by G. K. Parks
“Nothing struck me as strange,” I said, interrupting Paul’s recitation. “Normally, I have a sixth sense when things go wonky, but it all seemed fine.”
“The only thing you hit on was the subbasement,” he pointed out.
“Did you discuss that with Jason afterward?”
“Yes, the next day, Jason, Mr. Russell, and I met. I wanted to know if the tunnels ever posed a threat in the past.”
“That must have been how Wheeler learned of them. Or he already knew. Do you know if the hotel manager ever met with the owners?”
Paul shrugged. “I don’t know. Alvin could have answered that question. He heard all the gossip. I never knew how he was so in the loop, but he was.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” It was the first time I offered condolences, and it was possible I had been the only one.
“Thanks, Alexis.” He offered a wan smile.
“So Alvin knew about everything. He probably knew the owners. He knew Frank Costan was staying at the hotel, and he might have even helped set up an anonymous room reservation for him. Did he tell you about Frank Costan?” Vaguely, I remembered Oster insisting Hodge wouldn’t have clued Paul in on anything that big.
“No, he didn’t.” Paul squinted. “Apparently he didn’t tell me a lot of things, like how he was informing to the FBI.”
“So how’d you find out about Costan? Did Jason give you a heads up?”
“I don’t know Frank Costan,” he bellowed. “I’ve told you this before. I never met him. I have nothing to do with him or his deals or his death. Goddammit.” He stomped around the room, collecting himself. “Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”
“You just finished telling me how thoroughly you checked every aspect of the hotel. Hell, you double-checked everything with Oster and Russell. It makes sense that you might have noticed one of the FBI’s ten most wanted traipsing through the hotel,” I growled, angry at myself for not noticing either. “Why didn’t you ask Hodge what else was going on inside the hotel? You knew he was clued in to the less upstanding happenings.”
He took a deep breath. “Because when I asked, he told me about Bernie Muller’s plight and introduced me to some Russian guy.” He pressed his lips together, looking guilty. “I got distracted by the opportunity to make some cash on the side.” He slumped onto the bed across from me. “I let this happen. Maybe if I had known, I could have stopped it.” He swallowed. “Stopped whoever it was from killing Alvin.”
And there it was. The reason he seemed so guilty. He felt guilty, and he hid it at every single turn. He covered it up with fantastically pathetic stories of selling corporate secrets and wanting to be some hero, but he was just a guy that screwed up.
“You’re not to blame. Things happen. Believe me.” Processing the words, I asked, “What Russian?”
“Huh?”
“You said Hodge introduced you to some Russian. What Russian?”
“The SMI rep. Gorvanskov or something. I don’t remember. He spoke English, but his name was one of those long drawn out things. Y’know, it sounds like a vodka brand.” He cringed. “And my god, all he wanted to do at our meeting was drink. Two shots in, I had to excuse myself and get back to work. He basically laughed me out of the bar.”
I asked for a physical description, and the man he described matched the representative I met Friday night at the hotel bar. That would also explain how Paul knew SMI had access to Klaus Manufacturing’s prototype schematics on the new energy source. At least some pieces were falling into place, even though I wasn’t sure any of it was even remotely relevant.
“When did you meet with the SMI guy?” I asked.
“Tuesday. SMI’s portion of the conference concluded early that afternoon, and I met with him briefly on my break. It was maybe thirty minutes before I went upstairs and met you in the control room.”
“Which explains why you smelled like a distillery.” I laughed. “That’s also a huge factor as to why I thought you were an alcoholic.”
“Gee, thanks.” He chuckled. “Guess I deserved that one.”
“And you were staying at the hotel during the conference.” My brain was pinging on a dozen points at once, and I tried to slow the thought processes to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
“I only stayed Sunday through Wednesday. Three nights, I guess. After they let me out of interrogation that morning, I went home. The conference was over, and PDN was done.”
“Did you check in under your name, or was it a corporate thing through PDN?” I asked.
“Corporate. They put me up in places pretty often, so I can keep an eye on the security. Why?”
Okay, so his personal information like name and address weren’t in the hotel computer, not that this wasn’t readily available when most of the employees knew Paul personally. “Did you keep your keys on you at all times?”
“The valet parked my car. He had my keys.”
“No. Your house keys,” I clarified.
“All of my keys are together on the same ring.” He looked around the room. “Speaking of, weren’t you supposed to get my stuff back from the cops?”
“That’s it.” The light bulb burned bright, and I picked up the phone. “That’s how they gained access to your house without your knowledge.” Dialing Mark, I waited for him to respond while Eastman looked at me like I lost my mind. “Hey, do me a favor and see if they can run prints on all of Paul’s belongings that are in evidence. It’s probably been too long for them to find anything usable, but his keys were at the valet stand.”
“And that’s how they got inside his house, accessed his fridge, and poisoned him,” Mark said, coming to the same conclusion I did. “Which means maybe Rachel’s off the hook.” He blew out a breath. “Except she lied about her name, and she’s banging Oster.”
“We’ll figure that part out later. But for now, stop trying to burst my bubble.” We disconnected.
“You think that’s when it happened?” Paul asked.
“How long have you been feeling like shit?”
“Since Wednesday.”
“I really need to consider getting a M.D. attached to the end of my name.” I winked. “But you’re right; there is no guarantee that’s when it happened. So let’s backtrack. Flexie Lexie,” I rolled my eyes, “a.k.a. Rachel Romanski is Alvin Hodge’s second ex-wife. You said he still loved her. Care to explain?”
“Whenever Alvin and I got a chance to talk, exchanging stories of…well…you know.”
“Conquests?”
“Yeah,” he looked appropriately embarrassed, “he would always bring her up. She was the one that got away. No woman ever compared to her or what they had. Yada yada.”
“Do you know when he saw her last?”
“It’s been like a year or so.” He suddenly turned ashen. “God, he must be rolling over in his grave to think I screwed the love of his life.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Shit.” He met my eyes. “You gotta believe I wouldn’t have done it if I knew who she was.”
“But she must have known who you were.” I stood up, recalling my few brief conversations with Rachel. “There was no reason for her to lie about her name unless she was afraid you’d recognize her or realize who she was.” I spun on my heel. “And I’m having some issues believing it’s because she thought you were going to be the best lay of her life.”
“Hey,” he sounded annoyed, “you have no basis for that comment.” Even though after Mark’s account from the women at the bar, I kind of did, but it would have been a cheap shot to take. So I remained silent. “How could she know who I am if I didn’t know who she was?”
I pressed my lips together and shut my eyes. Paul Eastman was my client. I was working for him, but it wasn’t a position I was accustomed to since I mostly worked as a law enforcement consultant or corporate consultant. Things seemed tricky, and he continued to stare unnervingly, waiting for an answer.
“Jason Oster is seeing Rachel. Apparently it’s been going on f
or a while. The security guards were cracking jokes, and I confronted Oster about it. He didn’t deny meeting with her the other morning, and when I asked Rachel if she was seeing anyone, she said there was a guy named Jason.”
His jaw practically dropped. “Great, now I’m getting sloppy thirds.”
“That’s so not the point right now,” I hissed.
He frowned. “Alvin must have known. He knew everything inside that hotel, and you said they’ve been meeting at the hotel.” He shook his head as if a fly was buzzing around. “No. That can’t be right. You misunderstood, or you’re just plain old wrong. Jason’s too much of a straight shooter to jeopardize his job like that. If anything, he’d turn a blind eye. That’s why I used him to monitor the PDN client rooms with my wireless webcam. I knew he was the only one who wouldn’t abuse the power and sell scandal to the tabloids.”
“But they both practically confessed.” My brief conversation with Martin resurfaced, and I remembered my reason for breaking into Jason’s locker. After conceding on an alternative theory, I asked the only question remaining. “What could have been on that memory card that both Rachel and Jason would have an interest in?” But before he could speak, the only reasonable answer surfaced. “What if it was Alvin’s murder?”
Paul paled. “Are you nuts?”
“A little bit.” Grabbing a pen, I jotted down everything.
“If that were true, why wouldn’t Jason have turned it over to the police? And what would Rachel have wanted with me three weeks ago?” Now Paul was punching holes in my brilliance. Maybe I wasn’t quite as brilliant as I thought. “How long have they been seeing one another? It was before Alvin died, right?”
I needed to talk to Rachel and maybe Jason too. There was so much more to this story than meets the eye, but I could feel we were getting close. “Put on your shoes. We’re gonna take a ride.”
“I thought you wanted me to keep a low profile and hideout,” Paul said, backpedaling.
“Okay, new set of rules. One, no matter what, don’t tell anyone we speak to where you’re staying, even if they flash you or threaten to kill you.”
“Hardy har har.”
“Rule number two. Do what I say, when I say it.” I paused, wondering if there were any other stipulations he should follow.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. But if you behave, maybe I’ll even let you wear the Kevlar in my trunk. However, if you don’t listen, you’ll be riding in the trunk. Does that sound fair?”
He chuckled. “You really are nuts,” then he offered a genuine smile, “and I’m glad you’re working for me.”
“Well, that makes one of us,” I teased.
Twenty-nine
Parking outside Rachel’s yoga studio, I found the flyer with the class schedules in my glove box and checked to make sure we didn’t miss her. Her afternoon class would be getting out in twenty-three minutes, so in the meantime, I could teach Paul the finer points of conducting surveillance. Five minutes in, he was bored. That was simple enough.
“What are we waiting for? Why don’t you just go inside and talk to her?” he asked.
“Because the point isn’t to freak her out or tip our hand. Not yet. We’re collecting information.”
Paul fiddled with the radio while I stared out the window, contemplating her motivation for bedding Paul when she was in some type of relationship with Jason. Plus, if she still loved Alvin, why would she sleep with two of his work friends?
“Sex complicates everything,” I muttered, finding myself close to square one again. I hated square one. I wanted to get some C4 and blow it up.
He laughed. “Sex is easy. Relationships are the complex part.”
“I wasn’t talking in terms of boy meets girl. I was talking about this case. Seriously, remove yourself from the equation and explain to me why Rachel would screw two guys that work with her ex-husband that she allegedly still loves.”
“To get even or to make him jealous so he’d come crawling back.”
“But then someone would have to tell Alvin. And she didn’t want you to know who she was, so she must not have wanted him to know about her affairs either.”
“Maybe she didn’t want me to know who she was because of Jason. But why would she meet Jason at the hotel if she didn’t want Alvin to find out? That’s asking to be found out.” He took off his seatbelt and turned to face me. “Are you positive you have all the facts straight? Because those two points are completely contradictory.”
“I don’t have all the facts. That’s why we’re parked out here, hoping to discover something useful.” Class let out, but Rachel remained inside even after everyone else left. “Give me the cell phone I gave you.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Paul handed me the phone, and I dialed my own number and answered my cell, switching it to speaker and hitting voice record in order to have a record of everything that was said. Once it was working, I put the phone in Paul’s shirt pocket.
“What are you doing?” he asked, and his voice echoed through my speaker.
“I want you to go inside and talk to her.” This was probably a horrible idea, and it would bite me in the ass. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to risk blowing my own cover, and there was no other way to get answers. “Don’t incriminate yourself. Don’t you dare mention me either. Just go inside, say hello, and let the pieces fall where they may.”
“That’s it? Should I confront her about Alvin or Jason or...”
I cut him off. “Nothing. Just say hello. Don’t say anything even remotely related to Alvin’s death, or the hotel, or your poisoning. Just say hello. Okay?”
“Fine.” He opened the car door, completely confused by my request. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it. But good luck.”
He shut the door and walked across the street. I inhaled deeply, hoping this wasn’t the stupidest idea I could have come up with. Already, I could hear Mark’s voice telling me what a bad idea this was. Potentially, I was endangering my client, risking the safe house, and possibly tipping off the guilty parties to go to ground, thus ruining the FBI and PD’s investigation. It was a gamble, but I didn’t see any other way of forcing Rachel to tip her hand. This was the fastest way of getting answers.
“Knock, knock,” Paul’s voice came through loud and clear, and I stopped musing and focused my attention on the studio. The large tinted windows didn’t provide a great view, but I could see two figures inside. “Remember me?”
“Paul,” Rachel’s voice sounded shaky, but I couldn’t be sure since it was slightly muffled from the distance and Paul’s pocket, “how have you been?” She stepped backward, away from him, and went behind the counter. From body language alone, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
“I’m okay. How are you? I haven’t seen you since that night.”
“How did you find me? Why are you here?” She sounded frightened and suspicious. Was that guilt, or was she afraid of Paul? The phone crackled, and I strained to hear. “I have another class coming in five minutes, so maybe you should go.”
“Lexie,” he began, and I let out the breath I was holding, relieved he didn’t blow it, “I was just hoping we could go out for drinks. Maybe, y’know, get together. How about I take you out on a real date? Dinner and a movie?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She seemed panicky. “Would you please leave?”
“What’s wrong? Are you pissed about that night? Are you seeing someone?” Shut up, Paul. Any second, he would let the cat out of the bag.
“No.” She shook her head. “That night was a mistake. Just go.”
“But,” he launched into some explanation about why she should give him a second chance, and I realized I didn’t give him an exit strategy.
Dammit. I was used to professionals who knew when to walk away. I should have known he didn’t have the same instincts, particularly after the way he had pestered me about the meeting with Martin Tech. Fuck. Please don’t blow my cover, I
thought as I got out of the car and dashed across the street. Opening the door to the studio, Paul turned to me.
“Hey, I was in the neighborhood and had a quick question about the hot yoga,” I blurted out, hoping Paul would shut up and leave. I slapped my palm against my mouth. “Sorry, how rude of me. I’m Alex.” I offered Paul a friendly smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please continue, my question can wait.”
“That’s okay, Alex,” Rachel gushed. Scurrying around the counter and coming to stand next to me, placing me between her and Paul. “This gentleman was just leaving.”
“I guess I was.” He looked bewildered but took a step back. “I’m sorry I bothered you. It won’t happen again.” He pressed his lips together and nodded to Rachel before stepping outside.
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much,” she whispered as the door shut behind him.
“What’s going on?” I asked, turning so she was forced to face me and couldn’t watch Paul leave or see him get inside my car. “Who was that guy? Is that Jake or Justin or…sorry, I’m bad with names.”
“No, that’s not Jason.” A thought dawned on her. “I need to call Jason.” She took a step toward the counter where her belongings were sitting.
“Rachel, hey,” I put my hand on her arm, “are you okay? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. That guy and I almost had a one night stand. I never expected to run into him. It wasn’t my proudest moment.” She was frantic, not the typical response for a fling. “I have no idea how he found me or why he showed up here.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Luckily, in her current state, my questions didn’t seem that odd to her.
“I just really need to talk to Jason. Y’know, get some reassurance that everything’s okay.”
“If that guy threatened you or is stalking you, we should call the police.”
