Part 16 (1/2)
It took me all of two steps to reach it.
”So,” he beamed, as I plopped down. ”What do you think of my office?”
”It's great.”
”My girlfriend decorated it. She's the one who picked out my new clothes, too.”
”You have a girlfriend?” I blurted out.
Despite his new look, I still couldn't help thinking of him in geek mode.
”I mean, you have a girlfriend! How nice!”
”Actually I met her on Dates of Joy. She was one of Joy's few genuine clients.”
”Joy fixed you up?”
”Are you kidding? Joy couldn't make a match if she signed up a hooker at a frat house.”
He picked up a framed picture from his desk and showed it to me.
”Her name is Ellen. Isn't she pretty?”
”She's lovely,” I said, staring down at a sweet-looking redhead with freckles and a slight overbite.
”I saw her picture on Joy's website and asked her out on the sly. Ellen was the one good thing I got from that rotten job.”
”I wouldn't exactly say that, Travis.”
”What do you mean?”
”I checked out your clients online, and they looked awfully familiar.”
He had the good grace to blush.
”Okay, so I'm using Joy's database. I paid for those profiles with two years of blood, sweat, and humiliation. Joy owed me.”
”But you can't just take over her client list like that. Doesn't it belong to her heirs?”
”Not really. Joy's business wasn't incorporated. So technically, there's nothing to inherit. Besides, who'd even want it? Tonio needs a calculator to add two and two, and as far as I know all Joy's relatives are dead.”
Clearly he'd never met Aunt Faith.
”And the fact is, I'm only using Joy's database to get started. Once I'm up and running, I'm going to dump the phony models and actors. I've already signed up a whole bunch of new clients from an ad I took out on Craigslist. ”Which brings me to you, Jaine.”
He whipped out a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. Glancing down, I saw that it was an Elite Matchmaking Members.h.i.+p Agreement.
”You know,” he said, with that same appealing grin he'd flashed in Neiman's, ”for only five hundred dollars I could set you up with a really nice guy. No Skip Holmeiers. I promise.”
”Thanks, Travis, but that's about four hundred ninety-five more than I can afford right now.”
”In that case,” he said, s.n.a.t.c.hing back the members.h.i.+p application, ”why are you here?”
”Actually, I came to talk to you about Joy's murder. The police think I might have done it, and I'm trying to clear my name.”
”You? A killer?” He threw back his head and laughed. ”How ridiculous. You wouldn't have the nerve.”
He was right, of course, but I was a tad insulted at his implication-hard to ignore-that I was about as fearless as a Teletubby.
”I happen to be a lot tougher than I look,” I said, squaring my shoulders in my I MY CAT hoodie.
”Yeah, right,” he smirked. ”But you couldn't have killed Joy. Because I'm pretty sure I know who did.”
”Who?”
”Greg Stanton.”
”The artist? Really?”
”Absolutely,” he nodded. ”Joy had something on him. I'm sure of it. Something that kept him paying big bucks for her services year after year.”
”You mean she was blackmailing him?”
”Big time.”
Suddenly I remembered b.u.mping into Greg outside Joy's office the night of the murder. At the time I was so worried about him ratting on me to Joy, it never occurred to me to wonder what he was doing there.
Greg may well have been the killer, but I couldn't ignore the hot suspect sitting right across from me. Joy had run roughshod over Travis for the past two years, and now after her death, he'd helped himself to her client list and a whole new life. He had more than enough motive for murder.
For all I knew, he'd been sneaking into her payroll and robbing her blind, saving up for the day when he could afford to open his spiffy new offices.
”By the way,” I said as casually as I could, ”I stopped by the bar to talk to you on the night of the murder, but you weren't there.”
Guess I wasn't casual enough, because suddenly his face turned a most unsettling shade of red.
”What are you implying? That I had something to do with Joy's death? That I ran out to put that poisoned chocolate in her G.o.diva box?”
”No, not at all,” I lied.
”Well, for your information, I left the bar for a few minutes to take a bathroom break. I may have been Joy's slave, but I think I was ent.i.tled to one of those.”
”Of course,” I said, with a placating smile, all the while wondering if I was sitting across the desk from Joy's killer.
Chapter 14.
Working my magic charms (and doing a bit of groveling), I managed to smooth Travis's ruffled feathers and convinced him to give me contact information for several people on Joy's database I was eager to talk to.