I took the elevator up to the attorney’s floor, hoping she would shed some light on why someone was using her address and name as an alias.
My pace slowed when I walked into the highly fashioned and stylish-looking office. I glanced down at myself and around at the expensive paintings, the glossy floors, and highly varnished and perfectly finished furnishings.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked before my eyes made the full journey around the office space. Her wide smile danced under sparkling green eyes.
The way she bit the tip of her pen and eyed me insinuated she didn’t care one bit about how I was dressed.
“I was hoping I could speak to Miss Jones,” I stated in the most fake proper voice I could muster.
“She doesn’t take walk-ins, but I can let her know that you dropped by. What’s your name and why do you want to see her?”
I leaned over the receptionist’s glossy granite counter, allowed my tongue to dart across my lips, and let my gaze travel over her body. If they were intent upon treating me like charbroiled steak, I may as well use whatever they saw in me to get what I wanted.
“I’m Detective Jeff Jackson,” I lied while flashing one of the fake badges I used while hunting someone. “I was hoping I could see Miss Jones for just a few minutes about a suspect I’m tracking down. I’d tell you everything, but I’d have to get to know you better before I tell you all of my secrets.”
My flirting had her blushing and grinning. The fact that I didn’t have to try hard or come up with clever lines had me laughing on the inside.
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll see if she will take you after her current client. She may have a moment to spare. I’ll be right back.”
The woman rushed towards her boss’ office, glancing back at me with a wide grin the entire time. When she was out of sight, I dropped my smile and waited. I hadn’t bothered to ask the woman her name.
The receptionist came back around the corner rather quickly.
“Miss Jones said she’ll see you, but only for a few minutes. I insisted that it was vitally important that she see you. She will be done with her client soon. You can have a seat or you can stay here and talk to me.”
“I think I’ll take a seat because you look like the kind of girl that can get an innocent man like me into trouble.”
She shook her head energetically and lowered her voice, not hiding the fact that she was flirting. “I won’t be any trouble. I promise,” she said before placing the pen back at the corner of her lips and biting on it.
Her ringing phone saved me from gagging on my own words. As I headed to my seat, I glanced back at her on the phone and winked while she was handling her caller. She wasn’t a bad-looking woman either. A sexy redhead with a nice small frame. The ring on her finger and the picture of a toddler between her and the man who was likely her husband I’d spotted displayed on her desk, revealed the rest of her story.
Less than five minutes later, another woman came strutting from the back. Her navy designer business suit looked as expensive as everything in this place. Her gaze met mine and an immediate smile flashed across her face. She waved at the receptionist while passing her desk to head towards the exit.
The receptionist remained on her call, but she pointed me towards her boss’ office, letting me know I could go back.
I cruised down the first short hall, which had an office on each side. Since none of the nameplates on the doors indicated Megan Jones, I turned down a second hall and found several offices back there, each with what must have been other lawyers.
The name of the place was Evans, Jones, & Carter, so Miss Jones was likely one of the partners. Miss Jones’ office was located at the far end of the second hall. I knocked softly on her door and waited until she invited me in.
“Come in,” she called.
When I stepped in, she stood, but her eyes were glued to some document in her hand.
“Have a seat, Mr. Jackson,” she directed, but she hadn’t glanced up yet.
I sat in one of the two brown leather chairs facing her desk and waited. Her office was as polished and sophisticated as she was dressed. Brown, black, and gray traces of leather were everywhere. Her desk was transparent, so I saw her black red-bottom pumps with a heel so high, it gave her at least five extra inches of height. She wore a red suit jacket, paired with a blue top that matched her blue skirt.
I never understood the need for makeup and those extra pieces and parts women seemed to like called accessories. This Megan flashed many parts from her expensive necklace and bangles on her wrist, to the broach attached to her lapel, the multiple rings on her fingers, and the dangling earrings.
I liked when a woman kept it simple like my Megan. No makeup, her natural hair, and no extras. It allowed me to see a true depiction of a woman and not the polished trophy she’d transformed herself into.
When Miss. Jones placed the document on her desk and glanced at me. Her eyes scanned me quickly, much like the lady in the navy suit had. Miss Jones seemed to like what she saw, but unlike the other ladies, she at least attempted to hide it under a layer of professionalism.
This Megan was nothing like mine. This one had a pale complexion with bone-straight dark brown hair and a model-slim frame. She was likely in her forties, but her heavy makeup and refined appearance had her looking in her early thirties. A small smile remained shining in her gaze, but it didn’t spread to her lips.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m investigating a case that you may or may not have insight into. A piece of evidence in the case led me to you.”