“She didn’t have to. I seen it. This one time, I was waiting on the service elevator and the doors opened, and he had Jaz backed into a corner, had his hands down in her pants. As soon as he saw me standing there, he gave me this look and punched the button to close the doors.”

“Gross. Who was the guy?”

“Head of housekeeping. His name was Herman. Like Herman Munster, you know? Nasty old piece of shit.”

“Oh wow. Did she report him?”

“Jaz? No.”

“Did she talk to you about it?”

“Kind of.”

“What did she say?”

Neesa yawned again. Her eyes were closed and her breathing had slowed. Drue was afraid she was about to pass out.

“Huh?” Neesa blinked awake. “Who?”

“Your friend. Jazmin. What did she say about the guy who was groping her?”

“Just that he’d been watchin’ her, saying things when they were alone, like how nice she looked. And sex stuff. She didn’t like it, but what was she supposed to do? He was our boss.”

“She never reported him?”

“Hell no. She did what she had to do.”

“Which was what?”

Neesa stared and shook her head dismissively. “Forget it. Girl like you? You’d never understand.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Drue said, with genuine venom in her voice. “I waitressed in beach bars for years. Had bosses peeking at me through cracks in the bathroom door while I was peeing, putting their hands on me while I had a full tray of dishes, sharing all their sex fantasies … I felt dirty and disgusted with myself for putting up with it, but like you said, I had bills to pay.”

“Huh,” Neesa said. “Okay. Maybe you are for real. So yeah. We played the bosses.” She affected a flirtatious wink and a breathless voice. “‘Oh, you want to feel me up in the elevator when nobody’s looking? Okay, but then you better let me off work when I gotta take my sick kid to the doctor.’ Or, ‘Oh, you want me to come in your office with the door closed and give you a lap dance? All right, but there better be something extra in my paycheck next week.’”

“So, she was, like, blackmailing her boss?”

“That’s what you call it. Jaz, she just made sure he treated her right, that’s all.”

“And she never complained to the hotel manager?”

“I guess she could have, but why wouldn’t she tell me? I was her best friend.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to get you involved?”

Neesa fumbled around in her purse. “You got any smokes?”

“Sorry, I quit.”

“Good for you,” Neesa said. “Jaz used to stay on me about quitting…” Her voice trailed off.

“When the cops were investigating your friend’s murder, did you tell them about this boss and his arrangement with her?”

“They didn’t ask.” Neesa nibbled on a bit of ragged cuticle.