Page 30 of The Perfect Revenge
"I think we're talking about the same place, Manny," she said pouring on the charm."Richard and I have never been to L.A., but we visited friends in Palm Desert a few months ago, and they took us there."
“Well, I have to say that as good as it is, it doesn’t hold a candle to some of the places around here.”
“I can’t wait,” Ash said, manufacturing enthusiasm she didn’t really feel.
This was her fault.She was out of practice and enjoying the roleplay too much.If she’d been more focused and less enamored of the champagne and soft cheese, she wouldn’t have slipped up.She wouldn’t have mentioned a place that she’d gotten take-out from less than a week ago.And now her mistake would cost Manny.
Admittedly, the chances that he would mention his client’s reference to the desert restaurant were minimal.And with her disguise, he was unlikely to recognize her.But there was a chance, no matter how small.What if one of the officers watching Hunt’s place took note of the limo and marked down the TCP number on its bumper?What if they interviewed him and he told them about her?What if they put the pieces together and connected the hit job in Palm Springs and the woman who hired him?
Then they’d know that Ash Pierce had been scoping out Jessie Hunt’s neighborhood, her very street.They’d put even more security on the place.They’d up the intensity of the search for her, knowing she was close.
It was a risk she couldn’t take.Manny would have to pay the price for her sloppiness.Not right this second, but before the day was over.She hoped that he had a good life insurance policy because she doubted that his wife’s seamstress job would be enough to pay for their young daughter’s college education once he was gone.
“Hey, Manny,” she said leaning forward to the divider between the driver and passenger section, “can I take your photo?I want to show Richard the face of my real-life, honest-to-god limousine driver.”
“I’d be honored,” he said, quickly glancing back so she could get a shot of his face.
“So do you live in this part of town too?’she asked, hitting record on her phone’s voice memo feature as she settled back into her seat.
By the end of their drive together, she’d have all the information she’d need to do what had to be done.And she’d get it directly from her future victim
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jessie tried not to get frustrated.
Between the exhaustion and the attitude of the hotel receptionist, she was having real trouble keeping her cool.She was tempted to call Officer Devery into the lobby.The young cop was currently sitting in his patrol car in the parking lot.Maybe his LAPD uniform would change the receptionist’s tune.
But she decided to hold off.Using Devery might be an unnecessary display of authority.After all, she already had a blunt force instrument at her disposal.Standing next to her was Detective Susannah Valentine.And based on Susannah’s body language, she was twice as annoyed as Jessie was, so she decided to take a backseat and let her partner handle this one.
"This isn't really a request," the detective told the receptionist."I was just being polite, and I'm about to stop."
They were at the Canopy Beachside Hotel in Santa Monica, where Teddy Borowitz was staying with his son, Devon, while he dealt with the aftermath of his ex-wife Maggie Caldwell’s death.The place, only steps from the sand, had the vibe of a Cape Cod cottage, if that cottage had 200 rooms and multiple restaurants.But the charm of the place was currently being undermined by the young, blond dude with the frosted tips and bulging biceps, who was taking his duties way too seriously.He was about to regret it.
“Ma’am,” he said with a persnickety air that wasn’t going to serve him well, “I’ve made myself quite clear, I think.I can’t just give out the room numbers of guests without their permission, even to law enforcement.It’s a violation of their privacy.”
“This isn’t doctor-patient confidentiality,” Susannah said.“You haven’t sworn an oath to protect hotel rooms.”
“Just because I’m not a detective doesn’t mean what I do isn’t important,” he shot back.
“No one said your job isn’t important, young fella,” Susannah snapped back at the guy who was probably three years younger than her.“Just that you’re doing it wrong.”
Just then, an older man in a suit and tie stepped out from a door behind the reception desk.He was short, slender, and bald.Jessie knew immediately that he was the manager.The consternation on his face indicated that he’d heard the ruckus and didn’t like it.
“May I help,” he said in a hushed tone, apparently hoping the other two would follow suit.“I’m the front desk manager.”
Jessie could see Susannah's agitation, and fearing that she might take it out on a guy who could actually help them, she jumped in, holding up her ID.
“Yes, hi, Grant,” she said, referring to him by the nametag on his lapel.“We’re with the LAPD, investigating a case.We’re here to speak with a witness who is staying here and would love it if you could expedite that.”
Grant looked at her, then Susannah, and finally the receptionist, whose face was flushed with indignation.Then he returned his focus to Jessie.
“What’s the guest’s name?”
“Ted Borowitz,” Jessie told him.
Grant stepped over to the receptionist’s computer terminal and typed something in.
“How about this?”he said with a thin smile.“As Chad informed you, we prize our guests’ privacy.But this is obviously an unusual situation.I’m going to call Mr.Borowitz’s room, inform him that you’re here to see him, and ask if he’d prefer you come to his room to talk or meet in one of our more public areas.Would that work?”
