by B A Trimmer
Fortunately, the bedroom had built-in bookshelves, which were stuffed with the blonde’s things. I quickly set up three cameras facing the bed, all from different angles. I also set up one so it faced toward the door of the bathroom.
For the cameras, I’d chosen some of my favorites. The first was a small kitty-kat figurine with the eye of the cat as the camera lens. For the second, I used a box of tissues with a cheap-looking cover. In this one, the camera lens was disguised as the center of a painted flower.
I also used a small brown stuffed bear with the camera lens hidden as a button on his coat. These objects were the kinds of things someone might notice, but they’d almost always assume the other person had brought them in.
For the last camera, I used one that looked exactly like a standard cell phone charger. It even worked as a charger in case someone needed to power up their mobile.
I plugged it directly into a wall socket, so this one had the advantage of not requiring a battery. The only downside was I couldn’t point it directly at the bed.
As I was installing the cameras, I noticed someone else had already placed spy cameras throughout the room. I searched in the obvious places and found a total of four other cameras.
Surprisingly, they hadn’t worked all that hard to disguise them. I wasn’t sure what to do with them, so I left them alone. I mentally crossed my fingers that no one had been watching while I was in the room.
I made a few final adjustments, then went outside to the back of the unit to set up a signal-repeater. This would allow the cameras to send the images to the office over the internet.
I’d just finished installing and setting up the equipment when I heard a car pull into the driveway.
Damn.
I stood at the back of the townhouse, away from the windows, until I heard the sound of the front door open, then close again. I waited for a couple of minutes, then confidently walked back out to the street, my clipboard still in my hand.
I made it back to my car and had just closed the door when a maroon Jaguar convertible came down the street and slid into the driveway next to the blonde’s white BMW. A man, about fifty-five years of age, got out and walked to the front door. Without knocking, he went inside.
I wasn’t sure what to make of it, so I called Sophie.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re not going to believe it. But the blonde came back to the townhouse. She’s with another man.”
“Seriously? That’s her second one today. That woman has some kind of stamina. One good session with a guy is enough to tire me out for hours.”
“Would you be able to run his plate? I’m curious to know who he is?”
“Sure, give me the numbers. I’ll see what I can dig up.”
~~~~
If the blonde followed her usual pattern, she’d be entertaining the man for the next three hours. I used the time to drive over to the Filiberto’s at the Pavilions at Talking Stick. I was getting hungry and I needed to use the bathroom.
While I was at lunch, enjoying chips and a carne asada burrito, Sophie called to let me know the car was registered to Isaac Elmaghrabi, MD. After she mangled the name a couple of times, I had her spell it out for me. According to the website for Scottsdale General, Doctor Elmaghrabi was the Chief Medical Operations Officer.
Sophie also sent me a couple of internet pictures of the doctor. He was a slightly overweight guy who matched the man who had gotten out of the Jaguar.
When I arrived back at the townhouse, it was a little after two o’clock. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw both cars were still in the driveway.
~~~~
A little after three, the front door of the townhouse opened and the blonde stepped out again. I cringed a little when I saw she had on the same purple outfit as she’d been wearing earlier in the day when meeting with the first man.
Close on her heels was Doctor Elmaghrabi. He walked directly to his car, without giving the blonde a hug or a final kiss. While she was still locking the front door, he fired up his car and took off.
Maybe it was only me, but I could see he didn’t look happy, even from where I was. This was certainly not the look I would have expected from a man who had spent an afternoon of passion with a beautiful woman.
~~~~
I drove back to the office. When I got there, Sophie was at her desk, talking with Gina.
“Hey, Laura,” Gina said. “How’d it go today? Did you get the cameras installed?”
“Yeah, that part went okay. But the weird thing is we’re not the only ones taking videos in the bedroom.”
“Oh, really?” she asked.
“I found four other cameras in the room.”
“Well…” Gina pondered, “it could be law enforcement with some serious warrants. But I’d guess it’s simply somebody else making recordings for their own purposes. Hopefully, they weren’t watching while you were over there.”
“The townhouse is owned by our client’s husband,” I said. “He might suspect his mistress is using his house to entertain other guys. Maybe he put the cameras there to confirm his suspicions?”
“Or maybe he already knows she’s there with other men and he wants to watch?” Gina asked.
“Yeah,” Sophie said with a wicked smile. “A lot of guys think that’s hot.”
“Sophie told me about the two other men she had over there today,” Gina said. “Both of them were doctors?”
“They were,” I said. “She seems to go after men with money.”
“Well,” Gina said, “if she’s charging all of them, she’ll be making an excellent income.”
“Still,” Sophie said, “using your sugar daddy’s crib to host other guys? That’s pretty bold of her.”
“Yup,” I said. “It’s messed up, no matter how you look at it.”
“You’re telling me,” Sophie said. “If Michael doesn’t already know about it, I bet he’ll be totally pissed when he finds out. I would imagine he bought the townhouse thinking it would be his private hideaway.”
“I wonder if she changes the sheets between men?” Gina pondered.
“Oh, that’s nasty,” Sophie said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think I’d like to be rolling around on someone else’s love stains.”
“I wouldn’t worry so much about the sheets,” I said. “I hope she at least takes a shower between the men. Being number two for the day and getting sloppy seconds would be disgusting.”
“Eeeewww,” Gina said, puckering her lips.
“Jeez, why’d you have to say that?” Sophie groaned. “That’s so gross. Now I’ll have that image stuck in my head all day.”
The door to Lenny’s office opened, and a cloud of cigarette smoke rolled out. Lenny came out of his office with two fingers of Beam on the rocks. He walked over to Sophie’s desk and collapsed into one of the red-leather wing chairs. He looked tired and deflated.
“Did you call Elle?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said with a snort of laughter, shaking his head. “I called her.”
“What happened?”
“I did like you advised. I told her I’d let my emotions get the best of me and I knew it was too soon to talk about things like that.”
“What did she say?”
Lenny sighed and took a sip of his Beam. “She said she really likes me, but dating me more than a few times had been a mistake. She feels bad that she let it go so far and it was all her fault.”
“So, is it over?” I asked.
Lenny nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
The three of us looked at each other, but no one seemed to know what to say.
“I need a cigarette,” he said as he looked at the floor.
Gina glared at him, and Lenny seemed to sense it without looking up. “I know,” he said. “I’ll open my window, so you three don’t need to deal with the smoke.”
He got up, walked back into his office, and slowly closed the door.
“Wow,” Sophie said. “Being told it’s not your fault is a
lways the worst way to get dumped. That means she didn’t think you were even worth the effort. If some guy’s going to leave me, I want it to be because I did something to piss him off and he hates me.”
“It’s a weird feeling,” I said. “But I feel terrible for Lenny and what he’s going through.”
“Yeah,” Sophie said. “But you know what this is going to mean. For the next couple of weeks, he’s going to alternate between being pissy and looking like he’s about to cry. I don’t think I can handle that.”
“Do you have any suggestions?” Gina asked. “I have excuses to be out of the office, but you’ll be stuck here.”
“I know,” Sophie said with a moan. “I don’t know what we can do, other than to try to hook him up with someone else.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know either, but we’ve got to come up with something.”
~~~~
I went to the back offices and logged into my computer. I wanted to make sure the camera feeds were all working correctly.
When I opened my video folder, there were already several files from the Palmer townhouse. I had one file, per camera, for each hour they’d been in operation.
These files would keep coming in until the batteries in the cameras wore out. I knew, from experience, it would take five or six days for that to happen. If I hadn’t gotten the evidence I needed by then, I’d have to go back and install new batteries in all of them.
I did a quick review of what I’d gathered so far. As expected, the videos featured the blonde with Doctor Elmaghrabi.
It didn’t take me long to get the gist of what they did together. The blonde seemed to be very skilled at her job. Mostly, what the doctor had to do was lay back and enjoy himself.
I fast-forwarded a few times to make sure nothing of note happened. Most of the session seemed to be the blonde entertaining the man in all sorts of creative ways.
Flipping open my logbook, I made a notation that the video files weren’t relevant to the investigation and deleted them. This was a standing rule at the law firm, since we often ended up with compromising videos of unrelated people.
One bit of satisfaction I gleaned from looking at the videos was the great locations I’d chosen to hide the cameras. I was getting high-definition shots that clearly showed both who was in the room and what activities they were involved in. This was precisely what Lenny needed for him to score the high-dollar settlements his clients looked for.
I was also able to confirm my suspicions about the blonde. After she was through with Doctor Elmaghrabi, she spent over half an hour in front of the mirror, fixing her hair and completely redoing her make-up.
I also noted that she didn’t change the sheets. When they were done, she simply flipped the covers and bedspread back into place and smoothed everything out.
That’s so gross.
My phone rang, showing a local number I couldn’t place. When I answered, it was Cheryl, the new executive admin at the Tropical Paradise.
“Miss Black,” she said in an efficient voice, “Mr. DiCenzo would like to meet with you for three holes of golf. He’s available tomorrow morning, if that’s convenient for you.”
I thought about it for a second and couldn’t come up with anything I’d need to do in the morning. “Um, sure. When and where?”
“It will be the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth holes of the Kokopelli course at the Blue Palms. He’ll meet you at Mulligan’s Grille. Mr. DiCenzo thought you might be familiar with it.”
“Yes, I know where it is. What time?”
“He’s expecting to arrive at approximately ten o’clock. He also wanted you to know he’ll have a set of clubs for you at the valet.”
“Great. Tell him I look forward to it.”
I disconnected and sat back in my chair. I was a little surprised but pleased to hear Tony was golfing again. My only worry was I hadn’t picked up a club since the last time I’d golfed with him, and that was back in the spring.
Chapter Four
Kristy’s first wedding was at Our Lady of Peace at McDowell Mountain Ranch. Sophie and I drove separately, but we both made it to the church about two hours before the ceremony.
I’d never been here before, but the venue was beautiful. The front of the church had big picture windows that looked out over the northern parts of Scottsdale. Mummy Mountain and Piestewa Peak were prominent in the distance.
Kristy had apparently already been here for some time and was quietly checking everything. Sophie said she’d look around, so I decided to follow our client.
Watching the wedding from Kristy’s perspective was a rather strange feeling. She was carrying a tablet with a schedule of everything that would happen and who would be involved with each step.
As we walked around the building, she did a final check with the officiant, the photographer, the videographer, and the limo driver. She was very friendly with everyone and never seemed to be in a rush, but she also didn’t waste any time.
“Is everything going okay?” I asked.
“So far, everything’s going smoothly. Keep your fingers crossed.”
Next, we stepped into a dressing area in the back, where the bride and bridesmaids were in the final stages of getting ready. Everyone was smiling and laughing. One of the bridesmaids had her camera out and was taking pictures of everyone.
“I’ll tell you a wedding planner’s secret,” Kristy said quietly to me as we walked back into the sanctuary. “You can always judge how well things are going by listening. If things are going okay, you hear what we just heard, excited talking and laughing. When there’s a problem, all you hear is silence.”
Sophie was still looking around the alter and gave us a thumbs-up as we got closer. “Everything looks good out here,” she reported.
We then watched as Kristy inspected the flowers, the programs, the sign-in book, the birdseed bundles, and the candles. I was impressed by her focus as she scrutinized each item.
She also checked what she called the path-of-white. This turned out to be a wide roll of white paper. There was a blue velvet cord threaded through the core and tied in a loose loop.
“I’ve never seen a roll of paper called the path-of-white before,” I said. “What’s it for?”
“It’s so the bride can walk on it,” Christy said in a matter-of-fact voice.
Sophie and I both gave her a look.
“The idea is that the bride is very pure on her wedding day, so she needs an equally pure path to walk on as she makes her way to the alter. Before the bride walks down the aisle, the ushers grab the cord and unroll the paper, from the alter to the back of the church.”
“What happens to the path-of-white once the bride walks on it?” I asked.
“Some brides roll it back up and keep it, but most of the time, it gets thrown away.”
“How much does that cost?” Sophie asked.
“The path-of-white is sixty-five dollars,” Kristy said.
Sophie rolled her eyes and I knew I was doing the same thing.
“Is there anything else to do before the ceremony?” I asked.
“No, that’s it. I think we’re set. We’ve scheduled forty-five minutes for pictures, then there’s a break of half an hour for the guests to arrive.”
~~~~
The pictures went off without a hitch. Everyone but the ushers then went back to their rooms and waited to be called.
The ceremony was sweet and moving. Both the bride and groom cried the entire time, which I always see as a good sign.
After the ceremony, we waited for the ten minutes it took for everyone to sign the marriage certificate. Then the happy couple left the church under a shower of birdseed.
As the bride and groom climbed into the waiting limo, Sophie and I drove over to the Barrington. It was a lovely tennis club combined with a wedding and reception center on Scottsdale Road, about half a mile south of Kierland Commons.
We parked and made our way into the venue. The main reception hall was a gorgeous spac
e.
Massive crystal chandeliers provided warm amber lighting. Marble columns lined the room with thick red velvet drapes hanging against the walls. There was ample room for the two hundred or so guests, along with an oversized dance floor and a stage for the band.
A bar was set up against one of the walls with a discrete sign noting it was operating on a cash basis. Sophie looked at me, then scampered over to get a drink.
Kristy walked up, the tablet in her hand again.
“Well?” I asked.
“Everything looks perfect,” she said. The relief in her voice was unmistakable. “The only thing not out yet is the cake. They should also be circulating with the appetizers in a few minutes. I’ll need to go back and check on it.”
I followed Kristy into the kitchen, where a staff of about ten people were bustling about. I saw three people making salads, three working on appetizers, and a chef finishing up a potato and cheese dish. I had to admit, I was impressed at how busy everyone looked.
Since everything looked great to me, I was surprised by Kristy’s reaction.
“Crap!” she called out as her head darted from one side of the kitchen to the other. “No, no, no.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing’s ready, nothing. They’re only now starting. The desserts should already be done as well as the salads. They should be serving the appetizers now, and they’re still making them.”
She hurried to a row of ovens and looked in the window at several racks of cooking meat. “The entrees should be out of the oven in twenty minutes, but it looks like they’ve only just put them in.”
“Somebody must be in charge back here,” I said.
“Yes, and I need to find him.”
Kristy went out the back of the kitchen to a loading dock. Three people were easing a stunning multi-level cake from a van onto a stainless-steel cart.
“Francisco?” Kristy called out, a touch of panic in her voice.
A tall, good-looking man in a white linen coat and a chef’s hat seemed to be in charge. As we approached, he turned to us and smiled.
“Kristy,” he said in a deep voice. “I’m glad you’re here. You can help us with the cake arrangement.”
