Chapter 5
The afternoon proved difficult. While Bart attempted to charm information from the indomitable assistant, Monty interviewed several of the members of the office. Scott was present and introduced him to the other employees.
“We’re a small office, but I can set you up in the conference room, if you’d like,” Scott offered.
Nodding his agreement, Monty quickly moved through the employees. On the surface, everyone expressed concern about Marcia’s absence. He got the impression that while they assumed something was wrong, since they all reported that missing work or an important meeting was unheard of for their boss, he could also tell that she was not a popular boss.
She’s driven and expects everyone else to be just as driven…as long as they don’t try to take over her position, Monty recalled one employee stating. He pondered what he had learned so far while waiting for the next interviewee.
An elderly gentleman walked in, shaking his hand, nervously glancing at Monty, who immediately got down to business. He had no time or inclination for pleasantries when a person was missing.
“She came on time and worked until the day was over. Can’t say she ever slacked when on the job. She was an excellent broker and good with clients. Smart, sharp, intuitive with the business. But…” Marcia’s co-worker’s voice drifted off as he squirmed in his seat.
“But?” Monty prompted.
Shaking his head, the older man colored slightly. “Mr. Lytton, I know I’m old school and getting near retirement. I know these younger folks have a different way of seeing things. I understand that, but it’s still hard to fight against your way of thinking when you’re my age.”
“What are you referring to, Mr. Johnston?”
The man looked down at his hands clenched together on the table, struggling in an inner battle.
“The truth of the matter is that Marcia is about my daughter’s age. So I’m familiar with the modern woman, but I guess I’m still stuck in the dark ages. She had a reputation.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. His face blushing, he admitted, “In my day, we’d have called her a slut.” Rushing on, he hastily corrected, “I’m embarrassed to say that because, in my day, a man could sow his wild oats and we thought nothing of it. So I know it’s a double standard, but honestly…well…I was uncomfortable with what I’d hear at the office.”
“Others talk from facts or just rumors?” Monty asked.
“Hard to tell, but a lot of the young folks around here will frequent bars after hours. It gives them a chance to unwind and be with their friends. Hell, they even make business deals there the way we did at the golf courses back in my day.” He chuckled nervously before sobering as he shook his head. “I thought of trying to work another year before retiring, Mr. Lytton. But I’ll be honest, her missing is turning into a sordid deal around here. The scuttlebutt is that she went off with some lover. The whole thing makes me just…sad.”
“I appreciate your candor,” Monty replied honestly.
The gentleman stood, leaning over to shake Monty’s hand. “It’s been really difficult around here. Marcia was not a popular boss, only because she was driven and didn’t mind stepping on a few people to get to the top. But to harm her? I don’t see anyone in this office doing that.” He walked to the door slowly, patted the doorframe for a second and added, “Yes, indeed. I think it’s time to retire.”
Monty found the rest of the employees saying essentially the same thing that Mr. Johnston had eluded to. He met with Bart outside and they walked to his SUV.
“You get anything out of the assistant, Ms. Bartley?”
“Nope. She locked down everything as tightly as she could. As an assistant, she’s perfect. No one will get past her to get to the boss. According to her, Marcia was a saint and the others in the office were just jealous.”
“Did she have any ideas as to where Marcia might be?”
“No. She’s the one who called the Senator to alert him that Marcia did not come to work. And she’s plenty pissed that the others seem to be more interested in smearing the boss’ reputation.”
After dropping Bart off at his house, Monty drove home. Fixing a bite to eat, he stood at his bank of windows for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to find the elusive Cupcake but knew that would have to wait until tomorrow. Time to hit the bars. Sighing as he grabbed his keys from the table next to the door, he headed back out into the night.
*
The evening had proven to be informative, if not eventful. Monty had made the rounds to several of the higher-class bars and restaurants with bars, showing a picture of Marcia to the bartenders. Most recognized her and admitted that she frequented them once a month or so. She tipped well and, if she met with men, they noticed but did not care.
“Look, mister, there’s nothing wrong with a woman picking up a man at a bar. Men’ve been doing it forever,” was the response from most.
Before walking into Eclipse, the last one of the night, he called Marc and discovered that his experience had been the same.
“Seems like she was known to be a woman on the take,” Marc commented, “But no one spoke ill of her.”
“Yeah, it appears that tipping very well helped seal the eyes, ears, and lips of many a bartender,” Monty added. “You head on home, I’ve got one more place I want to check out, and truthfully, plan on sitting for a while and actually enjoying a drink. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Disconnecting, he walked through the thick, amber glass door of the last bar, entering the upscale establishment. He had been a customer here before and admitted to himself this was why he chose it last. A quiet interior with soft music playing in the background provided a nice contrast to a few of the noisier bars with live bands that he had been to. Making his way over the plush carpet toward the dark wooden, highly polished bar he selected a stool near the end. It sat in the shadows and allowed him a chance to rest his back against the wall. Eyeing a table nearby, he was determined to ask his questions and then settle in a seat to enjoy his drink.
He caught the eye of the bartender and, pulling out the picture of Marcia, he slid it forward as he ordered his drink. The bartender’s eyes flashed recognition and he lifted his gaze up to Monty.
“Be right back with your drink,” he said, walking away from Monty. “I’m John, by the way.”
In a minute he came back, setting the drink on a napkin in front of Monty and leaned on the bar. “I guess you want to know if I’ve seen the woman in that picture. I gotta tell you, she’s a regular customer, never causes problems, and tips like nobody’s business. So mister, you’d better have some kind of badge to get me to talk about her.”
Deciding this bartender was worth the risk, Monty decided to be upfront. “She’s missing.”
John reared back, his eyes wide in surprise. “Missing? Like missing for good?”
“Didn’t know there’s another kind of missing.”
“Well, sure there is. Some people just want to disappear for a while. You know? Get away from it all.”
“You think that’s what she did?” Monty asked.
John chewed on his lip for a moment, then shook his head. “Naw. She loved life. She’d come in, drink…but not too much. She’d usually have men buying her drinks eagerly, but she always tipped the bartenders like she was the one buying.”
“You ever see her with anyone in particular?”
“No, no. And to be honest, I don’t remember her picking up too many local men. When I was working, I generally didn’t recognize anyone she would leave with.”
“Were you working two nights ago? Was she here?”
“I couldn’t say. I wasn’t working.” He caught Monty’s gaze and quickly added, “And I was at a family gathering so I’ve got lots of witnesses!”
“Alright,” Monty chuckled. “Just do me a favor and check with your co-workers to see who might have seen her that night.” Sliding his business card over along with a fifty-dollar bill, he added, “And for now, I’m off the clock and going to enjoy my drink.”
“Yes, sir,” John grinned, taking the money and heading back down the bar.
Monty moved over to the table in the shadows and leaned his head against the paneled wall. Closing his eyes for a while, he allowed the soft tones of the music to settle deep inside.
Suddenly, the sound of deep-throated, gentle laughter met his ears and he jerked his eyes open. It only took a millisecond for his gaze to land on the beautiful woman now sitting at the opposite end of the bar. Her blonde hair shone in the soft lights as the pink, purple, and teal stripes created a symphony of color. Her clear complexion glowed, her blue eyes sparkled. But her luscious cotton-candy pink lips held his gaze. Her smile lit her face as her eyes focused on the man sitting next to her. Cupcake. Lucky bastard. I wonder if that’s her boyfriend.
He tortured himself a few more minutes before realizing, by snatches of her conversation, she was meeting the man for the first time. No boyfriend? She’s looking for a pickup? Is she into the same thing her friend was?
Watching carefully, he noticed her slightly slurred speech and disappearing drink. How much has she had? Feeling like a voyeur, he could not take his eyes off her. He watched as the man leaned forward to whisper something to her and knew the man’s eyes were on her abundant cleavage.
Monty’s fingers tightened around his glass then relaxed before it shattered. It doesn’t matter to me what her game is. But he knew he was lying to himself.
As her drink was refilled, her giggling increased. Monty wanted to be repulsed by her behavior, but found himself as enthralled as every other man in the room. Glancing around the dim interior, he saw the looks sent her way. Yep, that man at the bar must think he’s won the lottery. I would too if she shot that smile at me.
Monty looked down at his empty glass and almost ordered another one. I’d really like to go home and sleep. Even as that thought went through his mind, he knew he would stay. The desire to see what Angel was going to do was too strong to resist. He dragged his eyes away from her and focused his gaze on the man she flirted with.
Tall. Blond. Mustache. Dressed in a dark suit. Not expensive, but not shabby. The man reached his hand back to scratch his neck and the movement of his hair was almost imperceptible. Monty blinked before looking harder. A wig. He’s wearing a wig. Instinct along with protection kicked in as he watched the man’s mannerisms with renewed interest. Admitting to himself that a man wearing a wig was not a crime nor did it imply the man had anything to hide…but something’s off.
As he watched, the man’s behaviors became more pronounced. Leaning in to whisper in Angel’s ear, dragging his fingers along her arm, sliding his other arm around her waist. Monty felt a slow burn as jealousy coursed through his body. Jealousy? What the fuck am I thinking? We’ve never even met. But as much as he tried to convince himself it was only his investigative duty, he knew it was more.
Thirty minutes later, Angel appeared to slide off of the barstool, the mystery man reaching out to hold her against him. Giggling again, she held her arms out as he slipped her coat onto her body. Monty watched as they turned and moved out the doors.
Warring with himself for only a few seconds, Monty threw more bills onto the table and followed the couple out. The bar was next to one of the nicer hotels in the city and he was not surprised to see the man lead her into the lobby.
Hesitating for a second, he followed them discreetly. The elegant lobby, with gleaming tile floors, echoed the clicks of Angel’s heels as she continued to lean drunkenly on the man. Seeing them enter the elevator, he watched as the lighted floor button stopped on two. Thank God. He knew he could run upstairs quickly, but preferred to not have to go more than a flight up. Jogging, he cautiously stepped into the hall on the second floor, seeing them approach a room. The man held Angel tightly against him as he used his keycard to unlock the door before they stumbled in and the door shut with a resounding click.
Monty padded across the carpeted hall, stopping at the door. What the fuck am I doing? Just because she’s drunk doesn’t mean she can’t pick up a guy. Jesus, she can screw anyone she wants. Battling the sexist attitude of a double standard, he could not fight the wish that she was not inside with the man from the bar.
Hesitating, he turned to walk away when he heard raised voices. Instantly on alert, he backed up and placed his ear on the door.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” a man’s voice growled in anger.
“Have you seen her? Were you with her?” Angel asked, her voice strident.
“Look, I don’t know what your game is, but you can get the hell out right now, lady. No fuck is worth this.”
“Stop, stop!” her voice cried out.
Suddenly the sounds of a struggle were heard and Monty knocked loudly on the door. “Hotel management!” he shouted. “Let me in!”
The noises in the room did not abate and instinctively Monty stepped back and kicked the door. It took three kicks but the light wood splintered by the lock and flew open. Inside, he saw the two occupants in a standoff. To his surprise, Angel was holding a gun to the man, whose wig sat askew on his head.
Drawing his weapon from its holster, Monty growled, “Put it down.”
“You? What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes wide.
To Monty’s surprise, Angel’s words were clear…as were her eyes…which had just registered recognition. She’s not drunk. Fuck, what the hell is she doing?
The man took advantage of Angel and Monty’s stand-off and grabbed her gun arm at the elbow. Pulling her in front of him, he backed to the bathroom door. Keeping his head low, he slung her fiercely away from him as he ducked into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. Angel’s body launched several feet before she fell, hitting her head on the dresser. Hearing glass breaking in the bathroom, Monty started toward the door but halted as Angel’s body lay still on the floor, blood running from the front of her head.