The Dangerous Edge of Things - By Tina Whittle Page 0,60
was only once, and I made it clear this was a place of business, and that if he had none, he needed to leave. He hasn’t returned.” She switched her cat-eyes back to me again. “Why all the questions?”
“Yes,” Trey echoed, “why all the questions?”
I tapped the next photograph. “This is why.”
It showed Eliza, her face half-turned away from the camera, her eyes bright and cunning. She had on a shiny purple dress, and standing right at her elbow…
Nikki. She wore a black cocktail dress and looked directly at the camera, but Eliza’s gaze was fastened elsewhere, on someone not in frame. I would have bet my emergency cigarette that it was one of the damn Beaumonts, uncaptured by the lens, visible only in Eliza’s hungry, fascinated eyes.
Trey tilted his head to examine it. “Who is that?”
“It’s Nikki, this stripper friend Janie keeps talking about, from Beau Elan.”
“Why is she important?”
“Do you remember those rumors Marisa mentioned, about Mark and Eliza? I was blaming Dylan and his stupid blog, but what if Nikki started them? Or Jake Whitaker. He was there, she was there, they were there. Maybe this didn’t start at Mardi Gras—maybe it started at Beau Elan.”
Trey’s expression switched to mildly interested. “Go on.”
“So maybe Mark and Eliza really were having an affair. Maybe Jake really does know something. After all, you said he was lying about her being nice.”
“But Marisa says—”
“Like Marisa knows everything. The point is, this is something we need to pursue. And I know exactly where to start.”
“I don’t think—”
I held out my hand. “Rock, scissors, paper.”
He frowned. “Again?”
I stuck my hand out. He did the same. And on three, I laid my flat palm over his closed fist.
“Paper covers rock,” I said. “Again.”
He didn’t argue, just looked at the photographs in my hand, then addressed Gabriella. “Do you mind if we keep those?”
She shook her pretty head. “Of course not. If it will help.”
“It will.” He checked his watch, then looked at me. “We leave in eight minutes. Get your questions ready.”
Chapter 31
Jake Whitaker spread his hands. “I really don’t see how I can be of any more help to you.”
By “you” he meant me, the person sitting in the client chair in front of his desk. Trey was standing off to the side. He and Whitaker had circled in that alpha male way, then ignored each other. Which had been fine with me. It meant that I had Whitaker’s full attention.
“You neglected to mention you were at the Mardi Gras ball Tuesday night. Or that you visited Gabriella’s the next day.”
“I met her at the party and she was hot—what can I say? I still don’t see what this has to do with Eliza.”
Trey glanced our way. Sharply. I took note, but kept talking to Whitaker. “Did Eliza ever tell you why she liked hanging around at Beaumont parties?”
“Are you asking me about those rumors?”
I played dumb. “What rumors?”
He ignored the dumb. “Because if you are, I’ll just put your mind at ease. I didn’t start the rumors, I don’t believe the rumors. I never saw them together that way.”
“You’re talking about her and Mark Beaumont?”
“Of course. What are you talking about?”
“There were rumors of a more illegal activity than fooling around with your married boss.”
He leaned back. He was looking professional today—dark gray slacks, winter-white oxford shirt, muted red tie. He’d shaved, which made him look smarter and more wholesome, emphasizing that former quarterback thing he had going on.
“You mean drugs,” he said.
I fixed him with a look. “Did you know she was using?”
“Sure.”
“What about dealing?”
“I suspected so.”
“So why didn’t you tell us?”
“It wasn’t any of your business. Had I had problems with her? Yes, especially recently. She was late a lot, she seemed unfocused and weird sometimes, and she and that redneck ex-boyfriend liked to argue in public. Did I see any reason to share this information with you? No.”
“Did she seem to be getting any special attention from the Mark? Or Charley?”
“No.”
Trey moved to stand in front of the photograph of the Beaumonts over the information table. Jake’s eyes flicked in his direction and then back to me.
“Did you notice her paying them any special attention?” I said.
He swiveled in his chair. “She had stars in her eyes, maybe. I told her she was out of her league, but she didn’t listen.”
“So you have no idea why anybody would want her dead?”
“Are you asking in some cute way if I killed her?”