19
Brooklyn
The fury Lex had been feeling boiled over the moment she set eyes on Brooklyn DiMarco. He was standing by the front desk in uniform, waiting for her. She had called him an hour ago and told him that something was terribly wrong and that she sure as hell had to talk to him. He’d sounded scared. But he hadn’t tried to brush her off as she had expected him to.
Now, as she and Park strolled across the lobby, Lex took a series of deep, cleansing breaths. There was no easy way to do this. She had to keep her suspicions in front of her while shoving away her attraction to Brooklyn, which was a lot like trying to scale the side of a building in heels: nearly impossible.
“Now, just remember to be cool,” Park whispered in her ear. “And don’t fight with him. The best way to get someone to talk is by staying quiet.”
Lex shot her a tense glance. “Well, if I get loud and fling my purse at him, feel free to jump in and save the day, okay?”
“No swinging of purses,” Park warned her. “That purse can very easily be a lethal weapon, and one murder is enough, thank you very much.”
They approached the front desk.
“Hey,” Brooklyn said brightly. He cracked a ghost of a smile. The look in his eyes was pensive, and his smile quickly turned down to a tight-lipped grimace. “Uh…what’s up?”
Lex took off her sunglasses and hung them on the front of her shirt. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“Yeah, sure. Follow me.” Brooklyn turned around and led them past the desk and through a closed door beside the concierge stand.
The room was small and cramped, with a single two-seat sofa and a scuffed table. The walls were bleak. The overhead light was dingy.
“This is kind of our little break room,” Brooklyn explained. “It used to be a big closet, but they cleaned it out last year. Now we get to sneak in here when no one’s watching and catch a few minutes’ rest.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Um, you want something to drink?”
“We’re not here on a pleasure call,” Park said quietly. “This is business.”
“Business?” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Lex.
“Yes,” she said. “Business. Because you lied to me.”
Brooklyn started. “Lied to you? About what? What are you talking about?”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Park said, pointing to the sofa.
Brooklyn lowered himself slowly onto the musty pillows.
Lex sat down beside him but kept her body a good distance from his. If their knees so much as touched, she knew she would start thinking about the hot kiss they had shared last night.
Park leaned against the small table.
“Anyone wanna tell me what this is about?” Brooklyn asked sharply.
“Look,” Lex began, staring down at her hands. “I know we’ve just met and we don’t really know each other well, but I like you and—”
“I like you too, Lex,” he cut in briskly. “You know that.”
She sighed quietly. “Yeah, I do know that. But I don’t like it when guys lie to me, especially when there’s a crime involved.”
“A crime?” Brooklyn’s voice rose.
“Yeah,” Park said. “Remember the body that fell from the penthouse?”
He made a stupid face. “Duh. Of course I do. But—wait—what are you saying? You think I lied about something?”
“You did,” Lex said. “You told me that you had never met Elijah Traymore before he and Tallula and Ina checked in here. And that’s not true.”
Brooklyn was silent. Then he shrugged and shook his head. “It’s…not?”
“No, Brock, it’s not.” Park stared at him. “You know exactly what we’re talking about.”
“I do?”
“Stop playing dumb!” Lex snapped. “You met Elijah Traymore a few months ago! He came to your school and gave some sort of talk!”
“And you probably didn’t know this,” Park chimed in, “but there’s a picture on the school’s Web site that proves it.”
Brooklyn closed his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably in the sofa. He ran his fingers under the collar of his shirt. “Well…yeah…okay. That’s true. Elijah did come to my school, and yeah, I met him. But—”
“Why did you lie about it?” Lex cut him off sharply.
He swallowed hard. “Because it was really no big deal. I shook his hand, we talked for a few minutes. Someone snapped a pic of us talking, but that was it.”
“So why lie about it?” Park kept her tone even-keeled, her stare hard and unflinching.
“Why lie about it?” Brooklyn repeated. “Are you serious? Of course I don’t want people knowing I met Elijah. You mention one thing like that when someone gets killed, and the cops start crawling all over you.”
“But if you’re innocent and have nothing to hide, why would you care if the cops start crawling all over you?” Lex asked.
“Because it’s scary!” he replied, his voice rising. “Who the hell wants to get caught up in something like this? I was here when he got shoved off that balcony! That’s all the cops would’ve needed—to poke around and make me a suspect, even though it would’ve only lasted for like ten seconds. But ya know, it wasn’t exactly easy for my dad to get me this job here. He had to pull a lot of strings and I complain about it and shit like that, but the truth is, I make good money here and I don’t wanna lose it.”
“But how well did you know Elijah?” Park asked. “Did you guys talk to each other after you met him at your school? Did he recognize you when he checked in here?”
“I didn’t keep in touch with him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Brooklyn answered quickly. “Why the hell would he have kept in touch with me? I’m nobody—he was a celebrity. I spoke to him for about three minutes that day at school, and that was it.”
“And did he recognize you when he checked in?” Lex repeated.
Brooklyn sighed again. “I didn’t kill him, okay? I mean—holy Jeez! You don’t really think that! You’re not serious about this!”
Lex and Park looked at each other as silence fell over the room. “Just answer the question,” Lex said firmly. “Did he recognize you?”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes again. “He recognized me.”
Park was quick to catch the marked hesitation in Brooklyn’s response. She didn’t like it one bit. He was totally hiding something. Aware that it was time to up the ante on this interrogation, she stood up straight and began pacing the floor—back and forth, back and forth—her hands locked behind her back, her head held high—back and forth.
When Brooklyn opened his eyes again, he followed Park as she moved from left to right, then as she circled the small sofa. “Hey—what’re you doing?”
“I’m just thinking,” Park replied. “If you’re totally innocent and have nothing at all to do with what happened, why do you look so scared?”
“I don’t look scared,” he said defensively, and unconvincingly.
“Oh, please.” Lex clucked her tongue. “You totally look like you’re about to piss in your pants.”
“A little decorum, Lex,” Park said quietly. “We don’t say piss, we say tinkle.”
Brooklyn slipped his fingers underneath the collar of his shirt again. He had begun to sweat profusely. “I’m telling you the truth here, okay? I had nothing to do with Elijah’s murder. I didn’t push anybody off some balcony. Hell—I helped you try to figure stuff out, didn’t I? I broke you into the penthouse!”
“We’re not talking about us here,” Lex shot back. “We’re talking about you. If you’re hiding something, spill it.”
“The only thing I haven’t told anybody is…” He grunted, annoyed and on edge.
Park stopped walking. She was standing directly in front of him. She trained her gaze on him and didn’t so much as blink.
“Here’s the thing,” Brooklyn said. “When Elijah checked in, he recognized me, and I thought it was really cool and he said hi and asked me about school
and all that stuff. I was really flattered. I mean, the guy was, like, famous. So anyway, the day before he got killed, I was walking through the lobby and he sees me and he goes, ‘Hey, Brock. Can I talk to you?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah, sure.’ But then he walked into the bathroom and told me to follow him. And I thought it was weird and all, and I knew it wasn’t something cool because as soon as we got inside he looked under the stalls to make sure no one was there. And then he turns to me and he goes, ‘Listen, I need a favor.’ Then he took out this small yellow envelope and held it up. And he goes, ‘Can you hold this for me for like two days?’ And I told him that I could put it in a hotel safe for him, and he said he didn’t want that. He just wanted someone to sort of…I don’t know…hide it for him.
“So anyway, at first I said no because it seemed totally shady. I wasn’t down with it. An envelope? Why not just put it in the hotel safe? Well, I knew why—because he didn’t want to leave a paper trail. Weird. So I said no again, and then…well…” He sighed heavily and stared down at the floor.
“Then what?” Lex asked impatiently. “Finish the story.”
“Then Elijah took out a wad of cash and he handed me five hundred bucks,” Brooklyn said quietly, reluctantly. “And I know it was stupid of me and all, but, like, it was five hundred bucks. Clean cash. So I took the freaking envelope and held it for him. But listen—if anyone finds out about that, I’ll totally get fired. And the cops will be all over me for something stupid. And my dad will get in trouble and—”
“Just forget that for a second,” Park cut in quickly. “What was in the envelope?”
“I don’t know,” Brooklyn said. “I…I didn’t look.”
“Bullshit.” Lex shook her head. “You so know you opened that envelope.”
He sighed again. “Okay—I did. I couldn’t help it. I carried it around in my pocket for a day and I got curious. There was a key in the envelope. That was it.”
“A key? Where is it now? Do you have it?” Lex batted his arm.
“No, the morning of the luncheon, Elijah took the little envelope back from me,” Brooklyn explained. “And I kept the cash. End of story.”
Park hadn’t really heard the last chunk of his answer. She was too busy scrambling for her purse, digging inside it. Her heart hammering, she found the key that she’d picked up a few feet from Elijah’s body and held it up and out. “Is this it?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “Does this look familiar?”
Brooklyn shot off the sofa and grabbed the key from Park’s hand. “Holy Jeez!” he cried. “This is it—I mean, I’m pretty sure this is it.” He stared down at it with wide, nervous eyes. “It’s a multi-lock key.”
“A what?” Park and Lex asked in unison.
“A multi-lock key,” Brooklyn repeated. “See the blue top? It means you can’t make a copy of it unless you have the card it comes with. You pay extra for that, ya know? Hey—wait a minute! Why do you have this key? I gave it back to Elijah!”
Park shifted her weight from one foot to the other, pondering her response. She looked at Lex, but Lex’s face was as blank as hers.
“Hello?” Brooklyn snapped. “Like, hel-lo? Now who’s got some explaining to do?”
“All right,” Park said quickly. She whisked the key out of his fingers. “I found this next to Elijah’s body. I had no proof it actually belonged to him—until now.”
Brooklyn’s jaw dropped. “You stole evidence from a crime scene?”
“I borrowed it,” Park answered, shrugging. “I was planning to give it back.”
“Oh really?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What were you gonna do? Put it in an envelope and mail it to heaven?”
Lex got up and waved her hands. “Okay, people. Let’s chill. Brooklyn, when did you give that key back to Elijah?”
“Wednesday, right before he came into the luncheon. He came up to me. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. I knew what he wanted, so I just handed it over.”
“Well, can you answer me another question?” Park asked. “Where were you when Elijah was shoved off the balcony?”
Brooklyn crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. “You did not just ask me that.”
“Oh, but I did.” Park put her hands on her hips and struck a fearless pose.
Brooklyn stared at Lex. “You know, I’m totally offended here.”
“Just answer the question,” Lex said. “Where were you?”
“Running around the hotel, doing my job. Like always.”
Park and Lex exchanged dubious glances.
“But,” Brooklyn said, “I might as well tell you right now since you’ll probably find out anyway. I did happen to get into the elevator with Tallula Kayson and her assistant when they left the luncheon. I got off on the sixth floor—and I have three witnesses who’ll vouch for me on that.” He smirked sarcastically. “So there.”
“Did Tallula or Ina say anything to you? Did you guys speak?” Lex batted his arm again.
“No, nothing,” Brooklyn replied.
“What were Tallula and Ina doing?”
He shrugged. “Talking, I guess. I don’t know. Going through their bags, putting on makeup. Stuff girls do.”
Lex felt a little lightbulb go on over her head. “Hey, did you see Ina put on any of that moisturizer we found in the room last night? Remember?”
Brooklyn thought about it for a while. “Actually, yeah. I think she did. She slathered stuff on her hands. I think that was right about the time I got off the elevator.”
“Shit,” Park whispered. “Brooklyn—you might totally have to tell that to the cops! That’s like…major info.”
“It is? Why?”
Park flashed back to the afternoon following the luncheon. Brooklyn hadn’t seen Elijah’s body up close; he didn’t know about the semi-handprint on the white fabric of Elijah’s shirt. “Forget about it for now,” she said. “But don’t forget about it altogether, okay?”
He stared at her, visibly spooked.
“Listen,” Lex said, stepping in front of him. “I have another question. Is there any way to find out where that key belongs? Like, why Elijah had it?”
“I guess you can try and call the locksmith where he got it,” Brooklyn answered. “Call the number on the key and see if they’ll tell you.”
“The number?” Park held the key up. “What number?”
“Right there on the body of the key, etched into the silver part, you should find a phone number,” Brooklyn explained. “That’s the locksmith.”
Lex dug into her magic purse and pulled out her trusty magnifying glass. She handed it over to Park.
Resting the key in the palm of her left hand, Park studied it through the magnifying glass. And there, printed on one side of it in nearly microscopic print, was a seven-digit phone number. She reached for her cell, flipped it open. She punched in the number and waited as the line rang.
“Big John’s Locksmiths,” a male voice answered. “Can I help ya?”
“Um, yes,” Park said. “Can you tell me where you’re located?”
“We have seven stores in New York State,” the man answered tersely. “You’ve reached our main store and office in Manhattan. Lower Manhattan, to be exact. You need a locksmith?”
“No, thanks.” She closed the cell. A surge of adrenaline shooting through her, Park slipped the key into the pocket of her jeans and grabbed her purse. “Hey, Brock? You’ve been a big help.” She patted his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Thanks?” he snapped. “You come here and practically accuse me of killing Elijah Traymore, and all you can say is thanks?”
Park grinned. “You explained yourself, so I pretty much don’t think you’re our killer.”
“Pretty much?” Brooklyn asked, still incredulous. “How about saying you think I’m totally innocent? That would be nice.”
“Park doesn’t think anyone is totally innocent,” Lex told him. “It’s the detective mentality.” She swung the magic purse over her
shoulder and looked up at him. She felt relief floating through her body. She wasn’t sure Brooklyn DiMarco would ever want to see her again, but at least he was the nice, cool guy she’d initially taken him for. Good news for him, and good news for her. She batted her eyes, gave his forearm a gentle squeeze, and then she followed Park out of the room.
“Hey, Lex?” he called after her.
She turned around.
“Can I still call you sometime?” he asked with a reluctant smile.
She nodded right away and shot him a wink. “I think so. And as it turns out, I’m free this weekend….”
Park grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her into the lobby. “Amazing,” she huffed. “On the hunt for a killer and you’re making a date. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Big John’s Locksmiths was located on Chambers Street in Lower Manhattan. The cab ride from Midtown had taken a full thirty minutes, and Park and Lex had used the time wisely, knotting silk scarves around their heads and tucking their hair in at all the right angles. Now, as the cab came to a full stop, they slipped on their sunglasses. Park paid the driver and popped open the door.
“Well,” she said, standing on the sidewalk and glancing around the bustling, narrow street. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here. It’s…so busy.”
“And kind of ugly,” Lex replied. “I’ve never seen so many people wearing gray.”
Park gestured at the large storefront window just ahead. The words BIG JOHN’S LOCKSMITHS, FAMILY OWNED AND OPERATED SINCE 1922 were stenciled on the grimy glass. She pushed through the front door, surprised to see such a big, wide floor. From somewhere in the back, a machine was clunking noisily.
“Maybe that’s Big John,” Lex whispered, referring to the short, thin, balding man at the front counter.
Park approached him and cleared her throat. “Hi,” she said gently.
“How ya doin’?”
“Fine, thanks.” Park reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out the key. “I found this key in my father’s old office, and I was just wondering if you could tell me anything about it?”
The Celebutantes Page 24