I smiled. “We’ll figure out something to keep you busy, and…” I glanced at him, “out of danger. That is not up for debate.”
Lorne sighed. “I know. At least you are letting me come along.”
“Against my better judgment, but yeah.”
“I can provide tension relief,” he said under his breath.
I heard him anyway. “You what!?”
“I was kidding,” he said responded with a small grin, although something in his eyes said otherwise. “Okay, mostly. At least with me around, you’ll have someone to unload on if things get bad at the motel. By the way, I have something for you. I’ll show you when we get to Gavin’s. It belonged to Kyler.”
That piqued my interest. I almost asked him what it was but decided to let him tell me when he was ready to.
Gavin greeted us when we arrived by asking, “Beer or coffee?”
I opted for beer. Lorne, since he didn’t imbibe alcohol, asked for coffee. After we had our drinks we went into Gavin’s office.
“I did some research on the motel,” Gavin told us. “It’s two stories, built in two wings with central lobbies separating them on both floors.” He brought up pictures from the motel’s website. “They use the same basic plan for all the Rotunda motels. As far as the average customer is concerned it’s exactly what it seems, a place to spend the night, with a Continental breakfast. There are twenty guest rooms on the ground floor, ten along the hallways on each side of the lobby. On one side of the smaller lobby on the second floor there are three more guest rooms, plus a room with an ice dispenser, vending machines, and some small tables. Next to it is a business center with a couple of computers. It’s the other side of the lobby that we’re interested in, if I don’t miss my guess.”
He pointed to the photo of the second floor lobby, with an open hallway on one side of it leading to the rooms he mentioned, and a closed door on the other side with a sign reading Executive Suites. “Behind the door there’s undoubtedly another hallway with bedrooms for the sex workers and their johns. I think it’s possible that the names on the list you found, Brant, are flagged in the system. When you register at the front desk and your name comes up as one of their special guests, you get a keycard to let you through the door, as well as one to a room there.”
I nodded. “Makes more sense to me than what I was thinking, that the men on the list were called if a boy was available who met their tastes.”
“How do people who aren’t special guests know Durant’s running prostitutes out of the motels? He can’t make that much off the operation if it’s for members only.”
“The list I found for this particular motel had more than forty names on it. If the guys use the place on a regular basis that could bring in a very healthy revenue,” I replied.
“No kidding.” Lorne shook his head. “I wonder if they pay membership dues.”
“Not that I found out,” I said. I took the lists I’d printed up from my pocket, and scanned the second one, with the complete information on the men. I saw something I’d missed last night when I’d looked at it. I handed it to Gavin. He caught on immediately to what I hadn’t until just now.
“There’s two sets of phone numbers for each man,” he said. “But the numbers after the area code for the second set are bogus.”
“How do you know?” Lorne asked, leaning in to look at them.”
“Area codes, followed by the prefix 555, and then any numbers from 0100 to 0199 after it, are set aside for use in books or movies, to prevent prank calls,” Gavin told him.
“Most of them end in either zero three or zero four,” Lorne said. “But this one is 555-0105.”
“555 is there to make them look like legit phone numbers,” Gavin reiterated. “The last number of the final four has to be what’s significant and my bet is it shows the amount each man pays, probably per month, to be a special guest.”
“Damn. Three to five hundred a month? Or is it thousand? Maybe I should take up hooking on the side.” Lorne shook his head. “Or not. I doubt the kids see any of that.”
“You better believe they don’t,” I replied. “They get a place to stay and food, at the very most.”
“They live at the motel?”
“Hard to tell at the moment,” Gavin said. “We’ll find out once we get out there.” He turned to me. “You have to get a job with them.”
“Yeah, I know. Mind if I use your computer?”
“Have at it.”
I went online, then to a major site for job hunting. “Okay. Front desk receptionist or maintenance? The opening for receptionist lists the hours as midnight to eight. Maintenance is nine to five, weekdays, plus being on-call for emergencies.”
“Maintenance,” Lorne said. “It’ll give you the opportunity to get into the rooms when they’re vacant.”
“Which, if they have the boys’ working days and nights, might not be too often,” I pointed out. “Still, it could give me access to the executive suites whenever possible. Working the front desk would undoubtedly mean I’d have to be there the whole time.”
“And that doesn’t suit our purpose for you being at the motel,” Gavin said.
“True. The maintenance job was put up on the site ten days ago, so I might have a better chance at getting it, since apparently no one else is interested.”
“Or they’re very cautious about who they hire,” Gavin said. “Let’s work up a résumé that will make them want you.”
We did, starting with a new name for me—Craig Barton. As with Gavin’s alias, it was a name I’d used before and I had ID and credit cards to back it up. With Gavin and Lorne’s input, I came up with a valid home address about five miles from the motel, and two maintenance companies in the city I’d worked for. Then, using my hacking skills, I added my new name to the list of residents at the apartment complex, and in the employment records at maintenance companies. Of course the phone numbers on my résumé for the management company that ran the apartment complex, and my immediate superiors at my former jobs, were bogus, belonging to burner phones Gavin owned. If and when whoever did the hiring called to validate my information, Gavin would answer and tell them what we wanted them to know.
Once the online résumé was filled out, I hit Send. “Now we wait, and hope they decide to at least interview me for the job.”
“And use your great charm to convince them to hire you,” Lorne said, grinning.
“That, too. By the way, you said you had something for me, Lorne.”
“Oh. Yeah. With all this I almost forgot.” He took a belt buckle out of his pocket, handing it to me. “This was Kyler’s, and it’s more than it seems.”
It was rectangular with an embossed Celtic knot. Given what Lorne had said, and what Kyler had been, I looked for the eye of the camera. It was well hidden within the design.
“You turn it on here,” Lorne said, sliding back the bottom edge of the buckle. “The other button snaps a photo. This is…”
“The SD card slot.” I nodded. “I like.”
“He said the quality of the photos was good. Not like using a real camera but for undercover work, more than satisfactory.”
“This is going to help a lot.” I chuckled. “As long as I remember to tip it up so I’m not getting crotch shots and nothing more.” They laughed, then I said, “Right now, though, I have to go home, pack, and get my ass out there.”
“You’re going on ahead of us?” Lorne did not look happy with the idea.
“I have to be there if they want to interview me. I can’t tell them I won’t be available to meet with whomever until I can catch a flight into the city. Especially since all the info on the résumé places me there already.”
“Yeah, I guess. Where will you be staying?”
“I’ll find a motel. We won’t be there long enough to make renting an apartment worth the bother,” I replied.
“Damn. Going undercover is tricky.” He eyed me. “Why are you so good at setting it up?”
I gr
inned. “I’ve read too many spy thrillers and taken the information to heart.”
He didn’t look as if he believed me, but at least he didn’t challenge my reply.
“I’ll call as soon as I get there, to let you know where I’m staying,” I told them.
“Be careful,” Lorne said. He took a step toward me—his gaze locked on my face—stopped, and added softly, “Very careful.
“I will be, I promise.” I almost closed the distance between us to give him a hug, thought better of it and turned to Gavin. “If anything comes up…”
“I know how to reach you,” Gavin replied. “Safe trip.”
“Thanks.”
I left, going to where I’d parked my car. It didn’t occur to me until I was halfway to my place that Lorne had driven with me to Gavin’s. I wasn’t about to go back to get him. I was sure when they realized it, Gavin would take him home. I had other things I needed to do, starting with packing and making a reservation on the next flight to my destination.
Chapter 8
I rented a car after I landed at the airport, arriving around eleven Thursday morning at the motel where we’d be staying. The first thing I did was check in with Gavin to let him know I’d made it there safely. As soon as I hung up, I got out my laptop to see if I’d gotten a response on my job application. I was relieved when I saw an email from a Harold Thorne at the Rotunda motel. It asked me to call at my earliest convenience to set up an interview—so I did.
“Mr. Barton, thank you for calling. Are you free to come in this afternoon?” Mr. Thorne asked.
“Yes, sir. What time?”
“Two. Tell the clerk at the front desk you’re here to see me. She’ll let me know you’ve arrived.”
I did as he asked, showing up there on the dot of two. The lobby looked exactly as it had in the photos we’d found online, down to the relatively ordinary, institutional brown and blue print carpeting and faux wood check-in counter. It wasn’t bad. It just didn’t call to mind the kind of place which would have executive suites.
The woman at the counter smiled when I told her who I was and that I looking for Mr. Thorne. She called to let him know I was here, then said, “I hope he hires you. We desperately need someone who can handle maintenance chores. The last guy…” She rolled her eyes then looked past me.
I turned when a man said, “Mr. Barton?” I nodded and shook his offered hand. “If you’ll follow me, please,” he said.
He took me into an office off the back of the lobby where he proceeded to grill me on my abilities. Luckily, what they needed from me was fairly basic—fixing electrical and plumbing problems, broken doors and drawers in a room, and curtains which had come off their tracks. When he finished, he said, “I talked with your former employers. They had nothing but praise for your capabilities, and equally importantly, the fact you were always punctual and didn’t ask for time off. That’s something we’ve had problems with, with the last two men we hired. So, if you’re willing, you can start in the morning. You’ll be working weekdays, and on-call on weekends for any emergencies.”
I told him I definitely wanted the job, and then had to fill out the normal hiring forms. After I finished, he took me on a tour of the motel. I had put the buckle Lorne gave me on my belt, so I took pictures as we moved through the building. When we got to the door to the executive suites he said, “When we need you to do something in this area you’ll be given a keycard by the desk clerk to enter, as well as one for the specific suite if necessary. They’re to be returned to the front desk as soon as you’re finished.”
“All right. What about for the rest of the motel?”
“We have a master keycard that opens all the rooms. You’ll pick it up at the beginning of your shift, then return it at the end of the day. Always knock first to let the occupant know why you’re there, especially if there’s a ‘Do not Disturb’ card on the door handle.”
“Of course,” I replied. “How do you want me to dress?”
“I’ll give you shirts with our logo. We expect you to wear tan or dark blue work slacks. No jeans.”
“Very good. I’ll pick up a couple of new pairs on my way home since the ones I have look like what they are, well-used work pants. What about tools?”
“We provide them. They’re kept in the maintenance area, along with a toolbox and belt. It’s next to the laundry room.”
He took me down to show me the basement. As far as I could tell, all it contained was what he’d said, plus the water heaters, electrical boxes, and a huge furnace. When we returned to his office, he gave me two shirts, and then said he’d see me in the morning.
As soon as I got back to the motel I called Gavin.
“I’m in. It was almost too easy.”
“Should we be worried,” he asked.
“No. I got the impression from both Mr. Thorne—he’s my boss—and the woman at the front desk that they’ve had problems finding decent maintenance people.”
He chuckled. “Hopefully you can fake it well enough that they don’t fire you before we find out what we need to. I made reservations for Lorne and me at the same motel you’re at. We’ll see you Saturday morning.”
“Good. I should know a bit more about the executive area by the time you get here, I hope.” I explained about the keycard and how I could only have it when they needed me in there to repair something.
“Then let’s hope a faucet springs a leak,” he replied. “Since my name in on the ‘Contributors’ list I might pay a visit Saturday evening.”
“That works,” I said, and hung up. Then I went shopping for work slacks, stopped for dinner, and returned to my motel. I watched TV for a while before going to bed. Not the most exciting way to spend an evening, but then I didn’t have someone else to spend it with. I missed being able to go to the club but I’d survive without what it had to offer in the way of ‘entertainment’.
Thinking of the club brought Lorne to mind. I wondered if he’d ever been tempted to hook up with someone there. Probably not, I figured. He wasn’t the sort of man who would, from what little I knew about him. He’d been there on a mission and nothing more. Maybe, when this was over, I’d see if he’d be willing to go there with me. And maybe I wouldn’t. I didn’t need that kind of complication in my life. Still, I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have a nice man to do things with. More than just someone to hop into bed with when the spirit moved.
“Forget it,” I muttered. “If I wanted to get serious with him I’d have two choices. One, trust him enough to tell him what I do, because he’d get curious about my life. That is not going to happen.” The truth and I knew it. I couldn’t take a chance that he might run straight to the cops if I did. And if I didn’t tell him? Then things would fall apart because I was keeping secrets, giving excuses for my absences or my trips out of town to the point where he would ask questions I wouldn’t answer. Yeah, best to steer clear of him once we’ve found out who killed his brother. It would be better for both of us.
* * * *
My first day at the Rotunda was hardly exciting, but I did keep busy. There were light bulbs to change, drips to fix, even a curtain that had gone off its track. When I wasn’t doing that, I was outside picking up trash—mostly cigarette butts tossed by the guests because there was no smoking inside the motel. I decided that ‘maintenance worker’ was a fancy term for janitor.
Unfortunately, as far as I was concerned, I didn’t have to do any repairs in the executive suites. I did however manage to get three photos of the hallway when a maid pushing her cleaning cart entered the area and opened the door of the closest room. I was tempted to ask her to let me see what an ‘executive suite’ looked like but refrained. I didn’t need her telling anyone that I was being nosy, especially if she was aware of, or a part of, what we thought went on in there. If the boys lived in the rooms she definitely knew.
At the end of the day, I returned my tools to the maintenance room, dropped off my keycard, and went back to my motel—no
wiser about what went on behind the locked door to the executive suites than I had been when we first planned this investigation.
Gavin and Lorne showed up right on time Saturday morning. By then I’d downloaded the photos I’d taken at the Rotunda. “No crotch shots,” I said, smirking, as I showed them what I had.
Gavin chuckled, homing in on the ones of the hallway we were interested in. “Too bad you couldn’t have stepped in long enough to catch part of the room she went into,” he said.
“If she’d seen me…” I shrugged.
“Yeah, I get that. Do you think she’s aware of what the rooms are used for?”
“I haven’t a clue. I didn’t hear her talk to anyone when she went into the room.”
“I don’t see how she couldn’t be aware,” Lorne said. “She cleans them. And if the kids live in them she’d definitely know.”
“Yeah, I did think of that,” I replied.
“I’ll see if I can find out tonight,” Gavin said. “I wonder if the special guests have their own keycards, or if they get one when they register at the front desk and their name comes up, flagged as someone who is allowed into the executive suites. If everyone has their own, I’ll have to come up with a plausible lie for why I didn’t bring mine with me.”
“We can find out.” I got the list of ‘Contributors’ I’d printed out. “Use one of these men’s names, call the front desk, and tell them…Hell, that your wallet was stolen. See what the response is.”
“Good idea.” Gavin took a phone from his messenger bag, telling Lorne when he asked that it was an untraceable burner.
“How many of those do you have?” Lorne asked.
“Enough,” Gavin replied succinctly while dialing the motel.
“I guess it’s part of being a federal agent to have more than one phone,” Lorne whispered to me.
“Probably.” I obviously wasn’t going to tell him that I did, too, although not for the same reason.
From what we could hear of Gavin’s end of the conversation, whomever he was talking to asked if he planned on visiting tonight. “If possible,” he replied. “I wanted to make certain you’d have a room for me, and a master keycard because…” There was a momentary pause, then he chuckled. “Yes, I know. I wouldn’t have asked except I heard someone mention that you were planning on changing things and giving each executive—” he stressed the word, “—their own personal card.” After another pause, he replied, “I agree. That would be asking for trouble if someone lost theirs. All right, I should be there around nine, if I can get away from my loving spouse.” He laughed and hung up.
Everyone Has Secrets Page 8