At Rope's End (A Dr. James Verraday Mystery #1)(50)

“Well, Mr. Griffin,” said Maclean. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why you hired a prostitute to work at your promotional party in the first place.”

“Like I said, a lot of these guys get super turned on by seeing a woman in a stewardess outfit. It’s a huge fantasy. I didn’t specifically hire her to sleep with anyone, but I wanted someone who would be cool wearing the uniform and wasn’t going to freak out if somebody got a little fresh with her. In fact, I paid her to flirt with them.”

“Just flirt?”

“I didn’t get into any details. I assumed that she knew her business.”

“When did she leave?”

“Around midnight.”

“Can you verify that?”

“Yes. I arranged a car to take her home afterwards.”

“Do you have a record of that?”

“Yes. It’s right here in the recent calls list of my phone.” Jason held out the phone, showing the number display. “See? Emerald City Limousines. I paid with Visa on the company card. I always keep the receipts. It’s in the filing cabinet right here, see?”

He slid the drawer open and, within a moment, produced the record. Maclean examined it. It appeared to be legitimate.

“Thank you, Mr. Griffin, I’ll check this later. Now walk me through what happened next.”

“The guests left shortly after that, then it was just Cody and me. I was pretty drunk by then, and so was Cody. So we left my car and the van here and I called a taxi. I dropped Cody off at his place on the way.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Yes, got the receipt for that too.”

Jason reached into the filing cabinet and showed the taxi receipt to Maclean.

“All right. Thank you, Mr. Griffin. Now I’d like to speak to Cody North.”

“Sure. I’ll go get him. That’s him working on the Dash 8 out there.”

“Do you have a PA system?” asked Maclean.

“Yes.”

“Then page him, please. I’d prefer if you don’t speak with him alone until after I’ve finished talking to him. And I’d like a list of all the guests who were here the night that Helen Dale was murdered.”

“There were a lot of people here,” said Jason. “And I think a lot of them will be upset if a detective shows up at their office, know what I mean?”

“You’ve got ’til nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” said Maclean. “Or you’ll be dealing with the vice squad as well as homicide. Now call Cody and then wait outside.”

*

Cody North sauntered into the office, looking pleased with himself as he wiped his sweaty brow with a rag before stuffing it into the hip pocket of his coveralls. He was short. About five foot eight, thought Verraday. But he had tried to compensate for it. He had bones tattooed onto the back of his hands, as well as the words “shock” and “awe” on the right and left palms respectively. Even in his mechanic’s uniform, it was apparent that he had a disproportionately well-developed upper body. His shoulders were bulked up, and his biceps pressed against his sleeves. Steroid user, thought Verraday.

Cody North paused when he saw Maclean and cocked his head slightly, appraising her. His leering gaze alighted momentarily on her eyes, then trolled down to her feet before scanning back up to her shoulders, assessing the loose strand of hair that Verraday had noticed by the fountain. Cody North took one last glance at Maclean’s breasts before meeting her eyes again.

“Cody North?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She pointed to a chair in the middle of the room. “Have a seat.”

North hesitated just long enough to show that he didn’t take her seriously, then complied.

“I’m Detective Maclean. Seattle PD. This is Dr. James Verraday. He’s a forensic psychologist working with me on this case.”

Cody looked at Verraday just long enough to give him a derisive smirk. “Headshrinker, huh? I don’t believe in any of that stuff. It’s all bull if you ask me.” Cody then returned his gaze to Maclean as if Verraday had ceased to exist.

“Well, I didn’t ask you,” said Maclean.

Cody North just shrugged. Verraday didn’t find the mechanic’s dismissive attitude toward him annoying. The fact that he treated Verraday like he was invisible was helpful, gave him a chance to study his subject more closely. North’s stray glances at Maclean’s anatomy were almost involuntary, some form of compulsion, thought Verraday. But they also seemed to be a kind of dominance display. Behind the greasy coveralls was an even greasier personality, someone who couldn’t help gawking and didn’t seem to care.

Maclean leaned down toward her briefcase to retrieve the photo of Helen Dale. She glanced up and saw Cody stealing a peek down her blouse. Verraday, whose karate technique was rusty but still effective, had a sudden impulse to backhand the mechanic and rattle his eyeballs into a more respectful line of sight.

Maclean adjusted her blouse in a covering gesture. Verraday wondered if it was a reflexive or conscious move. Verraday noticed that it had provoked another tiny smirk from Cody North. He seemed like the type who enjoyed intimidating and dominating women. But Maclean was unfazed.

She held up the uncropped version of Helen Dale’s cockpit selfie. “Is that your reflection in the window?”