33. Lowri
LOWRI
B ack at Sean’s apartment, Walter greets me.
“Mr. Cartwright let me know you were on your way here to work. I set out snacks and sparkling water for you. Your new laptop arrived. I put it on the dining table, along with the instructions for logging into your new Athena account. It will allow you to access the security videos you requested. I’m told they’ll be available in an hour or so. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Walter. I can’t think of anything.”
“I’ll leave you to your work then,” he says, silently disappearing down the hall.
I quickly text Sean to thank him for the laptop as I drop into a chair at the dining table. While I wait for the security videos from the show rehearsals and performances, I have time to research Mr. Brentwood and his partner, Mr. Galanis.
First, I want to learn more about the attorney. That will help me in negotiations with him.
I Google: Taylor Williams Attorney Las Vegas .
The only Taylor Williams pops up at the Fishbourne Peabody firm.
That’s consistent with what I previously found in the countrywide database of attorneys.
Clicking on the link, the page for him appears.
That’s strange. There’s no photo, bio, or phone number for Taylor Williams. He must have joined the firm recently. I’ll call the main number.
“Good afternoon. You’ve reached Fishbourne Peabody. How may I help you?”
“I’d like to speak with Taylor Williams, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Lowri Upton. I’m following up on a meeting earlier today.”
“Thank you. I’ll transfer you now.”
After a short wait, I hear, “Hello. This is Taylor. I understand you’re following up on a matter. I’m confused as to which matter that might be.”
I wasn’t expecting a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like the man we met, so I ask, “Is this Taylor Williams?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then I’m confused as well. I met with an attorney earlier today whose name is Taylor Williams. That attorney was a man with a deeper voice than yours. Do you have a relative by the same name?”
She laughs. “Not that I’m aware of, and I’m not a man. Whomever you met with was someone else.”
“So, to be clear, you don’t know of another estates & trusts attorney in Las Vegas by the name of Taylor Williams?”
“No, and it’s a rather small community of lawyers in my field here. I’d know if there was one.”
“How strange. He must not have been local. I’m curious. Why don’t you have a photo on your website? Did you join the firm recently?”
“No. Someone hacked our website last week and posted cartoon caricatures of everyone. Management used that as an excuse to update our real photos. It’s supposed to be fixed in a day or so.”
“What a pain. Sorry to have bothered you.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks for your time.”
I end the call, more suspicious than before. It’s a strange coincidence that their website was hacked the same week someone showed up using her name.
For the next hour, I search every attorney database and website I can find, looking for another Taylor Williams. It turns out there are four.
One is dead, one is retired, one is a patent litigator, and another is an in-house attorney at a car manufacturer.
None of their photos even faintly resembles the man we met today.
Hmm. Detective Fielder will want to hear about this oddity too.
Turning to social media, I search for info on Mr. Brentwood.
He wasn’t actively posting anywhere. I don’t even find any photos of him with his partner.
On the other hand, Mr. Galanis is all over social media, but Mr. Brentwood is missing from the posts.
Even more unexpected is that Amelia, the performer from the show, is in several photos with Mr. Galanis.
What does that mean? Is that how Mr. Brentwood got his ticket to the show? If that’s the case, why didn’t Mr. Galanis know that fact? And why didn’t Amelia mention it?
I’m considering whether to have another chat with Amelia when my computer dings with a message. The surveillance videos are ready.
Great. Let’s see if any of the accidents before Mr. Brentwood’s fatal fall were caught on video.
Talk about boring. I’ve caught myself dozing off at least three times as I go through hours of videos from the theater. I need caffeine and sugar.
“Walter, if you can hear me, please bring me a cup of coffee and something with chocolate for a snack.”
If it wouldn’t appall Sean’s butler, I’d be happy to retrieve the snacks myself.
However, when Walter is on duty, he’s made it clear that he’ll take care of my requests for food, and Jenny will handle anything related to my wardrobe.
Apparently, my marriage to Sean meant a promotion for Jenny.
She’s now assigned to me full time rather than looking after me and VIPs in several other suites.
As if by magic, Walter appears. “Of course, ma’am. It will only take a few minutes.”
“How do you do that?” I shake my head.
“It’s my job, and if I do say so, I’m quite good at it.”
He bows slightly and leaves before I can think of what to say.
Standing, I stretch and walk to the windows to watch the scene below, hoping to process the information I’ve discerned.
Mr. Williams, Mr. Brentwood, and Mr. Galanis pose somewhat of a mystery.
The videos haven’t revealed anything helpful yet.
The only thing remotely relevant is that workers moved the fake wall shortly before it collapsed.
But it wasn’t clear that they did anything to sabotage it.
The aroma of freshly brewed Kona coffee has me turning back to the table.
A steaming cup sits next to a plate of chocolate-covered coconut macaroons.
Yum! Looking around to thank Walter, he’s nowhere in sight.
Somehow, he slipped in, deposited the goodies, and disappeared before I could turn around.
With his stealth superpower, he’d be quite valuable to the spy agencies.
Fortified with sugar, chocolate, and caffeine, I play the next video, hitting fast-forward when the stage is empty. It’s a painstakingly slow process. I finally locate the third accident.
Aha! There is a common thread. It’s time to find Sean.
Me: Where are you?
Sean: In my office.
Me: Can I come there?
Sean: It sounds like you’re in need. I’d be happy for you to come in my office.
Me.: Very funny. I found something strange about the accidents and about Mr. Galanis’s attorney.
Sean: Great. See you in a few minutes. Use the private elevator. Your palm print should work. If not, text me.
Me: Okay. Be right there.
Sean: I don’t have any more appointments today. No one will interrupt us …
Me: Would it be a problem if they did?
Sean: I hope so. Hurry up.
With a grin on my face, I tuck the laptop into a tote bag and retrace my earlier steps to the private elevator that will take me to Sean’s office.
Hopefully, we can fit the puzzle pieces together.