there.” She shrugged.

 

Puller looked around at the cops and detectives working the bar area. “These

guys will eventually work their way up there. And they’re going to have the same

sorts of questions.” “Upstairs had nothing to do with what happened downstairs.”

“Doesn’t matter if something illegal was going on up there.” “Nothing illegal

was going on up there,” she retorted. “How do you know? You just said you don’t

know what goes on up there.” “I meant that I know Josh, and he would engage in

nothing illegal.” “Prostitution is illegal.” “Oh, for God’s sake. Those women

are not hookers.” “You’re sure of that?” “Yes!” “How? Because Quentin told you?

I know for a fact that they’re not coworkers of his.” She crossed her arms and

stared back at him. “I really don’t have to tell you anything.” “No, you really

don’t.” He pointed to the cops and detectives. “But those guys you do. And I’d

have a better story prepared than the bullshit you just tried to feed me.” Myers

rose. “I need to attend to some things.” “I’m sure. Calling a really good lawyer

should be first on the list.” She hurried from the room and disappeared down the

hall to her office.

 

On a hunch Puller went over to the bar where one of the waiters was sitting

looking exhausted. He held up his set of keys and said, “Ms. Myers asked me to

get something from her car, but she was so distraught she forgot to tell me what

make and model.” The man said, “Oh, it’s the blue BMW 750. License plate says

‘Grunt.’ She parks it in the back lot.” “Thanks.” He went outside and got into

his car and positioned it so that he could see the big Beemer.