I just…”
“What?”
“Nothing. If I’m not in the office, give me a call. You have my cell number, right?”
“Yep. And you have mine.”
“That I do. I should call you just to hear that ring of yours.”
“It’s distinctive.”
“It’s Wagner.”
“And what’s wrong with Wagner?”
“Not a thing.” He slapped the top of the desk lightly. “See you later, huh?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
As she watched him walk away she tried to get her heartbeat to slow. He looked good. Jeans again, which she liked much, much better than the brown pants. A white button-down shirt. A black jacket, nothing heavy, maybe linen or cotton. It was a good combination. Especially with his rebellious hair and his dark eyes.
Man, she had it bad.
He’d mentioned tabloids. She should run to the gift shop, but no, the front desk was busy. As long as she had a minute, though, she could call her expert. Carlane would have all the latest rags already, and if there was anything about the murder, her friend would know.
She wondered if she should tell Carlane about what she’d seen in Danny’s trailer. No, that was private information. Very private.
Mia was still amazed she hadn’t gotten fired. But then, Piper wasn’t in-house, so maybe Danny was waiting to express his outrage personally. It was quite possible this would be her very last day at Hush. That would break her heart. But she’d deal. She’d have to.
In the meantime, maybe there was one more thing she could do to help Bax before she was kicked out on her keister.
“YOU SAW THE PICTURE, I assume?”
Bax walked over to Bobbi, who was sitting in a chair that had her name on it. They were on the Madison Avenue sidewalk and the camera was set up in the little coffee shop where he and Mia had first had dinner.
There were several occupied chairs around them, but Danny Austen’s was empty. As was Peter Eccles’s. Bax pulled Austen’s chair closer to Bobbi and sat down. “Want to tell me about it?”
“If I tell you it was cold medicine, will you believe me?”
“No.”
“Will it matter?”
“Only if that picture is what got Geiger killed.”
She shifted on her chair, crossing one famously long, slender leg over the other. Her outfit today seemed pretty casual. A denim skirt, sandals, a little sleeveless T. He wondered if the clothes were hers or if she was in costume.
“I don’t know who took that picture, Detective.”
“They let a bunch of paps into those nightclubs, do they?”
“For all I know, the bartender had a camera in his cell phone.”
“Right.”
“You think I want the world to see me like that?”
“You’re on the cover.”
“You’re a cynical man, Milligan.”
“I’m a peach. It’s the job that makes me cynical.”
Bobbi smiled. “You know what? I believe you. I wish I could be of more help. I don’t remember much from that night.”
“What night would that be?”
“Four nights ago? Five? It’s hard to recall.”
“I’ll bet. You remember a woman standing behind you? Tall redhead? Name of Nan Collins?”
She shook her head. “If she was there, I didn’t notice.”
“Was Danny partying with you that night?”
“Danny? We don’t tend to hang out after work. You know how that is.”
He could see he wasn’t going to get anything useful from her. He’d do better waiting to talk to Mia. Maybe that pet concierge was available. Or maybe he should get on the horn with the tabloids, not that they’d tell him anything without being compelled by the courts.
“Detective?”
He got up, looked around for Austen or the director. Neither one was on the street. But shit, were there ever crowds. Tons of people held back by the barricades. Lots of off-duty cops getting some sweet moonlighting money. “Yeah?”
“I do remember someone who was partying with me that night.”
“Oh?”
“Our dear director. And I don’t think he was having a very good time.”
Bax nodded. It was probably a misdirection, probably nothing. But because she’d said it, he’d do his damnedest to get to the truth. Which was funny, considering. “Have a good day, Ms. Tamony.”
“You, too, Bax.”
YOLANDA WAS GETTING Oscar Weinberg’s suite ready, which wasn’t a simple thing to do. Mia had no business interrupting. No business being there at all. But did that stop her?
“Yolanda?”
“Hello Miss Mia.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you. Just getting this room ready.”
“I came to check on a few things, if you don’t mind.”
Yolanda, who was an excellent maid and a very nice person, stepped away from the door. “No problem, Miss Mia. You do what you need to. Let me know if I can help.”
Mia nodded as she walked inside. Oh, man, she was stepping close to the line here. Okay, over the line. Yes, she was going to check to make sure Mr. Weinberg’s pillows were perfect, but mostly she was going to snoop.
Yolanda had disappeared into the master bedroom, so Mia had the living room to herself. First thing she did was go to the to the big closet. There were clothes in there, and two suitcases. With her heart racing, Mia checked both cases. Empty. She felt for pockets on the jackets and came up with nothing there, either.
Okay, second bedroom. As she hurried, the theme music from Mission Impossible played in her head even as she told herself this was not a game. If she was caught here, she could lose her job. On the other hand, she was probably already on the cut list, so what the hell.
The second bedroom looked pristine and had already been turned down. Mia had no idea if Weinberg ever used the second bed, but it was ready if he wanted to.
The
