Chapter Twelve

“Why are you in my boyfriend’s room?” demanded the woman. She planted her hands on her hips and stared down at me, then up at Solomon. “Wait… is this my boyfriend’s room?” She looked around, a frown furrowing her forehead, suddenly uncertain. I knew the feeling. I’d attempted to gain access to incorrect hotel rooms more than once, and occasionally also broken in.

“Is your boyfriend Jonathan Brett?” I asked.

Now, she scowled. “Who are you? Two weirdo stalkers?”

“After Jonathan? No!” I replied in no uncertain terms.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend. Where is he? What have you done with him? And why are you in his room? You’d better tell me now or I’ll scream!”

“Feel free to scream your lungs out,” I said. “I refuse to answer any of your questions until you tell us who you are.”

“Grace Underwood. Like I said, I’m his girlfriend.”

“Take off your sunglasses,” I replied. I knew the name; Grace was Tiffany’s PA but the last time I saw her on video, her hair was shorter. This woman could be Grace.

“I won’t,” she snapped.

“Do you have any ID?” asked Solomon.

“Do you?” she sneered.

Solomon produced his private investigator’s license and held it out to her. I did the same. She took them both, examining them closely, then handed them back to us. Afterwards, she opened her purse and pulled out her driver’s license. “I got your message. Messages,” she said, emphasizing the plurality. I was going to call you back as soon as I spoke to Jonathan. I just flew in. It was the earliest flight I could get.”

“Tiffany Rose’s assistant,” I said, returning the license. Next to me, Solomon nodded, his tension visibly easing now she was no longer an unknown entity.

Grace sighed and took off her sunglasses, revealing a pale, heart-shaped face. She lost weight and some of the rosiness in her cheeks was gone. Then I remembered a scene when Tiffany pinched her cheek on camera and pulled a face. Grace laughed it off then, and I cringed, but what if she really took it to heart?

“Unfortunately. Has she turned up yet?” she asked.

“No.”

“Of course she hasn’t.” Grace sighed again, the frown reappearing. “Why are you searching Jonathan’s room? Surely you don’t think he had anything to do with that bitch’s disappearance!”

“Did he?” inquired Solomon.

“Oh, ple-e-e-ase!” Grace scoffed. “The biggest favor Tiffany could do for Jonathan would be to disappear off the face of this planet! And that goes for me too!”

“And did you help her achieve that?” I asked.

“Hell, no!” Her gaze landed on me. “And if I did, why would I tell you?”

As Solomon and I exchanged a look, I had to concede we had no compelling answer. However, she didn’t exactly deny any involvement either.

“Where were you last night when Tiffany was abducted?” I asked.

“Sitting with my three best girlfriends at a restaurant in Manhattan and then we went to a bar. I can give you their numbers and the restaurant’s number and the number for the bar too. My best friend posted photos on Instagram. I’ll email you the link. My phone records will confirm where I was, and Jonathan called me at eight and eleven. You can check that too,” snipped Grace.

“Thank you.”

“We plan to,” said Solomon.

“Obviously, I had nothing to do with Tiffany’s kidnapping, and neither did Jonathan. Hey! You still haven’t told me where he is!”

“He’s sleeping off a drinking binge in our office,” I told her.

“Of course Tiffany drove him to drink. She’s the absolute worst!”

“I thought you two were friends? She’s your boss too. You don’t seem to like her at all.”

Grace blew out a breath and shook her head. “I used to like her very much. Getting the job as her PA was awesome. Tiffany is super fun when she wants something from you and you’re doing exactly what she tells you to. I thought we were friends once but I gradually realized it’s all an act. She’s a bully and a fraud. These past few months have been a nightmare, and she only got worse when Jonathan refused to go along with her charade anymore.”

“Charade?”

“You know, their relationship?” Grace rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t real?” My jaw dropped.

“Not. One. Bit. Sure they looked cozy on screen and in photos but their agents set it all up as clickbait for the click revenue. They both could make more money that way and Jonathan figured it was an easy conduit to stash some extra money so he could concentrate on his photography. Tiffany was totally happy until she got more famous than him and equally more demanding. That’s how he and I met, you know? Anyway, Jonathan officially ended it months ago but she wouldn’t let him go. She was driving him crazy. He told her he would tell everyone the truth and that caused her to act super nuts!”

“I don’t understand,” said Solomon.

“Tiffany and Jonathan’s relationship was totally fake,” I explained. “They acted it out on camera and reaped in advertising fees in return.”

“No, I get that. I don’t see why Tiffany went nuts when he ended the arrangement.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “why was that?”

“Tiffany gets what Tiffany wants, and she wasn’t ready to end it. She wanted them to get engaged,” explained Grace. “An engagement, or any true romance, is all great material for an influencer.”

“Why? If it were all fake, he wouldn’t have gone so far as to marry her, surely not?”

“Of course not!” Grace scoffed. “He refused her request. He knew the publicity would be terrible when it eventually ended and it would also be unfair. Plus, he wanted to go public with me, which is when she got really mad. She promised to make my life a living hell.”

“Did she?”

“Oh, yes! One hundred percent. That’s why I told her my granny was dying and I had to fly back to New York urgently. I was actually interviewing for other jobs so I can quit.”

“Why not just quit now?”

“Because Tiffany threatened to blacklist me to everyone. She said she’d tell all the tabloids and news outlets that Jonathan and I were having an affair and ruin my reputation even though I did nothing wrong. Being accused of homewrecking is the kind of mud that sticks when it’s slung, and Tiffany planned to be sure of that. She’s also a professional fake crier. Have you seen her confession videos? Good grief!”

“She does cry pretty spontaneously,” I agreed.

“And she won’t wear waterproof mascara when she films those episodes because a smudgy eye looks better on camera, and she wants to look, and I quote, ‘glamorously tragic’.” Grace rolled her eyes as she made air quotes. “Anyway, I got a job offer yesterday so I’m going to pack my stuff, then I’m out of here. I never wanted to come here anyway but I was under contract. I’ll email my notice the minute I land back in New York.”

“If Jonathan wanted out, how come he’s still here in Montgomery?” I asked.

Grace hesitated and I wondered if she intended to lie. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know he was here until he called me last night,” she said, anger briefly sparking in her eyes, “but I’m sure he has a good reason!”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Only that he tried to confront Tiffany at her apartment and she screamed at him and called him names. He said he was sick of her games and told her he was hiring a lawyer.”

“For what?”

“I’m not really sure. It was really loud in the bar and I couldn’t hear everything he was saying.”

“Do you think he could possibly be involved with her disappearance?”

“No! Like I said, he wanted out but he would never hurt her. He’s not that kind of man. Plus, I spoke to him after she was kidnapped. Wouldn’t I have heard her in the background? Tiffany isn’t the type to sit quietly or follow orders.”

“She was injured.”

“I saw the video highlights on the news. Can you take me to him? Please!”

Plenty of people firmly believed the males in their lives were “not that kind of men” but since Jonathan was brazenly drunk in the daytime, rather than holed up with a kidnap victim, I guessed Grace was probably right. I nodded at Solomon, indicating I thought we should acquiesce. Plus, I hoped Jonathan would awaken from his drunken stupor soon and give us some answers.

“We can,” agreed Solomon. “You can either come with us, or you can take the address of the office and we’ll follow you there.”

“I’ll take the ride. I don’t have a car. Can we leave now? I really want to see Jonathan.”

“Sure,” said Solomon. “Let’s go.”

Grace followed us quietly to the car and when we were inside, I said, “As Tiffany’s assistant, you must know a lot of things about her that she hasn’t aired. Is there anything you can think of that might help us find her?”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “Like what?”

“Like, did she have any credible threats?”

“Oh, all the time. She got doxed regularly online, but lots of influencers do.”

“Did you notice anyone suspicious following her? Especially after she moved to Montgomery?”

“No. I wasn’t really looking though so I can’t say for certain, but I didn’t get the feeling that anyone was watching us, if that’s what you mean?”

“No cars following you? Seeing the same person in different locations, like at a coffee shop, and then at the grocery store?”

“No, but Tiffany didn’t shop for groceries, I did. Sometimes she would go shopping by herself. I didn’t accompany her anywhere.”

“What about when she walked her dog?”

“The only time she ever walked that dog was when she was filming for her channel, otherwise I did, or the doorman at her apartment in New York did. She hardly ever went out, except to film, excluding Wednesdays.”

“Where did she go on Wednesdays?”

Grace frowned. “I don’t know. She never said. She just had me block it out on her schedule shortly after she moved here. I figured it was something embarrassing like a high-colonic or getting her back waxed.”

I gasped. “She did that?”

“Of course! And be sure to spread it around.” Grace winked.

I sighed. That wasn’t much help either. “Look,” said Grace. “All I know is she got into that big, stupid car, which she could barely park, and went out for a few hours. She’s been doing it for the past six weeks. I don’t know where she went or what she did but she never put anything in her calendar. She just had me blank it out. Whatever it was, she didn’t even want me to know about it and, to be totally honest, I really didn’t care.”

“Could she be having a secret tryst with a man?”

“If she were, I would expect her to look much happier. Plus, she would have been crowing about it.”

“Did she ever return home with anything new?”

“She brought in takeout once. For herself. She told me to go home. Home here is a tiny hotel room that she barely covers the cost of.” Grace rolled her eyes again. I got the message: Tiffany was a selfish, demanding boss. She’d been going somewhere secretly and regularly, which was puzzling but I hoped to learn more once I examined her laptop in more depth. I decided to switch to a different line of questioning.

“Did she ever receive anything that struck you as strange? Flowers or candy? A note she was secretive about?”

“I don’t think so. I handled most of her mail.” Grace paused, looking thoughtful. “I don’t feel right saying this but I wouldn’t put it past Tiffany to send shit to herself. She once told me a stalker on her trail would be cool and she could film all kinds of content that would make great viewing and probably land her on some talk shows. I didn’t agree but I think she actually considered doing it until Abigail talked her out of it.”

“Abigail didn’t mention that to us,” I said to Solomon.

“She probably had fifty other hare-brained schemes to shoot down ahead of that one,” scoffed Grace. “Are we nearly there yet?”

“This is our building,” said Solomon when he turned into the parking lot entrance.

“Did Tiffany have many friends here?” I asked.

“I don’t think Tiffany has many friends anywhere,” snorted Grace. “She has an uncanny knack for pissing people off.”

A few minutes later, we entered our office. Delgado looked up from his desk where he was reading paperwork and got to his feet. “How is he?” asked Solomon.

“Still asleep.”

“This is Grace, Jonathan’s girlfriend,” I said. “Grace, this is Tony Delgado. He’s been looking after Jonathan.”

Grace proffered her hand and shook Delgado’s. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I can take over from here.”

“Be my guest,” said Delgado. “He’s right through there.” Delgado pointed towards the boardroom and Grace broke into a jog, leaning over Jonathan to check on him.

“He didn’t wake up at all?” I asked Delgado, handing him the sandwich we brought. I already consumed mine in the car.

“About time,” said Delgado, breaking into a grin as he unwrapped it. “Not for a moment. He’s using the table for a pillow ever since you left.”

“I think we should wake him,” said Solomon. “Whatever he knows about Tiffany, we need to know too.”

“I’m starting to wonder if he knows anything,” I said. “According to Grace, it’s not like he and Tiffany were ever really together. He might know nothing about her private life.”

“I can’t see him drinking himself unconscious just because they got pissy with each other over a stupid stunt like a fake relationship. I want to hear what he knows.”

Before I could agree, the door banged open behind us and a tall woman with unnaturally blonde hair walked in and struck a pose. With one hand on her hip, she pointed at me with the other. “You are Lexi Graves,” she said, the authority in her voice daring me to defy her.

Not that I would since she was correct, but I didn’t quite want to give her the satisfaction, so, I said, “Maybe.”

“Who the hell are you?” said Solomon.

“You!” yelled Grace, behind me.

“I am Flavia!” said the woman in a raised, offended voice.

“How did you get past security?” asked Solomon.

“I said someone was breaking into cars in the parking lot,” said Flavia. “As soon as he left to investigate, I walked up.”

“Go check on Jim,” said Solomon to Delgado. “And be sure to talk to him about security.”

“Sure, boss.” Delgado bit off a chunk of his sandwich as he brushed past Flavia. Surprisingly, she didn’t flinch.

“What do you want?” yelled Grace, appearing in the doorway.

Flavia leaned forward, putting her finger to her lips and shushing her. Grace blinked and backed away.

“You really are Flavia,” I said, squinting at her. She was taller than I thought, and older too. Her pink stilettos and white pantsuit demanded attention. A large purse swung from her elbow. “You look different.”

“I’m trying blonde this week.”

“But why are you here?”

“To help you find Tiffany, of course!”

“But you hate her!” I’d seen plenty of their spats online and read enough on the gossip pages to know that Tiffany and Flavia nurtured a long-running beef with each other. I wasn’t entirely sure how it started, but every few weeks, one of them committed a new infraction against the other and the whole fight started all over again. There were several public scenes that featured them screaming at each other. On one particular occasion, a hand-slapping fight occurred. The gossip magazines and blogs lapped it up.

“Pffft,” snorted Flavia. “We’re friends. The fighting stuff is strictly for social media. Everyone loves an ongoing frenemy conflict. It’s a great storyline for both of us.”

“Is nothing about Tiffany real?” I asked Grace.

Grace shrugged. “Not even her fingernails.” She jabbed a finger at Flavia again, “But that slap a month ago felt hella real! You bitch!”

“Sorry, sweetie,” grimaced Flavia. “You simply got in the way of my swing. Tiffany was supposed to duck it. But you were great. Very believable.”

“It stung like a bitch! You get why I’m leaving now, right?” asked Grace, flashing a look at me.

“Why do you want to help?” I asked, sidestepping to block Flavia’s view into the boardroom where Jonathan now leaned back in the chair, drool stringing from his mouth.

“I heard about your tip line and I have cash to throw into the pot. That will get people talking, right? Everyone wants money. You need a big reward and I have the means to raise it.”

“But why do you want to help?” I persisted.

“Tiffany is my best friend. I would do anything to help her. She needs me. You need me.”

“Take a seat,” I said, pulling Fletcher’s chair from his desk and parking it next to mine.

“Why is Jonathan asleep over there?” asked Flavia, looking over my shoulder.

“He’s had a long day,” said Solomon, signaling that she should park her butt in the chair I procured.

“He doesn’t even like Tiffany. I’d point to him as the number one suspect only he’s too much of a weak, little flower to successfully pull off a kidnapping.”

“How dare you!” said Grace. “Jonathan’s amazing. He’s great! He’s…”

“No prizes for guessing you’re his new squeeze,” said Flavia, flopping into the chair and dropping her purse on the floor. Incidentally, it narrowly missed my foot. “Tiffany said she thought you two were having an affair.”

“It’s not an affair if you’re both single,” hissed Grace.

“The whole Jonathan storyline was too boring anyway. I told Tiffany that. She needs to be single. I could get her a date with a hot male model just like that! Maybe even two. Polyamory is super hot now.” Flavia snapped her fingers. “That’s the kind of publicity Tiffany needs!”

“It’s a pretty big claim to say that you’re friends when all the evidence suggests otherwise,” I said. “Can you prove it?”

“Sure I can. Look!” Flavia tapped her phone, then handed it to me. “Scroll through the photos,” she said.

I did just that, scrolling through one photo after another of Tiffany and Flavia cozied up. Most of the photos were taken in their apartments but there were scads of them and the dates confirmed they went back a couple of years. “I’ll admit we didn’t start out as friends,” she continued when I returned her phone, “but we just got to talking in an elevator one day about how ridiculous the press were. You see, there was a mix-up with our seats at a fashion show once and the clash just started to blossom on its own. Our managers thought it was pure genius. We did too, kind of. We had fun coming up with the silliest fights. We expected someone to call us out but they never did. We had a big reconciliation planned in a few months’ time. One hundred percent girl power! I’m pitching it as a sitcom to all the networks.”

I looked at Grace, who simply rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“Of course we couldn’t let anyone in on the ruse,” continued Flavia. “It had to be top secret and we couldn’t afford any leaks. We had to control the storyline. Just me, her, and our managers. Oh yeah, and that asshole.” She pointed at Jonathan.

“Is everything you do online scripted?” I wondered.

Flavia lifted and dropped one shoulder, the most nonchalant shrug I’ve ever seen. “Pretty much. We’re content creators. We’re telling a story when we let the viewers into our lives. They have to be hungry for what happens next.”

“Like a kidnapping,” I said.

“That was never in our plan. You know what’s ironic though?” Flavia raised her eyebrows at me, then darted a glance at Grace. “The enemies really are friends, and the friends are actually enemies. Tiffany planned to fire you, you know.”

“I already quit so… whatever,” said Grace.

“She knew about you and Jonathan too.”

“We told her!”

Flavia blinked, apparently stumped into silence.

“That’s enough,” I said, raising my voice. “No more fighting… fake, real or whatever. Regardless of what happened in the past, Tiffany appears to be in a very real, very dangerous situation right now. Can you both put any ill feelings aside and just help us find her? Please?”

Solomon pulled over another chair and gestured to Grace. Grace pouted before she flopped into it. “Fine,” she said.

“Fine,” agreed Flavia. “I don’t dislike you, by the way. Tiffany said you were a good assistant.”

“High praise,” snorted Grace.

“It is. It got hard always sneaking around so you didn’t suspect anything.”

A thought occurred to me. “Flavia, did you and Tiffany spend Wednesday afternoons together?”

Flavia tried, but failed, to frown. “No. Don’t be weird. I don’t even live in this pit of a city.”

I shushed them both. “Flavia, you are Tiffany’s friend and she might have confided something in you that she wouldn’t tell Grace. Grace, as Tiffany’s assistant, you might have seen or heard threats made to her that might have been dismissed. I need you both to think very hard now and tell me if you remember anything strange.”

“What about the tip line money?” asked Flavia.

“We’ll get to that and we appreciate your generous offer,” I said. “Now, think. Grace doesn’t remember anyone following Tiffany. Flavia, do you?”

“No, but we mostly met in my apartment or hers, well away from prying eyes.”

“Could anyone have known about your meetings?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe the doormen of our buildings but we always wore hats and sunglasses, you know, that kind of thing.”

“Okay. Did Tiffany tell you with whom or where she spent every Wednesday afternoon recently?”

Flavia’s forehead attempted a wrinkle. “That’s oddly specific. No, she didn’t. And we haven’t seen each other at all since she moved here. We just talk on the phone.”

“We’ll check the phone records,” said Solomon, but I knew we didn’t need to. Flavia wasn’t lying. She seemed genuinely concerned.

“Do you know why she moved?”

“I… don’t really know,” said Flavia.

“Um…” said Grace.

“Yes?”

“Officially, Tiffany said she was sick of the big city and wanted a change but I saw a bunch of overdue bills at her apartment, the one she had in New York, and they were huge amounts. I asked her about them and she snatched them out of my hands and told me to mind my own business. She insisted it was a big mistake.”

“Bills for what?”

“Designer clothing stores. Jewelry. Restaurants. Credit cards. Legal notices too. She hadn’t paid the mortgage on her apartment for three months and the bank was threatening foreclosure. The bills had to mount to well over a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Shut! Up!” shrieked Flavia. “Tiffany makes a ton of money.”

“Do you know if she paid them yet?”

Grace shook her head. “I never saw them again, and I think Tiffany started filtering her mail. I saw something else too.”

“What?”

“A letter from someone called Catherine. She said their grandmother was ill so she must be a relative. I don’t remember the return address but it was definitely in Montgomery. That’s why I thought of using it for an excuse to get out of here. I figured if her grandmother was ill, she’d have some compassion for mine. Even though I did fake it,” she finished with a shrug. “The only mail I saw since she moved here were parking tickets. On the same road every time! One Hundred Pines Road. You’d think she’d learn!”

Solomon stood quietly in the background. Now he spoke. “Could she have borrowed the money? Maybe to pay off those bills?”

“Maybe,” said Grace. “I never saw another bill like that again, but a week later, someone approached her in the lobby of her building and I think they served a subpoena on her. Tiffany never confirmed it to me, but I think that’s what it was.”

Solomon and I exchanged a glance. I knew what he was thinking: we needed to dive deeply into her financial records. If Tiffany were in debt and struggling to access credit, she could have borrowed money from the wrong people. The kind that could hurt her. Except those kinds of people don’t serve subpoenas; they prefer a bullet to the knees. What the hell was going on?

“Where the hell am I?” growled a throaty voice.

I jumped and spun around to see Jonathan standing in the doorway, his face crumpled from sleep. I could smell the booze on him from across the room. Grace hurried over to him and he gave her a lopsided smile before they folded into each other’s arms. I could hear her saying something but couldn’t make out what it was. When Jonathan looked up again, his eyes were filled with worry. Or was it anger? His gaze darted around, taking in me, then Solomon. He frowned at Flavia who offered him a finger wave. Then he curled his fingers around Grace’s and seemed to try to pull himself up straighter.

“I think we need to talk,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “We sure do.”