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Sherry, the young office manager, raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow when she saw me. “I don’t have an appointment on the books for you, Ms. Angelhart.”
Her voice was high, almost childish. She was twenty-two with a boob job to take her perfectly acceptable C cups to DD, and regular lip filler to plump out her already full lips. Her makeup was perfect as any beauty store employee, her long hair naturally blond with excellent golden highlights. In the two years she had worked for Miriam, she had dated three baseball players, the son of a major sports team owner, and a neurosurgeon twice her age. I’d once made the mistake of thinking Sherry had no brains in her too-pretty head; now I knew better than to doubt the calculating woman. Sherry might be looking for a rich husband, but she had done a few jobs exceptionally well for Miriam. It helped when people saw what they wanted to see and assumed an airhead guppy when they were really dealing with a corporate shark.
“Nope, but I’m going in.”
Sherry knew better than to try and stop me, but she picked up the phone and buzzed Miriam.
By the time I reached the corner office, Miriam was hanging up the receiver and had a smile on her weathered face.
“Margo. You could have called.”
“So could you when Frank realized we were working parallel cases.”
Miriam may have once been attractive, and she certainly was what someone might call handsome in a woman, but too much time in the sun had given her skin an unnatural permanent tan and wrinkles that had been only partially smoothed out with regular Botox treatments. Her gray hair was short, well-styled, and she dressed impeccably. But she looked older than my mom, despite being two years younger.
“Sit, please.”
I did, after closing the door.
“What were you doing at Logan Monroe’s rental property?” Miriam asked.
“What were you doing at Logan Monroe’s rental property?” I countered.
Neither of us spoke. I wasn’t in a rush, but I didn’t want to dance around with Miriam all morning. “I saw Frank. Nearly a hundred degrees and they were in the boulders above the property, with binoculars. When I saw them, they bolted. Why would Frank run when he saw me?”
Miriam said, “They weren’t running, they were leaving.”
Not accurate, but I didn’t argue.
“So you were hired to watch an empty house and when it was occupied, your men left.”
“The house wasn’t empty.”
Frank left because he had spotted the ambulance, I’d bet my license on it. He would have known police would be next and he didn’t want to answer any questions.
All night, I’d run through possibilities about who could have hired Miriam, but nothing had made sense. I’d thought for a brief second that Brittney Monroe may have hired them, but she didn’t bite last night when I was feeling her out on the subject.
She could be lying. I suspected Brittney Monroe lied about a lot of things.
More likely that Desert West brought in a second investigator, but why hide up among the boulders? So that didn’t quite fit, either. Unless someone at Desert West was involved in some sort of political shenanigans, something that Miriam always found herself in the middle of. Was Miriam involved in some sort of opposition research program? For who? Nothing in my research gave any hint that White or Monroe were running for office.
Could Jennifer White have hired them? Why?
Logan Monroe was an extremely wealthy man with a lot of friends...and more enemies. Maybe Miriam was gathering dirt on him for someone else, someone other than his wife. Like a business investor, a competitor.
Nothing felt quite right, but with Miriam’s standard clientele of business and political movers and shakers, maybe it was some sort of opposition research on a rival. I didn’t outright dismiss the idea.
“For the record,” I said, deciding to give Miriam a small truth. “I’ve found no evidence that Logan Monroe is cheating on his wife.”
Miriam laughed heartily. “I should have figured that’s why you were there. Margo, dear, you’re too good to be chasing cheaters around town.”
Miriam didn’t mention Jack. Could be that Frank hadn’t seen him.
“Your case is over?” Miriam questioned.
“Not yet. Need to dot the i’s, cross the t’s, yada yada. Track down Ms. White and just confirm she’s who she says she is.”
A flash of surprise crossed Miriam’s face, but she was good, didn’t give anything else away. She knew White, and she hadn’t known I’d identified her.
