Coming Soon / Hidden Gems. Jo Leigh
I help you?”
“I’m looking for Mercy.”
The young woman sighed. “Aren’t we all.”
Bax laughed, but cut it short as the woman’s expression told him she meant that quite literally. He coughed, hoping to let the moment slide.
“Mercy should have been back ten minutes ago. And Eddy had to leave for class, and then Ms. Tamony came to deliver her dogs, and well, I’m kind of on my own, but if I can be of any assistance?”
“No, it’s fine. You have your hands full. I’ll come back later.”
“Would you like Mercy to give you a call? I can take your number.”
“No, but thanks.” He was curious about the parts of the puppy hotel he couldn’t see, but he’d explore it later. For now, he’d go see if Mia had some time for him. She’d been too busy a few minutes ago. He’d been tempted to just watch her as she did her thing, but he’d nixed that plan.
He waited around in the reception area, hoping Mercy would show up. Thinking about his interview with Henry Toth.
According to Toth, who he’d have mistaken for a panhandler if it hadn’t been for his very expensive cameras, Geiger had some very tight connections with both Bobbi and Danny Austen. That he knew for a fact that Geiger was tipped off by someone working for Weinberg. And that Gerry Geiger had just bought himself a hell of a nice duplex in Little Italy.
Toth also suggested that Geiger was more than a little fed up with his wife’s drinking.
The sad thing? That bunch of schoolyard gossip was the most he’d gotten from any of the paparazzi so far. They were a tight-lipped bunch of bottom-feeders.
It didn’t appear that Mercy the pet concierge was coming back anytime soon. As Bax rounded the corner toward the elevator he spotted a man in the spa window. He was hefty, balding, wearing a robe.
Bax went into the spa’s reception area, but the man was gone. There were two ladies looking at some cosmetics, one man who Bax had seen on some TV show, and the women behind the desk.
The woman closest to him, a little older than her compatriot, smiled at him. “May I help you?”
He pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge. “I need to know if Oscar Weinberg is inside the facility.”
“Yes, sir, he is.”
“Great. Which room?”
“He’s in the middle of a procedure at the moment.”
“I don’t mind.”
She looked at her coworker, then back at him. “Can you give me a minute, please? I honestly don’t know how to handle this situation and I’d like to ask someone.”
“Is this the only exit?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take your time.”
While she called whoever she called, Bax picked up one of the brochures from the counter. The services were vast and expensive, and some were downright odd. Hot stones? Oxygen facials? What he knew about spas could fit on the end of his pen, but he was once again, as he was so often lately, impressed by what the rich would buy. He was sure they would defend the spa services as crucial to their health and happiness. Hell, maybe they were right.
“Officer?”
He put the brochure down. “That’s Detective.”
“Sorry. Detective. I can take you to see Mr. Weinberg now.”
“Great.”
She led him inside the spa proper, down a long hallway. It smelled good, like trees, and the lighting was low. Music played softly in the background. New-age stuff, of course, but it hit all the right marks for a spa.
After a few turns, she stopped in front of a closed door. A gentle knock was followed almost immediately by the door opening a crack.
“I’ve got a client.”
The woman nodded. “The detective needs to speak to Mr. Weinberg.”
“He’s still got half an hour to go.”
Bax moved closer to the door. “I’ll be busy in a half an hour.”
“I checked with Piper’s office,” the woman whispered. “We have to let him in.”
The massage therapist was tall and wiry, not bulging with muscles as Bax would have thought. He looked strong though, strong and pissed. The one thing that did match Bax’s preconceived notions was the uniform. All-white T-shirt, slacks and shoes. Clean. Antiseptic.
After a meaningful shrug, the therapist stepped back.
Bax thanked the nice woman and went inside the even darker room.
Turns out it wasn’t dark enough.
Oscar Weinberg lay naked on the massage table. Face up. With no sheet covering any part of his large body.
Bax almost turned around and walked out, but his personal discomfort couldn’t possibly be worse than Weinberg’s, so why not go for it?
“What the hell is going on, Larry?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Weinberg. I was told to let him in.”
Weinberg looked Bax over. “Who the fuck are you?”
Bax took out his badge, making sure Oscar saw his holster as he did so. “Detective Milligan.”
“This can’t wait?”
“I figured I better catch you when I could. With that private jet and all.”
“Did I say I wanted you to stop the massage?”
That was to Larry, of course, who hopped to it.
Bax had no idea what Larry was in fact massaging as he was focusing one hundred percent on Weinberg’s face. “When did you get back to the hotel?”
“About an hour ago.”
“And the first thing you wanted was a massage?”
“Is that what you came here to talk about?”
Score one for the naked guy. “Tell me about your relationship with Geiger.”
“There was no relationship. We used Geiger on occasion to take pictures. We paid him. All above board, nothing special.”
“Was he on the clock the night of his death?”
“No. He was not.”
“You’re sure about that?” Bax didn’t wait for a response. “When was the last time you did hire him?”
“I’ll have to find out, Detective. It’s not something I keep at the forefront. Especially with Geiger. The man was an ass. Rude, greedy. He was one of the worst.”
“Then why use him?”
“He got the job done. He was useful.”
“What was Geiger doing in Peter Eccles’s suite?”
Weinberg rolled his eyes as if the question was too difficult to bear. “You’d have to ask Peter.”
“According to some reliable sources you’ve got a lot riding on this picture. The last four movies you produced haven’t done very well.”
“Reliable sources? Please, Detective. You should know by now that you can’t always believe what you read in the papers.”
“I imagine it’s costing a lot. Austen and Tamony don’t come cheap.”
“We won’t be selling off our company jet anytime soon.”
“Why do you think someone wanted Geiger dead?”
“He