by Scott Blade
He was talking about Widow.
Keagan said, “I showed you mine, and I’m asking you to do as he requested.”
The jittery front desk guy nodded and tapped away on his keys again. He said, “I have two names here. Both men. I suppose.”
Keagan asked, “Are there drivers' licenses with the names? Don’t you guys photocopy them?”
The jittery front desk guy said, “Our guests prefer we don’t keep their IDs with their, um, real home addresses on file.”
Keagan said, “Okay. So who are the two guests that prepaid for extended periods of time but haven’t checked out yet?”
The jittery front desk guy paused and said, “Not sure I should share that information.”
Widow looked at Keagan and nodded a slight head nod, nothing dramatic. She returned the same and took out her phone and stared at the screen. She said, “Oh, I gotta take this phone call. It’s important. I’ll be right back.”
She winked at Widow and walked away, back down the hall and out the front door to the parking lot they came from. Widow turned to the jittery front desk guy and smiled. He placed both of his hands down on the countertop and fanned out his fingers. His hands were enormous. He stretched out his torso to elongate it, to make him look taller and wider than he was normally. It was all the same tactic he did with the grizzly bear two days before with Liddy in the woods. He stood over the jittery front desk guy, menacing and terrifying.
He said, “Give me the names of the two guests. And before you say no, I’m not going to ask twice.”
The jittery front desk guy stared at Widow’s hands and up his torso and into his eyes. He said, “Come and look.”
Widow took his hands up and stepped around the counter into the jittery front desk guy’s space and put his hands on the guy’s shoulders. He squeezed just enough to give the guy the impression that he could snap him like a twig, which was true.
The jittery front desk guy pointed at the screen. There were two names. Widow knew immediately which was Kloss. He pointed at one of the names on the screen and said, “Give me the room key for that guy’s room.”
The jittery front desk guy didn’t fight back. He didn’t resist. He did as requested. He went over to a cabinet that hung on a wall. He opened it and found the spare key for the Kloss’s room and handed it over to Widow.
The jittery front desk guy said, “Please, bring it back when you’re done.”
Widow took the key and thanked the guy for his help and reminded him to keep his mouth shut, then he met Keagan out in the parking lot. She was leaning against the grille of the US Coast Guard truck.
“Did you get it?” she asked.
“I got it?”
“How do you know it’s his?”
Widow said, “The name he checked in with is Eureka Hoover.”
“Who’s that?”
“Hoover and Eureka are both popular vacuum cleaner companies.”
Keagan asked, “Why pick those names?”
Widow shrugged and said, “Maybe he tried ex-presidents for a while, and maybe he ran out, so he combined Herbert Hoover and Eureka.”
Keagan said, “Whatever. Let’s go checkout the room.”
Widow led Keagan around a corner and up a flight of stairs that clanged as they climbed them. The room was on the second floor. Keagan knocked on the door, identified herself as a federal agent, and waited. No answer. Widow inserted the key, and Keagan put her hand on her gun, ready to draw if necessary. Widow unlocked the door to the room, and he shoved it open and stepped back. Keagan readied herself to draw her gun, but there was no need. The room was empty clearly. It was tiny. It was a twelve-by-twelve space. There was a made bed, blue carpet, a single cushioned chair in one corner, a vanity, a closet, and a bathroom. Everything was clean and tidy.
They entered the room and switched on the lights. Keagan opened the curtains and moved the blinds to let in as much light as possible.
Widow moved around the room. He looked at the carpet, at the bed, at the vanity. He moved his fingers over the vanity’s top and inspected his fingers.
Keagan said, “Be careful not to touch anything else. The Feds might want to have a look here.”
Widow said, “It won’t matter. They won’t find anything.”
Keagan said, “Why do you say that?”
Widow didn’t answer her. He stared at a phone in a cradle near the bed. Then he moved on and went to the closet and opened it. Inside, he found Kloss’s clothes. He said, “Look here. Everything’s neat and tidy. The clothes are all ironed and pressed and hung up.”
Keagan came over and looked. She asked, “What’s wrong with that?”
Widow knelt and inspected a pair of loafers. They matched both of Kloss’s suits, which were hung up. He picked up one of the shoes by pinching his index and middle finger inside around the lip of the hole for a foot. He picked it up and got back on his feet and went over to the vanity. He placed the shoe on top the vanity. He stared at it.
Keagan said, “What are you doing?”
Widow stepped into the bathroom, turned on the light, and came back out with a clean towel off the rack. He went over to the vanity and started going through the drawers. He opened them all, one at a time. He left them opened and stared into each. He reached in and shifted around Kloss’s clothes. He was careful not to mess it up too much in case he was wrong about the FBI using forensics inside the room.
He used the towel to shift around Kloss’s clothes, checking under items, looking for something. He moved the underwear, the socks, the folded T-shirts. He found nothing. He went over to the bed and looked under the pillows, under the bed. He found Kloss’s suitcases. He pulled them out. There were two. They were pushed under the bed. He opened them using the towel from the bathroom to touch the handles and the zippers. He set them open and looked inside. He sifted through all the compartments and the pockets and didn’t find what he was looking for. He did find Kloss’s passport. He set that on the bed.
He said, “We can confirm that this is Kloss’s room.”
Keagan looked at the passport and nodded.
Widow continued his search like he was looking for something in particular. He checked everything from inside a microwave in a little kitchenette to under the sink to the medicine cabinet to behind the mirror over the sink in the bathroom to the toilet tank itself. He couldn’t find what he was looking for.
Keagan followed him the whole way. She didn’t pester him to answer her; she just followed along.
Finally, Widow was done with his search, and he stood in the middle of the room and looked out over all of it.
Keagan asked, “What are you looking for?”
Widow said, “Notice anything strange about this room?”
Keagan said, “No. Not really.”
Widow said, “Okay. Let’s put that aside for now. Kloss was an FBI agent. Right?”
“Yes?”
Widow said, “Was he any good?”
Keagan said, “I don’t really know. The Feds haven’t shared that with me.”
Widow said, “Speculate. A lot of your job is to imagine.”
Keagan said, “He made it to retirement. No issues in his records that I’m aware of. If he made it to retirement, then we can assume he was competent at least.”
Widow asked, “And then he became a private investigator, right?”
“That’s what I told you.”
“Did you check to see if he’s licensed?”
Keagan said, “Yes.”
“Is he licensed in Alaska?”
“No. Utah, California, Nevada, and Colorado. I believe.”
Widow said, “So Kloss was a retired FBI agent. He was competent, as you said, but he was probably more than that. He was probably a good agent. Right?”
“At least competent, as I said. But he was at least average, which would make him good enough.”
Widow said, “After he retired, he turned his life into working as a professional private investigator. And he
was good enough that he was licensed in four states? Correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Therefore, we can assume he was good at that job too?”
Keagan said, “Good enough.”
“Okay. So it’s safe for us to presume that he was good enough at this job too. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“He got himself killed.”
“That’s true. But up till that point, he was at least competent and probably average, right?”
“I’d say that’s true.”
Widow said, “Look around. What do you see?”
Keagan looked around and said, “I see a cheap hotel room that was nice and neat until you pulled everything out.”
“But it was neat before that, right?”
Keagan said, “Yes. Very neat.”
Widow said, “It was a little too neat.”
“What does that mean?”
Widow said, “This room was searched before us.”
Keagan looked at him and then looked around again. She let her eyes follow the room, tried to imagine before Widow pulled out all the drawers. She said, “How? It was spotless ten minutes ago.”
Widow shook his head and said, “No. It was ransacked.”
“How?”
Widow said, “It was ransacked and then put back together. It’s called a scrub. This place has been scrubbed. Look how neat everything is.”
Widow turned and went to the bathroom. He said, “This hotel is not bottom of the barrel, but it’s pretty damn close. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Keagan said, “It’s the bottom for Kodiak.”
Widow pointed at the mirror and said, “A man is staying in this room. He hasn’t been here in seven days, and this mirror is spectacularly clean. Take a look at it.”
Keagan moved over to the bathroom and stepped inside. The bathroom was tight enough that she had to brush up against Widow to stand in front of the mirror. He pushed back as far as he could against a towel rack behind him.
She looked at the mirror and at Widow’s reflection in it. She said, “That’s a clean damn mirror.”
They exited the bathroom. Keagan went over to the bed near the door side of the room. Widow went back to the center and stood there. He said, “Here’s another thing. We agree that Kloss was a decent private investigator. But look around the room.”
Keagan looked around.
Widow said, “Where’s his laptop? Or his tablet?”
Keagan looked around again and tilted her head. She said, “That is odd.”
Widow said, “No way would a guy like this, a private investigator, who is licensed in four states, not have a digital device of some type. This guy would have something to record his findings on. He’d need a computer to use the internet, to take notes, to load video files, to store his findings. He’d need email. He’d need Google. But there’s no device here?”
Keagan said, “Maybe he used his phone for all that. They’re basically little computers nowadays, you know? He drowned to death out there in the ocean. He’s phone is probably in the belly of a fish or something.”
Widow shook his head and said, “He probably did use his phone, but he wouldn’t only use a phone. He’d have a laptop too. Trust me. And the guys who killed him would have his phone, or it’s out there in the belly of a shark somewhere. They also would know he had a computer. Hell, he probably told them where it was.”
Keagan thought for a moment and said, “Yeah. You’re right. Where is it? Maybe the bad guys took it off him before they killed him.”
“No. Even if they did, he’d have a backup here. Private investigators keep records and reports and leave things behind—hidden—in case something happens to them. He’d have a backup. He’d have secure records and a secure recordkeeping system in place.”
She said, “I don’t see anything like that here. We should check if he has mail at the desk.”
Widow said, “Let’s go now. We’re not going to find anything else here.”
Keagan agreed, and the two of them put everything back the way they found it, locked the room up, and left. They went back to the front desk to find the jittery guy waiting. He took the key. He kept one of his hands behind the counter and out of sight. Widow suspected he went to get a weapon of some sort in case Widow came back. It was probably a baseball bat. Although, it could’ve been a firearm.
Widow stayed close to Keagan in case the jittery guy came out with whatever weapon it was. She asked him for Kloss's mail.
The jittery front desk guy said, “No mail.”
Widow said, “Did Mr. Hoover ask you to hold anything for him?”
The jittery front desk guy kept his eyes on Keagan and didn’t make eye contact with Widow. He said, “Oh, the FBI already picked that up.”
Widow and Keagan looked at each other. Their different shades of blue eyes locked for a brief moment, and then Keagan looked back at the jittery front desk guy.
She asked, “The FBI?”
The jittery front desk guy said, “That’s the badge the guy had.”
Keagan asked, “Do you remember the guy’s name?”
The jittery front desk guy said, “No, ma’am.”
Widow asked, “What did this guy look like?”
The jittery front desk guy said, “White guy. Very neat looking. Suit. Tie. Professional. Probably midfifties or early sixties. Should I not have given him the package?”
Keagan asked, “Do you remember what this package was?”
The jittery front desk guy scratched his head and said, “It was a small case with a handle.”
Keagan asked, “What kind of case? Like a briefcase?”
The jittery front desk guy said, “No. It was like a satchel. It had a shoulder strap on it. And a zipper with a main pocket. It was like something a college professor might carry his papers around in.”
Keagan asked, “Like for a laptop?”
The jittery front desk guy said, “Sure. A laptop would fit inside it easy.”
Keagan asked, “Do you have security cameras?”
The jittery front desk guy said, “No, ma’am.”
Keagan said, “You should get some.”
The jittery front desk guy said, “The owners don’t want them. The people who come here like their privacy.”
The jittery front desk guy paused a beat, and then he said, “I thought it weird that you guys came twice.”
Keagan turned to Widow and said, “Come on. There’s nothing here for us.”
They left the front desk office and the jittery guy and returned to the truck in the lot. They got inside—Keagan behind the wheel and Widow on the passenger side.
She said, “You said the room was 'scrubbed.' Does that mean what it sounds like?”
Widow glanced in the passenger side mirror to see if anyone was watching them from the parking lot. He saw no one. He said, “It’s also called a 'clean sweep.' I’ve only seen it when I was in the SEALs doing black ops missions. When the CIA wants to search a room, but they don’t want anyone to know they’ve been there. What they do is they send in a team that takes digital photos of everything so they can remember exactly where everything is. Then they carefully ransack it.”
Keagan interrupted and asked, “Carefully ransack?”
“They’re very good at it. They move everything around as quickly as possible without breaking anything until they find what they’re looking for. Then they use the photos to put everything back exactly as they found it. Sometimes they clean the room after, erasing all trace evidence that anyone has been there. It works great in hotel rooms. When the occupant returns, they might notice something out of place, but when they see how clean everything is…”
Keagan said, “They chalk it up to maid service.”
“Yeah,” Widow said.
“And you think that a CIA scrub team came through Kloss’s room?”
“Maybe not a team, but I’d bet money it was someone who knew what they were doing. And now we got a guy with an FBI badge going aro
und.”
Keagan asked, “So, you don’t think it was actually the FBI that took Kloss’s laptop?”
“No way. You’d know about it. It’d be in the case files. Plus, whoever the guy was with the badge, he didn’t even tell front desk guy that Kloss was dead.”
Keagan put her hands on the wheel at the ten and two o’clock positions and asked, “What now?”
Widow said, “I’m going to go back in there without you and ask that guy for phone records for the room from the day Kloss checked in till now.”
“You think this FBI guy might’ve used the phone?”
“No, but somebody hired Kloss to be here. That somebody may have called him, or he might’ve called out using the phone in the room.”
Widow thought that Keagan would have better luck getting those phone records, but he couldn’t send her back in there when the guy might have a weapon under the counter. He got out of the truck and left her sitting there alone.
Widow was back inside of five minutes with two pages of phone records.
22
The sky was full of gray and white clouds, but the sun was out. Widow and Keagan drove through the city of Kodiak. Keagan drove and Widow sifted through the phone records.
Keagan said, “Widow, where are we going?”
Widow kept his eyes on the phone numbers on the paper. He said, “I’m starving. Can we grab some breakfast?”
Keagan looked at a digital clock on the radio, above the center console. It was the middle of the afternoon. She said, “It’s late for breakfast. It’s more like late lunchtime.”
Widow said, “Can we get some lunch then? Really, I’m starving.” He wasn’t lying. Just then, his stomach rumbled.
Keagan smiled and glanced over at Widow. She said, “This isn’t a date, Widow. I need your help with this case. I’m not going to sit with you at a restaurant.”
Widow’s stomach rumbled again, only this time it was twice as loud. He rubbed it with one hand and said, “See? I’m not kidding. I’m pretty hungry. I work better once I’ve eaten. I can’t think clearly on an empty stomach.”
Keagan thought for a moment and said, “Okay. I have a better idea.”