by CeeCee James
I nearly wept with gratefulness. Instead, I jumped off the board and ran for the phone in the bathroom. I yanked it off the receiver and stared at the numbers. Horror filled me. What was Kristi’s number? My heart sank as I realized I didn’t remember it, having relied too long on simply pressing her name to be connected.
I hit zero.
“Oceanside Hotel, this is Clarissa speaking. How can I help you?” My sweet receptionist was so chipper, not realizing what was probably already happening in my office.
“Clarissa, this is an emergency. Sierra is on her way down, or maybe is in my office right now with a gunman. I need you to clear the lobby now and get hotel security. Do not try to stop him. Get the guests out of the way and into safety.” I didn’t have time for any more than that. I hung up and called 911.
When the operator answered, I told her there was a gunman with a hostage at the Oceanside hotel. The operator asked me to stay where I was and assured me help was on the way.
I sank to the cold bathroom floor, utterly deflated. I’d done all I could do. I just had to hope it was enough.
Chapter 20
I sat on the floor with the phone clutched to my ear. It was irrational, it wasn’t like the emergency operator could keep me safe in any real way. But just hearing her calm voice made me feel like I was going to make it. Like we all were.
It felt like a lifetime, but I guess it was just a few minutes later when the operator told me the police arrived on the scene. I was surprised because I hadn’t heard their sirens.
“They didn’t want to alert anyone until we know how many shooters there are,” she’d answered.
I nearly vomited at the word “shooters.” I hadn’t even considered that Austin was working with someone else. That there was a possibility of another gunman guarding the hotel’s doors or skulking in the parking lot right now.
The operator told me to continue to wait there and that an officer would come get me when everything was under control.
In the end, waiting was the worst part. Much worse than facing Austin and the gun. My hands went crazy for something to do. I rubbed my neck, twisted the edge of my shirt, and paced. Endlessly paced.
Do I ignore the 911 operator and go downstairs, anyway? Will I run into Austin? Make things worse? What’s going on?
I spun toward the front door of the suite at the furious pounding of footfalls in the hallway. Someone was running. I held my breath and listened. It sounded like several someones.
A second later, I heard something strike against the door. Not mine, but Mr. Dayton’s.
“Maisie! We’re coming in!”
It was Kristi! Quickly I flipped off the suite’s locks and swung open the door. “I’m over here!” I yelled.
They’d already entered suite 360. Kristi ran back to the sound of my voice. Her mouth dropped, and she grabbed me in a hug.
“You’re okay!” she gasped.
“What’s happening?” I asked, desperate to know. “Are the hotel guests okay? Sierra? Did they catch him?”
“It’s okay. We have him. No one got hurt.” She grabbed me by the shoulders and searched my face and arms as if trying to reassure herself that I wasn’t really injured. “How did you get in here? Sierra said you were tied up in the bathroom.”
“I wasn’t tied up, the door was tied closed somehow. I still don’t know how. I used the ironing board and climbed up into the vent.”
“You climbed up into the vent…” she said, glancing up.
I nodded and stood a little taller.
“I’m so proud of you!” Kristi exclaimed again. “I swear, I still remember when you were too afraid to climb in the creek to search for tadpoles. Now, look at you! Scaling walls and climbing through ceilings to save the day.”
The compliment would have been better if she hadn’t tagged on a memory from when I was six. Still, I smiled.
“How did you catch him?” I asked.
“We surrounded the entrance, and then I walked in. Clarissa pointed me to your office. Ryan guarded me while I kicked in the door. He gave up pretty quick with two Beretta’s pointed at his face. Then Sierra gave him the coup de gras with a kick to the oysters.” Kristi’s lip curved. “She has a temper, that one, doesn’t she?”
“You haven’t seen the half of it. Good for her.”
“Anyway, looky-looky,” Kristi said, tapping an envelope against her palm.
“Is that the search warrant?” I asked hopefully. “Was Dayton’s envelope still in there?”
“We haven’t removed it yet. Finding you was my first priority after making sure Austin was taken into custody.”
Movement from room 360 caught my eye. Ryan sealed the door with crime tape. I couldn’t help it, seeing the door swathed in yellow made me kind of sick.
But the bad guy was in custody. I sighed and turned to go. I really needed to get downstairs and see for myself that everything was okay. Kristi walked with me as I headed to the elevator.
“You think Austin did it? Killed Dayton?” I asked as I punched the elevator button.
Kristi nodded. “He seems to have the most intel on the room. Not to mention those specific instructions to give the package to the attorney in the event of Dayton’s death.”
Something about her saying that bothered me, but I didn’t have the time to sort it out now. The elevator door opened to reveal a very shaken Clarissa, and a defiant Sierra standing near the end of the foyer with another police officer.
I waved at Sierra, and she gave a slight smile back. For her, that was a warm reception. I could tell that she was glad to see me.
“We asked your receptionist if she felt like she needed to go to the hospital. She said no.” Kristi stated.
“Just no, huh?” I asked.
Sierra turned back and glared at the officer with her arms crossed.
“I think there were a few sharper descriptives in there stating she wasn’t a wimp,” Kristi said wryly. She stepped back to allow me to open my office door.
I laughed, just picturing Sierra getting a chance to vent her indignation. I was glad this didn’t dampen her spirit. She’d come a long way in her recovery from her past relationship.
I walked over to the safe with Kristi at my heels. Sitting on the black top was my pass-key and Sierra’s as well.
It was with more than a little excitement that I grabbed mine up. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”
Kristi grabbed the other, and we stuck them in the slots and twisted.
The safe opened with a grinding clank. I swear I was holding my breath as I reached in. Slowly, I pulled the box out. My tongue dotted my bottom lip. This was it. I popped the lid, and we nearly smashed heads to look inside.
The same leather envelope rested there untouched. Kristi slid on a pair of gloves and snagged it out. She carried it to my desk.
“You ready?” She arched an eyebrow at me.
I swallowed and nodded. Of course, I was ready. I had to know if I was right.
The envelope was fastened with a string wound tightly between two toggles. She unwound it, taking what seemed like forever. I squeezed my hands and reminded myself to breathe.
Finally, it opened. She lifted the flap and peeked inside. Carefully, she upturned it and poured it out.
A velvet bag marked Cavallero.
“I was right,” I whispered.
Kristi whistled. “Detective Swenson. That’s what I’m going to start calling you.” She grabbed a pen from the desk and pushed apart the strings and then carefully tipped it up.
Diamonds spilled out onto an envelope on my desk. Gorgeous. Brilliant. White. The diamonds caught the overhead light and sent fiery sparkles on the paper.
“It all makes sense,” I said, staring down.
“What does?”
“Like you said, Austin killed his client because he knew the jewels would go to him in the event of Dayton’s death.”
“But how did Austin know where Dayton was staying?” Kristi asked.
“He made the reservation for Dayton. Have you checked for Dayton’s cell phone?”
“It hasn’t been found yet.”
“Oh.” I was momentarily disturbed by the idea it was still missing, but the brilliance of the diamonds hypnotized me again.
Kristi folded the paper and poured them back into the velvet bag. “Where did you say the news said these were stolen again?”
“From the Judiciary Courthouse in Milan.”
“I’ll be contacting Interpol to facilitate inter-country law enforcement cooperation with the Milan police and figure out where to go next.” Kristi tucked the bag back into the leather envelope and then gave my arm a squeeze. “You take care of yourself. Stay out of air vents.” She huffed and shook her head. “I should jot that down on the list of things I never thought I’d have to say to you. It’ll make me laugh in my old age one day.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I asked. “Austin had a gun. I’m just thankful I thought of it.”
A twinge hit me. There it was again. That same aggravating feeling that I was missing something.
“Well, I’m thankful you did. But one day you’re going to get yourself into a situation you’re not going to be able to get out yourself,” Kristi admonished.
I nodded. “I know. I know. I’m trying to avoid that. But I couldn’t just let him come down here without raising an alarm. I have responsibilities.”
“From now on, just try to keep your responsibilities to managing the hotel and leave the detecting to us.” Kristi actually shook her finger this time.
I raised a sassy eyebrow. “Hey, I suspected there’d be diamonds in there. I think I’ve helped a bit.”
She snorted. “I knew you were going to bring that up. Fine. You’ve helped. But we don’t need any more.”
I smiled like I agreed, but deep inside I couldn’t help thinking, We’ll see about that.
“And since you’ve helped,” she continued, “I’ll give you a little reward. Forensics came back on the watch band. Surprise, surprise. It has Dayton’s DNA all over it.” She smirked as I groaned.
I had so hoped it had belonged to the murderer. “So it’s not really a clue then,” I said glumly.
“Maybe, maybe not. There was another person’s DNA on it. Forensics is isolating it right now. But honestly, it could have come from anyone he came into contact with.”
This time I gave her a different sort of smile. The kind that said we’re about to find a killer. She might have her doubts, but I felt like we were finally on the home stretch.
Chapter 21
Soon after that, I left Kristi in the lobby to go find Momma. I didn’t have to go far. She met me in the hallway outside our suite, one shoe on, blue paint down her cheek and splattered over a pant leg. Her fingers were stained as well. To say that Momma was freaking out would be like saying a freshly squeezed lemon was a tad tart.
“Momma? What happened?” I asked, rushing toward her.
“What happened?” Her mouth dropped. “What happened? Louisa Mae Marigold Swenson! I gave birth to you, that’s what happened! And thirty-five years later, you are still scaring the crap out of me!” She whacked my arm and then squeezed me tight, her face burying into my chest. I could feel her shake as she started to cry.
“Oh, Momma!” I felt crushed and hugged her back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you knew about everything that was going on. Honestly, I thought the police were keeping it quiet.”
“I. Know. Everything,” she insisted, sniffling.
I patted her. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”
After a moment, she stepped back and wiped at her tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks, smearing the blue paint.
“Painting accident, huh?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
She nodded and blotted under her eyes. “The kind that happens when you hear there’s a gunman on the rampage and your daughter is missing.”
I flushed with guilt and tried to ease her worry by saying, “Well, one bad guy down. And I can’t wait to see your painting. I’ve heard Picasso got some of his inspiration in strange ways, too, right?”
That joke fell flatter than the narrowing glare of her eyes.
Quickly, I took the contrite route. “Got it. Sorry, Momma. It won’t happen again.”
“It better not. Or so help me….”
“So help you what?” I couldn’t resist.
“I know where you sleep. And I have access to some pretty great craft dyes. Maybe you’d like to try fuchsia hair for a while?” She grinned back.
I raised my hands in surrender. “I’m hanging my detective hat up!”
In truth, I couldn’t really and I think, deep down inside, she knew that as well. In fact, it was only a little while later that I was seated before the laptop once again.
But first, I’d sent Clarissa home. She’d been shaken and couldn’t concentrate. Sierra had said she was fine, but when she saw Clarissa get time off, she decided she needed a break too. All the rest of the staff was abuzz with what happened, and gossip was running strange. Luckily, the guests had been oblivious to all the drama.
I did my best to wrangle everyone back into focusing on their jobs. Then I went to my office and had my own private break down. After a few tears, and three paperclips straightened, I turned my attention to the computer.
Austin was in custody, and that should have made me happy. But something about the whole thing bothered me.
Why did he lock me in the bathroom alcove? Shouldn’t he have thought about the possibility that I could escape from the room the same way he got in? After all, the ironing board was still down.
It was such a small detail that I kept pushing it away. He probably had other things on his mind, like a kidnapping and all. Maybe he assumed I didn’t know about the connecting duct.
But as hard as I tried, I just couldn’t buy that excuse. Working the last few years with the public taught me a bit about human nature. And one thing I learned was that humans often glance at the thing they want to avoid. But he hadn’t acted like the thought had occurred to him at all.
I searched up the original news article and skimmed it again.
Judge reprimands courthouse security.
Judge Corroley called out courthouse security, Austin Maricio for failing to guard evidence gathered against one of the mob bosses, Dario Torino. The diamonds, estimated in the millions, disappeared overnight. Judge Corroley was forced to drop charges against Mr. Torino in light of the missing evidence. Torino was accused of having a long reaching arm clear to NY with affiliations with third circuit judge Martin Davis.
Maricio has since disappeared. He was last seen at the courthouse with an unidentified man in his late fifties. Images from courthouse cameras give us this picture.
I studied the picture. I could clearly identify Maricio as Austin now, both by his nose and his clean-shave, now knowing he wore a fake beard. I studied the back of the second man. I bet it was Dayton, and those dark pants were the black pants rolled in Dayton’s suitcase.
I leaned back in the chair, paper clip twirling in my fingers, and made a mental list of my questions. What was Dayton’s involvement in this? How did he get the diamonds? And where was his cell phone? I didn’t believe he didn’t have one, especially being an international traveler.
I did know that Dayton had used the hotel phone several times. I clicked a few links until the hotel’s room phone records came up, and then scanned his out-going and in-coming records. There weren’t many, and they were all to the front desk or from me.
Except for two numbers. A quick internet search of the area codes showed one was for Connecticut, and one was for New Jersey. Both calls were made sometime after he’d first checked in. I hesitated and then rang up the New Jersey number.
“Highwater Hotel. How can I help you?”
“Hi there. Where exactly are you located again?” I asked.
“We’re about two miles from the airport, in Lexington, New Jersey,” th
e receptionist answered back.
I thanked her and hung up. He called a hotel in New Jersey, huh? I took a second to study the second number. Well, here goes nothing. I dialed it up.
It rang.
And rang.
There was no answering machine. I was just about to hang up when I heard, “Hello?”
It was a woman with a soft voice. She sounded vaguely familiar. I was so surprised, it took me a second to answer back.
“H-hi. I think I have the wrong number,” I stammered.
“Wrong number? Ms. Swenson, is this you?”
I nearly dropped the phone at the mention of my name. “Yes?”
“It’s me, Julie. I heard a phone ringing and went to answer it.”
“You did? Where are you?”
“Mrs. Richardson’s room.”
I’d forgotten all about Mrs. Richardson and the fact that her room was being flipped for a new guest.
“The phone was in the closet.” Julie’s voice lifted in a question at the last word. I knew she was thinking about the duct between this room and Dayton’s.
“Was the ironing board up or down?”
“It was up. The phone was under a pile of wet towels in the corner. I would have scooped it up with the laundry if it hadn’t started to ring.”
“I’m coming up to the room. Don’t touch it.”
She hesitated. “Ms. Swenson, I’m talking on it.”
I groaned. “Just hang up and set it down. I’m on my way.”
I traveled the elevator to what was starting to feel like a well-beaten path to the thirty-first floor. Suite 359’s door was blocked open with a cart in the entryway. I squeezed past it and into the room.
“Julie?” I called.
“Right here, boss.”
I grabbed a pair of gloves from the cart and pulled them on. Julie stood at the alcove entry with a phone between her two white shoes. Her cheeks flushed when she saw me.
“I put it right down when you said to.”