Luis snatched the license out of my hand for a better look. “And you think I had something to do with it?”
“Did you?”
“No!” He gave me back the card. “Megan’s not the first woman to disappear from this hotel, and I doubt she’ll be the last.”
“Speaking of women who’ve disappeared recently, what do you know about Angelica Taylor?”
“Who?”
“She supposedly left late last night or early this morning,” I said. “Her room is clean, but Janine said the maids don’t do the fourteenth floor until the afternoon. You were on the fourteenth floor last night, fixing the ice machine around the same time Angelica reportedly went to the vending room. Did you see her?”
“No,” he replied shortly. “Are we done here?”
“Why do you live in the hotel’s basement?”
“Why do you think?” Luis shot back. “I’m not the type of guy who can easily afford housing in downtown Chicago.”
“You’re homeless,” I stated.
He sighed and sat on the cot. “The hotel cut my pay about a year ago. I lost my apartment and my girlfriend. My family doesn’t live here, so I had nowhere else to go. This was my only option.”
“You could’ve gotten another job.”
Luis scoffed. “Like it’s that simple.”
I leaned against the stone wall. “So you don’t know anything else about the women who have gone missing in Chicago?”
“Should I?”
“If you’re always here, you might have seen what happened to Megan Hollows.”
Luis didn’t look away from my piercing gaze. “I can assure you I have no idea what happened to Megan.”
I wanted to believe him—I really did—but if something gruesome was going on at the Saint Angel, Luis was the one person who was most likely to know about it.
“I won’t tell anyone you’re here,” I said, and his shoulders sank with visible relief, “unless I find out that you lied to me. Understood?”
Luis nodded emphatically. “Yes. Of course.”
I waved goodbye, put my shoes back on, and left Luis in peace. As I made my way out of the damp corridor, Luis’s voice floated to my ears.
“I’m not a liar, Miss Frye.”
6
As I strolled into the lobby, a chorus of familiar voices echoed against the marble floors and high ceilings. I backtracked, ducking behind the statue of Hamlet as the wedding party descended from the mezzanine. Marie led the charge, Ned bumbled after her, and their parents—all bickering with each other—followed after them. At the very back, Evelyn dragged her feet and stared upward, as if wishing a UFO might beam her up and away from the rest of her family and future in-laws.
I wasn’t ready to face Evelyn, nor was I looking forward to another run-in with Penelope Delacourt. After delivering her towels that morning, she’d tried to order room service from me, and once again, I’d had to explain that I did not work at the Saint Angel. The sneer she afforded me afterward could have wilted entire gardens.
As the wedding party headed toward me, dangerously close to my position, I darted toward the only escape avenue available, a narrow hallway half-hidden behind Hamlet’s statue.
“I’m not saying we need to change all the florals,” Penelope said loudly as the families thundered past me. “But baby’s breath looks cheap. We shouldn’t include it in the bouquet.”
“It’s a filler,” countered Sandra. “It helps to balance out the other flowers.”
Niall Grey sighed deeply. “Can we stop talking about this rubbish for five minutes? Or at least until I get a drink in my hand.”
Ned’s father nodded his agreement, while Ned himself remained silent. When Marie’s face furrowed in frustration, Ned gently cupped her waist. She leaned into him and rested her forehead against his cheek. He briefly kissed her head, and they separated again, joined only by the linking of their index fingers.
Then Evelyn stomped by, and the sight of her deep frown sent me stumbling backward to disappear farther down the hallway.
Ding!
A set of skinny double doors opened behind me, and Wolf Godfrey stepped from an elevator I hadn’t known was there. Startled, I attempted to skip out of his way, but the corridor was too narrow, and he tripped over my outstretched foot.
His cane clattered to the floor as he fell. Instinctively, I reached for him. His hands grasped my shoulders as he braced himself against me. He weighed far less than I expected, so I managed to keep him upright.
“I am so sorry,” I said, keeping one hand on his arm to steady him as I knelt to pick up his cane. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to come out of there.”
“Not to worry, darling.” The billionaire wore a white leather jacket with pink tassels, a velvet cowboy hat, and sparkling silver chaps. He appeared taller than usual due to the thick heels of his white boots. “I’ve got a flair for the dramatic. Falling with style is one of my specialties.”
“Can I help you?” I offered as he regained control of the cane.
“I did not ask for help.” He looked me up and down. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing? Tell me, is that your natural skin tone or do you spend hours in a tanning booth to achieve that color?”
“My grandmother is from India.”
“Au naturel then.” Wolf tipped his ridiculous hat. “How do you feel, my love, now that you’ve discovered my secret elevator?”
I peered around him at the doors he’d emerged from. “Your secret elevator?”
“It goes straight up to the penthouse suite,” he explained. “I’m the only one who can access it.” He tucked his cane close to his side and extended his hand. “Wolf Godfrey. Dreamer and entrepreneur. Who might you be?”
The skin of his hand was unusually velvety as I shook it.
“Jacqueline Frye,” I said. “But everyone calls me Jack.”
“Ah.” Wolf kept my hand in his and drew me closer. “What brings you to the great city of Chicago, Jack?”
“A wedding.”
“I love weddings!” he exclaimed with such elation that he nearly toppled over. He caught himself with the cane at the last second. “I don’t suppose you could secure me an
