by Webb Hubbell
The bad news was what had been leaked already to the press. The sheets were soaked in blood, and Billy’s semen was on the sheets as well. There were no signs of intercourse, no indication of penetration, no semen found in her body. Billy’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon—a room service steak knife. Where had the knife come from?
The worst of the news was that the door had an automatic locking system. Once the door was closed, it was locked, and only a keycard could unlock it. A door led to the adjoining room next door, but that door was locked from Billy’s side when the police arrived. I searched the inventory: they hadn’t found a keycard either in the room or on Billy’s person. Hmmm!
I emailed Micki with questions, hoping she had noticed the same anomalies in the report that I had. After dinner I would go over the file again, as would Micki. The report contained lots of photographs of the room itself, and I wondered if it was still cordoned off or was back in use. Surely the hotel would be sensitive—the publicity was bad enough as it was.
I sat quietly for a while, just thinking. I texted Micki with a new question to ask Billy. Finally, I ordered dinner and packed up the file. Feeling restless, I moved to the bar—at least Barb’s soft voice, her cute smile, and the Cav’s game could entertain me. I felt the buzz in my pocket and drug out the phone—it was Novak.
“I have bad news, my friend. One girl and her protector have been found dead in a storm drain outside of Cleveland, Ohio. Their throats were cut.”
Who in the hell were we dealing with?
“Any sign of the other two?” I asked.
“My colleague has sent several men to Cleveland to try and find them. I will send you a picture of the girl who was murdered. I suspect your man Clovis can get the police file as well.”
“Any idea what happened?” I asked.
“What usually happens—the two of them couldn’t just lie low. They probably got bored in a cheap hotel and headed to the nearest bar. They were spotted, word was passed, and now they’re dead. Such a waste.”
“Your business is not for the faint-hearted,” I commented.
“Not my business, my former business, as I keep reminding you.”
“Yes, you do, yes you do.” I replied. I hoped so, I really did. Perhaps he had finally found a way to go legit, but the past has a way of catching up.
“I believe you now—Billy Hopper did not kill Nadia. But I still want to know who did. Do you have any further information?”
“Not yet, but I’m getting closer, and I haven’t forgotten my promise. Be patient.”
“Patience is my middle name,” he lied. I wished I could give him more.
Neither of us had the need for small talk or social niceties, so the conversation ended abruptly, and I was soon lost in thought. Now three people were dead, and to what end? This young woman had gone to a banquet, partied with a bunch of low-level execs, and helped a supposedly drunk Billy into his hotel room. Now she was dead, as was her protector, who was also the only link we had to the man who had hired her.
Barb asked quietly. “You okay—that phone call must have been a tough one.”
I wondered how much she’d heard. The hand still holding my phone was clearly shaking. Barb reached out both hands to still it. Her hands were small and remarkably soft.
She squeezed my hands just a little and then let go. “Why don’t I join you for a nightcap in a little while?”
I watched her as she walked away to take another order. She was very attractive, and I was very lonely. Maybe… but now Maggie’s warnings filled the screen, and I came to my senses.
It wasn’t long before she returned.
All men fixate on the idea of women coming on in a rush—they dream of it. But this time I wasn’t interested. I didn’t see Barb, I saw Carol.
“Barb, you’re a very attractive woman, and thank you, but tonight I have work to do.” I picked up the file and left before she could respond.
* * *
SATURDAY
* * *
April 30, 2016
57
LAST NIGHT, I’D opened the door to my room gingerly and was relieved to find everything in order. I poured myself a glass of wine and began a list of questions for the team to dive into the next morning. I didn’t look forward to telling them about the dead girl, but they deserved to know.
This morning I enjoyed a breakfast of fried eggs over-easy, bacon, and cheese grits, another Southern delicacy I bet they weren’t familiar with at the exclusive clubs in London.
Martin’s person, Rick, picked me up and once again we were able to get to my office without detection, at least as far as I could tell. Micki and Beth were waiting in the conference room and Clovis, Stella, and Paul were on their way. We poured coffee from the service Maggie had set up on the credenza and sat down, ready to get started.
“I hate to start the morning this way, but I heard last night that one of the three girls and her bodyguard were murdered outside Cleveland last night.”
Maggie gasped—neither Beth nor Micki reacted at all.
“I know this is unsettling. It emphasizes the danger I’ve put you all in, and also highlights the need to speed up our investigation.”
I saw three grim faces, but no one said a word. It felt almost like a moment of respect for the dead. Micki finally broke the silence.
“I have the list of questions you sent me for Billy. I’ll email you his answers before I leave for Knoxville, if I don’t see you in person. Anything else crop up this morning, besides a cute waitress?”
“A few more questions.” I ignored the jab and was handing her the list when the others walked in. I waited for them to get settled, then began with Paul.
“Paul, did you make any headway with our bartender or the regulars?” He looked a little better than he had yesterday.
“Several of the regulars remember Nadia, and one guy claimed he offered to buy her a drink. She politely declined, but none of them think they could recognize the man who joined her. The room is dark, and he always sat with his back to the bar. The bartender is becoming my new best friend, especially with my generous tips, but it will take cash and a photograph to get a definitive make.
“I spent a little extra time last night in a couple of Eastern European bars where the other three other girls might have worked, but no luck.”
“That’s okay, get some rest. I’m going to need you on full alert with Beth and Micki in Tennessee. I don’t think anybody knows y’all are going, but no sense getting lax.”
“Don’t worry.” Paul said firmly.
I looked to Stella next.
“I have several things to report. First, all the occupied rooms in the hotel that were rented by paying customers on the night in question. The cleanup crew didn’t clean a room that wasn’t supposed to be occupied for the week before or the week afterwards.” My heart sank.
“Here’s a list of who occupied every room for the night in question. There are several charged to corporate accounts so we have no names, only credit card numbers.”
Beth asked, “What do you mean?”
Clovis answered. “Stella and I are a good example. Bridgeport Life rented our room at the Mayflower, using a corporate American Express card. The only record in the computer is to what credit card the room is charged. Bridgeport called the front desk before we checked in to give them our names, but our names weren’t in the billing system.”
“Were any of the rooms on Billy’s floor rented through such an account?”
Stella looked to her computer screen.
“Just one, room 703.” She said.
Clovis and I smiled. “Maggie, did anyone order room service on Billy’s floor?
Maggie looked over her records. “Six. Two ordered that evening, and four ordered breakfast the next morning.”
“Did either of the two order steak that night? I asked.
“Both,” she sounded disappointed. I was too.
“Which rooms?” I asked, expecting to be d
isappointed.
Maggie smiled. “708 and 703.”
“Hot damn.” I asked Stella if she could find out precisely what was ordered for Room 703 that night.
She said she’d have it for me this afternoon and added, “I do have some good news.”
“No one rented a room solely on Thursday nights for the last month or so. But I decided to dig a little deeper, and found that one room was rented every Thursday from August through the middle of February using the same account.”
“Any idea whose account it was?” Micki asked.
“Not a clue. It’s only a number, and not even I can hack American Express’s records.”
“Well, that doesn’t help much!” Micki said with irritation. “And why are you smiling like the Cheshire cat?” She looked at me impatiently.
Beth jumped in immediately. “C’mon, Dad, what do you know? That grin always means you know something the rest of us don’t.”
“Stella, is the credit card number for the house account that rented a room every Thursday the same as the one that rented room 703 for the night in question?”
She stared at her screen for a moment. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
She looked up at me with a grin, “It sure is, it sure is.”
There were a few high-fives before Micki brought us back to reality.
“None of what we’ve discovered is admissible in evidence. Besides, we still don’t know who rented the room. And you know the management of the Mayflower isn’t going to give out that information without a fight.”
“You’re right. But at least we’re getting information. Stella, can you find out if room service was delivered to those Thursday rooms? I’d also like to know what was ordered, if you can. One more thing: find out if the maids noticed anything missing from room 703 the night in question.”
Micki had sobered us all up, but Stella wasn’t through.
“Jack, starting at midnight tonight I want everyone to stay off the company computers and emails for tonight and Sunday night.”
Beth’s voice rose in alarm. “No emails? Not even accessing my email using my phone?”
“Not even using your phones. Absolutely no emails for two days. We all can survive without email for two days, especially over the weekend.”
Beth was persistent, “Why?”
“You and Jeff can text all you want, but no email. I have a plan.”
“Listen, whoever is trying to hack into our system is upping his traffic and the sophistication of his attempts. I want to let him in just for a little while.” Stella was clearly tickled with her plan.
“To what end?” Maggie asked.
“Jack wants me to find out who is trying to hack us. Well, I want him to think he has succeeded. He might just get over confident, and I just might have an opportunity to get inside their network. Whether my ruse works or not, I’ll have our system protected by Monday morning. Beth, can you survive?”
Beth looked a little sheepish. “Well, yes. But what about our ‘Save Billy’ website?”
“You’re going to be in Tennessee most of the time, so I’ll monitor it. It’s really just emails that concern me.” Stella responded.
“What about our phones?” Maggie asked.”
“Don’t worry, they’re safe—just don’t use them for email.” She said.
“Good luck,” I said. “Clovis, any luck with the plastic surgeon?”
“I have an appointment this afternoon to remove an old football scar,” he grinned. “Then I’ll get to work on your latest list—it’s about enough work to choke a horse. Tell me you’ve run out of ideas.”
I had piled a lot on his plate, but I knew he could handle the load. Micki asked. “And how exactly will you spend your time while we’re exploring the mountains of Tennessee? Got a hot date at Barker’s?” She was really on a roll this morning. I let it pass, again, but her attitude was beginning to rankle.
“Think about it. You’re going to tell the prosecutor I’m back on the case, that we want a preliminary hearing, and that you’re leaving town for the weekend. This afternoon, as soon as Clovis verifies that the girl in Cleveland is really dead, Stella and Beth are going to post on the website that a critical witness to the Billy Hopper cover-up has been murdered. The plastic surgeon who botched the removal of Nadia’s tattoo will receive a visit from Clovis.
“While the four of you are enjoying a long weekend in the mountains, I’m going to dealing with the consequences of our stirring the pot.”
Micki said sarcastically, “Oh, sure, a romantic weekend in Bibb, Tennessee with Beth and Paul.”
What was her problem? Beth stared at Micki.
58
AS EVERYONE QUIETLY gathered his or her various belongings, Beth pulled me aside. “Dad, what’s going on with Micki? I’ve never heard her be so mean.”
“Sweetheart, I have no idea. But don’t let it get to you, she’ll get over whatever it is, she always has.” She sighed and walked out with Maggie.
I asked Stella to stay for a few minutes. I warned her to be careful, and then asked her if she could find out whose credit card had been used to pay for the table at the NFL banquet, to purchase the autographed football, and to pay for the guys’ drinks and rooms at the Mandarin. I also asked if she could find out what credit card number was used by Billy’s agent.
“You think Logan Aerospace may be behind the renting of the room at the Mayflower.” She stated.
“I doubt they’d be so careless as to use the same credit card, but it doesn’t hurt to check.”
“What about the agent? I bet he used Billy’s card.”
“I do too, but it’s worth finding out. I’m bothered that he’s reappeared and wants to be helpful. I know he hasn’t had an attack of conscience, and I don’t think it’s about his commissions.
“One last thing, any luck finding a bank account for Nadia/Carla?”
“Not yet. But I’m still searching,” she replied.
“There wasn’t a penny on her person or in her home, no purse, no phone, no nothing. Yet she was planning to go away for the rest of her life. I wonder where she kept her money.”
“From what I know, most women in her profession deal only in cash.” Stella said.
“I know, but she must have had a bank account somewhere. The kind of money she was talking about would need a container bigger than a cigar box. I wonder if…” I mused. She caught on quickly.
“Novak?”
“Yes, Novak.”
Stella and Beth retreated to an empty office to sort through all the comments “Free Billy” had received on the website, Facebook, and Twitter. They also drafted a post to go up later that revealed the girl’s murder and offered a $10,000 reward for information that led to the arrest of the murderer. I’d already asked Clovis to clear the reward with the Cleveland police.
I found Maggie back in her office.
“What’s with Micki? I’ve never heard her be quite so caustic,” she asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to talk about it. Are you ready to stir the pot some more?” I asked.
“Sure, but are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I hope so. In fact, for the first time I’m optimistic. Now the hard part—how do we get the right person to listen?”
“Do you really think they’re going to learn anything in Tennessee?
“It’s a Hail Mary play, but you run the play the situation calls for.”
I was tickled with my football analogy, but Maggie was not. “Should I be able to understand what you just said?”
“It’s a long shot—better?” She’d never quite gotten into American football, much less the lingo.
“Maggie, can you prepare these subpoenas for Clovis to serve on Tuesday morning for the preliminary hearing?”
She scanned the list, raising her brows when she came to one name.
“Have you run this list by Micki?”
“Not yet, but I will.” Frankly, I don’t want to say much
of anything to her before she gets back from Tennessee. Maybe by then she’ll have gotten over whatever’s bothering her. Can you work tomorrow?”
“Of course. What do you have in mind, or are you still flying by the seat of your pants?”
“Check with Stella. See if we can use the computers. We need to write a summary memorandum for our presentation. Hopefully Stella, Clovis, and the rest of the team will be able to provide the exhibits.”
“So we’re going to write a summary before you know what the proof is?” She looked incredulous.
“Of course.” I smiled and left her to preparing the subpoenas.
I went back to my office, closed the door behind me, and phoned Novak.
“Have you discovered the identity of Nadia’s killer yet?” he answered.
“Not yet, and, in fact, I need your help,” I replied.
“What do you need now?” I could hear the irritation in his voice.
“You may recall that we found Nadia’s home totally empty, not a scrap of paper or even a coat hanger in the entire place. If she was as successful as you have said, she had to have either a place where she stored her cash or a bank account. Can you help me access that account?”
“Why should I do that?” Now his tone was downright chilly.
“Because she may have had a customer who didn’t pay her in cash, but either sent her a regular check or wired money into her account. I’d like to find out who that customer was.”
“I understand. What you ask for is difficult. There are certain banks that, let’s say, are favored by people in my former business. They look the other way when cash is deposited or withdrawn, but wouldn’t want anyone to reveal their identity. Moreover, if Nadia had such an account I wouldn’t want her money to be seized by your government.”
He had a point. As money received as part of the commission of a crime, the Feds could indeed seize it. “I don’t care what happens to her money after I prove Billy’s innocence. I simply need to be able to prove that someone sent her regular checks or wires. After this case is over, if you or the bank decide to distribute it to your brother or her family, that’s none of my business. But I need some form of irrefutable proof that these deposits were made.”