Love Can Be Murder

through the lobby, her thoughts turned to the dead woman in Gary's car. Had she been identified? Did her family know she was missing? Did she even have family? Jolie chewed the tip of a polished nail, wondering if she were to disappear how long it would be before someone missed her. When her rent came due? When the IRS missed her tax return?
    She asked for directions to the parking garage and was sent down a hallway and a short flight of stairs to the glass door that she remembered before Carlotta had taken them the roundabout way. She pushed open the door, then walked through another, more industrial door into the parking garage. The cool night air sent shivers through her body. She rubbed her hands over her arms as she waited for the elevator. Halfway up the ramp, a family of four approached their car, their boisterous noisiness a comforting sound in the gloomy concrete structure.
    Car doors slammed, then the car with the family backed up and exited the garage. Jolie tapped her foot in the echoing silence, partly to pass time, and partly to send feeling to her toes. The elevator was on its way down, but moving slowly. Fifth floor, fourth. The glass door opened behind her, and a suited man stepped up next to her to wait for the elevator. He looked all around, including at the security camera above them, then stared straight ahead. Tiny red flags raised in her mind. Something wasn't right.
    His suit was ill fitting, his fingernails were grubby, and—she glanced down—his shoes were scuffed and soiled. Her heart lurched in her chest, stealing her breath. The elevator dinged and the door slid open. He boarded first, then held the door for her.
    She stood rooted to the ground.
    "Are you comin'?" he asked.
    "No," she murmured, then took a step toward the door leading back into the hotel. "I...forgot something."
    He pursed his mouth, then shrugged. "Suit yourself."
    She shot a glance toward the security camera and stayed within its range until the elevator doors closed. According to the lights above the elevator, he rode to the third floor...where she had parked. She stood and waited for the man to drive down and exit the garage, but minutes ticked by and no man, no car. Jolie swallowed hard. Was he waiting for her by her car? In her car? If he and Gary were both there, the backseat could be crowded.
    A foursome came through the glass door and waited for the elevator. She waved them on, and a few minutes later when they drove their car down the ramp and out the exit, the hair stood up on the back of her neck. When she realized the elevator was headed back down, she turned on her heel and jogged back toward the lobby of the hotel, trying to decide between calling the police or hotel security. She stumbled through the door and up the stairs into the lobby, frantically searching for someone who looked official. A guest walked off, freeing one of the women behind the long concierge desk. Jolie headed in that direction, and the panic must have been written on her face, because when the woman looked up, she said, "May I help you?" with a look of concern.
    "There's a m-man," she stammered, "in the garage."
    "Do you mean the man who's having car trouble?"
    "Excuse me?"
    "We called an auto service, it should be here shortly."
    Jolie touched her temple. "No...I mean..." She turned and the man from the elevator was striding up behind her.
    "I called from the garage," he said. "About the auto service?"
    "It's on the way, sir," the woman said. "Third floor, right?"
    He nodded. "Thanks"
    Jolie watched him walk away and felt like a fool.
    "Ma'am, did you need anything else?"
    She turned back to the desk. "Um, no. Thanks."
    "That's a lovely outfit," the woman said.
    "Thanks," she murmured. "Neiman's."
    The woman smiled at someone behind Jolie. "Hello, Mr. Underwood."
    Jolie winced.
    "Hello," he said good-naturedly, then added, "Hi, again... Linda ."
    Jolie turned slowly, and looked up into Beck's amused expression. Her cheeks flamed. "Hi. I, um, suppose you're wondering why I'm, um, dressed like this."
    "And going by a fake name?"
    "And going by a fake name," she parroted.
    He crossed his arms, still smiling. "I admit I'm slightly curious."
    She swallowed and touched her throat. "Well, my girlfriend and I were just having a little fun."
    "You crashed," he said with a grin.
    She nodded, thinking how childish it sounded, but willing to let him think she was childish rather than childish and paranoid.
    He covered his mouth with his hand.