Cameron merely hummed the theme from Twilight Zone.
The louvered closet on the left contained cover-ups, a broom, cleaning supplies, and a carpet sweep, though God knew why since the floor was linoleum. The voices didn’t come from there. The laundry room was on the right. The door stood open. She moved into the doorway, one hand on the jamb. No one was there, either, but the buzz of voices continued. Or, was that the purring of the dryer? She entered and placed her hand on the metal surface.
“What do you feel?” Cameron asked from near her shoulder.
“It’s warm.”
“I meant psychically,” he muttered in a dry tone.
“Nothing.” She pulled her hand away quickly. The heat she’d felt had not come from the machine’s operation. “I better check the office before someone comes.”
“You’re running away, Max.”
“I’m doing what you wanted, searching for clues.” She closed the laundry room door and moved farther down the hall to Miles’s office. Once there, she found the door had two locks, one of them a deadbolt. Definite overkill. The corresponding keys were on the ring, and she unlocked both to open the door. The office was huge.
And by no means chintzy. The desk was a rich mahogany, its top covered in expensive leather. Her heels sank into plush forest green carpet. So that’s what the carpet sweep in the laundry room was for. The four-drawer file cabinet matched the mahogany desk. A credenza completed the set and held a state-of-the-art computer, seventeen-inch monitor, and laser printer.
Miles Lamont had the best of everything, a cut above the rest of the shop, pun intended.
It was also neat. Excessively neat. Miles Lamont, though fastidious about his haircuts, had not appeared to be this compulsive. Tape dispenser, stapler, calendar, pencil holder, all lined up in a nice row along the desk. The spotless blotter sat precisely an inch from the edge, three file folders stacked neatly beside it. A plastic protector covered the computer keyboard, a can of spray cleaner sat next to the monitor, and a marble-framed picture of Miles and a flame-haired woman perched by the side of the monitor.
It had to be Pippa Louise Lamont. Her hair was tucked beneath a classy, small-brimmed hat, red tendrils artfully escaping. She stood, Miles sat, her arm draped casually across his shoulders.
Her smile, a smug curve of glossy lips and artificially-enhanced white teeth, bothered Max. Something ... something ... “Damn it, why can’t I zero in on the feelings about these people?”
“Run with it, not against it, like you should have in the laundry room.”
“I don’t know what ‘running with it’ means.”
“You will. Why don’t you check the file cabinet?”
It was locked. The key was on the ring. Why did Miles have so many locks if he was going to leave the keys in the cash drawer where any burglar could figure out what they belonged to?
Max unlocked the drawers, then pulled them out one after the other, flipping through a few of the folders. “Nothing unusual here. Just bank records, canceled checks, invoices, paid and unpaid. A locked box marked Petty Cash.”
“What were you expecting? Incriminating letters? A taped confession? Body parts?”
“You’re a ghoul.”
“A ghoul is defined as a demon who feeds on the flesh of human beings. I hardly think I’d pass for a ghoul.” Then he sighed, a peppermint-scented waft of air across her cheeks. “Unless of course we’re talking about you. Hmm, I always did love dining out on you, sweetheart.”
“Pig.” Her knees went weak with that kind of talk. She lost her concentration, remembered last night. “Stop it. We’re doing serious work here.” Max reopened the top drawer and looked through the employee folders, though technically none of the stylists were considered employees. They rented their space. Tiffany’s was fourth. She pulled it out and flipped it open.
“Was I right or was I right?” Cameron murmured in her ear.
“You were half-right. Jake’s been scratched off.” She sucked in a breath. “And Nadine Johnson’s been added.”
“Nadine Johnson, the receptionist?”
“Yep.” Max’s fingers started to tingle. They were on to something big. “Nadine is Tiffany’s sister.” Which was probably the reason Ariel had told her not to mention Nadine in front of Miles. Bad associations for him. “And it seems Tiffany moved in with her.”
Cameron made a sound almost like the smacking of lips. “Write down their addresses, Max my dear, you’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”
“Why bother with her old one? I seriously doubt Jake Lloyd would still be living there.” She reached to the desk for a pen and scratch paper, wrote both down quickly, then tore off the note and stuck it in her pocket.
“We’ll know when you get there, won’t we?”