I stated, "So, in this case you took the known video image of the attacker and compared that image to video records from cameras starting with those closest to Sissy's room and working outward?"
"Exactly, outward in concentric circles. Just like the cops do a crime scene search."
I nodded, "Sounds very labor intensive."
"Yes, and no. We have a couple of computer geeks who really get off on tracking people and events on the property through all of the tech stuff we have deployed. You'd be surprised the situations they've pieced together for us in the past. This was actually pretty straight forward for them." He chuckled and then added, "You and I would probably still be looking for the first match."
"So what did your whiz kids come up with?"
Spencer pulled another file folder from the stack and opened it. "After the attack, we tracked him from Sissy's room to the parking lot he had his car parked in. As you recall, we got his plate number from our license plate reader. I think the cops determined it was a rental that had been returned by the time they got there. In any case, we used that parking lot as a starting point and found his arrival. We followed him into the casino. He tailgated a cocktail waitress into the back of the house."
I interrupted again, "Tailgated?"
Spencer drew a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Systems are only as good as the people who use them. As you know, we control access to the back of the house with electronic key cards issued to each employee. This guy hung around until he saw two cocktail waitresses engaged in conversation as they walked toward a door leading to the back of the house. He came up behind them just as they entered the door and he caught it before it closed. He held the door a few seconds and then slipped in."
"He sounds like a pro."
"Maybe, maybe not. It's not rocket science, but he was definitely calm and focused. The employee rules are that the door must be closed after every access. For what it's worth, we fired both waitresses."
I nodded, but didn't comment. Spencer continued tracing his finger down the timeline in the file folder in front of him and said, "The guy wanders the hallway in the back of the house until he comes to the employee cafeteria. A security officer on break had left his jacket on the back of his chair while he went to refill his coffee cup. The guy casually walks past the table and carries the jacket away with him. Very cool about the whole maneuver. From the cafeteria he wanders the hallways again until he finds an exit back into the casino. Two things were apparent from his behavior. He did not know his way around the back of the house. Actually, it didn't seem that he knew his way around the casino floor or the hotel for that matter. He seemed to be following traffic flow and signs rather than striding like he knew where he was headed. The second observation we made was that he knew there were cameras in use and he made efforts to obscure his face or turn away from them whenever possible. The sheer number of cameras makes that impossible and we have a number of excellent shots of him."
"Have those pictures been turned over to the police?"
Spencer shook his head, "No one has asked for them. No one has contacted us since that night regarding identification of this guy. That night we gave the license plate information to Escapade PD, but no one has asked for anything additional."
I recalled that some type of mistake had delayed the relay of the license plate information from Escapade PD to Hollywood PD, but sensing that Spencer already harbored an aversion for local law enforcement, I kept that recollection to myself. I asked, "Did he go from the casino to the hotel and directly up to Sissy's room?"
Nodding, Spencer replied, "He did. Once he found his way to the hotel lobby, he went to the nearest bank of elevators and up to the floor she was on."
I asked, "How did he get the elevator to go to the floor? As I recall you need a room key to get the elevator to operate and there are security officers checking before you even get on the elevator."
Spencer sighed and said, "In my experience, it always takes a bit of luck for something like this to happen. The security officer's key card was in the jacket pocket. That was just lucky for the asshole. He slipped the jacket on, it wasn't a perfect fit, but close enough, and strode up to the elevator lobby like a man on a mission. He casually waved to the security officer in the lobby, who was talking to two guests at the time, and entered an elevator. The security key card gave him access to any floor. He rode the elevator to her floor and went directly to her room. He definitely knew exactly what room she was in." A dark scowl crossed Spencer's face and he added, "You know the rest of the story."
We sat in silence for a minute and then I asked, "So it looks like he arrived knowing the room number, but otherwise without any means of access? He made it up as he went along?"
Spencer closed the file folder, "That would be my read exactly. A man accustomed to improvising."
"Do you think he had been coached about operations here?"
Shaking his head Spencer replied, "I can't say no positively, but I can say that our operation is not appreciably different from many others around the country, the world for that matter. Anyone with a basic understanding of facilities' security operations at an entertainment venue could predict the elements necessary to gain access to Sissy's room. I think this guy was just lucky that everything fell into place so quickly."
I asked a couple more questions and then hit the issue head on, "So how do you think he learned of Sissy's room number?"
Spencer leaned back in his chair and locked me in his stare. I knew he was deciding whether to give me his opinion or not. Finally, he said, "Kat and I were the only ones here who knew Sissy's identity. The leak didn't come from here." His steely stare never wavered, "I think it came from Hollywood PD."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
On my drive back to Cap's I couldn't help but replay my meeting with Spencer over and over in my head. It was obvious that Spencer had put a great deal of effort into learning as much as he could about the attack on Sissy. In listening to what he said about their standard operating procedure for protecting the privacy of VIPs, I had to agree with him that the leak didn't come from inside the hotel. That only left one alternative theory, the one PJ had been fearing all along, the leak must have been Tim. Why? What motive? Why would Tim feed information to organized crime that would get Sissy killed?
As I was stopped in traffic waiting for the drawbridge over the Intracoastal Waterway to close, I kept pondering about the why, the motive. To provide information that would cost a young girl her life is pretty cold. What could possibly motivate Tim to do something like that? In most cases of corruption you can follow the money to identify the involved parties. Maybe if I took a look at Tim's financial and personal situation I could identify something that would make some sense. Maybe he has gambling debts, maybe his wife is a drug addict? There must be a very strong motivation somewhere that has allowed organized crime to get a strangle hold on him. I knew from my days as a prosecutor, as well as my more recent research into Lorenzo Mancuso, that a great deal can be learned from public data accessible on the Internet. Of course, a great deal more can be learned through the power of the subpoena, but that wasn't available to me at this time.
When I got to Cap's, we had a nice Saturday afternoon crowd. I talked with Moe for a few minutes and ate one of Juan's cheeseburgers. I declined the Landshark that Dana offered, eliciting from her, "What's the deal? You sick?" I assured her I was feeling fine and that I would make up for lost time later in the day. After making small talk with a couple of the regulars for a minute, I slipped down the hall and upstairs to my apartment.
I fired up my laptop and began probing the life of one Tim Donovan. There was no shortage of information in newspaper archives regarding his twenty-five year career in law enforcement. The majority of the ink related to his heroic actions in saving the life of a fellow officer in a shootout in Hollywood, but I did manage to find a couple of mentions of him during his ten years with New York PD. It seems he's the third generation of the Donovan clan to
wear the uniform in New York. In one of the articles following the shootout in Hollywood, it mentioned that Tim had come south looking for a safer place to raise his daughters. That probably didn't play very well with the New York City Tourist Bureau.
Paying my fee to a couple of the background check data compilation services, I put together a thumbnail sketch of his financial background. I followed him through three real estate transactions in the fifteen years he had been in Hollywood. Each time he had significantly upgraded his living conditions, or at least the cost of his home. The third purchase was a stately old mansion on the water's edge of a man-made lake that connects with the Intracoastal Waterway and ultimately the Atlantic. The property boasted a deepwater slip, swimming pool, and tennis courts. To say nothing of the six bedrooms and five baths. I couldn't access mortgage information, but the property tax rolls listed the value at over two million bucks. How the hell does a cop afford a house like that?
The property listings gave me Tim's wife's name and I did a little basic research on her. Turns out that she's the daughter of a wealthy real estate developer from the New York area. Seems he develops high-end commercial malls around the country. Daddy could be providing the resources that put Tim's family in such an upscale home. I wonder if PJ has been to Tim's house? Maybe she knows the whole story?
As I pondered Tim's situation, I recalled a conversation we were having one day when he and PJ stopped in for a drink after work. Tim actually had a couple of drinks and he started complaining about the cost of college for his two daughters. As I recall, he said they were in private schools somewhere in the Northeast. On the whole, one could easily come to the conclusion that Tim was living way beyond the means of a Hollywood detective.
The combination of my meeting with Spencer and my research had convinced me that I needed to sit down and talk with PJ, and I needed to do it soon. If Tim had sold out Sissy, he's dangerous. If PJ even hints to him about her concerns, it's hard to know how he might react. She needs to be cautious, very cautious. I called her cell, but got her voicemail. I left a message telling her I needed to talk with her as soon as possible.
I wandered back downstairs and found my usual seat at the end of the bar occupied. I love it when we do a brisk business, but I really wish people wouldn't take my stool. I was standing at the end of the bar attempting to get Dana's attention, when my cell phone vibrated. It was PJ. She told me she was just wrapping up for the day and could stop by in a few minutes if that worked for me.
PJ walked in twenty minutes later. The lines on her face looked even deeper than they had the last time I'd seen her. I knew my conversation wasn't going to remove any of the weariness. By now, the noise level in the bar had built to a point where conversations were minor shouting matches. I told PJ to go on back to the office. It would have been much more comfortable to go upstairs to my apartment, but I knew that there was no way in hell PJ was going to have people see her going upstairs with me. I got a Landshark and a glass of Chardonnay from Dana and went back to the office.
PJ had taken her jacket off, laid her holstered weapon on the desk, and kicked her shoes off. She was sitting on the small couch with her legs drawn up beside her. She reached for the glass of wine, "You are a life saver. I really need this." With that clipped comment she drank about half of the glass.
I thought it best if I didn't dive right into the information I wanted to talk about, so I asked, "Latest case a real killer?" realizing what I had said I added, "No pun intended."
PJ stared into the glass of wine as if it was a crystal ball. Finally, she sighed and said, "The case probably isn't any tougher than many others, it's the situation. I'm working side by side with Tim eighteen hours a day. He does damn good police work, there's no way around it, but my suspicions hound me every second of the day and much of the night. It's just wearing me down." With that she took another drink of her wine.
I knew that I was about to add additional weight to PJ's burden. I couldn't think of any way around that outcome, but I thought I could at least stall for a few minutes. I asked, "How's Angela doing these days? Is Mom enjoying the teenage years?"
That elicited a half-hearted smile and the smallest chuckle, "Oh yeah, Mom's having a blast. Of course, Mom's so stupid she doesn't even know she's having such a great time."
I laughed louder than the comment warranted, but was hoping to lighten PJ's mood. "Angela still playing soccer?"
PJ nodded and said, "Yeah, she seems to really like soccer and she's pretty good. Gets her athletic ability from her dad. Bill was quite the jock in high school and even played Division II college basketball. His parents are pretty involved with Angela and her soccer. In fact, they took her to a weekend soccer camp in Naples this morning. They're all staying up there until tomorrow night."
There was a time when this news would have triggered my mind into immediately developing a strategy to persuade PJ to stay here with me tonight. I had lusted after her since we first met. What red-blooded American boy wouldn't. Even with fatigue and worry casting a dark countenance over her, PJ is still one knock-out woman. PJ and Sissy are friends, so that's always been a hindrance to any success I might have in charming PJ. It's been a respectable length of time, at least by my standards, since Sissy last stayed with me, so that barrier should be gone. For some reason, I just wasn't putting together a strategy. My usual string of double entendre statements just weren't coming to my tongue. What the hell, Elena has somehow blocked my mind. I wonder if the damage is permanent or just the afterglow of the last two nights?
I came out of my introspection when I noticed PJ place her empty wine glass on the front edge of the desk. "My gosh, where are my manners? The lady needs a drink."
PJ said, "Why don't you save yourself trips and just bring the bottle?" Then patting the couch she added, "I can always sleep here tonight."
Damn, timing is everything in life and the timing of this opportunity just plain sucks. I grabbed my empty beer bottle and headed out the door saying, "I'll be right back."
I returned with a bottle of Chardonnay and a couple bottles of Landshark. The way PJ bolted upright when I came into the office I think she may have been dozing. I've never seen her this way. She seems on the verge of exhaustion. I poured her another glass of wine, but felt guilty doing it. The alcohol wasn't going to help her. That I know from experience.
Maybe her little catnap revitalized her because PJ asked, "So what have you learned in your investigation of this mess?"
I reviewed my meeting with Jeff Spencer and the information he had shown me. Like me, PJ was impressed with the thoroughness of Spencer's inquiry into the attack on Sissy. PJ rubbed the back of her neck and said, "We really should have followed up at the time, but we got so focused on protecting Sissy and stopping the attacker that we didn't. We had the one photo of him and then later the plate on the rental car. I guess we didn't see the value of digging deeper at the hotel."
"Don't be too hard on yourself. It wasn't like you were thinking of prosecuting him for his attack at the hotel. You were trying to stop him from killing Sissy and prosecute him for killing Allison and Weston. Once it became apparent that he was a hired killer brought in by Dockery, and Dockery committed suicide, there was no reason to believe he was still around. It's not like you have unlimited resources to investigate things that aren't going to lead to prosecution."
"Still, we shouldn't have missed the opportunity to learn everything you learned today from Jeff. That was sloppy on our part. We got fixated on attempting to identify the killer through Dockery. Well, through Dockery's files. Obviously, he wasn't available to interrogate."
Deciding that the best approach was to hit the situation head on I said, "Spencer is adamant that the leak didn't come from inside his organization, or the hotel staff, and I have to say that his procedures do seem tight."
PJ asked, "So now you agree with me, you think Tim was the leak?"
"I admit that Tim seems to be the only likely suspect. Unless you can think of an
yone else that you could have possible told, or that he may have told?"
PJ sighed, "I really wish I had pointedly asked Tim at the time if he told anyone else. I didn't ask then and it would seem really odd for me to bring it up at this late date."
We both sat quietly for a minute contemplating. I finally broke the silence, "Well, I did do a little digging, the kind you can do through public databases, into Tim."
PJ lowered the wine glass she was in the process of bringing up to her lips for another drink, "Oh, really. What did you find?"
I couldn't tell if she appreciated my initiative or was a little concerned that I was digging into Tim's life. I answered, "I found that his lifestyle appears to be somewhat above what I would expect of a police department detective. A two million dollar house, daughters in expensive private colleges, just looks way beyond his means. Now on the other side of the ledger, I found that his wife comes from a wealthy family, so maybe money comes from that side. Have you ever seen his house?"
After taking a long drink of her wine PJ answered, "When I was promoted to detective and assigned with Tim, my picture was in the paper. His wife didn't want him to have a woman partner at all and after she saw my picture she told him she had no desire to even meet me. So the short answer is no, I've never been to his home. I have heard others talk about it though and I understand it's quite the place."
I asked, "Does his wife work?"
PJ replied, "No. I've heard Tim say several times that her full time job is raising their two daughters. The way he says it, I get the feeling he thinks she should be working."
I asked, "Do you think they could be getting money from her family?"
Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3) Page 8