Chapter 9 - An Honest Photograph
"Why would a security contractor attend a tenants' meeting?" June asked.
"Maybe he didn't," I said. "Maybe this photograph shows who was there instead."
The ceremony was dated the afternoon the minutes claimed Oak Point residents voted. The event had been held in another part of the hotel. Pike and Marsh stood next to Vanessa under a banner celebrating new development partners.
I took a picture of the calendar, including the date. Small proof was still proof.
Talia Owens met us near the loading hall. She wore comfortable shoes beneath a beautiful black dress. That told me she'd come to work, not be photographed.
"I spoke with Priya," she said. "She'll authenticate what she can. Can June talk?"
"I'll talk," June answered before I could decide for her. "But don't put my mom's apartment number online."
"Deal. And if you need to stop, we stop."
For ten minutes, June told the story she'd been carrying alone: the missed repairs, the strange relocation letters, the fake signatures, and Vanessa's assistant arriving with a stack of papers nobody had asked to sign. Talia listened without interrupting.
"My mother kept a grocery receipt from the day she was supposedly at the meeting," June said. "We were in a clinic on the other side of town."
Talia's phone buzzed. She glanced down, and her face tightened.
"What?" I asked.
"A reporter friend checked Morrow Quay's corporate filing. The manager on record is a law office. But the mailing address is the same property used by Vanessa's private design business."
"That proves a link," I said. "Not ownership."
"Exactly. We're not going to pretend it's more."
Then another message appeared. The hotel photographer, a freelancer named Ben Ortiz, had sent Talia a contact sheet from the gala. The kick was there, frame by frame. So was Vanessa's face just before she lifted her leg.
Talia zoomed in. "Naomi. Look who she's making eye contact with."
May you like
Vanessa wasn't looking at me.
She was looking straight at Pike, waiting for his nod.
