“She ran out of here last night right before closing.” He fiddled with the clipboard, and his mouth set in a tight line. “She was crying and muttering something about how no one treats her that way.”
“Would that someone be Moriarty?”
“Yes,” Damien hissed as his eyes darkened.
“What about Moriarty and the rest of his group?” Tom asked. “When did they take off?”
“They left in his limo not long after that, but he didn’t ask about the girl or where she went.” Damien’s brow furrowed, and a puzzled look came over him. “Come to think of it, I’m surprised he’s not here tonight.”
“Why is that?” Doug made a note and exchanged a knowing look with Tom. “He’s a regular here?”
“Yeah. He can be found in one of the VIP booths every Friday and Saturday night for sure. Weeknights too, sometimes.” A look of contempt came over his face. “He’s been after Olivia for ages. I guess he figures that if he drops enough money here, she’ll pay attention to him.”
“Mm-hmm.” Doug’s jaw clenched, and he kept his eyes on his notes as he tightened his grip on the stubby pencil. “I can’t imagine a classy lady like Olivia would be interested in the likes of Michael Moriarty.” He tried not to sound like a possessive lover but failed miserably. “Anything else you can think of that might help us? Was she here the night before as well? Do you know if she knew Ronald Davis?”
“No, I don’t think so, but if I remember anything, I’ll be sure to contact you.” Shouts and whining from the line behind them caught Damien’s attention. “I better get back to the door. This mob can get ugly pretty quick.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Doug handed the big bouncer his card. “If you remember anything else that might be useful, give me a call.”
“No problem.” He tucked the card in the pocket of his slacks and returned to his post at the door.
Doug pulled out without saying a word, and they drove for five minutes before Tom finally broke the silence.
“I take it you’re headed for Moriarty’s apartment?” Tom rolled down the window and adjusted the rearview mirror on the passenger side. “It’s close to midnight. Don’t you think it’s a little late to be calling on him?”
“No,” Doug said tightly. “By all accounts it was out of the ordinary for him to be absent from the club tonight, and he happens to be a no-show the night after his date ends up dead? That’s far too coincidental, and besides, he’s the best lead we’ve got.”
“Okay.” Tom adjusted his position in the seat. “I can see him as a possible killer for the girl, but what about Ronald Davis?”
“Not sure yet.” Doug shrugged. “Who knows, maybe Davis flirted with one of Moriarty’s dates, and he didn’t like it.”
“You’re grasping at straws, my friend.” Tom tapped his fingers on the side of the car. “But you’re right about it being our best lead.”
They pulled up in front of Moriarty’s swanky Upper West Side apartment overlooking the Hudson River, and the doorman looked at them with disdain. Moriarty’s family owned three apartments in the building, and chances were that this guy was buried in their deep pockets, so a hell of a lot of good he was going to be.
“You can’t park that here.” The doorman waved at them with his white-gloved hand and shook his head vigorously. His gold buttons blinked as they caught the light of the passing cars. “Move along.”
Tom and Doug flashed their badges simultaneously as they exited the car, which had the seasoned doorman rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.
“What was that?” Tom asked with a big smile. “I didn’t quite catch that. Did you, Paxton?”
“No.” Doug glanced past the doorman to the empty, but brightly lit, lobby. “We’re here to see Michael Moriarty.”
“He’s not here.” The older man clasped his hands behind his back and avoided looking at them. “He went out last night and hasn’t been back since.”
Doug and Tom exchanged a curious look.
“How can you be sure?” Tom asked. “You’re on the night shift, so what if he came back during the day?”
“When I went off my shift at 6:00 a.m., I told Bert, the day shift guy, that Moriarty hadn’t come back and to keep his eye out for him.” He dropped his voice and leaned closer, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear, even though they seemed to be the only ones around. “Sometimes the kid goes on a bender, and when he comes home, he causes a scene. His father hates it, so it’s up to us to get him to his apartment with as little fuss as possible. Spoiled brat, if you ask me.”
“So, I take it that Bert told you he never came back and that it would likely be your problem again?” Doug suppressed a grin. He could only imagine the crap this poor guy put up with from Moriarty. “That can’t be much fun.”
The doorman nodded curtly and glanced at the camera in the doorway, clearly nervous that he’d be caught talking to cops on camera.
“Would you please call us when Moriarty shows up?” Doug handed him his card. “He’s not in any trouble. We just need to ask him a couple questions.”
As Doug pulled away in the shadow of the towering steel building, he couldn’t squelch the nagging feeling in his gut that Moriarty was involved in this mess. His date had stormed out on him, then she turned up dead, and now he seemed to have skipped town. Moriarty was looking more and more like their prime suspect, but Tom was right, there was still no explanation for why he would have killed Ronald Davis.
“Tell me again why we’re coming back here when we could be going home?” Tom asked as he slammed the door shut on the sedan. “We’ve been working all night. The sun is gonna be up soon, and I need some sleep. I’m old and tired.”
“By all accounts, Moriarty and four of his crew have vanished. They never came back to their apartments, and nobody has seen them since they pulled out of here in his limo. The driver and car are missing too, and the last place anybody saw them was here. We could get old and gray sitting around waiting to get a copy of his cell phone records.”
“I’m already old and gray.” Tom shook his head and let out a weary sigh. “You said that the Hollingsworth broad lives here in the building?” He glanced at the spire of the old church. “That’s just weird. This place was creepy when it was full of people, and now it’s really fuckin’ creepy. The place is closed, man.”
“Yeah, but I think she and her staff know more than they’re letting on, and I want to know what it is.”
“Kid,” Tom said on a sigh. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Doug pulled his jacket out of the car and questioned his motives as much as Tom did. When he looked up, the gothic lettering of the nightclub’s sign glared at him accusingly. They shouldn’t be doing this.
He pulled his jacket on and stepped onto the cracked sidewalk in front of the club. Damien, the velvet rope, and the throngs of people were gone. Doug glanced at his watch and saw it was well past last call. He tugged on the doors of the club only to find them locked, and his heart sank. He didn’t realize until that moment how much he wanted to see her—to taste her.
“See, kid,” Tom said wearily as he leaned against the hood of their car. “They closed shop, and I don’t see any door to her apartment. Let’s go, huh? We can come at them again after we get some sleep.”
The high-pitched pinging sound of a bottle clinking down the pavement caught their attention, and Doug’s senses went into overdrive. They exchanged curious looks. Doug looked to his left toward the sound, but the sidewalks were empty, and the narrow street was void of moving cars. The only movement was farther down at the intersection of Sixth Avenue, but here on King Street it was quiet—too quiet.
The clinking sound echoed again, and this time they could tell it was coming from the narrow alley on the side of the club. Doug placed his finger on his lips and nodded toward the alley. He reached inside his jacket and wrapped his fingers around the steel butt of his gun as he and Tom inched closer.