I N THE BACK dressing room, Oliver waded through racks of costumes, trying not to ogle the women in various stages of nudity. The back wall was a full-length mirror harshly lit with makeup bulbs, and bisected width-wise by a countertop obliterated by creams, powders, ointments, glosses, brushes, and makeup of all textures, colors, and sizes. There were several occupied bar stools, but most of the women stood as they painted their faces like warrior chiefs.
Jell-O’s given name wasn’t Melissa or Miranda, but it was Marina Alfonse and Oliver imagined her for a moment in a sailor’s suit and hat doing a hornpipe. She was in the corner, dressed in civilian clothes, and in the process of taking off her makeup. He went over and introduced himself, producing his gold shield for validation. “Marina Alfonse?”
She gave it a steely glance. “Yeah?”
“Dante Michelli said you wouldn’t mind talking to me.”
That gave her a moment of pause. “Yeah?”
“I’d like to talk to you about one of your customers.”
“Who?”
“Ivan Dresden.”
She didn’t answer, but her eyes lowered to the floor. A moment later she lifted them back to the mirror and continued to examine her reflection. Each time she removed a layer of face paint, she looked younger, until she was milkmaid fresh, with startling blue eyes and dimples in her cheeks. Dressed in a black wife-beater and jeans and low-heeled sandals, she looked sexier than she had an hour ago, gyrating for an audience.
“Why are the police interested in Ivan?” Marina’s voice tried for casual but fell several notches short.
“We’re just dotting our t’s and crossing our i’s.”
“Isn’t it the other way around?”
“It was a joke,” Oliver said.
“Ha ha.” The girl was about twenty-five, with the cynicism of an old man. “David Rottiger gave me your card. If I wanted to talk to you, I would have called you.”
She was pissed and Oliver wondered why. Rottiger had claimed Marina wasn’t interested in Ivan, but a good-paying customer can generate interest. “Just trying to get a little information.”
“If you’re interested in Ivan, ask Ivan.”
Oliver took an educated guess. “Sweetheart, there’s a lot of insurance money at stake. If you want to help him out, just answer my questions.” That shut her up and he continued. “David Rottiger said when you first met him, you didn’t like Ivan. So what changed?”
“Ivan’s okay. He’s a steady customer, a big tipper, and I don’t want to piss him off.”
“No one has to know we talked.”
She shrugged.
Meaning she was going to call the guy as soon as Oliver left. Marge had already gotten the warrants for Roseanne’s phone and credit card receipts, so Ivan couldn’t put a monkey wrench in that. Still, it was more desirable for Ivan to be kept in the dark. Oliver needed leverage to use against her.
“Why didn’t you like him when you first met him?”
“I thought he was a jerk,” Marina said. “I don’t care about a married man flirting with me, but not in front of his wife. That wasn’t cool.”
“Did you know Roseanne?”
“When I met her, she seemed cold. Ivan tells me she was frigid. ’Course he was flirting with me all evening, so it’s natural that she wasn’t going to like me.”
“Do you date Ivan?”
“It’s against the rules.”
“Rules are meant to be broken.”
“Mr. Michelli is a good boss and runs a clean place here. That’s all I have to say.”
“Look, honey, I don’t care what you do on the side. I’m just trying to get some handle on Ivan Dresden. He’s supposed to come into lots of money if his wife’s body is ever recovered. Until insurance finds the corpse, Dresden is going to be looked into by insurance and by the police. If you have something going on, we’re going to find out.”
Marina addressed him with a tight mouth and hard eyes. “He buys me dinner and I hear about his problems. That’s it.”
“Sex?”
“You like hearing nasty details, don’t you?”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Let’s talk theoretically, Marina. Say you were having an affair with Dresden when he was married. And now his wife is missing because we can’t find her body. That means someone’s going to come after you. Now, that someone could be me…or that someone could be my hard-ass female sergeant partner, who won’t give a solitary shit if your bra size is triple J.”
“As opposed to you, who does give a shit about my bra size?” She ended the sentence with a sweet smile.
“I’m taking the fifth on that one,” Oliver answered. “How did Ivan pay down fifteen gees on his lap-dancing tab?”
“He’s got a job. He’s got stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“He’s got the condo now that Roseanne is dead. Maybe he took out a loan on it.”
“Maybe or you know for certain?”
“Look, all I know is that he paid off Mr. Michelli, so now everyone’s happy. Besides, Ivan’s got muscle with the banks because he has insurance money coming.”
“Maybe he has money coming…maybe not.”
She started biting her thumbnail. “He makes it sound like it’s a go.”
“Insurance is going to scour through Ivan’s personal records before the company releases a red cent. So if the clever Mr. Dresden is counting on a windfall, he may want to rethink his position. Were you having an affair with Ivan?”
She shrugged. “None of your business.”
“Marina, we’ve got warrants for paperwork.” They did have warrants, only it was for Roseanne’s paper not Ivan’s. “Hotels, motels, gifts, dinners…everything is going to show up on credit-card receipts. I’m personally going to check them out, flashing your picture to hotel clerks and maître d’s. Someone is bound to recognize you. So tell me your side of the story.”
She appraised him very carefully. He wasn’t going away. “Nothing to tell. Boys and girls have been doing the nasty for years. So what?”
“What I really want to know is did you fuck him before or after Roseanne died?”
Another shrug.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“She was fucking around, too, you know.”
Oliver acted as if the news was a surprise. “Tell me about it.”
Marina’s eyes widened enthusiastically as she shunted the blame of their sordid affair onto Roseanne. “Ivan told me she had lots of one-night stands. She was a flight attendant. You know how they are!”
Most of the female flight attendants Oliver knew were hardworking, married women. “Uh-huh. Did Ivan ever mention any names?”
“No. Just that she was doing it with some rich old guy up in San Jose.”
“Name?”
“Roy something. I think that’s what Ivan said.”
“Could it have been Ray?”
“Sure.”
Consistent with the information given to Decker by Arielle Toombs. “Anything else you know about him?”
“Just that he and Roseanne were involved for more than just a one-night stand. Ivan said he bought her gifts. He found a diamond watch. When he asked her about it, Roseanne told him it was Christmas present from WestAir. She told him the diamonds weren’t real.” A sarcastic laugh escaped from her lips. “He said that the brand was Chopin and that’s a very expensive watch brand. So he knew she was lying.”
“Chopard?” Oliver asked.
“Maybe that was it. Anyway, I don’t see WestAir giving out diamond watches as Christmas presents.”
“That’s true. How long have you been sleeping with him?”
“None of your business. Believe me, I’m discreet. Otherwise Ivan would stop coming here to see me.” A nervous laugh. “Gotta keep them wanting more. Please don’t tell Mr. Michelli. It’s against the rules and I need this job!”
So now Oliver had the leverage he needed. He said, “I’m always interested in a fair trade. If you don’t talk to Ivan, I don’t see why I should say anything to Dante Michelli. And we both know that I’ll find out if you talked to Ivan. Do you get my drift?”