Black Silk. Metsy Hingle
home number again, she had just punched in the first three digits when she heard a whoop of excitement from Vince’s desk across the aisle from her. She put down the phone.
“Got it! Thanks, pal. I owe you one.” He hung up the phone and swung around in his chair to face her. Holding up a slip of paper, he said, “Guess what I’ve got here?”
“A hot stock tip?”
“Funny,” he said dryly. “It’s the name of our mystery girl on the surveillance tape. I’ll give you three guesses.”
“Kossak.” She growled out the word.
“Holly Stratton. I had the new kid, Mackenzie, take a copy of the photo we had printed from the tape over to the Mill House Apartments and show it around. The desk clerk identified her.”
“Another ex-wife?” Charlie asked.
“Daughter. According to the clerk, she and the vic used to be friends. But they had a falling-out when Hill took up with the father.”
“I can’t say that I blame her,” Charlie responded, empathizing with Holly Stratton. Having your father marry a woman who couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than you would have been tough for anyone to swallow. But having him marry one of your friends had to be ten times worse.
“It gets better,” Vince continued. “Hill took out a restraining order against Holly Stratton a couple of weeks ago. She showed up at last night’s rehearsal dinner and she and the vic had words. Ms. Stratton ended up throwing a glass of wine in her soon-to-be stepmother’s face. Apparently all hell broke loose and Hill threatened to have her arrested for violating the restraining order.”
“I bet that went over real big with daddy.”
“Sensitive guy that he is, daddy had hotel security escort his daughter off the premises.”
Charlie flinched inwardly for Holly Stratton. She could only imagine the other woman’s humiliation. “If you ask me, she should have thrown the wine in his face.”
“She might have if the security guards hadn’t hauled her out when they did. According to the waiter, Ms. Stratton didn’t go quietly. She told the Hill woman she was going to regret what she’d done.”
Charlie sobered at once. “Then what was she doing at the victim’s apartment last night?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Vince said. “Why don’t we go ask her?”
When they pulled up in front of Holly Stratton’s apartment building, Vince let out a whistle. Charlie understood her partner’s reaction. The address itself was a calling card that read, For Rich People Only. She’d seen advertisements for the luxury apartments located on Saint Charles Avenue when they’d first come on the market. They had started at a half-million dollars. And that had been several years ago before property values had skyrocketed.
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