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“Do you have any private events coming up?”
“Later in the month. Football season.”
“Did Victor and Skoogie have anything else going on? A personal relationship? A sideline business?”
“I don’t know about that. Victor was interested in doing some acting, if you call that a sideline business. He wanted Skoogie to sell a reality show about the band, but nothing ever came of it. Victor was big on reality shows. Some of his ideas were pretty freaky.”
“Victor seems a little unhinged,” I said.
“He has his moments,” Frick said.
Lula bustled up with her cart. “They didn’t have any chickens out yet, and I didn’t like what I was seeing with the cakes, but I found the new copy of Star magazine.”
Lula paid for her magazine, we left Food Stuff, and I told Luis to drive to the Hamilton Building on State Street.
“That’s where the agent’s got an office,” Lula said from the back seat. “Why are we going there again?”
“Because I have a good feeling about today. And because I have time to kill.”
Luis parked in a lot half a block from the building. We walked the short distance, took the elevator to the second floor, and walked to the end of the hall. The door to Skoogie’s office was open, and his assistant was standing at her desk, looking confused. She gave a yelp of surprise when we walked in. She recognized me and clapped a hand over her heart.
“Good heavens,” she said. “You startled me.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Probably. If you’re looking for Mr. Skoogie, I’m afraid he isn’t here.”
“Is he still on that business trip?” Lula asked.
“No. He returned this weekend. I actually expected him to be here by now. When I arrived this morning, the front door was unlocked, and Mr. Skoogie’s office door was open. I thought he probably came in early and went out for coffee or a bagel, but he hasn’t returned.” Her eyes flicked to the open inner office door.
Lula and I went to the door and peeked in.
“Looks to me like he’s using his shoe for a paperweight,” Lula said. “That’s not real sanitary. You don’t know what that shoe’s stepped in.”
“He’s never done that before,” the assistant said. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“Have you tried reaching him on his cellphone?” I asked.
“Yes. He’s not picking up.”
“Is there a Mrs. Skoogie?”
“No. He’s divorced. Three times.”
“Are there security cameras in this building?”
“In the lobby.”
Lula looked over at me. “I know what you’re thinking, and you don’t even want to go there. Besides, where’s the dumpster? There’s always supposed to be a dumpster.”
I called Morelli and told him about Skoogie and the shoe. “I’m probably jumping to conclusions,” I said, “but I thought you might want to have someone check the security camera in the lobby to see if Skoogie was here this morning.”
Luis raised his hand. “Excuse me, ma’am, Stephanie. Rangeman provides security for this building. We would monitor the camera in the lobby.”
“Never mind,” I said to Morelli. “Problem solved.”
“Do you want me to send someone over to bag the shoe?”
