Читать книгу Guilty or Not - Alice Zogg - Страница 11

To get a feel for the ambiance, Huber first planned to show up at Club Marzipan unannounced and ask for Jasmine. After some reconsideration, she decided against it. If the young woman had a stage name, she’d be at a loss whom to ask for. Plus, given her gender and age, she would have stuck out like a sore thumb at the club. Jasmine Dewitt lived in Studio City, and when Huber called to schedule an appointment, the entertainer told her to drop by anytime as long as it wasn’t early in the day. They settled on Thursday at 1:30 in the afternoon.

With the help of her GPS, Huber arrived at the front entrance of Ms. Dewitt’s apartment complex with five minutes to spare and pulled into one of the visitors’ parking spaces. Adjacent to the vehicle entry gate, there was a small pedestrian entrance with a directory.

Huber pushed the button for unit B6 and heard a woman’s voice say, “Who is it?”

“R. A. Huber.”

“Come on over; second building to your right, ground floor.”

A buzzer sounded and Huber pushed the gate open and then walked to building B as directed. The two-story structures were in good repair and the grounds looked well taken care of with manicured lawns, rows of decorative bushes with pinkish-red blossoms, and perennial flower beds. She passed a pool located between buildings A and B. Other than a lone swimmer, she did not cross paths with anyone. People must be at work or school, she presumed.

Before Huber could ring the bell, Jasmine opened the door and said, “Come in. I’m brewing coffee. Want some?”

Huber followed her into the living room and replied, “No thanks, I had lunch a short while ago.”

“Mind if I fix myself something? I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Of course not, go ahead.”

Huber had studied Jasmine’s face when they greeted one another at the door and now she watched her leave the room. Her facial features were a bit harsh, but she was definitely good-looking with straight, long blond hair and light eyes. She wore a T-shirt and skimpy shorts, showing off a well-proportioned body and legs toned to perfection.

She yelled from the kitchen, “Have a seat!”

The seating arrangement consisted of a sofa and two upholstered chairs placed around a coffee table. Huber sat down on one of the chairs and looked the room over. Besides the sofa group, she observed a bookcase, a large screen TV, and a standing lamp. Several pictures on the walls depicted dogs, and there was a photograph of a horse with a dark-haired woman as its rider. Astonished, Huber gazed at the tame décor. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but definitely a racier atmosphere. The place looked also neat, which came as a pleasant surprise.

Jasmine returned, carrying a coffee mug in one hand and a plate with a piece of toast in the other. She placed her breakfast on the coffee table and then flopped herself down onto the sofa.

She said, “Gee, I’m getting popular all of a sudden. You know, like, last week, some fancy lawyer interviewed me for hours, and now I have a private eye paying me a visit.” And with a mocking smile she continued, “You know, like, I’m not sure if I should feel honored or be on my guard.”

Huber stated, “Neither. Just answer my questions honestly and you have nothing to worry about. By the way, I do appreciate that you agreed to see me.”

“No problem. You know, like, I wouldn’t be thrilled to talk with anyone early in the day, but as we’re having afternoon, I’m fine with it.”

Huber thought that interviewing this young woman stood in stark contrast to the tongue-tied Rachel Penrose. Obviously, Jasmine enjoyed talking, and her fast way of speech, with a few “you know, likes” thrown in for good measure, made Huber ’s head spin.

“I understand that you work as a stripper at Club Marzipan, correct?”

“I prefer the term exotic dancer.”

“Fair enough. Club Marzipan is located in North Hollywood, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s right. It’s an easy commute from here.”

“So you do your exotic dance routines there. What else does your job entail?”

Jasmine swallowed a bite of toast and replied, “I’ll do an occasional lap dance, you know, like, if the tip is right, but customers cannot touch.”

“How long have you been working at Club Marzipan?”

“Three years. I started at 21 and have seniority status now.”

“Did Steven Moretti hire you to come to his house on April 4?”

“Hire me? No, why would he?” Then sudden anger flared up in her eyes and she said, “Let’s get one thing straight: I am not a hooker.”

“I beg your pardon; I’ve made a wrong assumption.”

“Yes, you have.”

Then Huber asked, “Where did you first meet Steven Moretti?”

Jasmine had already forgiven Huber her faux pas and answered, “He was a regular at Club Marzipan. One night, he waited for me after the club closed and we talked. Then, you know, like, one thing led to another and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“So how long did you know him?”

“At least two years, probably longer.”

Giving herself time to think up the next question Huber focused on the pictures on the wall and said, “You obviously like animals.”

“Yes, especially dogs. I’d love to keep one, but pets aren’t allowed in this apartment complex.”

“You have a nice place here; I can imagine that one- bedroom apartments are hard to find.”

“Oh, it’s a two-bedroom. I couldn’t afford it alone and have a roommate.” She pointed to the photo of the horse and rider and said, “That’s her.”

“Your roommate has perfect equestrian posture.”

“Horses are all she cares about. You know, like, I hardly ever see her since she has a day job and leaves way before I get up and is asleep when I come home late at night. And on weekends, she usually takes off for some horse ranch or other.”

Huber returned to the matter at hand and asked, “So Mr. Moretti visited your club on a regular basis?”

“He used to a long time ago. I don’t think I saw him there in the last year and a half.”

Huber studied her for a moment and then said, “By being friends with Steven Moretti, did you mean that you saw each other socially?”

Jasmine laughed and replied, “I wouldn’t call it socially. You know, like, we didn’t exactly have deep, meaningful conversations, and there were no other people involved.” She laughed again and continued in her rapid speech, “We hardly talked at all. The truth is, Steven had an overactive sex drive, and when he wanted some extra fun, or if stressed out to the max, he called me and we’d get together. We always met during the day since I work at night.”

She looked Huber straight in the eye when she added, “The fun was mutual; I never accepted any money.”

“And this went on undetected for over two years?”

“We were careful. That last time in April, his fiancée came home way sooner than expected.”

After a pause Huber asked, “Did you ever hope that your relationship with Steven would develop into more?”

“You mean, did I think he could, you know, like, become my boyfriend and maybe even consider marriage?”

“Something to that effect.”

Jasmine became grave and stated, “I don’t have a college education, but I’m not an idiot. Not in a million years would a man like Steven want to get serious with someone like me. Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted him! You know, like, he came across as a stud, had tons of money, dressed and talked the big shot, but underneath it all, he was nothing but a calculating jerk.”

Huber said, “Thanks for being open with me.”

Then she posed her final question, “Do you believe that Rachel is guilty of killing Steven Moretti?”

“Absolutely.”

“How can you be so sure? According to my information, you did not know her.”

“True, I never met her until that damned Wednesday at the beginning of April, but I wish I could describe the face she made when walking in on us.”

“Try.”

“She had murder on her mind, is all I can say.”