Then I remember the description of the person who paid for the cake that arrived in my penthouse with my wife inside. Larry Grayson matches it.
“Find out one more thing,” I say. “On my birthday, a cake with a girl inside was delivered to my penthouse. See if the person who ordered it was Larry Grayson.”
“No problem. Should have an answer by COB today.”
“Thanks. I’ll call if I need anything else.” I hang up.
I sit back in my chair and stare at the cityscape outside. It’s almost lunch time, but I can’t register any hunger. My mind keeps churning over the facts Paddington’s dug up.
Lincoln City is a relatively small town. Not exactly Excitement Central. I doubt Keith ever set foot in that place. But why is he interested in my wife? It’s obviously not a coincidence that his man purposely put her in my path. But I need to be absolutely sure.
I dial the strip club’s manager, Chuck.
“Mr. Reed,” he answers his cell, his voice as oily as ever.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you hire Annabelle Key?”
“Uh… I’m not sure what you mean.”
“She sucked as a stripper, and I know you never hire a girl without an ‘audition.’ So why?”
He clears his throat. “She was pretty decent during the audition.”
“Chuck, I don’t like it when people lie to me. Not even a little.”
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. I don’t think he means for me to hear it, but the word comes through our connection clearly. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. Did she complain about me or the club?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I was just asked to give her a chance. That’s all.”
“Who asked you?”
“Just some guy. I figured it was her boyfriend, you know? Or something like that.”
Something like that, meaning her pimp or worse. “What was his name?”
“Don’t really remember. It was a while back.”
“Larry Grayson?”
There’s a little too much hesitation. “Yeah, I don’t know. Coulda been.”
Hot anger and confusion crest through me, but I stay calm. “I didn’t call you to get information. Just to confirm.”
“Hey, look. He told me to forget about him. So I’m forgetting, okay?”
“I understand. What might he have said, if you could remember better?”
“Well… He just thought it would be helpful. For her. Strippers make good money, you know? And she was pretty enough. So I told him sure, I’d give her a shot.”
“But he paid you to do that.”
I can almost hear him swallow. “Well, yeah. But you liked her. Right? I mean, I saw you tip her. And now you two’re married. So I don’t understand why you’re upset.”