Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (14 page)

"Glad to be here," I replied, shaking her outstretched hand. "It was lucky that I just finished a contract and
happened to be
available."

"Ver
y lucky,” Louisa agreed. “D
on't let Edward work you too hard. He's a stickler
,
but a good boss."

Edward chuckled. "Louisa will show you the files you need. Lou
? C
an you show Lexi her office, please
?
I have to go over some paperwork with
the
head office."

"No problem at all. Tell me what you need, Lexi."

With a nod
,
Edward left us
, his heavy footsteps retreating quickly on the carpeted corridor as
I reeled off my list of files. "Edward's got you reading up on all the employees?" she asked, her voice laced with sympathy
,
rather than curiosity
.

"Says I've got to know everyone," I
replied
.

Louisa ran her finger down the list she made.
"Well, some of the
m
don't work with us anymore."

"
Mr.
Killjoy asked me to write a short report on
the
leavers
.”

"Oh, I nor
mally do that." Louisa shrugged
,
then waved a hand at the stack of papers on her desk. "Guess Edward finally paid attention to how busy I am."

"Lots to do?"

"Always." Louisa smiled. "There's always something to keep me busy." She pulled the files I asked for from her wall of cabinets, placing them in a shallow card box
,
which she handed to me. "There's quite a few
,
I'm afraid."

"No worries. I'll get stuck right in."

"I'll show you
to
your office. I don't know what you're used to, but it's not
hing
spectacular
."

"I'm adaptable," I assured her.

Office was a misnomer. The room was barely larger than a janitor closet
,
and I suspected that was what it had once been. Squashed inside was a desk, chair and desktop computer
,
with
an older
,
beige
monitor
. A small window overlooked the staff parking lot and a
potted succulent
struggled to
survive
on the windowsill. The desk had been cleaned recently and there was a cardboard box, taped shut, in the corner
,
by the door.

"The last assistant's
personal
things," Louisa explained. "I've told her agency that she has until the end of the week to collect
it
or I have to bin the lot. I hope you're tidy."

"Very," I said,
placing
the files on the desk. "You won't even know I'm here."

"Good to
hear
. I'll be next door
,
if you need anything. I'll find you a lunch card too. Edward gave you your pass
and key card
already?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Great. You're all set. Welcome, again to The Montgomery Hotel.
Let’s hope you have a pleasant stay!
" Louisa shut the door behind her, leaving me alone in the closet.

First off, I placed a phone call to
Lucas
back at the office
,
and got his answering service,
an
automat
ed
voice thanking me for calling the Solomon Agency. I left him a message
,
asking him to get into the hotel's computer system and look
for any unusual log-
ins, especially
with regard
to key card activations, staff rotas and bookings. I hoped
Lucas
might find an external IP address, or some other activity that he would be able to back trace. I knew that if someone w
ere
smart enough to hack the system
,
they would probably also know how to cover their trac
ks,
but it
would be interesting to know if
the
cyber
attack was internal or external.

Just as I finished reading through the theft reports, and the subsequent insurance claims, Edward returned, knock
ing on my door
. I was glad I wasn't painting my nails
as he entered without waiting
. He thrust a piece of lined notepaper towards me. "These are the only people I can think of who
were
mad at me."

"Mad
enough to go criminal?" I asked,
accepting
it.

"Hard to say. You think people are normal
,
then you find
out
they purchase pony tails that
they
anchor in their butts
to live their fantasies
."

I shuddered
as I
rethought visiting the convention for a second look. "Is there a photocopier?" I asked.

"I can do one better. We have a fancy machine that scans and emails. You don't even need hard copies of files,
just press the email button,
put in your email address
,
and it sends digital copies straight to your inbox
."

"Sounds great." That would make it easier to coll
ect the
files without it being obvious that I was taking a bunch of
them
out the building. Now
,
I could do it virtually. Technology was a beautiful thing.
It made online shopping opportunities endless
,
amongst other useful stuff, like emails
,
and funny cat photos.

"It's down the hall, opposite Louisa's
office
. Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm good to go, thanks. I want to meet some of the staff today
;
then I'm going to finish reading up and put together a plan of where to start."

"Good luck."

I thanked him. I had
a feeling that I would need it
,
but it wouldn’t reassure him to let him know that. I wondered if Solomon told him how green I was. To cheer myself up after that thought, I tried to imagine Fletcher squashed into the office, smiling prettily.

One of the best things about being a PI is everyone thinks it’s cool—not least
of all
, me—but t
he paperwork
is as mind-
numbingly dull as any other
temping job that I ever had.
I wasn't sure how I was
supposed to find a saboteur
,
despite spending the day trawling through half the files.

Solomon wanted me to look for patterns
, especially with the
theft
s
, but I
coul
dn't see anything.
The incident report told me a
ll kinds of things had been stolen from guest rooms. Jewelry rang
ing
from
rings to necklaces and brooches;
laptops of different
brands and specifications;
digital music players from old models to the latest
iPod;
cash of all denominations, digital cameras
,
and
the list went on
. It seemed our thief took anything and everything.
Instead of objects, I looked at the times fo
r
any
pattern, thinking it
might
tie to
a shift
assignment
.
Sometimes things went missing in clusters
;
sometimes there was a week or two between incidents. I made a note of dates. Perhaps I could
at least
eliminate
some of the
employees
by crosschecking
the dates against
vacation records? There were no times
of theft
attached to the reports
, only time
s
of discovery
,
which
could be hours after the fact. The
dates could be guesswork on the part of the owners
too,
but it was the best thing I
could find
to go on.

I stuck my head around Louisa's door and coughed politely.
She looked up from her paperwork.
"Hello, again. What can I do for you? Did you get lunch okay?"

"Yes, thanks. I need the vacation records for the past six months."

"Who for?"

I pretended to check my notes. "Everyone," I said.

"That's odd. Why would Edward need to know that?"

"He said something about head office."

"Right. They're watching him. You know what's happening, right?" Louisa waited for me to nod. "I'm glad he explained. It's so embarrassing. They're probably checking that he's not slipping the staff any extra vacation days
in lieu
."

"Right," I agreed. "That's probably it."

I waited while Louisa called up a file on her computer and sent it to the printer.

"There you are. Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything else," she said brightly
,
tapping
her watch. "And don't forget to clock out at five thirty. I won't hear of you staying late on your first day."

"Thanks."

I took the warm sheet
s
of paper from the printer and retreated to my closet. I cross
-
referenced the dates
,
but it seemed
no one was
on vacation
during
the theft days
;
except for a couple of waitresses who'd been away for a week each, on separate times, when a spate of thefts were reported. I crossed them off the
employee master
list, did a time check
,
and locked everything away in the desk drawer, pocketing the key.

As soon as I got in my car and locked the doors,
just in case,
I called my pro
bono client
,
Elisabeth Fong
,
and changed the address of our meeting.

The day had been long and
mentally taxing
, with plenty to absorb. The staff I'd spoken to seemed genuinely upset and worried that someone was messing with the hotel, and, in turn, their livelihoods. They didn't gush about Edward Killjoy
,
but neither did they slate him. When his name came up, I got the impression they thought he was doing a decent job, under difficult circumstances. Clearly
,
he didn't
fraternize
socially with the foot soldiers, but there seemed to be
a mutual
respect.

Day one:
S
aboteur
—
one;
me
—
zero
.

The drive
to Frederickstown was much like my mood: sluggish. I pulled into a space on the street, opposite Marissa Widmore's apartment and looked around for Elisabeth, guessing that I
must have
arrived first. That gave me a few moments to look over my notes
on Marissa
,
which
were
recorded on the
“
notes
”
function of my cell phone
.
With its pass
code protection, and
since
I could carry it with me at all times, it made more sense tha
n
carrying
her file.
I still had a few questions for Elisabeth before I started to talk to Marissa's other friends
. P
lus
,
tonight I wanted to get a look at Marissa's apartment. So far
,
her car had turned up nothing. Maybe her apartment would tell a different story.

I spotted Elisabeth approach
ing
the apartment before she saw me, so I got out, beeped my car shut and walked across the street, waving when Elisabeth looked over. She
seemed
relieved to see me
;
then her face took on that pinched, worried expression she had when she came to see me at the office.