computerized lights strobed with enough intensity to induce a seizure in an epileptic. The numbing volume guaranteed Jack’s ears would be ringing for the rest of the night.
He placed one of the wineglasses down in front of Carol Williams and took the seat next to her. They clinked glasses and drank. There were probably better locations to conduct the initial interview, but Jack wanted to put her at ease. Plus, he would get a feel for the last place she had seen Angelica before her disappearance.
Carol was also blond, but in a cute, pixie kind of way. Short but stacked. Blue eyes and a killer figure that could stop traffic. She had just worked a full shift at the Mondrian Hotel and took two large gulps before she came up for air.
“I’m very oral,” she said demurely, wiping her sheer plum lipstick off the rim of her glass.
A hell of an opening line, Jack thought.
“This is where we were rehearsing our scene,” she continued, referring to the table. “Sometimes it helps, being out in public. Change the environment, keep it natural.”
Jack wasn’t sure what she meant but took a sip of wine and let her talk. He was still stuck on the “oral” remark.
“Angelica was working on her sexuality. She was too repressed for Barry. And I’m supposed to work on releasing my anger, which I really think is a total crock,” she said with enough intensity that Jack believed her. “Sometimes I’m angry through an entire shift.”
“Must be good for tips,” he deadpanned.
“Oh, they don’t know. Because I repress it, or so Barry thinks.”
Jack wanted to steer the conversation away from the artist formerly known as Barry. “Did she ever date?”
Carol shook her head and pursed her lips before saying no.
“Did she ever talk about her family, her father?”
“Angelica was tight-lipped. We all knew who her father was. We didn’t really care. It was all about the work. I mean, an actress changing her name . . . who cares?”
“Do you think Angelica is the kind of woman who would just take off? Without letting anybody know?”
“No, that’s why I was so angry. You see, again, no issues with anger,” she said, raising her eyebrows to hammer her point. “There’s a lot of pressure in class to succeed. As far as I could tell—I mean as far as she would let on—class was all she had. Her safe place.”
“Did anybody hit on you, disturb your rehearsal that night, follow you out?”
“I get hit on all the time,” she said without ego as she gestured to her breasts. “Thirty-four C’s. They’re like magnets.”
Jack kept his focus on her blue eyes. Or tried to. “I can see how that might be an issue.”
“A blessing and a curse.”
“Now, back to Angelica . . . Did you leave the club together? At the end of the night?”
“No, separate cars. I left first. She used the ladies’ room.”
“What was her mood like? Did she seem preoccupied?”
“No. Oh.” She grabbed her cell phone out of her worn black leather bag and pulled up a photo. “This is us, at this table, that night.”
Carol leaned in so close their elbows touched as she showed Jack a few shots of Angelica alone at the table looking cool, calm, and collected, and then a few of herself, mugging for the camera. She flipped the screen a few times and pulled up a picture of Angelica and herself seated together with their backs to the bar.
“Could you forward these to me?” Jack asked.
“No problemo. I’m technically gifted,” she said with a Cheshire cat grin.
Jack detected a double entendre in her response and didn’t want to give her an opening. He stood up to go.
“Can’t you stay? I’m wired from work,” she said.
“I’ve got to run, early flight, but if you send me the photos it would be a great help.”
Jack planned on blowing up the pictures of Angelica and then talking to the bartenders alone, before the hordes descended. He handed Carol his card.
“If anything comes up. If you remember anything that
He placed one of the wineglasses down in front of Carol Williams and took the seat next to her. They clinked glasses and drank. There were probably better locations to conduct the initial interview, but Jack wanted to put her at ease. Plus, he would get a feel for the last place she had seen Angelica before her disappearance.
Carol was also blond, but in a cute, pixie kind of way. Short but stacked. Blue eyes and a killer figure that could stop traffic. She had just worked a full shift at the Mondrian Hotel and took two large gulps before she came up for air.
“I’m very oral,” she said demurely, wiping her sheer plum lipstick off the rim of her glass.
A hell of an opening line, Jack thought.
“This is where we were rehearsing our scene,” she continued, referring to the table. “Sometimes it helps, being out in public. Change the environment, keep it natural.”
Jack wasn’t sure what she meant but took a sip of wine and let her talk. He was still stuck on the “oral” remark.
“Angelica was working on her sexuality. She was too repressed for Barry. And I’m supposed to work on releasing my anger, which I really think is a total crock,” she said with enough intensity that Jack believed her. “Sometimes I’m angry through an entire shift.”
“Must be good for tips,” he deadpanned.
“Oh, they don’t know. Because I repress it, or so Barry thinks.”
Jack wanted to steer the conversation away from the artist formerly known as Barry. “Did she ever date?”
Carol shook her head and pursed her lips before saying no.
“Did she ever talk about her family, her father?”
“Angelica was tight-lipped. We all knew who her father was. We didn’t really care. It was all about the work. I mean, an actress changing her name . . . who cares?”
“Do you think Angelica is the kind of woman who would just take off? Without letting anybody know?”
“No, that’s why I was so angry. You see, again, no issues with anger,” she said, raising her eyebrows to hammer her point. “There’s a lot of pressure in class to succeed. As far as I could tell—I mean as far as she would let on—class was all she had. Her safe place.”
“Did anybody hit on you, disturb your rehearsal that night, follow you out?”
“I get hit on all the time,” she said without ego as she gestured to her breasts. “Thirty-four C’s. They’re like magnets.”
Jack kept his focus on her blue eyes. Or tried to. “I can see how that might be an issue.”
“A blessing and a curse.”
“Now, back to Angelica . . . Did you leave the club together? At the end of the night?”
“No, separate cars. I left first. She used the ladies’ room.”
“What was her mood like? Did she seem preoccupied?”
“No. Oh.” She grabbed her cell phone out of her worn black leather bag and pulled up a photo. “This is us, at this table, that night.”
Carol leaned in so close their elbows touched as she showed Jack a few shots of Angelica alone at the table looking cool, calm, and collected, and then a few of herself, mugging for the camera. She flipped the screen a few times and pulled up a picture of Angelica and herself seated together with their backs to the bar.
“Could you forward these to me?” Jack asked.
“No problemo. I’m technically gifted,” she said with a Cheshire cat grin.
Jack detected a double entendre in her response and didn’t want to give her an opening. He stood up to go.
“Can’t you stay? I’m wired from work,” she said.
“I’ve got to run, early flight, but if you send me the photos it would be a great help.”
Jack planned on blowing up the pictures of Angelica and then talking to the bartenders alone, before the hordes descended. He handed Carol his card.
“If anything comes up. If you remember anything that
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