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Finley separated the two bills. “I appreciate the help.”
Dawn hurried over to speak with her colleague. Maya glanced in Finley’s direction. She said something, and Dawn moved on to one of the tables on that side of the room. Maya wandered in Finley’s direction.
Maya was older than Dawn. Same uniform. Attractive like her colleague.
“Good morning,” Maya said with a smile. “How can I help you?”
Finley showed her the photo, and Maya’s smile widened. “Alex Wilensky. Yes. He was here. I think he comes to Atlanta from Chicago about five or six times a year. He always has breakfast in the hotel. Sometimes lunch. Makes it a point to say hello.”
Alex Wilensky. Interesting. “Sounds like he liked staying here when he visited,” Finley commented.
“Always. He said this was his favorite hotel.”
It was the Ritz. Of course it was.
Finley needed more on Jarrod Grady, a.k.a. Alex Wilensky. She had a feeling this guy was more well traveled than they knew. “Was his business partner with him?”
At the waitress’s look of confusion, Finley explained, “They often travel together.”
Maya shook her head. “I never saw him with anyone else.” She made a face. “Wait. Someone did join him for breakfast last ...” She considered the memory for a moment. “Last Friday. It was the first time I’d seen him here with anyone.”
“Must have been his partner.” Finley pulled a name out of the air. “Paul Douglas. About the same age as Alex.”
Maya shook her head. “No, this was no Paul. It was that attorney you see on all the buses and on the billboards around town.” She rolled her eyes. “And that annoying commercial with its jingle that gets stuck in your head.”
“I’m not from Atlanta, so I’m afraid I don’t know who you mean.”
“Lisa Lawrence,” she said. “‘Lisa Lawrence has got you covered,’” she singsonged.
Dawn arrived with a tray sporting a bone china plate embellished with a bagel and various condiments, along with a matching cup filled with steaming coffee. She placed each item in front of Finley.
Finley pushed the bills to the edge of the table. “Thanks, ladies. You’ve been a great help. I’ll take my check now.”
As Finley tucked the payment for her meal into the leather pouch, she downed a couple of bites of bagel and savored the coffee.
She googled Alex Wilensky and got basically nothing, at least not in the Atlanta area. So she moved on to the attorney mentioned, Lisa Lawrence. The screen filled instantly with entries. Finley scrolled through the long list on the way out of the hotel. By the time she reached the curb and flagged down a taxi, she had an address for the attorney’s office, and her nerves were jangling in time with the tune Maya had singsonged.
She was onto something big here.
Lawrence Law Associates
Peachtree Street, Atlanta, 11:45 a.m.
Traffic ensured the short trip took a full twenty minutes. Now, after fifteen minutes in the lobby, Finley was escorted down the corridor to Lawrence’s office. Lawrence couldn’t be more than forty or forty-five years old, but she had a whole floor in a high-rise that screamed she had made it to the top of her game.
Lawrence waited in her massive office when Finley was ushered inside. The place was more like an apartment than an office. There was, of course, a grand office space overlooking the city below. Left of that was a mini conference zone, and on the right was a plush seating area of sofas, with a bar lining the wall.
“Join me,” Lawrence said, indicating one of the two white sofas.
Finley offered her hand before taking a seat. Lawrence touched her palm briefly and settled onto the opposite sofa.
“First, Ms.O’Sullivan,” Lawrence said, “I’ll be quite frank with you. The only reason you’re in my office is because I’m curious. That said, before we go any further, please give me a very powerful reason I should speak with you about Alex Wilensky. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”
“If he’s your client,” Finley countered, keeping it in the present tense, “you wouldn’t be talking to me at all.”
Lawrence gave a nod. “He is not.”
“But you know him. Met with him for breakfast at the Ritz last Friday.”
