Hooked (20 page)

T
awny arrived at Upper Eighties at eight thirty, an hour and a half before her appointment. She hoped to find someone to chat with on the fourth floor. After punching in the day’s code, she slipped the key in the door lock, and the door popped open. Colin issued individual codes for clients, then Charles verified the appointment when they arrived and called the hostess. The subterfuge made wealthy men feel important. The strategy reminded her of the rich dupes who begged that crooked financier to invest their money so they could become a member of a club so exclusive, only the crème de la crème were allowed. Then they lost all their money. The lure was nothing more than psychology.

She was about to close the door when a young woman scurried up the stairs and dashed by her. “Hi, I’m Marsha, and I’m late. I like to get here early, but traffic was ugly. I thought my cab driver would stroke out.”

The woman hardly took a breath, and her greeting exploded into one long sentence. She was exotically pretty, either Greek, Italian, Indian, or perhaps Turkish. Wild curly black hair hung halfway down her back, and her eyes were so dark and smoky, Tawny couldn’t see her pupils. She wore a deep shade of lipstick that only flattered someone with her coloring, and her smile was blinding. Marsha headed for the desk where she scribbled her name and pulled Tawny along to the stairs, by-passing the elevator. “Are you Tawny?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Well, I know everyone else, so you had to be you. I’ve got to run. What time’s your client?”

“Ten.”

“Mine’s now. Want to meet for a drink on four in an hour? That’d make it nine thirty? We’ll have half an hour to get to know one another. By then I’ll have unwound.” Tawny barely had time to agree before Marsha said, “See ya,” and she was gone, taking the stairs two at a time, her full gypsy-styled skirt rustling in her wake.

What a whirlwind. Tawny liked her and had the feeling Marsha would tell her what she wanted to know, if she didn’t find out before. After Marsha’s colorful exuberance, Tawny’s simple black halter-cut sheath appeared sedate and boring. At least she wore her hair loose and accessorized with artsy hand-made silver and turquoise earrings she’d bought in Peru because the stones matched her eyes. She couldn’t wait for nine thirty. Not so for the ten o’clock appointment, whoever he was. She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to get back in the game. Her thoughts flashed to Walsh.
It’s all your fault
.

The hall was quiet, the door to the office closed. She turned the knob. No one, but this time papers covered the top of Colin’s desk, and a screen saver fluttered across the monitor. He’d left the computer on. She peeked outside the door, listened, and checked her watch. Eight thirty-five. Appointments were scattered, but she was pretty sure they began on either the hour or half-hour, so everyone who was here was working, except the hostess. She tiptoed down the hall to the front. Charles sat at his desk, engrossed in what she now knew were sudoku puzzles. She needed
only a few minutes.

She tiptoed back to the office and slipped inside, easing the door closed. Tawny had
already decided Rick Martell had something to do with Cindi Dyson’s disappearance. All she needed to do now was prove it. If she could corroborate that Sarah Marshall had worked at Upper Eighties, she was out of there for good.

Riffling through the loose papers on the desk, she saw bills: electric, water, phones. Nothing like sign-in sheets, calendar, or a date book. That had to be on the computer. She jiggled the mouse, and the computer screen came to life, exhibiting a monthly expense report. That made sense. She was about to minus the screen when her eyes wandered to the task bar, and she saw the word Schedule. She clicked on it, and there it was. Today in date book form, complete with room numbers and hours.

She saw Marsha’s name next to client TC at eight thirty in room thirty-two. That was on the third floor. Tessa, room twenty-two, second floor, near where Tawny was last time and where she would be again tonight. The initials for Tessa were AG. Tawny saw her own name, but there was nothing but the room number and time. No initials. She didn’t see Darlene’s name. Good. One thing she wouldn’t have to worry about.

She clicked a back arrow and the page changed to yesterday’s date. How far back would she have to go to see Cindi’s name or Sarah/Serena? When was Cindi’s last night? About two weeks ago? Three? Click, click. No Serena. No Cindi. She kept turning the calendar back and scanned each page. Still nothing. Could Colin have wiped the two names off the computer? That would be the smart thing to do. Immersed in her search, she didn’t hear a sound until Colin’s voice wafted over her left shoulder, and
it wasn’t welcoming.

“What are you doing in my office?”

The voice frightened Tawny into a quick turn. She sucked in an audible breath. Colin appeared confused at first, then angry.

“Oh, you scared me, Colin.” She let out a long
whew
! and flapped her hand over her heart. “No one was here, and I forgot where Benny told me to go.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question. “You could have asked Charles. He has tonight’s schedule.” He moved behind her and glanced at the screen. “You have the date
wrong too. If I remember correctly, I had billing on the screen. The schedule is in the task bar, and it’s on today’s date.” He pointed. “That page is two weeks old. Don’t know what day it is?” He slammed down the cover of the laptop.

She faced him and responded as haughtily as she could. “Actually, I wanted to know if my Monday night’s client was on the computer. No one would tell me his real name, and I wanted to know. Th
at’s when I touched the pad on the back arrow, it kept flipping over. I couldn’t stop it.”

“That’s why there’s a mouse, Ms. Dell. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were spying.”

She forced a laugh. “Why would I spy? I wanted to know who I was with Monday, and I want to know who I’m seeing tonight. I don’t like not knowing. I’ve always checked out my clients to make sure they’re not nut jobs.”

Colin huffed. “That’s what I do. It’s why Benny hired me. You work here, you accept you’ll be with a safe partner.” He stared at her for a long time. “Is that all, Ms. Dell?”

She wanted to ask how safe Sarah Marshall or Cindi Dyson had been, but without proof, that would be way out of line. She couldn’t slink out of there as if she’d done something wrong.
The best defense is an offense.
“I still don’t know who my appointment is with, Colin. I like to know ahead of time. Would you tell me, please?”

“I don’t know. Benny arranged your appointment both times. He seems to think you’re
something special.” With a sneer, he said, “Me? Not so much. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

“You haven’t been much help,” she said, exasperated.

“My job isn’t to help you. I work for Benny. I suggest you check with Charles for your room. My computer is off limits to you from now on. From now on, when I go out to dinner I’ll be sure to shut it off and leave temptation for the bedroom.”

Her cheeks burned.

“I have the coffees, Colin,” a deep, resonant voice said. A large shadow loomed in the dim light of the hallway. Towering over Tawny, he took up the entire exit, blocking her from leaving. Tawny recognized him, and she could tell by his hard, squinty stare that he recognized her too.

From yesterday.

The man staring at her from the quick shop, near Rick Martell’s office.

The pounding in her chest increased.
Get the hell out of here, Tawny. Now.

“Y
o, I saw her coming out of Martell’s office yesterday,” Reggie said.

Tawny wasn’t sure what was happening, but she had a feeling she was in trouble. “And I saw you standing at the store nearby.”

“What were you doing there?” Colin asked.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Yeah? Well, it might be,” Colin said. “Now I’ll ask you again, what you were doing there? And you’d better answer straight.”

Tawny didn’t like Colin’s tone, but thinking the truth wasn’t so unbelievable, she said, “Mr. Martell does my taxes. I had some questions about the money I’m making here. Now, are you satisfied?”

Colin and Reggie exchanged glances, but this was Colin’s show. “How do you know Mr. Martell?”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“Answer.”

Her chin lifted in defiance. “Mr. Martell and I have a mutual friend. I have lots of friends, Colin. And I don’t think you’d want to check with this one to verify what I’m saying. He might be more than a little pissed.”

Whether Colin put two and two together, or whether he didn’t know where to take the conversation, he backed off. Tawny didn’t want to press to find out why Colin’s friend was in Brooklyn, standing around Martell’s office. She just wanted to get the hell out of this office.

“Now, do you mind if I leave? I have an appointment in”―she checked her watch―“an hour, and I’d like to go upstairs and have a drink.”

“I thought you didn’t drink.”

“I might make an exception tonight after the shoddy way I’ve been treated.” She started for the door and turned. “You know, Colin, I don’t like the way you talked to me tonight. I don’t think Mr. Cooper would either.”

“Don’t bother telling him,” Colin said. “I will.”

Tawny wondered if he would. She turned to leave, but Reggie blocked her way. She stared at him. He stared back. “Excuse me,” she said. The man must have gotten a signal from Colin, because he moved to let her pass.

What the hell was going on? Why all the interest in Rick Martell? So what if she was there? More importantly, why was the big guy there? Who was he? She approached the front desk as if nothing had happened. Charles dragged himself from his puzzle when she approached.

“Evening, Ms. Tawny. Here early again, aren’t you?”

Good. He hadn’t heard what went on in the office. “I finished with my business early and didn’t want to go all the way home. I’ll have a drink upstairs before my appointment. Would you sign me in at ten, please?”

“Gotta sign you in when you get here, same as Ms. Marsha, then I put your appointment time next to it. Those are the rules. Mr. Cooper likes to know who’s here at all times.”

I’m sure he does. Easier to pick his sursy for the evening.
“Of course.”

He waved the sign-in clipboard. “You’re good to go.”

“Are you feeling better, Charles? You weren’t well Monday evening.”

“Huh? Oh, yes, thank you. Had a little bug. I did what you said and took an antacid. After about half an hour, I felt fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” Tawny pricked her ears. She heard nothing. Should she be worried? She needed to forge ahead. “By the way, do you have the name of my client tonight? No one’s mentioned it, and I see there aren’t any initials next to my name.”

“Cuz no one gave them to me, Ms. Tawny.”

“Strange.”

“Not really. Sometimes when Mr. Cooper is here, he sets up the appointment, and I call him.”

The doorbell rang. Charles checked out the window, then a monitor off to the side of his desk. Numbers popped up on the screen. The code.

“You’d better go. We try to keep the clients and ladies separate. That’s why appointments are staggered. Mr. Cooper doesn’t want them to see a lady they may prefer over their arranged partner. He’s very considerate about everyone’s feelings.”

How nice.
Not all the appointments started on the hour or half hour, not that it made a difference. This would be her last night. Still, she admired Benny’s foresight. He’d thought of everything.

Charles picked up the phone and pressed one number. “We have the gentleman for room twenty. Yes, Ms. Angie. Right away.” He hung up. “I have to let this gentleman in now. You can use the stairs. See you when you check out.” Charles got up and left her, moving toward the entryway that faced the elevator and was partially blocked off from the rest of the first floor.

So, Angie was tonight’s hostess. At least it wasn’t Darlene, though she could be in one of the rooms. Retracing her steps down the hall, she saw the office door was closed. She didn’t want to run into Colin or his friend again. Ever. She knew a back door led to a garden area and once again debated her exit. No, she’d come this far. If she got what she needed from Marsha, she’d get the hell out of there.

When she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, the massive room was silent and empty. This was her last chance to pump someone for information. She checked her watch. Nine fifteen. Fifteen minutes before meeting Marsha. Still shaky from the office fiasco, she took long, deep breaths to calm herself. Opening the fridge behind the mahogany bar, she pulled out a ginger ale and popped the top. She dropped a few ice cubes into a glass and poured, then walked around, taking in the framed erotic art on the walls. Caught up in the beautiful paintings, she didn’t realize the time had passed until she heard Marsha’s high heels clattering across the polished wood floor.

“Great, aren’t they?”

“Oh, hi. Yes, they’re lovely. I wonder where he got them.”

“India.” Marsha headed for the bar and poured a glass of white wine. “Can I get you another drink?”

“No, thanks, I haven’t finished this one.”

“My appointment was a regular,” Marsha said. “He thinks he’s in love with me. He’s kind of cute, but not my type.”

“What
is your type?” Tawny asked.

“First criterion, he has to be Jewish. My father would stroke out if I brought home a Gentile. That would be worse than knowing what I did three nights a week.”

Tawny almost choked on her drink. “You mean your father would prefer you be a call girl than to bring home a non-Jewish boyfriend?”

“Honestly? He wouldn’t be happy either way. I come from a very strict Orthodox
family.”

Tawny shook her head and burst out laughing. She’d heard stories about the lengths some girls went to protect their working lives from their parents, but this one took the cake. “I’ve heard everything now. How do they think you’re making all this money?”

“They don’t know I’m making it, and I’m not going to do it much longer. I’ve invested everything in stocks, and believe it or not, I haven’t lost any money.”

“How do you get away with that?”

“It’s tricky. I set up a phony consulting business, invest my―ahem, fees―in the market, and pay taxes on the profits. It’s really more complicated, but I’m a finance major at NYU, which helps. I’ve set up similar accounts for some of the other girls.” She pulled out a card. “Here, I take less than the standard fee most financial planners take. Everyone here has made money on their money.” She sipped her wine, then smiled in an almost embarrassed way. “I’m good.”

Tawny took her card. Marsha Ariel. “Thanks, Marsha. I think you’ll hear from me. Ariel, interesting name.”

“I’m Israeli. My father came here as a consultant to a large firm and stayed. He plans to go back when there’s a peace agreement. He should live so long.”

“So you’ve made some of the girls rich.”

“Rich is relative, but they’re comfortable enough to feel secure if they ever want to quit. One girl I helped died, though. I really liked her too. And I haven’t seen one of the others for a while. She was new, and I hadn’t started with her yet. I hope nothing’s happened to her. She was a writer, gathering information to write a novel about the life. Cool, huh?”

Tawny’s heart rate soared. She may have learned everything she wanted to know
without asking. Cindi Dyson was a writer. She had to be sure. “What was the name of the girl who died? Maybe I knew her.”

At that moment, Darlene got off the elevator. She started walking toward them. Tawny recognized her pinched expression, and if Darlene knew talkative Marsha, she had every reason to be afraid.

“Hi, Darlene,” Marsha said.

Tawny reached across, took Marsha’s arm. “What was her name, Marsha?” she said quietly. “The dead girl. It’s important.”

Something about Tawny’s tone must have alerted Marsha, and she answered in a hushed voice. “Sarah Marshall. Sweetest girl on the planet. They fished her out of the harbor a couple of weeks ago. Must have been a client, but she was careful who she took up with. I can’t imagine how it happened. I turned her account over to her parents. Sad.”

“What’s sad?” Darlene asked.

“Oh, I was just telling Tawny―”

“Nothing important, Darlene.” Tawny let out a slow breath as she interrupted her new friend. “Just getting to know each other.”

Marsha studied Tawny for a fraction of a second and got a knowing look in her eye. She changed the subject. “About the Holocaust movie I saw. So sad I could barely contain myself. I don’t know why I go to those things. Those poor people. Some of my parents’ relatives.”

“Must be awful,” Darlene said with barely a hint of sympathy.

Tawny could tell Darlene didn’t give a rip about the Holocaust or Marsha’s people or anything else. Then Tawny’s cell rang. She pulled it from her satchel. Walsh.
Not now
. She’d call back when she got out of there.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” Darlene asked.

“I’ll get it later. Nothing important.”

Darlene glared at her suspiciously. “I’m going to grab a can of Coke and head home. I’ll pick up something to eat on the way. I’m starved.” She grabbed her drink and said goodnight.

After she left, Marsha said, “You want to tell me why you did that?”

“You don’t know me, but trust me, okay?” She watched the younger woman size her up. “Please.”

“If it were anyone other than Darlene, I probably would have said something. But I don’t like her, never did, and I’m a good judge of character. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t want to know.” She checked her watch. “It’s almost time for your appointment. You’d better go.” Marsha got up. “I have a feeling we won’t see each other here again, will we?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. But I have your card.”

Marsha turned a slanted eye to study Tawny. She drained her wine, picked up her tote, and left the ballroom without another word. Tawny watched her leave. That was close, she thought. She got the information she came for. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. Screw the appointment.

Tawny hoped she didn’t run into Colin on her way out. She’d head for the door, and if Charles made a stink, she’d run. She got to the second landing and ran right into Benny.

“Tawny, just the person I wanted to see.”

“I’m a little early, Benny. I was going to step outside for a breath of air, then head for the room.”

“Nonsense. I’ll escort you. You can relax there. Your appointment is waiting. He was early too.”

He cinched her arm and led her to the same room she occupied Monday night. He opened the door. She didn’t see anyone. Must be in the bedroom. She guessed this guy was strictly business, leaving the expensive bottle of Dom Perignon in the cooler without opening it. A plate of hors d’oeuvres and a vegetable tray with three different dips sat on the table. Benny must have realized she didn’t eat caviar, because she didn’t see any.

He stood there, watching her.

Trapped!

She should have kept going instead of allowing Benny to take control. She’d wait until he left and sneak out. Resigned, she put her satchel in the closet and walked into the bedroom. Empty. “I thought you said my appointment was already here.”

“He is,” Benny said. “May I introduce Benny Cooper, Ms. Dell.”

Tawny almost laughed until she saw Benny was serious. “Benny, we had a deal. No freebies for the boss.”

“That’s right. This is no freebie. Your money is in your mailbox, courtesy of tonight’s client, Benny Cooper.”