's a rite of passage, midway between building blocks and Barbie."

  "Try telling these guys that."

  "Neigh to that."

  Edward cracked a smile. "I think I've heard every bad horse joke since we got the booking. But let's get serious. Another bad event could truly sink us. My bosses are not happy."

  "Are they looking to remove
you?"

  "Not yet, but they will if revenue drops below predictions."

  That piqued my interest. "What happens then?"

  "If I get fired for the hotel failing, they either bring in a rescue team, or sell the hotel and cut their losses. Or they could close the place down, if the books aren’t viable for a sale. It's not just I who will suffer. We employ a lot of people and I try to be flexible in my employment practices. Single moms, kids who need to bus tables to make money for college, and staff who come from nothing, but possess the spark of ambition that ensures we can train them to a high standard. I can't let them down," he said. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and he wiped it away, before rubbing his head in frustration.

  "You sound like a good boss,” I said, honestly.

  "I try. I'm a taskmaster, I'm sure they'll tell you that, but I'm fair. I reward good work. I let people learn from their mistakes, rather than freaking out and firing them."

  "Can you show me around?" I had several pages of notes now, but nothing emerged as the obvious reason for a saboteur to attack the hotel, or who it could be. We had already established that there were no threats or attempts at blackmail. My best course of action now was to sniff around and get to know the employees. One of them could have seen or heard something, or possibly suspected someone. "Perhaps you can explain more about my cover role too, so I can make sure to fit in."

  "I don't expect you to do much in your, uh, cover role." Edward rose and walked around the desk. I gathered my things together, sliding the files and notepad into my purse. "It's just lucky that the role was available. My last assistant just stopped coming in."

  "Was that odd?"

  His face clouded. "Yeah, it was. I was pretty mad."

  "Has there been sabotage since?"

  "Oh, yes."

  The missing employee immediately plummeted from the top of my suspects list, but I made a note about it anyway. "I'll need those details too."