“I don’t think so.” He eyed a plum-colored Aston Martin coming through the entrance driveway. “But I get off at three, so if he might have left afterward. Why don’t you talk to one of the self-park attendants?”

“Who was on duty that Sunday?”

“Either Trent or Alex. I think Alex will be on at three. Excuse me.”

As Decker waited for the valet to tend to the Aston Martin, he noticed a small brunette waving at him. He returned the gesture even though he wasn’t sure that he was the targeted recipient. She wore a black suit and a red blouse with low heels on her feet. She carried a briefcase, marching through the lot at a fast clip. When the valet returned, Decker said, “Is there anyone else that Ms. McLaughlin talked to besides you?”

“She talked to all the valets. Probably other service people, too. She was friendly.”

“Okay. And one last question. When was the last time you remember seeing her?”

“Oh gosh…” He thought hard as he turned over the parking ticket in his hands. “I don’t recall seeing her Sunday.” He looked at Decker. “But I’m not sure. Sorry.”

“You’ve been a real help.” Decker shook his hand. “Thank you very much, Skylar. I hope they save your job for you.”

“They’re firing everyone,” the valet said with a combination of bitterness and wistfulness. “Trying to de-unionize the staff and the only way they can do it is by closing two years. But don’t worry about me. Like Ms. McLaughlin said, one day you’ll see my name in lights.”

UP CLOSE, ELIZA Slaughter was maybe five feet tall, ninety pounds, and had bones as delicate as a songbird. “Yowser,” she exclaimed. “How tall are you? About six five?”

“Six four.”

“I look like one of your ski poles. Sorry I’m late.” Her head was craned upward. “Traffic was a bitch.”

“Not a problem.”

Her face was equally elfin. She had short, feathery hair, hoops in her ears, and pink cheeks. She wore very little makeup and her fingernails were clipped almost to the quick. He introduced her to Skylar, who excused himself and met up with a Maserati. “The guy was very helpful.”

Decker recapped the conversation as the two of them crossed over the bridge, walking down a pathway that cut through a tropical jungle’s worth of potted and planted foliage in full spring bloom. The scent varied from pungent to sweet, the rich verdant leaves dripping water from a recent misting.

He said, “Since Terry seemed to be friendly, we should talk to the staff—even those who were off on Sunday. Maybe we could get a list from someone in the lobby.”

“I don’t know if they’re going to be cooperative. Violating their guests’ rights kinda thing.”