Sunset Beach(50)
“Just curious. Didn’t you tell our firm’s investigator, right afterwards, that you didn’t know anything about sexual harassment at the hotel?”
“Yeah. But that’s ’cuz the dude made me nervous. And I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
“Can you tell me who bothered you?”
“Larry Boone. He used to be head of engineering at Gulf Vista.”
“Used to be? Did he get demoted?”
“He left. Maybe two, three weeks after Jazmin was killed.”
“Do you know where he went?”
She shook her head. “No idea. People were still in shock about Jazmin, so I don’t think anybody was too upset that Scary Larry was gone.”
Lutrisha pulled her phone from her purse. “I gotta go pretty soon. My sister is watching my little boy and she gets real pissy if I’m late.”
“Just a few more minutes, please,” Drue said. “Do you want something to eat? I saw they had some cookies and stuff behind the counter.”
“Ugh. Sugar. No thanks. What else do you need to know?”
“Back at the hotel, my friend and I went into the laundry room. I noticed there were some brackets on the wall that look like maybe there used to be a camera up there. Was there a security camera there when Jazmin was killed?”
“I don’t know,” Lutrisha said. “None of us like working in there. It’s hot as hell, and where it is, like at the back of the hotel, it’s creepy.”
“Did housekeepers ever leave the door open when they were working, to get some air?”
“Yeah. All the time.”
“So anybody could get in there, if they knew where it was?”
“Why would anybody want to?”
“One more question. Jazmin’s mom said she’d been seeing somebody. A man. Did she ever say anything about that to you?”
“Yeah. I knew she had a new boyfriend.”
“How?”
“A couple times, she was going out with this guy right after work, and she didn’t want to have to go home to get ready, because she knew her mom would ask a lot of questions. So she asked me to kind of be the lookout for her, while she showered and changed in one of the guest rooms. If the bosses ever found that out, we’d both have been fired.”
Drue felt a tiny fizz of excitement. “Do you know who the guy was?”
“I know he used to work at Gulf Vista. I think he was a desk clerk maybe.”
“You don’t know his name?”
Lutrisha scrunched up her face. “Maybe Jorge?”
“Why didn’t she want her mom to know about this guy?”
“Probably because he wasn’t black. He’s from one of those countries in Central America. Ecuador, Guatemala? I get those places mixed up. Jazmin said her mom wouldn’t like him, which is funny, because who knew black people were just as racist as white people. Right?”
“Do you know where this Jorge lives? Or where he worked after he left Gulf Vista?”
“She said it was at another hotel on the beach.”
Lutrisha’s chair scraped the concrete floor as she pushed away from the table. “Okay, sorry, but I really do have to go.”
“I understand. And thanks so much for your time, Lutrisha. You’ve been a big help. Hey, do you know whatever happened to Jazmin’s friend Neesa?”
“Her?” Lutrisha rolled her eyes. “She could be anywhere. They said she was fired because she was late all the time, which kind of surprised me.”
“Why?”
“Word was, Neesa had some kind of thing going on with the head of housekeeping. Herman Byars.”
“What kind of thing?”
“One guess. I gotta go now.”
23
On Friday, she was congratulating herself on making it through another week without any serious incidents.
Her celebration was short-lived. Shortly after eleven, she sensed a shadow over her shoulder.
“Drue?” Wendy brandished a handful of papers.
“What do you need?” Drue responded.
Wendy jerked her head in the direction of her office. “Let’s do this somewhere quieter.”
As she trailed behind Wendy’s cloud of Miss Dior perfume, Drue experienced the same inescapable sense of doom she’d once felt on her numerous trips to the principal’s office in high school.
She already knew what was coming. The “you’re not living up to your abilities,” the “you need to try harder” and, worst of all, the dreaded “we are very disappointed.”
“Close the door, please,” Wendy said, not looking up from the document she was reading.
She absentmindedly reached in a cut-glass jar on her desk and tossed a biscuit to Princess, who was lounging on an orange Hermès blanket on the only other chair in the room.
Drue stood glowering down at the French bulldog, who kept right on chewing and ignoring her.
“You can sit,” Wendy said, looking up.
“Where?”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Wendy snapped. “Here, Princess. Come here to Mommy.”
The dog hopped down and trotted over to her mistress.
“Move that blanket, please,” Wendy said, before Drue could seat herself. “She’s very sensitive, and it confuses her when she smells other people’s scents on her things.”