Chapter 17
Wednesday, October 27, 9 a. m.
Knowing Charlotte would likely be at her office, Rokov headed to the offices of Wellington and James. He rang the front bell and waited for the receptionist to buzz him inside.
“Detective Rokov,” the receptionist said. She was in her mid-fifties and wore a dark dress, matching headband, and flats.
“You know me, but I’m afraid I don’t know you.”
“I’m Ms. Wellington’s secretary and basically manager of all things that have to do with Wellington and James. Call me Iris. And I know you. Alexandria Police.”
He’d heard Charlotte had hired a top-notch assistant with an uncanny memory for names. “Is Ms. Wellington here?”
“She is. You’d like to see her?”
“I would.”
“Be right back.” She vanished down a carpeted hallway, giving him time to study the reception area. The place was sleek and had a moneyed, old world feel that fit the public Charlotte. She’d always carried herself as if she’d been raised with a silver spoon, and it still amazed him that she might have grown up in a carnival. Perhaps this place, like the carnival, was just an elaborate set designed to support the fantasy.
“Detective.”
Charlotte’s smooth clear voice had him turning from a hunt country painting toward her. She wore a black pencil skirt, white fitted blouse, heels, and the pearls she’d had on the last time they’d made love. She’d swept her hair into a French twist, accentuating her long neck and high cheekbones.
“Ms. Wellington.”
Suspicion darkened her eyes. “What can I do for you, detective?”
“Is there someplace private we can talk?”
Green eyes grew wary. “Why?”
“You’ll see.” A narrowing of her gaze told him she wanted to give him the bum’s rush. She wasn’t comfortable. Was she simply busy or embarrassed by his visit? Just the idea he embarrassed her set his nerves on edge. And so he waited, determined not to budge an inch.
“This can’t wait?” she said.
“No.” In the past when they were alone, he’d allowed her to run the show. However, this was no game, and he called the shots.
Sensing the steel in his resolve, she nodded. “In my office.”
He followed her down the hallway to the back office. It didn’t appear to be the largest of the offices, but it was the most private and remote. She’d placed a large decorative screen behind her desk that blocked the view of the street. Was that a holdover from her attack three years ago?
She closed the office door and motioned for him to take one of the club chairs in front of her antique desk. “Have a seat.”
He waited until she’d moved behind him and took the seat behind her desk before he sat. “Taking up a defensive position?”
She knitted her long manicured fingers together. “Do I need to?”
Five feet and that damn desk separated them, but it might as well have been a million miles and a brick wall. “I heard through the grapevine that you used to work for the carnival.”
Surprise and then acceptance crossed her face. She raised a brow. “Is that the latest gossip about me?”
“Is it true?”
She hesitated. “Does it matter?”
“I have a second victim. There might be a link to the carnival.”
Her face paled. “Oh, my God. I didn’t know.”
“No one does yet.”
“What does the murder have to do with me and the carnival?”
“Always the attorney scoping the lay of the land before you answer.”
“Second nature.” She shrugged. “It’s true. I grew up in the carnival.”
He sat back in his chair, realizing this was the first bit of personal information she’d acknowledged. “You cultivate the impression that you come from a very different place.”
She released a breath. “It was deliberate.”
“Why pretend to be something you are not?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Did you come here to quiz me about why I don’t talk about my past? Because if that is the case, I’ve got too much work to stroll down memory lane right now.”
He made no move to rise. “There is a method to my madness. Why the deception?”
“Why do you care?”
He managed a grin that wasn’t so friendly. “Humor me.”
She offered a small shrug. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a deception. I wanted to go into defense law and discovered back in law school that the people with money like to work with people who have money. I figured out the nuances of being from a certain world and embraced them.”
“Spoken like a defense attorney.”
“I’ve never lied about my credentials on my C V. I don’t mention high school but I did graduate from George Mason and Georgetown.”
“On scholarship?”
“Partly. I also worked my butt off.”
“Doing what?”
She sat back in her chair. “I still don’t see where this is headed.”
“It relates to a case, I promise.”
She pressed fingertips to her temples as if they now throbbed. “Can you keep it to yourself?”
“Sure, if it has nothing to do with the case.”
She released a breath slowly and then met his gaze. “I was a stripper. I worked in a club called Gold’s.”
If not for his own firsthand experience with the prim Ms. Wellington, he’d have discounted the story. He knew under the ice was fire. “I know the place. In D.C.”
“That’s right.”
“I worked undercover there a couple of years ago.” He’d watched the strippers, appreciated a few, but had not given any of them much thought at the time. Placing Charlotte on one of those stripper poles did not set well with him.
She seemed to read his disapproval. “That would have been long after my time.”
“How long were you there?”
“Five years. From eighteen to twenty-three.”
“No one recognized you from those days?”
“I wore a wig and a half mask. It was part of my mystique. A trick I learned at the carnival. It also protected me from the embarrassing run-ins with professors and friends.”
“Always hiding behind a mask.”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Did you have run-ins at the club with people you knew?”
“I saw them. They didn’t see me beyond the costume and act.” She traced imaginary circles on her ink blotter. “It’s amazing how many people turn their noses up at places like Gold’s and still slip by when the sun goes down.”
“I’m not turning my nose up.”
“Aren’t you?”
“I don’t like the idea of any man leering at you.” His tone had lowered to a growl. “But I’m not judging.”
She didn’t answer. He now knew when she was silent it didn’t mean she was cold or unfeeling but worried or stressed.
“Did you turn tricks?”
“No.” The word was clear, crisp, and without hesitation. “What if I’d said yes?”
“I’d have to find my way around it. Better to know the truth than nothing at all.”
Again, she was silent.
“When did you leave the carnival?”
“When I was sixteen.”
“Why’d you leave?”
She shook her head. “I’ve given you far more than I’ve ever given anyone. Now it’s your turn to give back. Where is this going?”
“I’m asking the questions.”
“Not until you tell me why. What does my past have to do with your murder investigation?”
“I could arrest you and we can talk at my office.”
She laughed. “Don’t pull that cop line on me, detective. Don’t. You would not arrest me.”
“I would. In a heartbeat.”
“And I will drag out the question-and-answer session until we all go insane. Tell me why, and I will help you.”
He could force this. And no matter how long she dragged out a Q and A, he’d win in the end. But he wanted them on the same team. “What I’m sharing with you now isn’t public knowledge. I don’t want the details getting out to the media.”
“Seems to be the day for secrets.”
“They always crawl into the light eventually.”
“So it seems.” She sounded resigned, sad even. “Why the interest in the carnival?”
“We found a carnival ticket stub in the second victim’s pocket. The stub was dated four days ago.”
Her brows knitted. “So both women were at the carnival.”
“Yes.”
“Have you talked to Grady Tate, the carnival’s owner?”
“Not yet. But I will. Right now I want to know what you know about the carnival.”
Charlotte stared at Rokov. When it came to stone cold stares, he easily matched hers. They both could be unreadable. She sat forward in her chair and pressed her fingertips to the desk. “Do you think Grady has something to do with these women’s deaths?”
“I don’t know. Could he have killed them?”
“I don’t think so but I’m discovering there is a great deal that I don’t know about Grady.”
“Start from the top. How did you two meet?”
“He married my mother. I was eight and my sister Mariah was nine. We were living in a motel. Mom was waitressing when he came into her diner. They hit it off. He asked her to marry him and she said yes.”
“Just like that?”
“My mother was quite impulsive. She was also quite moody. I think if she’d ever seen a real doctor, they’d have diagnosed her as bipolar. Grady met her when she was up and full of energy and life. She was a lovely woman and not even thirty. Before I knew it, we’d traded the motel for Grady’s trailer and were traveling around the country with his carnival.”
“He’s your stepfather.”
“He was my stepfather. My mother died when I was thirteen.”
“Is that when you left the carnival?”
“I didn’t leave for a couple more years. I stayed because I had no real place to go. I knew my mother had an older sister, but I didn’t know how to find her. So I stayed. Grady put my sister and me to work in the Madame Divine tent as the carnival psychic just as he had our mother. We wore the same costume but rotated shifts.”
His jaw tightened a fraction.
“You don’t approve?”
“A child should be in school.”
“We did have a tutor of sorts within the carnival. She was good, but I quickly was asking questions more detailed than she could answer. She was good about getting me books to read. And when I finally was placed in a real school, I was on par with most of the kids.”
“Why did you finally leave?”
She moistened her lips. “Mariah drowned. I freaked out. I was sure someone had murdered her, but Grady kept telling me it was an accident. When I refused to believe him, Grady found my aunt and told me I could go live with her if I wanted to leave the carnival. I did.”
He leaned forward. “Where did Mariah die?”
“We were in Alexandria. It was the end of the season as it is now. She went to work that night and never came back.” She swallowed.
“Did Grady call the cops?”
She closed her eyes. “He said he did, but I’m not so sure now. He’s a liar.”
He pulled out his notebook. “What was her full name?”
“Mariah Angel Wells.”
“What happened that last night?”
“I’d drifted off to sleep. Sooner was less than a week old and she was with me. I woke up to the sounds of a woman’s screams. I bolted out of bed, checked on the baby, and then ran to Grady’s trailer. He had just come back from somewhere. I told him Mariah was missing, and he organized a search party. They found her by a lake. Later he said she must have fallen into the water and hit her head.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“I believed him then but I don’t now. He’s told me too many lies.” She flexed her fingers on the mat like a starfish. “In the days after Mariah’s death, I kept hearing her screams in my sleep. Finally, I thought I’d go insane, so I demanded that he let me go live with my aunt. I also told him I was taking Sooner.”
“He refused.”
“How did you know?”
“She grew up in the carnival, not with you.”
“Grady told me he’d put her up for adoption. He said I was too young to raise a baby. And I knew she deserved a real home.”
He didn’t respond. For the first time he wondered if she did indeed come with far too many tangles and baggage. He’d just dug his way out of a mess with his ex.
“I wish now I’d taken her with me. The carnival was no place for her. I wanted to take her and raise her. And I knew Grady was a liar. I knew it. And still I let myself believe.”