“You miss me as a partner, don’t you?”
James grinned sadly. “I do.”
“Is it getting hot in here or is it just you two?” Betsy asked, fanning herself with her hand as she looked from one sexy, full-blooded male to the other.
“Wasn’t this case going to be the conjoining of your partnership?” I asked. “So, now that James has his head out of his ass and isn’t pointing a finger at Addison, why don’t you two pick up where you left off that afternoon and shake hands, so we can get this show on the road? We have a long afternoon ahead of us. And I’m hungry.”
“That’s the code word,” Mika said quickly.
“We need food for her, now,” James added, reaching out his hand to shake Mika’s. “Betsy and I will meet you downstairs.”
“Can’t we take the elevator?” Betsy whined. “I’m in heels.” She lifted up one of her feet to prove her point. She was indeed wearing heels. They were sky-high and covered in what looked like snakeskin. I couldn’t believe she’d managed to make it up multiple flights on a fire escape to the Presidential Suite. Raising my eyebrows, I looked to James.
“She’s got to learn to dress better for the job,” he said, marching towards the window.
Grumbling, Betsy dragged herself after him, looking forlornly over her shoulder as Mika and I stood in the bedroom, waving goodbye.
Back down in the lobby, Mika and I zipped past the front desk, leaving our plastic key on the marble counter. The woman who had helped Mika and I was still stressed and hurried, a long line of people needing her attention and still no one to help her. We didn’t have time to wait in the line, but Mika shot her an appreciative smile and she immediately brightened, waving us off happily.
Outside, we hurried around the back of the building, which overlooked the skyline. From Carmen’s suite, you’d have been able to see beautiful Lake Michigan, which was nearly as blue as the sky. You could probably even enjoy the view from the top of the fire escape, as long as you didn’t have to concentrate on successfully navigating a rickety, rusty old ladder.
“When do you think was the last time this was inspected?” James called out.
Mika gripped one of the rusty iron bars and gave it a good shake. James cursed loudly while Betsy squealed in terror. “At least 20 years ago,” Mika responded. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered in a red powder — rust and residue from the disintegrating structure.
“Gross,” I muttered as he wiped everything onto his pants. Shielding my eyes, I looked up and accidentally caught a glimpse up Betsy’s skirt. “Gah!” I screamed, lowering my gaze. “Don’t you own underwear?”
Betsy huffed as she continued to weave her way down the various ledges and ladders. “That’s what you’re concerned with?”
“You just blinded me with your lady bits,” I shot back.
“I didn’t realize you were going to look up my skirt today or I’d have been better prepared. And anyway, it’s not like it’s terrible to look at. I keep it neat.”
“Oh. My. God.” I hissed. “Stop talking about it.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“I’m not looking up,” Mika muttered, staring at his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Why did I make you climb out first, again?” James asked Betsy flirtatiously.
“Chivalry,” she explained.
“Oh, that’s right,” he answered. I could hear him smiling.
“I thought you were a one-woman man now, Cupcake,” I called sarcastically, still wishing there was some kind of magic eraser of the mind for what I’d just seen.
“Still a man, Sugar. Still a man.”
When Betsy and James were both finally on the ground, I looked up into James’s eyes and scowled. He laughed as Betsy, who was deeply flushed, tugged at her tight skirt and hugged her knees together. “It’s too late for that,” I assured her, turning and walking towards the hotel garage where our borrowed car was waiting.
“Well, wait, where are we going?” Betsy asked, trotting after me. Her heels clacked loud and uneven against the pavement, and were so high that she could barely walk. walk.
“My office,” I growled. “Everyone meet me there in an hour with their laptops. I need to grab some back up. Mika, you’re with James and Betsy.”
Mika pulled the keys for our ride out of his pocket. “You’re forgetting something.”
“You drove,” I groaned, suddenly remembering that we’d borrowed his neighbor’s car.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” he said, “and then I’ll meet you at the office after I grab my Jeep.”
“Deal!”
An hour later, Rory, Carly and I were wheeling into the gravel of Food Porn‘s parking lot. A small flock of reporters was still camped in front and in back. We’d have to go through the main entrance if we didn’t want anyone seeing our emergency escape through my upper office window.
“Don’t they ever have to pee?” Carly asked, shaking her head in dismay.
With a sigh, I grabbed the two bags of food we’d picked up from Wiccan Chicken and opened my car door. A few reporters had already noticed us pull in. They’d gone from looking bored and tired to alert and prim, prepped for the cameras that were hurriedly being clicked on. As I stepped onto the gravel, looking far braver than I felt, a pickup truck squealed off the street and into the lot, kicking up dirt and gravel in its wake. Behind the wheel was James, who gave me a little wink as he pulled up alongside me. Betsy was squashed in the middle, looking more than thrilled with it, and Mika was leaning as closely to his window as possible.
“Thought you were getting your Jeep,” I joked.
“It wouldn’t start,” he grumbled.
“Decided to come over to the dark side, James?” Carly playfully called out as he opened his door.
“You heard,” he replied.
“Every last titillating detail,” Rory assured him. “It’s good to have you back.”
A smile tugged at the corners of James’s mouth but he didn’t grin. Instead, his eagle eye zeroed in on the bags of food. “You sharing?”
“No, I bought $40 worth of fast food for myself.”
“It’s not like it’s that far off of a possibility,” Mika chuckled. I slapped him playfully on the arm as he leaned over to kiss me and take the food. “You’ll need both hands to get that door unlocked and open. You ready?”
I eyed the crowd of reporters and took a deep breath. They were starting to stalk towards us, tired of waiting for us to make our move. “Now or never,” I muttered.
Getting inside hadn’t been quite as difficult as we’d thought. While persistent, there were far fewer reporters hanging around than there had been earlier in the week. Certainly less than had been outside the courthouse. Granted, Carly seemed rather disappointed that Corbin wasn’t there to come to her rescue again. Or perhaps I was just imagining things. Nonetheless, she and I had yet to chat about it. Then again, when was an opportune time?
We’d raced through the bags of food, which probably wasn’t overly wise. Wiccan Chicken was known for making their sandwiches spicy and their crinkle fries salty. I’m pretty sure we’d all had at least a gallon of water by the end of our meal. “Remind me again why we didn’t just get burgers?” Rory asked, wiping at his tongue with his sleeve.
“It was on the way,” I told him, brushing sweat off my forehead. “And anyway, there wasn’t a line.”
“I can see why,” Mika muttered. He hadn’t been back in Wisconsin long enough to remember the various local fast food joints.
We were all spattered around the general admin area. It was a gorgeous room, painted a brilliant blue with past covers of Food Porn blown up to poster size. I was always amazed at some of the famous faces that had posed for us over the years. We’d become incredibly well known in the industry and some of the models that had their first gig with us had gone on to pose for high-fashion magazines. Still, we remained small but mighty, a 20-page publication on a busy month.
We could sell for a few million and had been approached to do so several times. Perhaps one day I’d sell. That day, however, wouldn’t be today.
“Hey, guys!” Betsy called out. She was hunched over her old computer in her old cubicle. The PC clicked and whirred, sometimes coughing and sputtering, as though it were a smoker that would be going out at any moment. Carly, Mika, James and I had been propped up against various walls, scanning our laptops for old news articles, recent magazine articles, anything that might suggest Veronica was still alive and kicking. When Betsy called to us, the four of us sprang to our feet and dashed into her cubicle, pushing and shoving to get a good look at her screen. Rory, who had been in his own cubicle, followed in after us, peering over Carly’s and my heads, squinting through his thick, black-rimmed glasses — the essence of geeky cool.
“What?” I asked finally. On her screen was a newspaper photo. Grainy, but somewhat visible was a tableful of eight smiling faces. They looked like they were at some kind of benefit or silent auction.
“There,” Betsy said pointing to one of the faces. She zoomed in and we all gasped in unison. “Do you think that’s her?”
Her hair was shorter than it had been in the Caribbean photo we’d discovered in Carmen’s room. The smile was reduced. Whereas before, she’d been proud to show off her luminous smile, Veronica smiled politely through closed lips. She’d gained a little weight. Not enough to shock anyone that used to know her, but enough that her face was more smooth and inviting as opposed to sharp and angular. Her makeup was different. The kohl that lined her eyes was gone, replaced by nothing at all. Still, there was no mistaking her. “That’s Veronica, no doubt,” I said. “Good job, Betsy. How’d you find her?”
Betsy looked smug. “I found a list of charities that Carmen donated to, like James asked me to.” She batted her eyes at him momentarily before continuing. “I decided to cross check the list against benefits that have occurred in the last few months, you know, took some initiative, and stumbled across this photo in The Reporter. It’s from the beginning of April.”
I nodded. “Just this month.” The Reporter was a rival newspaper of The Journal. In recent years, they’d scaled back staff and begun focusing more on local charity and non-profit work than hard-hitting news. “Taking the lead. Excellent. What’s her name, according to the paper?”
Betsy squinted and moved closer to her screen as she scrolled. “Cassandra Moon.”
James wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like a cartoon character.”
“Any idea where she is now?” Mika asked. He’d gone to retrieve his laptop. Setting it on the thin ledge of the cubicle, he brought up a search engine and typed in her name.
Betsy looked again to her computer for confirmation. “She’s with the Scooter P. Riley Foundation. This was a benefit on their behalf. Must have just been out representing.”
Carly looked unsure. “You’d think if she went through all the trouble of disappearing and moving halfway across the country and changing her name, she’d try to stay out of the limelight.”
Rory shrugged. “Maybe she couldn’t help it. Best friends with Carmen at one point. Old habits die hard.”
James nodded in agreement. “Couldn’t stay out of the spotlight.”
Meanwhile, Mika had pulled up the Scooter P. Riley Foundation on his computer. “They’re a non-profit organization that provides therapy dogs for corporate workplaces.”
“Therapy dogs?” Carly asked, her eyes brightening in excitement. “I love dogs!”
“Their offices are over in Brookfield,” he added. “Office is open for another two hours.”
“I’ll go,” I volunteered quickly.
“Me too!” Carly said eagerly.
“Well, I found her. I think I should get to go,” Betsy scoffed.
“That’s right,” I said soothingly. “You found her. You did. We need you to keep using that brain of yours and help us find more information on her. Where she has been. Why she changed her name. You’d be great at that.”
“Really helpful,” Rory added dryly. I shot him a look but Betsy didn’t pick up on his sarcasm in the least. Instead, she puffed with pride, her eyes wide and glowing beneath her thick bangs.
“Okay,” she said eagerly, bouncing in her chair a bit. “I’d be happy to stay and help out.”
“I’m sure James and Mika can give you some additional assignments,” I added, looking to the two of them eagerly as Carly and I crept backwards out of the cubicle.
“You sure you don’t need her?” James asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“Your intern,” I replied.
Back in the studio, Carly and I picked up our coats, which had been hung on the rack. Carly’s was long, fashionable and dark purple, with an adorable cinch belt. Mine was a plain old windbreaker that had seen one too many spring seasons. Still, it did its job. Maybe, one day, I’d lay off the candy purchases and save up for a new jacket. Maybe. “I like your coat,” I said enviously.
“Thanks,” she said, cinching the belt around her small waist. “On sale just last week at the mall over in Wauwatosa. You should go; they had a few different colors left.”
“Hey,” Mika called after us before I could respond. We turned and waited for him to make his way over to us. “If Veronica isn’t there, get as much information as you can from her co-workers. That picture is dated the weekend before last. Depending on her circumstances, she may have already skipped town.”
I nodded and Mika came over to zip up my windbreaker, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead as he did so. “We’ll give you a call when we’re on our way back,” I assured him.
“Carly,” he asked, as though suddenly remembering something. “Do you have your gun on you?” Carly placed a hand at her right hip and nodded, feeling the revolver through her coat and shirt. He turned back to me. “Do you have yours?”
“No,” I responded weakly.
“Well, where is it?”
“Sock drawer.”
Mika sighed. “At least tell me that you keep it loaded.” I shrugged noncommittally. He shook his head and smiled. “Stay close, you two. We’ve stumbled onto something but we don’t know what it is. I get the feeling it will all unravel quickly and, when it does, I want you two to have some fire power.”
Carly nodded and reached a hand out to touch Mika’s arm. “I’ll take care of her.”
“I can take care of myself!” I cried. “I took Tae Kwon Do until I was ten.”
“You know what I mean,” Carly laughed, patting her hip.
“Get going,” Mika said, checking his watch.
Nodding, Carly and I scurried towards the main doors of the studio. Taking a deep breath, we yanked one of them open. The doors were large, constructed of metal and at least 10’ high apiece. There was no way to sneak out through them but we didn’t want to risk anyone seeing us climb out the fire escape, just in case one of our own needed to use it later.
The second we stepped out of the building, camera flashes started going off. Microphones were shoved in our faces and, all the while, questions were being shouted at us from every which direction. Determined, I grasped Carly’s hand and pulled her behind me through the crowd. The reporters continued to follow us all the way to my SUV, gathering tightly around it as Carly and I climbed inside, panting. When I went to reach for the keys, I realized I’d forgotten my purse inside. “Damn it,” I muttered. I took a moment to lay my head on the steering wheel, fighting back tears.
“It’s okay,” Carly was saying soothingly. “We can go back, it’s not that big of a deal.”
Just then, one of the rear passenger doors opened. “Hey!” I cried, whirling around. “You can’t-” but I stopped short when I realized it was Corbin, dangling my purse from his finger. “-go scaring a girl like that!” I finished, brightening considerably and snatching my purse, immediately digging for my keys. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be pushing papers or looking for loopholes in the law?”
Corbin s
hrugged. “I must have just missed the two of you. Mika came running after you with your purse. I told him I’d get it to you and go along for the ride. In case you needed help. Not that you ladies can’t handle yourselves,” he added smoothly.
Carly smiled weakly and fluffed at her hair. Meanwhile, I’d retrieved my car keys and was busy bringing the Suburban to life. It roared, long and loud. “Someone needs a new muffler,” I said, patting the steering wheel with adoration. With that, I shifted into gear and the three of us left the handful of reporters coughing and choking on our exhaust. Served them right.
The Scooter P. Riley Foundation offices were set back off the street a few yards, in a large concrete and glass building. The lawn was green and inviting, as were the trees; the large silver address situated above the main entrance boasting that we’d arrived. Inside, we found a directory. It seemed that several offices were housed here and it took us a few moments to figure out where we needed to go. When we were unable to locate the elevator quickly, we opted for the stairs, jogging all the way up to the third floor. Winded, Corbin and I paused for breath. “You two need to do more jumping jacks,” Carly advised.
“Says the girl who beat out the majority of her department on their Physical Ability Test,” I wheezed.
“You can come running with me anytime, Moyer.”
“I prefer sitting on my butt.”
She grinned and then shyly turned to Corbin. “That offer goes for you, too.”
“Might be a bit of a drive, getting here at 6am from Madison…but I won’t say no.” He smiled back and Carly blushed. There was definitely something cooking between the two.
Eventually, they managed to pry their gazes from one another. “What?” They asked me in unison. I grinned slowly, a knowing smile, and Carly gave me a light shove. “We should get going,” she whispered, and we walked off.
“Suddenly in such a hurry,” I teased.
Corbin caught up to us quickly, gallantly opening the door for Carly and I to slide through. Inside the lobby, we paused. A reception desk made of light oak was positioned up front. A long panel covered the front of the desk all the way down to the floor. Though the computer screen was glowing and the chair spun sideways, as though someone had recently sat in it, no one was present. There was a large wall behind the desk and hallways to our right and left that I assumed led into the admin area. A small couch and coffee table were set up in the corner of the lobby, with multiple magazines spread out in a pinwheel fashion, distracting anyone who had to wait long to be seen.
Alllison Janda - Marian Moyer 03 - Scandal, Temptation & a Taste of Flan Page 14
