Hooked

stairs down to the first floor. Her heels echoed in the silence of the place. So much for being a ghost. Charles no doubt heard her approach.
    The office door was closed with no one inside when she opened it. Why did that surprise her? People who worked here had lives, homes, other things to do. Either Benny was in his apartment or he’d left to go to his summer home in the Hamptons . He must have had great confidence her client would be satisfied. He should only know. She assumed Colin had left for the evening.
    Mario had given Tawny enough information to make her cautious of Colin. He appeared to have a side business, apart from his work with Benny, and she wouldn’t consider pumping him for information. He hadn’t given her a second look when they were introduced, unlike most gay men she knew—designers, interior decorators, and actors—artsy types who appreciated her esthetically and called her a work of art. Nice compliments, and it fed her ego to a point, but flattery was part of their persona. Colin was about as far from artsy as Joe Six-Pack.
    The other gals were her best bet for information, except Darlene. She’d learned enough for one day. They’d become suspicious if she asked too many question at once. Her snooping earned her a name she hadn’t heard before, and she was happy about that. Whatever tidbit that eluded her earlier would come when she wasn’t trying to remember. Probably in the middle of the night.
    She slipped off her shoes and tiptoed close enough to the front to see Charles ensconced at his desk, pencil in hand, engrossed in something. He didn’t see her. She remembered Benny saying he lived in the building. Doorman, building superintendent, and Jack-of-all-trades. Efficient and polite. He worked lunch hours for those afternoon trysts, took a couple hours off midafternoon, resumed his post at five, and stayed put until all the clients and girls left.
    Good. Stay right where you are and keep busy.
    She crept back to the office and closed the door silently behind her. Ignoring the legitimate reason for being in the office—the bank of mailboxes in back of a long table, one with her initials—she headed for Colin’s desk. Nothing that looked like an appointment book sat on top. She tried the drawers. All locked.
    She went to the door and listened―still quiet―and returned to boot up the computer. Password protected. Of course. Colin wouldn’t leave Upper Eighties records lying around for anyone to access. She tried the wall cabinets. Also locked. She wondered whether there were tape recordings and videos hidden inside.
    She pulled out the key Benny had given her and opened her mailbox. Inside was a thick self-sealed envelope. She pulled apart the flap to do a quick count. Thirty-five hundred dollars in cash. Not bad for a couple of hours work. An hour more than she contracted, but that was because of the client.
    Time to play dumb. She tucked the envelope in her satchel, stepped into her shoes, and headed for the front door. Charles looked up.
    “Ready to leave, Ms. Tawny?” he asked.
    “Yes. How do things work here? Do I sign out?”
    “Right here.” He slid the clipboard in front of her containing one sheet of paper with her name on it, dated today. Someone else had signed her in at five with a notation that her appointment began at seven. She signed herself out.
    “Who signed me in?”
    “Mr. Cooper. You stayed longer than Mr. Cooper said. Was there any problem?”
    “No. The extra time’s on me. Old man. They take longer sometimes.”
    Charles’s face reddened and he sputtered something she couldn’t make out.
    Poor guy seemed unsuitable for his job. “By the way, one of the ladies mentioned a Cindi. I was wondering if she’s someone I know by that name. Cindi Davidson?”
    “No, I believe Cindi’s last name was Dyson.” Now Charles became ill at ease. In fact, his complexion went from flushed to pale in a matter of seconds. The hand holding his pencil shook. “No, no, that’s not right. I’m getting her confused with someone else. Forget I said that. I…I don’t know Cindi’s last name. I only know the ladies by their first names.”
    Was ? Cindi’s last name was ? Could that be why Cindi hasn’t shown up? She’s a was ? Tawny felt a wave of something foul hit her stomach. Poor Charles had screwed up royally. Twice. He tried to backtrack, but he knew what he’d done. She needed to push hard while he was flustered.
    She leaned closer, hoping to