Hotel Key

Chapter 29

Morgan started straightening up his desk around one forty five. When the little bell on the door finally jingled at about five minutes after two, he was fully prepared to meet with his new potential client. But he was far from prepared for what actually walked in and took a seat across his desk from him. Like many of his clients, she chose not to give him her full name. So all he knew was that someone named Jessica, or someone that was going by that name, was coming in. She paid his consultation fee over the phone via credit card without any hesitation. So at least he knew she could afford his rates. He was far from the cheapest private investigator in the greater Atlanta area. But he prided himself on being one of the best.

Morgan's eyes widened as he took in the woman that was perched nervously across his desk from him. Her most distinctive feature was her hair. It wasn't just red, it was a bright fiery copper. And while it was currently gathered into a neat bun on top of her head, he could tell by the texture that if she released it from the pins that were holding it in place, her head would be full of wild curls. Her eyes were blue, and looked bright against her pale skin and the hint of freckles that were still visible under her makeup. Her waist was tiny and trim in comparison to her rounded hips. And the fitted dress she tugged on when she sat down and crossed her legs hugged the curves of her ample backside. For a moment, Morgan was speechless at the sight of her. And he thought the same thing he often thought when angry wives found their way into his office. What kind of idiot would cheat on her?

"Morgan Jones," he said, rounding the desk and offering her his hand once he finally remembered where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Meeting with a client. Not ogling the most gorgeous woman he ever laid eyes on. She rose briefly from her chair as she shook his hand. But she didn't offer her full name in return. Only the name she told him on the phone.

"Jessica," she said.

"Well Jessica," he said, offering her his most sympathetic smile. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about what's brought you into my office today." People came into his office with only one of two moods. They were either heartbroken and hoping to prove that their suspicions were wrong and their spouses were not actually cheating on them. Or they were angry and looking for proof. The moment she spoke, he could tell she was the latter.

"My husband is cheating on me," she plainly announced.

"What makes you think that?," Morgan asked, leaning forward slightly. She blinked her eyes a few times, but she didn't cry. Her anger and frustration were still at the forefront. The tears would come later. When he showed her proof of what she suspected.

"He goes into the city every Thursday and stays there overnight. He says he's visiting his brother. But I pulled his credit card statement. It's full of hotel room charges at some fancy hotel in downtown Atlanta. Dinner. Flowers. And a bunch of other crap. It's been going on for about a month. Since before Christmas."

Jessica rolled her blue eyes when she mentioned the flowers. She wasn't surprised that Merle was cheating on her. That was sort of just what he did. She wasn't completely innocent in that regard either. The paternity of her younger daughter could attest to that. But Jessica found herself fuming with rage when she saw that Merle was buying flowers for someone. Ten years of dealing with that asshole. And she never got flowers from him. Not for Valentine's day. Not for her birthday. Not even when he had to apologize for giving her the clap. Twice. She always assumed that he just wasn't a flower buying kind of man. But apparently, he was. For someone else.

"I hate to look at the positive in this situation," Morgan admitted, "...but if he's doing this on the same day and time every week, he'll be easy to catch." Jessica nodded, grinning a little through her anger. "Do you have a picture of him? And the name of the hotel he frequents? Description of his vehicles… and anything else you think it might be helpful for me to know."

Jessica answered his questions, waiting as Morgan jotted down the information on a yellow legal pad. When she finished, she fished her phone from her purse and leaned over the desk, opening it to the picture gallery and handing it over to Morgan. He flipped through, taking out his own phone and snapping a few pictures of her screen, so he had a copy of the ones that showed the man's face more clearly. But Morgan didn't even think he would need the photos. The man had a very distinct face. He would be easy to pick out in a crowd.

Morgan swiped across the screen one more time, pausing on a picture of the woman in front of him. Two young girls had their faces squeezed in on either side of hers. And they all had big smiles on their faces. But it was the complexion of the girls that made him do a double take.

"Beautiful girls," Morgan said, handing her the phone back. "...your husband isn't the father?"

"Ya think?," Jessica teased, smiling down at the picture of her daughters before she snapped her phone closed and put it back in her purse. Morgan hesitated. He tried not to get overly involved in his client's lives. The secrets he discovered for them were already private enough. But he couldn't stop himself from wanting to know more.

"How long have you been married?," he asked. Jessica shrugged.

"About six months," she said. Morgan's eyes widened. He wasn't expecting that. Most of his clients had been married to their spouses for years. Often for decades. With a relationship that fresh, if it wasn't working out, it seemed like it would be better for this woman to cut her losses and just walk away whether her husband was cheating on her or not. Which he certainly was. There was no question in Morgan's mind that he would catch the man doing exactly what his wife suspected.

"If he's not the father of your children, why not just cut your losses and divorce him?," Morgan asked. "Why put yourself through all this?" He could almost have kicked himself for asking. Since he was about to potentially talk himself out of a lot of money. But he found he was curious. And wanted to know more about her.

"My name's Jessica," she said. "Jessica King. As in King tobacco. I have a huge trust fund. And I married that cheatin' asshole without a prenup." Morgan cringed. Now he understood her dilemma. "My lawyer said if I can get proof of adultery, then he won't be able to take a cent from me when I toss his ass out on the curb. And I'd like your help getting the proof. Can ya help me with that?"

"I can," Morgan assured her.

"There's something else," she added. He nodded, waiting for her request. "I want to be there when you catch him." Morgan shook his head. He was ready to agree to almost anything this woman asked. But he wouldn't agree to that. He worked alone. And he didn't do drama. She might say she was going to stay in the car. But when her emotions started flying, he'd end up with some sort of wild ass confrontation on his hands. And something like that could cost him his business. "I'll pay extra," Jessica offered. When Morgan shook his head again, she reached across the desk and took his hand in hers. "Please," she begged, "...I've got to see this for myself."

Morgan looked down at her hand, Her pale skin contrasted against his darker complexion. And her hand was rougher than he expected, with little calluses on her palms. Her nails were short and painted a deep wine red. And he wondered if, inside her designer heels, her toes were painted to match. His skin tingled where she was touching him. And before he realized what he was doing he found himself nodding his head and agreeing to her every request.

"I'll do anything I can to help."