I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [88]
“Mr. Longe, I’d like to have a list of the guests who would also have been at your home on the weekends that Brittany La Monte was there.”
“Of course. You must understand that I entertain frequently in Litchfield. Being a good host to the wealthy and to celebrities opens the door to many of them becoming very good clients. It is quite possible I will miss some names,” Longe said.
“I can understand that, but I would suggest you dig deep into your memory and give me a list by tomorrow morning at the latest. You have my card with my e-mail on it,” Johnson said as he rose to leave.
Longe stayed behind his desk, not even rising from his chair. Johnson deliberately walked over to the desk and reached out his hand, giving the designer no choice but to accept it.
As the detective suspected, Bartley Longe’s finely manicured hand was wringing wet.
On the way back to the precinct, Wally Johnson decided to make a detour and drive to the garage at 10 Central Park West. He got out of the car there and showed his badge to the attendant who was approaching him, a handsome young African-American. “No parking today,” he said. “I just want to ask a few questions.” He glanced at the nameplate the young man was wearing. “How long have you worked here, Danny?”
“Eight years, sir, since the doors opened,” Danny answered proudly.
Johnson was surprised. “I didn’t take you for more than your early twenties.”
“Thanks. A lot of people say that.” With a smile, Danny added, “It’s a mixed blessing. I’m thirty-one, sir.”
“Then of course you know Mr. Bartley Longe?”
Johnson was not surprised to see the change in Danny’s formerly pleasant expression as he confirmed that he knew Mr. Longe.
“Did you ever know a young woman who was a friend of his, Brittany La Monte?” Johnson asked.
“Mr. Longe has many young women who are his friends,” Danny answered, hesitantly. “Different ones come in with him all the time.”
“Danny, I have a feeling you remember Brittany La Monte.”
“Yes, sir. I haven’t seen her in a while, but that’s not surprising.”
“Why is that?” Johnson asked.
“Well, sir, the last time she came here, she was in Mr. Longe’s convertible. I could tell she was mad as hell.” Danny’s lips twitched. “She had Mr. Longe’s toupees and wigs with her. She had cut patches of hair out of all six of them. While we stood there, she Scotch-taped them over the wheel and the dashboard and the hood so no one could miss them. There was hair all over the front seat. Then she said, ‘See you guys,’ and marched off.”
“What happened then?”
“The next day, Mr. Longe came in boiling mad. The manager had put his wigs and toupees in a bag for him. Mr. Longe had a baseball cap on and we guessed that Miss La Monte had rounded up his whole collection. Between us, sir, Mr. Longe isn’t very well liked in this garage, so we all got a good laugh out of it.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Wally Johnson agreed. “He looks like the kind who stiffs you at Christmas.”
“Forget Christmas, sir. He never heard of it. But his tip when he picks up his car is one dollar, if you’re lucky.” Danny’s expression became concerned. “I shouldn’t have said that, sir. I hope you won’t repeat it to Mr. Longe. I could lose my job.”
“Danny, you don’t have to worry about that. You’ve been an immense help to me.” Wally Johnson began to get back in his car.
Danny held the door for him. “Is Miss La Monte okay, sir?” he asked anxiously. “She was always really nice to us when she came in with Mr. Longe.”
“I hope she is okay, Danny. Thanks a lot.”
* * *
Toby Grissom was sitting at Johnson’s desk when he got back to the precinct.
“Did you have that Big Mac, Mr. Grissom?” Johnson asked. “Yes, I did. What did you find out from that big phony about Glory?”
“I found out that your daughter and Mr. Longe had a blowup and she drove his convertible to his apartment here in the city and left it parked there. He claims that he never saw her again. The young man in the garage confirmed that she never came after that, at least not to the garage.”
“What does that tell you?” Grissom asked.
“It tells me that they