“So how’d you know where to find Jack Jeffries?”
“A week before he was supposed to come, I called the hotel and said I had a flower delivery for when he arrived. They told me when to deliver.”
“How’d you know which hotel?”
“I tried them and the Loews Vanderbilt. Where else is he gonna stay?”
Baker said, “Did you try to see him personally?”
Gret grinned. “I didn’t just try, I saw him.”
“How?”
“Went there. Got all dressed up pretty and waited in the lobby. I had an iced tea…paid ten bucks out of my own pocket to drink and sit there and watch rich folk. Finally, he came out. Then he remembered something and started walking back to the elevators. I rode up with him. Pushed a button on the same floor and pretended to be staying there. We had a nice conversation.”
“About what?”
“First,” she said, “I sweet-talked him…things like ‘I recognized you right away, you look just like you do on the CDs.’ Which is bogus bullshit, he put on like a hundred pounds and he’s old. But he liked hearing those lies, everyone has their own favorite lies. That’s when I told him I was going to the Songbird concert…singing backup for Johnny Blackthorn. He said, No kidding, Johnny’s an old bud, and we started talking music. I know all about music, it’s my life.”
“All this is in the hall?” Lamar asked.
“At his door. I knew I could have gotten inside, but I didn’t want to. He’d try to fuck me and that would be gross.”
“Gross because he’s your father.”
“That for sure. But also, he was gross.” She stuck her tongue out.
“So how’d you get him over to The T House?”
“I told him I’d be singing and also helping out with the serving ’cause my daddy owned the place. I told him he should stop by, hear some good music if he wasn’t too tired. Then I told him I was thinking about giving up music because the lifestyle was tough. I told him I got into Vanderbilt dental school, maybe I’d do that.”
“Why dental school?”
“’Cause it sounded educated. Jack was impressed, and said that sounded cool. Then he said, ‘But if you really love to sing, don’t give up your dream.’ ”
“You were getting him on your side,” said Baker.
“I wanted him to hear me sing ’cause I’m worth listening to,” Gret said. “But I knew I had to be casual. That’s the way you got to do it with them.”
“Them being…”
“Men. They’re like fish. You cast the line, wiggle the bait a little, move it around real casual. I figured he’d show up. And he did.”
“What time?”
“Toward the end of my last set. A quarter to.”
“Quarter to midnight.”
“Yeah.”
She’d told them around eleven fifteen, eleven thirty the first time. Lying for the sake of it.
“What happened then?”
“I greeted him like a long-lost friend and sat him right in front. I even gave him free tea and yellow-raisin scones. Then I sang. Did a KT Oslin and a Rosanne Cash. Finished with ‘Piece of My Heart’- the Janis way, not what Faith Hill did to it. He was listening. Then…” Her blue eyes clouded over. “He just up and left. I gave the bastard free tea and he didn’t even have the courtesy to say good-bye.”
Just like he did to Mama, Lamar thought. “So you went to the door and saw…”
“The rich bitch with the red Mercedes. My car’s red, too, it’s my favorite color. I could never get it to shine like that…” Tossing her hair. “They talked like they knew each other, didn’t look so friendly. Then she drove away and he started walking.”
Reaching for her coffee, she sipped. “Um, this is good and creamy! Thank you, sirs!”
Baker said, “Then what?”
“Pardon?”
“What happened next?”
“Nothing.”
“Gret,” said Lamar, “we found that knife in your purse. It matches perfectly to the wound on Jack’s neck. We also got your fingerprints on his clothes and his neck.”
Blatant lies. They were days from processing all the evidence.
Silence.
Baker said, “I reckon you carry that knife because johns can get rough, right?”
“Right.”
“We can understand that,” Lamar added. “A girl needs to take care of herself.”
“Right.”
“So why don’t you tell us exactly what happened between you and Jack Jeffries?”
“Hmm,” she said, finishing her coffee. “Can I have another creamy latte? They’re so expensive. I can’t afford to buy more than one a week.”
They got her the coffee and a croissant. She finished both and asked to go to the bathroom.
“Sure,” said Lamar, “but first I’ve got to bring a senior CSI technologist in to scrape under your fingernails.”
“Why?” said Gret.
“To match it to Jack’s skin.”
“I washed my hands,” she said.
“When?”
“Right after I…” Looking at the ceiling and toying with her hair and letting one hand wander to her right breast.
Lamar said, “You need to finish the story, Gret. We need to hear the whole thing.”
“I need to use the little girls’ room.”
Fondebernardi came in, pretended to be a crime scene tech and did the scrape. Greta Barline was accompanied by a female officer to the restroom and returned looking refreshed.
“That was good,” she said, focusing on Lamar.
Baker said, “Please finish the story.”
“It’s not much of a story.”
“Do us a favor and tell it anyway.”
She shrugged. “I saw him walking and I went after him…to ask him why he left without saying good-bye. Asshole gave me a funny look and kept going…ignoring me. He was all pissed off…probably because of that woman. Ain’t my fault, but he took it out on me, you know? A whole different Jack from the Jack in the elevator. I kept walking with him. It was real dark, but I could see the hostility in his…manner. The way he had his arms folded in front of him, looking straight ahead. Like I didn’t exist. That made me super pissed off.”