Yet, in those few days a number of disturbing things happened, beginning gradually and escalating rapidly.
On Saturday, a dozen guests claiming confirmed reservations arrived to find no such reservations and a full hotel. There was no question the reservations had initially been made, some as long ago as three months. But according to the hotel computer, all had previously cancelled. Premium customers were accommodated, while others had to be put up in other hotels or turned away.
On Sunday morning, the hotel computer went down, followed by the switchboard telephone lines. Two of the four elevators began acting up, repeatedly trapping guests between floors, once for as long as an hour. Guests reported receiving crank calls in the middle of the night. When a small fire broke out in a storage room on the second-floor Convention Center, hundreds of conventioneers had to be evaluated until the fire department gave the all-clear. The reaction of inconvenienced guests ranged from peevishness to outright anger. Many checked out amid curses, complaints, and even a threat or two of litigation.
Late morning, a hotel PBX operator received a call from an anonymous source that a bomb had been planted in the hotel casino. Jay was notified immediately. He in turn notified the local police. After police, fire officials, and hotel personnel combed the entire building and found nothing, the directive to evacuate was called off.
With one crisis after another. Jay had no choice but to bring the top executives into the picture. Because most of the problems concerned the hotel end of the business, Mark Epson was less surprised than Robert Yanick and Howard Cummings by the news of a saboteur. Epson and Yanick were gravely concerned and disturbed. Cummings received the news with little or no emotion, as though he had expected it.
All the while, Andrews remained under strict surveillance, both at the hotel and away. The man did nothing suspicious. If he were in some way responsible, he was either very shrewd or he had an accomplice.
Kasey learned that Paula Volger, the hotel maid and friend to Inez Ramos, had drawn her wages and terminated her job at the club the day after the killing. Det. Loweman had been unable to reach her by phone or at her apartment.
Throughout the weekend, Kasey caught glimpses on the monitor of Jay and Dianne in various places in the club—coming or going into one of the four restaurants, at poolside, entering the showroom, the lounge. There was no keeping Dianne sequestered. On Saturday evening, escorted by two surveillance men, Dianne dropped in on Brad and Kasey on the third floor. She sipped scotch, watched the monitors until she became bored, then left.
Kasey’s only contact with Jay was by phone. Each night, he called the monitor room and asked for a report which she or Brad promptly supplied. There had been one chance encounter between them late Monday afternoon. At the twelfth-floor elevator, Jay, Dianne, and the surveillance men were exiting as Kasey was rushing to enter. Jay’s hand overlapped hers when both grabbed the door to hold it open. The physical contact zapped Kasey with the force of an electrical shock. And for hours afterward, like an exposed nerve, she felt a throbbing, burning ache.
Chapter Thirty
Monday night, swing shift over, Kasey turned Brad away at her door as she had done each night since Friday. It had become a nightly routine for them—a nightcap in Jay’s office, after which Brad escorted her to her room and tried to worm his way inside.
She tossed her keycard on the dresser, flipped on the TV, and attempted to mentally prepare herself for another night of insipid TV in an effort to obliterate any thoughts of Jay King. The past three nights she had lain awake for hours, listening to the soft footfalls in the hall, wondering if his were among those she heard. Did he pass her room without slowing, without a thought to her being inside? Or was he as acutely aware of her behind the closed door as she was aware of him behind the double doors at the end of the corridor? Had he felt the same charged energy through his hand that she’d felt when they touched at the elevator only hours ago?
The room was hot, stuffy. She turned the air conditioner to high before going into the bathroom to shower.
When she returned, the room was a little cooler, though still warm. She sat cross-legged on the bed and dialed her mother. Marianne answered before the second ring.
“Still up, huh, Ma?”
“Hi, honey. Just capping the last of the jam. You know how it is, once started there’s no stopping till it’s finished.”
“Ma, my horoscope. What was it for today?”
“Why, Kasey Atwood, have you become a believer?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not committed like you, but, well, what harm can it do to dabble, huh?”
“No harm. No harm at all. Have it right here.” Newspaper rustled. “It says, Pay attention to your gut feelings; they are right on target.’”
“That’s it?”
“The rest is romance stuff. I won’t bother you with it.”
“Read it.”
The pause was long enough for Kasey to picture a look of motherly concern on her face. “You may feel as if you’re treading water in your love life.’”
Gut feelings. Treading water. Kasey rubbed her eyes. She was suddenly very tired. “Good night. Ma. See you tomorrow.”
*
The Monk, wearing a security uniform, exited the emergency stairway on the third floor and made a beeline to the executive offices. He used a master key to enter the monitor room from the outer hall.
After switching on the five monitors, he set to work selecting the areas he wanted to observe, the swimming pool, the third floor where he now was, and the twelfth floor. If King or any of his cohorts left their rooms or if anyone got off the elevator on this floor, he wanted to be prepared.
Over the weekend he had gotten word—from a reliable source—that he and another guard were being monitored.
He smiled. Everything was progressing like clockwork.
*
Kasey awoke with a shiver. The hotel air conditioner made a loud whirring sound, louder than she was used to. And the room was now cold. Freezing cold.
After talking to her mother, Kasey had tried to fall asleep, had dozed lightly until the bone-chilling air had brought her wide awake.
She hurried across the room to the air conditioner, rubbing the raised flesh on her arms, and turned it down. Shivering, she rushed back to bed and bundled up in the thin covers in an effort to get warm.
The glowing digital clock read 1:40. She was wide awake and cold to the bone. At home, if she couldn’t sleep, she’d try a long soak in the tub with a book and a glass of wine or brandy.
Wrapping the blanket around her, she was headed for the bathroom when she spotted the key to the hotel pool on the dresser top. The indoor pool had a Jacuzzi. The warmth, plus the massaging action of the jets would relax her as no routine bath could. And she’d have it all to herself at this hour. The pool closed to the public at ten. Jay was the only one who used it after hours; but according to Dianne, he hadn’t left the suite at night since she’d moved in.
She put on a black two-piece swimsuit under a black warmup suit, slipped on sandals, took a towel from the bathroom, grabbed the keys, and left.
As she approached the elevator, she was fully aware that this floor, above all others, was being videotaped by a surveillance team. Everyone coming and going was tracked. She avoided looking at the tinted ceiling dome with its rotating camera as she stepped into the elevator.
*
Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breathing raspy, harsh. She moaned loudly, uttered oaths and unintelligible words. She rode him hard, thrusting, twisting, her buttocks pounding down against his pelvis as she straddled him. Jay felt himself deep inside her, to the hilt, the soft tissue surely being battered in a way he could neither initiate nor carry out if he were in control. But he wasn’t in control; Dianne was. Dianne, who didn’t feel fulfilled unless there was a measure of pain, unless she could draw blood.
Stinging, burning, he felt the half-dozen places on his shoulders and back where her fingernai
ls had ravaged the skin. Her long nails were buried into his hands as she clutched them, grinding them against her breasts, her moans turning to sharp, piercing cries.
He held back, waiting for her to reach orgasm first. At times it seemed as if she could stretch it out endlessly. Usually, in order to last, he had to think of other things, the new tower, the balance sheets, and so on; but tonight he was having trouble just keeping his libido charged. His mind wandered; and in that one unguarded moment, she was in his head.
Sweet, sensual images of Kasey Atwood. Kasey wrapped around him, under him, her long fingers caressing his back, her full, alluring lips tenderly kissing him, her moans soft. Everything about the act was slow, seductive, tender. He could see Kasey clearly now, could almost smell, taste, and feel her.
His climax was abrupt, explosive. Hers followed a split second later. He cried out, pulled her to him and clung tightly, sought her lips. She rebuked his kiss to bury her teeth into his shoulder. It was then, feeling the sharp pain, that he realized it was Dianne in his arms and not Kasey. Not Kasey.
Long moments later, when their beating hearts and breathing had become less labored, Dianne whispered in his ear, “Man, oh, man, now that was more like it, Mr. King. For a moment I thought you were going to fizzle out on me, but wow, you really got with it there at the end. That, dear lover, is the kind of enthusiasm I’ve missed lately.”
Jay didn’t comment. He was afraid that if he did he might tell her what had been on his mind for the longest time. That he was too old for this. That somewhere over the past several years he had grown tired of rough, raunchy sex, sex without tenderness. He didn’t need gymnastics to be sexually satisfied, had never really needed it, but Dianne had been adamant. The times he tried to go slow, to make love and not engage in a battle of lust that teetered on the brink of violence, she appeared bored, had then taken over to the inevitable conclusion.
He had to admit that in the beginning he had been excited by her sexual prowess, her insatiable appetite, her erotic imagination. Yet, he had assumed that with time they would settle into something a little more conventional. Tender, even.
Sometimes he wondered if it mattered who her sexual partner was as long as she was satisfied. Jay was certain she cheated on him. The signs were less than subtle. The wrong numbers when he answered the phone. Bruises on her breasts and inner thighs that he had not put there. A certain contentment at times, like a wild cat being stroked, purring, yet capable of attacking at the slightest provocation. In a way he blamed himself if she found their relationship wanting. Work for him came first. It had to if he expected to realize his dreams.
Dianne sighed with contentment and rolled off him, away from him. A moment later, she was fast asleep.
He envied her ability to just pass out afterward. This act, this sexual combat, did little to relax him. It always left him agitated, hyper.
Jay quietly slipped out of bed and dressed. From the living room phone he called Corky Saget, the man LeBarre had hired to follow Andrews. Saget reported that the subject’s car was still in the carport and he had a very clear view of his apartment. In fact, Andrews had just come out on the deck with a woman.
“They’re acting real cozy-like,” Saget said. “He ain’t going nowhere soon. I’ll call if he does, Mr. King.”
Their prime suspect, at least three miles away entertaining a lady on his deck, was accounted for. After several more calls to hotel security and surveillance, Jay felt confident enough to leave the suite. He would be gone an hour, maybe less, and the place was more than secure.
*
With great interest the Monk watched Jay King approach the elevator in his nightly pool attire, complete with towel and cellular phone. Not more than thirty minutes earlier, he had watched Kasey Atwood make the same trek.
King looked into the camera as he stepped into the number four elevator.
“Evening, Mr. King, sir,” he said to the image on the monitor. “Hope you have a nice swim.”
Time for the Monk to get on with the business at hand.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Monk had found his employee file in King’s office. After shredding the contents and burying the folder at the back of the file cabinet, he left the monitor room; mission accomplished. Actually, he had gotten more than he bargained for. He had learned that both King and Atwood had left their quarters, which made what he had to do that much easier. The two would soon meet up in the pool. How very cozy.
*
Completely relaxed and nearly dozing, Kasey was submerged to her chin in the smaller of the two round Jacuzzis, steam rising around her, when Jay entered at the far end of the pool area.
There was no doubt in her mind it was Jay King. Even in the darkness she recognized him—his profile in silhouette, the confident way he moved. He strode to the deep end of the pool, undressed down to skin, dove in, and began swimming.
Damn, she cursed to herself, he had decided to come after all. And to make matters worse, he swam in the nude. She had considered doing the same, but had chickened out, not knowing who had a master key and if they would choose this particular night to use it.
By his direct approach to the pool without as much as a glance her way, it was obvious he thought he was alone. The time to make her own presence known had passed. If she got out now, Jay would see her for sure. If she waited there was a good chance he would finish his laps and leave without ever knowing she was there.
She pushed across to the other side of the Jacuzzi. If her back were to the swimming pool, Jay was less likely to see her. For an indeterminable amount of time she listened to the steady, fluid sound of his body moving through the water.
While she waited, the Jacuzzi jets, set on an automatic timer, shut down. The water around her began to settle. Without the cover of the foaming bubbles, she felt exposed. Her mind raced. How many laps? How long would it take? Would he decide to Jacuzzi afterward? She knew on any other night he would, but things were different now. Dianne was probably waiting up for him. He’d do his laps and go. Please, Jay, do your laps and get the hell outta here.
The sounds of swimming ceased. Kasey drew her legs up until her chin rested on her knees, trying to make herself small, imperceptible. She closed her eyes and waited.
The Jacuzzi suddenly erupted in bubbles again. Her eyes flew open.
“Kasey?” Jay said, stepping into the water. “Is that you, Kasey?”
She nodded and looked away, embarrassed. “I guess I should have coughed or something.”
“Mind if I sit?”
She waved him down. “Sit, please”
He eased down into the bubbles several yards away. “I can leave if my being here, ah, makes you uncomfortable. I thought I was alone.”
“It’s your pool. Your hotel.” She rose to her feet. “If anyone leaves, it’ll be me.”
“It’s big enough for the both of us. Stay, please,” he said quietly. “I could use the company.”
She slowly lowered herself back down.
He sighed deeply. “Oh, how I’ve missed this.” He winced when his upper back touched the hot water. On his shoulder she saw a long scratch, then another, and what appeared to be a human bite.
Her stomach twisted. She felt her cheeks and chest grow warm from within. Jay had just left the arms of his wife. By the marks on him, it was apparent they’d had some very intense, physical sex. Which should have been no surprise to Kasey since Dianne had never been one to keep her sexual exploits with Jay to herself, describing every detail, boasting how their lovemaking went on for hours with no holds barred.
Jay rested his arms along the concrete lip, laid his head back, and closed his eyes. A jagged scar parted one wet eyebrow. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Dianne doesn’t like to Jacuzzi?”
His eyes opened slightly. “She’s fast asleep.”
“Is someone with her?”
“Oh, don’t worry; she’s
safe. I doubled-checked security. There are men all over the place. Saget has Andrews staked out at his apartment. No one’s going to get near the suite without raising an alarm.”
“Speaking of Andrews, you saw him on the monitor, does he look familiar?”
“There’s something, yes. It could be as simple as seeing him around the club. I’ll need a closer look. I get this feeling I knew him in the past, or someone who looked like him. Some background on the guy would help. School, college, service, something we might’ve had in common. I’ve got people working on it. So far nothing.”
“Jay, what if it’s not Andrews?”
Over one partially opened eye, an eyebrow went up.
“Well, I was—oh, forget it,” she said. “I see phantoms where there are none.”
“You think we’re watching the wrong man?”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but it just doesn’t feel right. Andrews doesn’t feel right.”
“You’ve only been monitoring him for a couple of nights.”
“I know. I wish I’d’ve gotten a better look at him the two times I came in contact with him. Brad is certain it’s him. But Brad…” She let the words die. She couldn’t say that she didn’t trust Brad either, not since finding him in Jay’s office safe the week before.
Jay lifted his head. “Brad, what?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I was about to say that the only thing I know for sure is that the man who I think is the culprit drives a black Camaro and that he isn’t a nice guy. The bit about his not being a nice guy is, however, strictly instinct.”
“Trust your gut feelings,” Jay said.
Pay attention to your gut feelings. Her horoscope.
Jay closed his eyes again. Kasey studied his face. In the dim interior, he looked drawn out, tired. So much had happened in the past few weeks. And until they learned who was responsible, there was no guarantee that things would improve anytime soon. Plans for the new tower, for the future of the club, hinged on stopping a saboteur, perhaps a killer, with a grudge against Jay.
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