A Flight of Fantasy (Sarah Woods Mystery 12) (2 page)

“Okay, good,” I said. “How about eye color?”

“Mmm. Don’t remember her eye color. Sorry.”

“About how old?” I asked. “Thirties? Forties?”

“Thirties, if I had to guess.”

“Did she talk about herself?” Carter asked. “Where she works, where she lives? Any detail would be helpful.”

Wayne squeezed his eyes shut as if that would help him recollect. Finally, he opened his eyes and shook his head. “I was so messed up, I really don’t remember anything she said about herself. “ Wayne perked up like he’d just remembered something. “Wait, she was wearing a pendant, one of those Celtic symbols. Maybe she’s Irish but, then again, maybe I just imagined seeing that.”

“A Claddagh?” Carter asked.

“Yes, that’s it. It was gold, I think.”

Carter nodded. “Just a thought, you might be better served to call the police and report a theft. Even though, technically, she didn’t steal anything, they could dust for fingerprints and find out who she is if she’s in the system.”

“I don’t want to get the police involved,” Wayne said with a desperate look in his eyes. “I want to hire you guys to find this woman. Will you do it?”

Carter glanced toward me, as if asking for my permission. “What do you think, Sarah?”

“Sure,” I said. “I don’t see why not. We could contact the people who ran the event and talk to some of the attendees. It’s likely someone else noticed her that night.”

Wayne let out a sigh of relief. “Anything you guys can do will help.”

“We can start on this right away,” Carter said. “So we’ll need a deposit check from you.”

Wayne promptly wrote a check for three thousand dollars without hesitation.

Chapter 2

It was after ten o’clock by the time we left Wayne Miller’s house. We stopped at the security gate to ask the guard what he remembered about last Thursday night, specifically the woman who drove Wayne home.

The guard’s name badge said Henry Fontaine and, by the looks of him, he had to be pushing seventy years old. He seemed eager to help however by answering our questions.

“I already told Mr. Miller that she was driving a red sporty car,” he told us. “One of those small, two-seater type of vehicles.”

“But you didn’t insist on checking her license?” Carter asked.

“Well, no I didn’t. Mr. Miller was sitting right next to her in the passenger seat. He, um, had his hand on her thigh so I figured they were just coming back from a date. I didn’t want to insult the woman by asking for her I.D.”

“We understand,” Carter said, pointing to a video camera mounted on the post. “Any chance we can see the footage from Thursday night?”

“I don’t have access to the digital files but I can give you a number to call.”

“That’d be great.” Carter accepted the phone number that Henry had graciously written on the back of the security company’s business card. “We appreciate your help.”

“Anything for Mr. Miller,” Henry replied with the tip of his cap.

When we returned to the Buick, Carter made the call and set up an appointment for the following morning.

It’s getting late,” Carter said. “Let’s head back to Bridgeport.”

On the forty-minute ride home north via the 95 turnpike, I did a search on my tablet for the Flight of Fantasy event at the Hilton. According to the website, the event was hosted by a non-profit organization called Helping Hands which raises money for the homeless. Tickets were $75.00 per person which included the tequila sampling and gourmet appetizers. “I thought the ‘flight’ had to do with aviation,” I said, “but in this context it means tequila flight as in a sampling. I guess I’d never heard it used that way.”

“What time did the event start and end?” he asked.

“From 8:00 until 11:00pm. And there are about a dozen photographs that someone put up from that night. The event coordinator must have hired a professional photographer as a Jonas Eckert is credited for the photos.” I scanned through them but couldn’t find one with Wayne Miller. “Looks like it was quite a turnout. Must have been hundreds of people at least.”

Carter gave me an encouraging look. “We’ll get in touch with the photographer. Chances are he only uploaded a small fraction of what he actually shot that night. With any luck, he still has the others. It would be helpful to get a copy of a photo of this mystery woman talking with Wayne.”

It was eleven o’clock by the time Carter pulled in front of my apartment. “You’re welcome to come up if you want. I know it’s late, but we can talk about the case. Or we can talk about other things.”

Carter arched an eyebrow. “Other things?”

“You know, catch up on stuff. I haven’t seen you in a week. What have you been doing with yourself? You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?”

A disconcerted look crossed his face. “Avoiding you? Why would you think that?”

“After our job in Connecticut, things feel different between us. Have you met someone else?” I tried to keep my tone light and playful.

“I’m just giving you space, that’s all.” He took my hand and held it gently. “Remember I told you I’m a patient man. Besides, the ball’s in your court. When you’re ready to play, I’m here.”

I chuckled at his analogy. “You still think I’m hung up on Max?”

He shrugged. “You guys were close. Takes time.”

“We weren’t that close,” I said. “He was a rebound after my divorce. A lovely distraction. He was too young for me anyway. I knew it wouldn’t last.”

“Max asked me not to tell you, but he called me last week.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“He called me under the pretense of asking a technical question about surveillance, but I think he just wanted to talk about you.”

Now I understood why Carter had been acting a little distant. “What did he say?”

“He asked how you were doing. He seemed … I don’t know, heartbroken?”

I shook my head in bewilderment. “I thought he was pissed at me. He hasn’t returned any of my emails since we broke up. I guess he’s trying to punish me or something.”

“Well, I could tell in his voice that he still pines for you. Maybe you should call him.”

“And say what? He made his decision to move to California before he even discussed it with me. Anyway, I told him it was the right decision. I thought we ended things on good terms.”

Carter let out a rough sigh. “Hey, I’m glad you didn’t go with him, but I guess I feel somewhat responsible for your breakup.”

“My life is here. Even if I did go to California, it probably wouldn’t have lasted.”

He lifted my hand and softly kissed the back of my fingers. “It’s late. Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Sure.”

In the darkness of night, the bright October moon was the only light guiding me up the stairs to my apartment. As usual, Carter waited to make sure I was safely inside before he drove off.

Chapter 3

Sunday, October 18th

The next morning I took a long shower, then got dressed in jeans, a button down blouse and my black boots. Since the weather forecast was to be cold and misty, I grabbed my rain jacket and umbrella. Carter was waiting curbside when I exited my apartment at 9:00 am sharp.

“I got in touch with the photographer,” Carter said. “He’s agreed to meet us in twenty minutes.”

“Did you ask him if he has the photos from last Thursday night?”

“He has - two hundred and sixty-five to be exact.”

“Great,” I said. “There’s a good chance we’ll find one of them with Wayne and Rita. Did you get a hold of the security company?”

“I called but wasn’t able to talk to a human. I’m thinking we’ll stop by the headquarters in person after we see the photographer.”

Jonas Eckert’s office was located near the downtown area of Oxford. His studio was basically a large open space with a desk and a computer. On one end, a lighting station was set up with props; big stuffed teddy bears and other toys. I imagined he had to subsidize his income by catering to adoring parents wanting precious photos of their munchkins.

Jonas was tall and lanky, with a thin ponytail running down his back. He had a big nose and bushy eyebrows and reminded me of a caricature of himself. His clown-like features along with a wide smile and cheerful disposition, I could see him being a big hit with the young kiddos.

After he graciously invited us to take a seat by his desk, he seemed genuinely interested in what we were after concerning his photographs. “So you’re looking for a woman, huh?”

“Yes,” Carter said. “Her first name is Rita. She has shoulder length, dark hair and was wearing a red dress. About five-six or five-seven and very trim.”

Jonas raised an eyebrow. “I think I remember this woman. Yep, she was a knockout for sure. She left with a guy who seemed a little below her pay grade, if you know what I mean. Why are you interested in her?”

“She went home with our client that night after the event,” Carter replied. “He lost her name and number and wants us to find her.”

Jonas gave us a look, he obviously didn’t believe our story. “Poor sucker. Those high-end prostitutes can be a bit snarky. They’ll rob you blind if you give ’em a chance.”

“Why do you think she’s a prostitute?” Carter asked.

“A hot woman like her with a schmuck like that? No offense to your client, but did he really think she’d be interested in a guy like him unless she had a good reason?”

Carter shrugged. “Can you check to see if you have any photos of her?”

“I’m sure I have.” He typed away on the keyboard and a moment later a slow smile spread across his face. “Here. She’s sitting with that guy at the bar.”

Jonas turned the computer monitor around so we could see it. Rita’s hand rested on Wayne’s leg as she leaned in toward him, as if whispering something seductive. Wayne had his eyes firmly fixated on her chest. It was a nice profile picture of Rita, but it would be better to have her full face showing. “Is this the only one you have of them?” I asked.

“I’ll keep checking. I’m sure there’s more.”

There were a total of eight photos of Rita and Wayne. For a small fee, Jonas offered to print them out for us. The best one of the lot showed her full face, but her eyes were half closed. I noted she was wearing the Claddagh pendant Wayne had mentioned to us. Figures he would have remembered the pendant after staring at her chest all night.

“Is there anything you remember about her?” I asked Jonas. “Did she talk to other people at the event?”

“I don’t remember seeing her speak to anyone else, although I wasn’t really paying much attention to them,” he said. “But I do know they were still together when I left around ten-thirty.”

“We appreciate your help,” Carter said, holding up the stack of photos.

Chapter 4

When we left Jonas’ photography studio, Carter drove clear across town to the address belonging to Fulcrum Security Company.

“Why don’t I go in and talk to the manager while you stay out here. Search online for all the escort services in the area. Maybe Jonas is right and Rita’s picture will pop up on one of their websites.”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

After Carter disappeared inside the concrete building, I turned on my tablet and began the Internet search. To my surprise, there were over twenty-five escort services in the greater Boston area. It would take me hours to go through all of them. With no time to waste, I clicked on the first one,
Temporarily Yours
. There were seven women who each had their own page and bio with a provocative photo or two. Unfortunately, their faces had been pixilated so you couldn’t identify them. When I typed in Rita + escort + Boston in a Google search there were all kinds of hits, but nothing that really led me to anything concrete. So, I went back to scrutinizing each of the escort service websites.

When Carter returned to the car, his expression was tight with irritation.

“I take it you didn’t get Rita’s license plate number,” I said.

“Kingston Court should hire a new security company. These people are hacks.”

“What do you mean?”

“The surveillance cameras situated near the entrance are all fakes. They don’t even work so there’s no video of the vehicles entering the neighborhood from last Thursday night. When I tell Wayne about this, he won’t be pleased.”

“Why don’t we find a place to have a sit down lunch? There are several dozen escort service websites for us to sift through. We might get lucky and find Rita on one of them.”

Ten minutes later we were nestled in a booth of a restaurant called “Mama’s Kitchen.” The homey, quiet atmosphere seemed to be the perfect place to conduct some work while we fortified ourselves with wholesome food. We each ordered the lunch special: turkey club sandwiches with potato salad.

The fare was decent and the waitress left us alone for the most part.

We split up the websites in alphabetical order. I took A through H and Carter took I-Z. As I had suspected, most of the sites had body shots of girls with their faces either blurred, or they were posed in such a way that their faces were turned away from the camera. Accompanying each photo was a fake name like Candy or Cherry. I was about nearing the end of my list of sites when I came across one named,
Hollywood’s Hottest Escort Service
. When I clicked to enter the site, I was pleased to find these photographs had not blurred the girl’s faces. It also became clear that all of the girls resembled 40’s and 50’s Hollywood pinup models including, Marilyn Monroe, Ava Gardner, Jean Harlow and, wouldn’t ya know … Rita Hayworth. Rita Hayworth?

“Holy crap,” I muttered as I focused in on the Rita Hayworth look alike. Same eyes, hair color, nose and full lips as the photo Jonas printed out for us.

Carter looked up from his own laptop. “What? Did you find something?”

“Look at this.” I handed him my tablet. “Tell me it’s the same woman in the photo with Wayne.”

His eyes popped at first glimpse. “She obviously has more make-up on here, but you’re right. This is definitely the woman we’re looking for.” He regarded me with a proud smile. “Nice work, Sarah.”

“Well, we can’t just call up and ask for Rita Hayworth’s real name. And I doubt they have a physical location we can show up and ask to see her.”

“True,” Carter said. “Which is why I’ll have to call and set up a date with Rita.”

“You mean, hire her for the night?”

“Yes. Or at least a few hours. I’m thinking they charge a minimum of four hundred bucks an hour. And they’ll require a credit card deposit over the Internet. Wayne told us that money was no object. I’ll use one of my fake names.”

“Maybe there’s an easier way to find out her real name,” I said, not really liking the idea of him getting involved in such a sleazy scene.

He laughed quietly. “It’s not like I’m going to have sex with her, Sarah.”

I sighed in resignation. “Do you have a plan?”

“Simple. I’ll call up Hollywood’s Hottest and request Rita Hayworth for her next available opening. Then I’ll book a room at the Four Seasons and have her meet me there.”

“What then?”

Carter shrugged. “I suppose I could try to get a peek at her license to find out her real name.”

“If that doesn’t work, I’ll wait in the car and follow her when she leaves the hotel. As long as her car is registered in her name, we’ll be able to look it up from the license plate.”

“Now you’re thinking.” Carter paid the bill for lunch and we walked back to the car. Once inside, Carter opened his wallet and pulled out a credit card with the name Vick Calloway, one of his fake identities. He got on his phone and made the call to Hollywood’s Hottest while switching the phone to hands free so I could listen to the conversation. 

A sultry woman’s voice answered. “Good afternoon, my name is Heather. Can I help you?”

“Hello, Ma’am,” Carter replied in a slightly lower voice than normal. “I just came across your website and it looks intriguing. I’m interested in booking a date with one of your Hollywood girls.”

Heather said, “Yes, sir. I’d be happy to help you with that. Do you have someone in mind?”

“The girl I’m interested in is Rita Hayworth. When is she available?”

A slight pause and the woman said, “Tomorrow at four-o’clock is the next available time? Does that work for you, sir?”

“That’s perfect.”

“And how much time would you like to reserve with Ms. Hayworth? There’s a two hour minimum.”

“That should be plenty of time,” Carter said.

“Great. Now all we need is a name and a credit card number to reserve your time slot.”

“My name is Vick Calloway and here’s my Visa number.” As he rattled off the number, all I could picture in my mind was Carter and Rita together walking up to the hotel suite hand in hand. I’ll admit, it made my stomach contract. If anyone was going to spend a few hours alone with him in a room, it should be me.

“Okay, sir,” The woman said. “You are all set for tomorrow. Where shall Ms. Hayworth meet you?”

“I’ll be waiting in the cocktail lounge of the Four Seasons Hotel tomorrow at four. I’m sure I won’t miss her when she arrives.”

When the call ended, Carter returned his cell phone to his back pocket. The impish smile vanished when he saw the look on my face. “You don’t seem happy about this idea.”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” I said, trying to shake off the lingering pricks of jealousy. “But it’s risky, don’t you think?”

“Worst case scenario, she gets paid to not have sex with a customer. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”

“And what motivation would she have to tell us the truth about her intentions with Wayne?”

“I could always threaten to report her illegal activities to the authorities. But unless we had sex, I doubt I could hold anything over her in that regard.”

I glared at him. “What does that mean?”

He laughed, obviously getting a kick out of my insecurity. “Nothing. You have nothing to worry about.”

Of course, I knew better. Carter was not the type of guy to sleep with a call girl. In the two years I’ve known him, I don’t think he’s been with anyone. I liked to think he was waiting for me. I decided to change the subject. “What are we gonna do until tomorrow?”

“Well, I’d like to talk to Chris Allen, Wayne’s co-worker who invited him to the event.”

“Wayne already talked to him, remember?”

Carter gave me one of his looks. “Last night I did a little digging and found out that Chris Allen isn’t an engineer like Wayne. In fact, he probably has the lowest paying position in the entire company.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a janitor,” Carter said. “The guy probably makes minimum wage. Wayne has to pull in at least a quarter of a million annually. Doesn’t it strike you as a bit odd that the two are friends?”

“What are you saying? You think Chris set Wayne up?”

“I have his home address,” he said. “It’s Sunday Let’s go see if he’s home.”