Herman’s face fell.
“He sends his regards.”
22
Back at the office, Big Cyndi was at the ready.
“I have some information on Gabriel Wire’s tattoo, Mr. Bolitar.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Big Cyndi wore all pink today with enough blush on her cheeks to coat a minivan. “According to Ma Gellan’s extensive research, Gabriel Wire had one tattoo. It was on his left thigh, not his right. This may sound a little strange, so please bear with me.”
“I’m listening.”
“The tattoo was a heart. That tattoo itself was permanent. But what Gabriel Wire would do is fill in a name temporarily.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“You have seen what Gabriel Wire looks like, correct?”
“Yes.”
“He was a rock star and an absolute major yummy, but he had a certain predilection.”
“That being?”
“He liked underage girls.”
“He was a pedophile?”
“No, I don’t believe so. His targets were fully developed. But they were young. Sixteen, seventeen.”
Alista Snow, for example. And now that he thought about it, Suzze T, back in those days.
“So even though Gabriel Wire was a tasty rock star, he often needed to convince a girl that she meant something to him.”
“I’m not sure how the tattoos fit in.”
“It was a red heart.”
“So?”
“So it was plain inside. Just red. Gabriel Wire would then take a Sharpie and write in the name of the girl he was pursuing. He would pretend that he had gotten the tattoo especially for that particular girl.”
“Wow.”
“Yes.”
“Talk about diabolical.”
Big Cyndi sighed. “You wouldn’t believe the things men will do to land some of us hotties.”
Myron tried to process this. “How did it work exactly?”
“It would depend. If Gabriel wanted to close the sale immediately, he would actually take the girl to a tattoo parlor that night. He would tell her he was going to the back room and to wait for him. Then he’d draw in the name. Sometimes he would do it before a second date.”
“Sort of, say, ‘I care about you so much, look, I got a tattoo with your name on it’?”
“Precisely.”
Myron shook his head.
“You have to admit,” Big Cyndi said, “it is sort of genius.”
“More like sick.”
“Oh, I believe that was part of it,” Big Cyndi said. “Gabriel Wire could have any girl he wants—even young ones. So I ask myself, why would he go to all that trouble? Why not just move on to the next girl?”
“And?”
“And I think, like many men, he needed the girl to truly fall for him. He liked them young. So my guess is he was developmentally stunted, stuck in that stage when a boy gets off breaking a girl’s heart. Like in high school.”
“Could be.”
“It’s just a theory,” Big Cyndi said.
“Okay, this is all interesting, but what does this have to do with the other tattoo—the one that Suzze had too?”
“The design appears to be original artwork of some kind,” Big Cyndi said. “So Ma Gellan theorized that Suzze and Gabriel became lovers. Suzze got the tattoo and—to impress or fool her—Gabriel got one too.”
“So it was temporary?”
“There’s no way to know for certain,” Big Cyndi said, “but it is certainly, based on his past, a strong possibility.”
Esperanza was standing in the doorway. Myron looked over at her. “Thoughts?”
“Just the obvious,” Esperanza said. “Suzze and Gabriel were lovers. Someone posts a tattoo that both of them wore with a message about the paternity of her child.”
“Kitty admitted that she posted it,” Myron said.
“That might add up,” Esperanza said.
“Why’s that?”
The office phone rang. Big Cyndi moved back to her desk and put on her sugary-sweet voice. “MB Reps.” She listened a moment and shook her head at them, pointing to herself: She could handle it.
Esperanza signaled Myron to follow her into her office. “I got Suzze’s mobile phone records.”
On television, they make getting phone records seem difficult or, for the purposes of the plot, that it takes days or weeks. In truth, it could be done in minutes. In this case, it would take even less. Suzze, like many of MB Rep’s clients, had set up all her bill paying via MB Reps. That meant that they had her phone number, her address, her passcodes, her social security number. Esperanza was able to get the calls online as though it were her own phone.
“Her final call was to Lex’s cell, but he didn’t pick up. I think that he may have been on the plane flying back. But Lex had called her earlier in the day. Right after that—this is the morning before Suzze died—she also called an untraceable disposable mobile. My guess is, the police will believe that she was calling her drug dealer to set up a buy.”
“But that wasn’t the case?”
Esperanza shook her head. “The number matches the one ol’ Crush gave you for Kitty.”
“Whoa.”
“Yes,” Esperanza said. “And maybe that’s how Suzze got the drugs.”
“From Kitty?”
“Yep.”
Myron shook his head. “I still don’t believe it.”
“What don’t you believe?”
“Suzze. You saw her in here. She was pregnant. She was happy.”
Esperanza sat back and looked at him for several beats. “Do you remember when Suzze won the US Open?”
“Of course. What does that have to do with anything?”
“She’d cleaned up her act. She focused solely on her tennis, and bam, right away, Suzze wins a major. I never saw someone want something so badly. I can still see that final cross-court forehand to win, the look of pure undiluted joy on her face, the way she threw her racket up in the air and turned and pointed at you.”
“At us,” Myron said.
“Don’t patronize me, please. You’ve always been her agent and her friend, but you can’t be blind here. I want you to think what happened next.”
Myron tried to remember. “We had a huge party. Suzze brought the trophy with her. We drank out of it.”
“And then?”
Myron nodded, seeing where Esperanza was going. “She crashed.”