"What were you doing when the lights went out?"
"Uh, just hanging around. Looking," I said. I decided not to mention the pony suit. Or Sylvia and Amanda's suspicious conversation.
"And Lily?"
"She was with me."
"Did you see the ponies fighting? The gigantic plush ponies, I mean?" Maddox stopped. "Seriously, Lexi what the fuck is this? Bronies? What kind of grown men like this stuff?"
"Lots, apparently."
"I like watching football. I have a soccer club. I play baseball every week. I don't play with girls’ toys."
"Not every man is a man's man like you."
Maddox made a little huffing noise. "So, the ponies? You see them or what?"
"I didn't see them." I didn't, that was true. I was inside one though I kind of saw the nasty, purple pony as it went down, then squared back up for a fight.
"You want to tell me about this?" Maddox jabbed his pen towards the wall.
"Someone's warning me off the case."
"I got that. What are you investigating?"
"It's... confidential."
Maddox sighed. "Could the stabbing today be involved?"
I actually hadn't thought of that, and it made me freeze, the danger level hitting the red zone. Then I shrugged, "I don't know."
"Jeez. Take it seriously, Lexi, okay? I don't want you to get hurt. Even better, walk away. Whatever is happening here, walk away. Tell Solomon to put one of the other guys on it. Flaherty's experienced."
"I can't do that."
Maddox looked at me a long time, like he considered the finer points of his argument and who would win. "I have to get back," he said finally. "I'll call you." He kissed me on the cheek, lightly, friendly, but not boyfriend-like and backtracked out the door. He didn't finish with “I'll call you tonight” or “later,” just, “I'll call you,” leaving me to wonder where things now stood between us.
One thing was for sure. I bet I wouldn’t be getting my pony nuts now.
Chapter Thirteen
I grabbed a complimentary copy of the Montgomery Gazette from the front lobby and slipped through the Employees Only door. Unfolding it as I walked towards my office, I grimaced as the huge headline popped into view. It read: STAMPEDE! And next to it, Shayne Winter's byline and her annoying, smiling mug shot: all beautiful, white teeth and big, blonde hair.
She covered all the basics of the stabbing in sensational style and I imagined her gleefully bashing out the copy and yelling for her editor to “Hold the press!” or whatever it was journalists did when they wangled something juicy. Even worse, accompanying the article was a candid snapshot of a pink, plush Super Pony racing from the hordes of people exiting the conference center. Its velvet mouth was half open as though screaming, its ridiculously long eyelashes and glassy eyeballs gave it a comically frightened expression as it lurched out of the conference center. I suspected Lily would be delighted that we had gotten our first cover shot, even if we were inside a pony costume.
"Yesterday's Super Ponies convention proved too much for some," I read out loud as I turned into the next corridor. "Panic broke out, causing a stampede. Two people suffered minor injuries while the majority of revelers were shell-shocked. 'It could have been a tragedy,' said organizer, Brian Williamson, and lifelong Super Ponies enthusiast. "We're lucky to be alive. But the show will go on!"
I scanned the rest of the story. Someone had been arrested already, but they didn't print a name. However, an unnamed source said it was a fellow “Bronie.”
I sighed and folded the newspaper, just as Edward poked his head into the corridor. "My office," he said, his glum expression showing me he’d already seen the paper as he beckoned me.
I closed the door behind me and sat down.
"You saw the headline?" Edward indicated the newspaper I held.
I grimaced. "Yes."
"This is awful. The CEO already called." He dropped his head into his hands.
"I'm so sorry. Did he give you a hard time?"
Edward looked up. "He said, and I paraphrase, ‘only The Montgomery could let a Super Ponies convention get out of control.’ However, he was less polite."
"It wasn't your fault. They all went a bit mad."
"Mad? Yes. But now we're a laughing stock! Did you see the photo they used?" Edward dropped his head into his hands again, and for a moment, I thought he was going to cry. When he looked up again, he just looked tired and ashen. Bags had formed under his eyes. "I expect now I'll be fired," he said, despondently.
"Don't say that. This isn't over yet."
Edward peered at me hopefully. "Do you have any leads?"
I did the only thing I could reasonably do under the circumstances. I fibbed. "Yes," I said. "I'm definitely closing in on the culprit."
"Oh, thank God! Do you have enough to make an arrest?"
"Maybe," I said. “Though I can’t actually arrest anyone.”
Edward jumped to his feet and pointed to the door. "Get on with it then! Get me the information that I can use to get an arrest."
Just as I mirrored his action, minus pointy fingers, there were three sharp raps on the door before the house manager, Sylvia, entered. "You have got to see this!"
"What?" Edward snapped.
"It's... oh! You just have to see!" She flapped her hands in excitement.
"More sabotage? I can't take anymore sabotage." Edward's brief moment of enthusiasm vanished.
"You've got to come see," Sylvia said again. We followed her as she jogged through the corridors, up the stairs, and out to the gallery, overlooking the conference center. "Look," she said, pointing. We followed her outstretched hand, and for a moment, we were all at a loss for words as we gazed down.
The conference center doors were shut. The room was empty except for the exhibition which had been set up last night, after the detritus from yesterday's stampede was cleared away. I couldn't see any signs of blood, and there wasn't any evidence of the police investigation. The exhibition actually looked perfect, every inch crammed with things to see. There were paintings, film stills, posters, artist renderings, storyboards in pencil and color, costumes, merchandise, and glass display cabinets stuffed with every Super Pony, literally, known to man. I wondered who stayed up all night to supervise the cleaning and organization. Probably Super Sylvia.
But Sylvia was directing our attention to the doors as a smile spread across her face. Next to every window, and every closed door, were girls, their little faces pressed eagerly against the glass, their eyes eager for the toys. And next to every child was her mother, or an older sister, or a father—though after what I’d witnessed, that didn’t surprise me now—an adult desperate for the nostalgia of a favorite childhood toy. Yesterday's event had been serious business, with no children in sight. Somehow, they were attracted to it now and the crowd was heaving.
"They must have read the newspaper," I said. "They've come for the exhibition."
"They don't have tickets," mumbled Edward.
"Who cares? Invite them in for free," I told them. "In fact, tell them it's a super secret exhibition, especially for kids. Tell them to call their friends to come down here." I turned to Sylvia. "Can you get the kitchens to make a special menu just for the kids today?"
"Little sandwiches and bite-sized cookies and..." Sylvia's eyes lit up and we both said, "cupcakes!"
"Rainbow colors with glitter and sprinkles!" Sylvia clapped her hands together. "And cream teas and mocktinis."
My mind clouded for a moment. Sylvia was awfully excited for someone I seriously suspected might want to see The Montgomery fail.
"Exactly!" I agreed, watching her closely. "And get the waitresses to wear those t-shirts Lily and Ruby wore yesterday and colored clips in their hair. Let's make this an event!"
"We can tell them we host pageants, proms, dance recitals, and birthday parties." Edward beamed at us as he saw The Montgomery’s future suddenly brightening. "Sylvia, make sure every child and every adult leaves with a brochure
. Let's get the doors open. Let’s show them what our hotel offers. Hurry. Hurry!"
Sylvia sped off, arms flapping as she gabbled into her radio, ordering the events staff to move.
"When I saw the newspaper this morning, I thought it was the worst thing I'd ever seen." Edward turned to me. "And now, it might just save the hotel."
"Who'da thunk it?" I said.
We returned to our offices, bubbling with enthusiasm, just as Louisa arrived, pausing in the corridor to speak with us. "What's with the hordes of kids?" she said with a frown.
"They heard about the exhibition and are chomping at the bit," I told her. "Apparently, we're hotter than hot."
"Seriously?" She looked at me incredulously, then to Edward, who nodded gleefully. "They're all here for those revolting little ponies?"
I nodded. "Yep."
"But people were injured yesterday! Are they all mad?"
"I think a better word is 'enthusiastic'."
"Maybe I should call the board. Maybe I should get security to clear them."
"No, don't do that. Sylvia already has it under control. She's going to feed them all cream teas and cupcakes," said Edward.
"Oh no!" Louisa grimaced. "What's that going to cost us?"
"A hell of a lot of goodwill," I said. "The kids will love it, and the parents will love us. They'll tell their friends and they’ll come back."
“Families are big business,” agreed Edward.
"I really think we should shut this down. What if a child gets hurt? There was a stabbing! What if a child gets stabbed?" Louisa's voice pitched higher. “The lawyers will shut us down. There will be nothing left!”
"If we turn them away now, there will be a lot of upset children." A burst of happy noises suddenly hit us. We clearly heard giggling, shouting, and eager little voices, even though we were rather far from the conference center. "Besides, I think they're already in."
"God!" said Louisa as she left to cocoon herself in her office. A moment later, she stuck her head out. "While you're there, can you please throw the last temp's box in the trash? It's a fire hazard." She slammed the door shut again, as Edward and I exchanged glances. He pulled a face.
"What if a child gets hurt?" he asked.
"No one will get hurt," I told him. "But maybe you should call any spare staff in to help out." I steered him to my office because Louisa's comment reminded me we were long overdue for a conversation about Marissa Widmore. I shut the door to block out prying ears. "In the paper it said there was an arrest last night. The stabbing had nothing to do with the sabotage."
"Thank God. What a relief." Edward slumped in my spare chair. "What was it about? I saw the headline and gave up."
"Apparently, it began as an argument over a vintage toy and just got a bit heated."
Edward just shook his head. "When is this going to end?” He glanced up, noticing the graffiti and flinched. “And what hell happened to the wall?"
"Tomorrow evening, apparently. Oh, you don't mean the convention? I don't know. Soon." I followed his gaze to the wall. The letters had dried overnight, but they still glared angrily at me. Trails of the fat, red drips, the color of blood, chilled me. "Apparently, I've pissed someone off. I need to ask you something."
"About the sabotage? About this?" Edward waved a hand at the wall.
"I'm not sure, maybe."
"What do you mean?"
"It's about your former assistant, Marissa."
Edward’s face darkened as he narrowed his gaze. I watched the hurt flit across his eyes before his face settled into an impassive mask. Clearly, Marissa was not his favorite topic. "What about her?"
I dived in, turning hearsay into fact. "I know you were having a relationship with her when she disappeared."
He straightened up, his shoulders pushed back. "How did you know that?"
"I have my sources."
"Then you'll also know we weren't together very long."
"I know that too. What I don't know is why you didn't report her missing when she failed to appear for work."
"I thought she changed her mind. To be honest, I was worried that maybe none of it was real, that maybe she was going to claim sexual harassment, and sue me. When she left, it crossed my mind that she was part of the sabotage."
"Was Marissa that type of person?"
"No. I don't know. Maybe."
"Did she give you any indication that she might do that?"
"No. But relationships between staff aren't exactly encouraged. Things can get awkward if it goes wrong, and awkward if it goes right," explained Edward. His eyes took on a faraway look, as if remembering happier times.
"Like Chef Fabien and Sylvia?"
"Exactly like that. They're both great at what they do, but there is some... tension between them."
"How serious were you about Marissa?"
"Very serious." Edward reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small velvet box in the deepest blue. He placed it on the desk between us. I pried it open and raised my eyebrows. Inside was a perfect solitaire diamond mounted on a platinum band. "I was going to ask her to marry me."
"Did she know?"
"No. It was supposed to be a surprise. Well, the surprise was on me." He held his hand out for the box. I returned it to him and waited. He took a long look at the ring before snapping the case shut and returning it to his pocket. “I only knew her for a month, but I thought she was the one. I’ve never thought that about anyone. Then, she just didn’t turn up, and stopped answering her phone. Hang on… you said, ‘disappeared.’ What do you mean?”
"Marissa's friend reported her missing. She's afraid something must have happened to her."
Edward gave me a sharp, formidable look and the air changed in the room from static tension to extreme worry. "Do you think something's happened to her? Has someone hurt her?"
"I don't know yet, but I do believe she's part of whatever was going on here."
"I don't believe Marissa would steal anything."
"The sabotage began before she started working here, so I think you're right, but..."
Edward thought, realization dawning in his eyes. "You think she saw something?"
I nodded. “It’s possible.”
"You have to find her." Edward dropped his head into his hands and his chest heaved up and down as he took long breaths. "She means everything to me. If anyone hurt her, I'll kill them! I have to know what happened to her. Even if… even…"
"I know,” I said gently. “I need your help to find her."
"What can I do?"
I reiterated what I already knew. That her friends claimed they hadn't seen her, and didn't know where she was. I also said that Marissa's car was currently in the impound lot. "Is there anywhere she would go? Any place that would make her feel safe?"
Edward thought, then shook his head. "I can't think of anywhere."
"If you do, call me right away, okay?"
"I will. I need you to find her. Whatever it takes. Lexi, I love her."
"I'll do my best," I said. It made no sense to promise him, when I didn't know yet if I could deliver. Edward left my office, the ring snugly back in his pocket. He assured me that maintenance would repaint my wall over the weekend. He left under the pretext of seeing how Sylvia was getting on with the influx of families, but I could see he didn't have his usual sense of urgency or interest. As soon as I told him Marissa was in trouble, all the fight seemed to have left his big body. He seemed to collapse into a lonely, dejected man. Now, he not only had to worry about his hotel being destroyed, but also that the woman he loved might be alone, frightened, hurt, or even worse. I hoped that she had the sense to go underground and was hiding somewhere, waiting until it was safe for her to emerge.
Instead of throwing Marissa's box in the trash like Louisa suggested, I picked it up and set it on my desk, rooting around for a letter opener to slice the tape open. There wasn't a lot inside. A couple of paperbacks, a small, neoprene lunch bag with an empty p
lastic sandwich container, a few items of makeup, a hairbrush, and some pens which were a bit fancier than the usual plastic variety. There was a photograph in a small glass frame of Elisabeth, Marissa and two more of their friends, a rowboat bobbing on the lake behind them. It was a similar shot to the one framed on the wall in Marissa's apartment. The house at Lake Pearce that belonged to Elisabeth’s family.
I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Elisabeth, getting her message service. I left her a message asking her to call me back.
After making a note of all the items in the box, I taped it up and stuck it in a cabinet out of sight. I could always give it to Elisabeth later, rather than consigning it to a dumpster. She would know what to do with it.
Finally, I got stuck into some paperwork Edward had left me as part of my undercover role. I alternated between that and doodling suspect names and motives. Sylvia was still high on my list, but she seemed too perky about the sudden success of the exhibition, though that could have been for Edward's and my benefit. I still wanted to know why she looked so worried when talking to Amanda right before the power cut. I thought about Louisa’s panicked expression too, at the thought of all the children and their safety. It made me wonder if things were going okay at the exhibition.
A half hour before work ended, and about three hours after intensive clock-watching, my cell phone rang. I answered, half expecting it to be Elisabeth or Maddox. He hadn't called me last night, and I read about the arrest in the paper. Perhaps, he was making a point by not telling me about his job. Several times, I picked up the phone to call him, but each time, I put it down again. I could be stubborn too.
Instead, I got an unfamiliar female voice.
"Is this Lexi Graves?" she asked.
"It is."
"Of the Solomon Agency?"
"That's right. What can I do for you?"
"Um, my name is Ally Fields. I found a card under my door asking me to call you." Ally? Ally Fields? I dredged my memory for her name, but got nothing. "You wrote on the card that it's to do with my friend, Marissa," she prompted.
Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries) Page 20
