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“It’s his daughter!” Ben and Gray stopped arguing long enough to look down at me. I ignored Ben for now and focused on Gray.
“It’s his daughter. The mayor’s daughter. She’s one of the girls for hire. He was a client. He found out about her.” I turned my attention to Ben, now. “Am I right? That’s what he is trying to cover up. To protect her.”
The puzzle pieces started to fall into place. I talked out loud as I thought.
“Or to protect himself. That is one scandal no politician would want. You,” I pointed to Ben, “you were in Peter’s condo to erase the files on the computer. But, how did you know they were there?”
“Anya told me. I was going to wipe the whole computer and pull her picture off the website. Make it look like a malfunction,” Ben said.
“Of course. Peter is too cocky to have backups anywhere. It wouldn’t have taken much. But, I ruined your plan.”
“Yes, you did.” Ben seemed resigned to answer all of my questions.
“But, how does Anya fit into all this? I mean, I know she was running everything, but I mean, her murder. How? Why?” I looked at the both of them. Neither answered me. “You don’t know.”
“Ben, we’re missing something. What is it?” Gray asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why was Anya helping you? From what we've learned, she was out for herself. She wouldn’t give you access without something for her benefit.”
Ben ignored Gray’s question. I thought about what Gray was saying. I had never given much thought to Anya’s motives before. Why was she willing to put her job, her livelihood, at risk? Money? It could be a huge motivator for some, but Anya never seemed the type to care about material things. She dressed well but never expensively. Her apartment was nice and well furnished, but by Chicago standards, not an expensive place at all. What was left?
Love? There had been no mention of Anya even being in a relationship. There weren’t any photos on her Facebook page with a smiling, happy man next to her. I’d never even heard any gossip through the pub grapevine about her dating. Love and money had been the biggest motivators since the dawn of man. That left . . .
Power. Anya wanted power. It made sense. The puzzle almost fit now. I thought back to the photo Ben showed us. Anya as a young child with her parents. In the photo, she and her mom were smiling. Her dad wasn’t, but he still emoted happiness. The old farmhouse behind them was in shambles. A shack really. Anya had grown up in Romania. Most of the population was far below the poverty standards of any country. Even after the dictatorship fell, prosperity didn’t happen. The people had been reliant on the government for so long they didn’t know how to do anything for themselves. Even something as small as how to sell their own vegetables at a market. Anya never would’ve had any power growing up in that environment. She wouldn’t have had anything really. She created, here in America with her escort service, power and financial security. She lived the American dream of making something for yourself out of nothing. Something illegal, but still.
That answered another question, too. Why Anya found it okay to sell girls. Because in a third world country, people were out for their own. Any way to survive was considered smart, ingenious. Girls sold themselves on a regular basis just to eat. I could see how she justified her behavior here. She was demanding a fair value for the goods traded. She was the Robin Hood of escorts. They received a chunk of money, helping girls like Sarah, while taking from those with more than enough.
The more questions I answered, the more that arose. How did Anya get started? Sarah told me when Anya gave her the pitch, she felt that she was speaking from personal experience. What had Sarah said? That Anya seemed to have been on the other side. Had Anya turned tricks and built up a clientele? It wasn’t hard to spend some time in upscale bars, casually bump into someone creating a chance meeting.
“We need to leave.” I grabbed Gray’s arm and turned him toward the door. We left Ben standing in the closet alone.
“Where are we going?” Gray didn’t ask the question until we were a safe distance away in case Ben tried to follow us.
“Home.” We hustled out of City Hall. I checked behind me regularly, but Ben didn’t pursue us. Once around the corner, we slowed down. My foot caused me to limp worse than earlier. I wanted to lay down with it propped up and covered in ice. I wasn’t lying when I said home. Gray hailed a cab, and we were on our way.
“I think I’ve figured out the why,” I explained my reasoning to Gray. He could see the possibility, but without solid proof, he was reluctant to agree completely.
“We still have one big question unanswered. Who in the restaurant was helping Anya? I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to face it. It’s more than likely Peter,” Gray said.
“I know it’s not. When Peter asked me to help him with the books, he commented that he wouldn’t even know where to start because Anya had taken everything over. He was so confident in her abilities that he was breaking the golden rule of business ownership.”
“Never let anyone else pay your bills.”
“Exactly, because they could be stealing from you. I need to get into the work computer.” Gray and I locked eyes. The horror in his must mirror mine as we both had the same thoughts.
“I never shut down Peter’s computer.”
“And I never erased our history. Where is Peter now?”
“I, um,” I checked my watch. It was after five. “I think Peter was planning on dinner with Anais. At her place.”
“Now?”
“Probably soon. I brought my keys. I can get into the office at the pub. He just needs to have left first.”
“Then let’s do a stakeout.”
Gray had the cabbie turn around and drop us on the other side of Marina Towers. We planted ourselves in the window at the bar across the street from Peter’s parking entrance. We both sat on the same side of the table, watching the exit. I was turned slightly with my leg across Gray’s lap. The server was nice enough to make me an impromptu ice pack for my foot. He even wrangled up a couple of ibuprofen. We nibbled on nachos and devised a plan.
“You go to the bar and order a drink. I’ll sneak into the office and get what we need.”
“No. I’ll go with you.” Gray dipped his nacho into extra salsa before taking a bite.
“You can’t. That will attract attention. Nobody will think twice about me going in since I’ve been there working.”
“It’s too dangerous. We are bound to arouse suspicion in someone.”
“It’s the only way. You’ll be forty feet from me. Nothing will happen.” His expression told me he believed otherwise, but he let it drop.
“What if someone comes into the office needing something? How will you explain yourself?” Gray added more salsa before taking another bite. Salsa dribbled onto his chin.
“It’s dinner rush. No one will go in. They’ll be busy waiting on the customers.” I used my napkin to clean up his chin. I rested my hands on either side of his face before giving him a quick kiss. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise.” His eyes never left mine. “Since we have some time, how ‘bout we talk about something more fun.” The change in subject threw me off. I expected him to argue more.
“Okay.” I piled cheese and meat on a chip before taking a bite.
“Let’s pick a wedding date.” I choked on my chip. I didn’t expect that. At all.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because that’s what people do when they get engaged. They pick a date to get married.” His hand rested on my calf. He casually rubbed and massaged the area while eating with the other hand.
“What kind of wedding do you want?” I was hesitant to ask the question. What if his answer was a big one? I didn’t want to be on display.
“I’m open. Nothing too big. Small, intimate, family and close friends maybe.”
“Elopement?” I said hopefully.
“No. Not that small.” It was worth a shot.
“I can work with small. How about next summer?” I suggested. Gray’s hand moved over my knee and slid up higher on my leg reminding me of the incentive to get married quickly.
“How about this summer?”
“This summer? That’s . . . soon.”
“What’s the wait? We basically already live together. At this point, we’ll just be combining our finances.”
“That’s scary in its own right. Where would we do it?”
“How about in Vegas? We were planning a visit there anyway. It’s known for its quickie weddings. Your family could fly out. They’d love that.”
“This is a lot to process. Summer is in just a few weeks.”
“It’s time.”
“It is? I mean we could—” I gulped. Humor flashed in Gray’s eyes.
“I meant it’s time to go. Peter just left.”