The Case of the Linen Pressed Guest (The M.O.D. Files Book 2)
Page 15
Ken was the hotel’s public relations manager and hotel historian. He had a lot of contacts in the local media and could be instrumental in heading off any bad press resulting from a case like this.
“Good, good,” Tom muttered. I could see the sweat breaking out on his forehead. I wasn’t sure if it was from the bad news and concern over the hotel’s reputation or the effort he was putting into his sandwich preparation.
I couldn’t help but stare as he manhandled the monstrosity he’d constructed, jabbing its giant end into his jowl-giggling face. An eruption of condiments exploded from the saggy end of the sandwich, along with some guts of shredded lettuce and sliced tomato.
I couldn’t take any more. “I’ll keep you posted on the case,” I said as I headed for the door.
“Goo boy, goo boy,” Tom spluttered over his mouthful.
CHAPTER 11
To: allstaff.lanigan@sharedresorts.com
Subject: 1/4 MOD Report
THE LANIGAN HOTEL
CHICAGO, IL
MANAGER ON DUTY REPORT
Wednesday, January 4th
Weather: 32/16 Cloudy
Occupancy: 51%
Arrivals: 106
Departures: 178
Event Resume:
Grand Ballroom (9 a.m. – 3:30 p.m.) – DST convention
3rd Floor Vista Rooms – V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X – Chicago Public Schools administrator training classes
Blue Velvet Room (7 p.m. – 12:30 a.m.) – DST convention finale party
Triton Club (Open 4 p.m. – 1 a.m.)
Carlisle’s Whiskey Lounge (Open 6 p.m. – 1 a.m.)
* * *
It was just after 6 a.m. when my phone rang. Groggily, I fumbled to answer.
“Haze…it’s Marino. You got time to meet this morning?”
“Sure,” I said, still half asleep. “You want to have breakfast?”
“No time,” he said swiftly. “I’m heading out to meet with Statler’s boss.”
“Really?” I said, fully awake now and interested. “You come up with something?”
“Maybe, I’m not sure yet.”
I eyed my alarm clock. “How’s seven at Vitantonio’s Café down on the arcade level sound? We can just grab a cup of coffee and some pastries.”
“Perfect. See you then,” the detective ended the call abruptly.
His rush to get off the phone gave me hope that he might have broken the case and that Torez wasn’t his man. Maybe there had been something to my theory that the murder was indeed related to Statler’s consulting work after all.
* * *
Vitantonio’s Café was located near the hotel’s east entrance and was bustling this morning. The windows were slightly steamed from the mixture of artificially pumped heat from the hotel’s boilers and the crush of warm bodies crowded inside to grab their morning treats before work or meetings. If nothing else, a warm coffee was an excuse for commuters to take a break from the bitter temperatures and gusty winds outside. The huddled masses stood wrapped in cushiony coats, bulky boots, soft scarves, Gortex gloves, and similar winter wear. We managed to finagle a table for two near a street-view window.
“So what’s the word, Detective?” I asked as we sat down with our coffees and light breakfasts of a croissant lightly drizzled with a dark chocolate glaze for me and a warm cinnamon bun for the detective.
“Good news and bad news,” the detective took a sip of his steaming hot coffee. “Which one you want first?”
“I guess the bad news,” I shrugged.
“Well, my bad news might be your good news,” the detective frowned.
“That’s a good thing…I guess. Fire away.”
“I don’t think Torez is our guy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The times don’t match up. That last lock read on the thirteen floor linen closet, the one with Torez’s lost key, was at 3:52 p.m. But between 3:30 p.m. and 4:30 p.m. when he clocked out, Torez was either down in the security department filling out the lost key report or up in housekeeping getting documented for losing the key. We have several security personnel, as well as the housekeeping floor manager for Torez’s floor and the assistant director of housekeeping who verify his alibi. It pretty much eliminates him as a suspect. It could have been anyone who picked up that key in the meantime, and we don’t even know with one hundred percent certainty that the person who used the key was even the killer. It could have been a curious guest, another employee, or some kid just playing around with it.”
“True. So if the bad news for you is good news for the hotel, is the opposite true?”
“Not really,” the detective cut a small piece from his hot cinnamon bun, its white icing dripping down its sides in thin streams. “Turns out, the building across the street indeed houses one of Statler’s consulting firm’s clients.”
“Really?” I said, taking some pride in my own detective work.
The detective gave a slight nod and took a bite of bun.
“Was Statler working with the client?”
“No idea. I wasn’t able to speak directly to his boss,” the detective mumbled over his chewing. “I made an appointment to meet with him today, so I should know more by this afternoon.”
“Definitely keep me posted,” I said, my spirits lifted. I decided not to tell Tom just yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up, nor my own, too soon.
“Before I leave, I’d like to take a look out of 15-202…with these,” he reached inside his leather attaché case and pulled out a pair of high-powered binoculars.
“Definitely,” I said, excitedly. “You mind if I accompany you?”
“It was your theory. I don’t see why not.”
I plowed through the rest of my croissant while the detective finished his cinnamon bun and then we took the guest elevators up to the 15th floor.
Inside Mr. Statler’s room, things looked completely normal, as though he was just out for a meeting or grabbing a bite to eat and would be back at any moment. A suitcase sat open on a chair beside the bed, the bedroom curtains were half open, and there was a coffee mug still full of liquid on the nightstand. The bed that was made, but it appeared someone had sat upon it or laid down. One pillow was propped against the headboard, probably for television watching.
“Did you find any blood in here? Any signs of a struggle or anything?” I asked.
The detective shook his head. “Nothing,” he said as I followed him over to the bedroom windows.
“I wonder where he was killed?” I said, half to myself.
The detective already had his binoculars out and was peering through the windows.
“See anything?” I asked as he scanned the view outside.
“Make out a couple desks…some computer screens…file cabinets…stuff like that. No details though. I can’t read what’s on the computer screens without something stronger than these,” he held out the binoculars to me. “Take a look?”
“Sure,” I said, taking my own glimpse of the gap between our aged building and the modern glass and steel construction of the skyscraper directly across from us. I handed back the binoculars. “Unless he had some spy-quality equipment, I’m not sure he could have made out anything of use,” I huffed.
“Like you said, maybe it was more about the comings and goings of certain employees or the hours they were keeping,” the detective said. “It’s worth the trip out to Merrillville to check with Statler’s boss,” he added.
* * *
I walked the detective out and then spent the next hour handling a couple guest service issues left on my voicemail. I then took a brief meeting with Tess Wiggins, our lovely event coordinator, and Greg Hildebrand, the president of DST Trucking, the company who’d been holding their annual convention at the hotel for the past few days. Greg was happy with the way things had gone thus far, but he had a few suggestions for tweaks we might make for next year’s meeting.
As we wrapped up the meeting, my M.O.D. phone vibrated my awareness to
an incoming call. I shook hands with Mr. Hildebrand, thanked him for his business, and bid Tess farewell, ensuring that we’d touch base to discuss Mr. Hildebrand’s ideas for next year. Then I excused myself to take the call.
“This is Robert, go ahead,” I answered
“Uh, I got a situation down here,” Jason greeted me.
“And a good morning to you too,” I replied, doing my best not to mask my sarcasm.
“You’d better get down here…quick,” he said.
“Be right there,” I hung up.
When I arrived, I found Jason cowering in the hallway outside my office door. “We got a problem,” he said as soon as he saw me.
“Yeah, so you said. So what exactly is up?”
“What’s ‘up’ is waiting in your office,” he nodded toward my partially open door.
I peeked inside to see a hulking fellow who must have stood seven feet tall waiting just inside.
“Who is that?” I hissed to Jason.
“Bounty hunter,” he whispered back.
“Is he here for me?”
“He wanted to speak to the general manager, but I knew there was no way I’d get Tom down here, so I called the next best thing,” Jason explained.
“Thanks,” I frowned. “What’s he want?”
Jason shrugged, “I assume he’s here to collect someone.”
“Well duh…that’s all you got for me?”
“Look at the guy,” Jason said, wide-eyed. “I’m not going to interrogate him.”
“Sheesh,” I shook my head, pushed the door to my office open, and went inside.
“Robert Haze, hotel manager on duty,” I said in my most confident tone, extending a hand to monstrous beast of a fellow.
The man wore sunglass, days-old stubble, a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and massive black boots. He loomed above me, taking my comparatively child-sized hand in his.
“Bear Robertson, bounty hunter,” he growled with a slight western drawl. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“How can I be of assistance, Mr. Robertson?” I asked, wondering whether this was a joke Detective Marino had put this colossal man up to. But I decided that sort of thing wasn’t Marino’s style.
“I’m here for one of your housekeepers. Goes by the name of Catherine Edens, aka, Kat Elder, aka, Catherine Elder.”
I though for a moment. “Name doesn’t ring a bell. We get a lot of turnover in the housekeeping department though.”
“My information says she’s been working here for about three weeks under the last name Elder.” The gigantic bounty hunter removed his sunglasses and looked at a sheet of paper he held in his hand.
“What’s she wanted for?”
“Skipped bail on several charges…driving under the influence with a child in the vehicle, no proof of insurance, and operating a vehicle without a license.”
“Great,” I frowned. “We do background checks on all our people. Makes me wonder what else we miss.”
“Probably due to the assumed name. It’s a stolen identity and is clean…or at least was clean until she got a hold of it.”
“Mind if I call our security department to let them know what’s going on?”
“Actually I do,” Bear, which I had to admit was a fitting name, stared at me. “You see, the more time I waste, and the more people who become aware I’m looking for this woman, the greater the chance she’ll get wind of my being here. I’ve been hunting her for several weeks and this is the closest I’ve been. I wanted to speak solely to your general manager, but the desk people said he wasn’t available. I’m only speaking to you out of courtesy to your hotel and to keep the possibility of an overblown scene to a minimum. I was also hoping you’d being able to tell me on what floor of the hotel Ms. Edens is working.”
I nodded, “I appreciate your consideration, Mr. Robertson. But I’ll have to contact the housekeeping department to find out what you need to know…and I’ll have to review your paperwork and identification as well as accompany you as a witness for the hotel’s own security and liability.”
“I understand…just try to keep the number of people you have to speak to in the housekeeping department to a minimum,” he said as he handed over his personal identification and the paperwork he held in his hand. I noted a handgun, correlating in size and scariness to the man carrying it, jutting from a shoulder holster beneath his coat as he reached for his identification.
“Mind if I make a copy of these?” I nodded to the documents he’d provided.
“Be my guest,” Bear nodded.
I made a quick review of the information and studied the attached headshot of Ms. Edens. She was Caucasian, had dirty blonde hair, wasn’t unattractive but I wouldn’t say was particularly attractive either, and looked to be in her mid to late-30s.
I quickly contacted Marian in housekeeping while making my photocopies. Without going into too much detail, I got the information Bear needed. Then I led the way to the service elevators, receiving several lingering stares from wary guests along the way. The watchful eyes didn’t seem to bother Bear in the least. I figured that a man his size was probably used to them.
“If you could just try to keep any disturbances to a minimum, I’d appreciate it,” I said as we rode to the 21st floor where Ms. Edens was reportedly working.
“I’ll do my best,” the gruff bounty hunter said. “Can’t make any promises. You never know how someone will react when they’re cornered.”
“I understand,” I nodded.
I had to admit that I felt somewhat sorry for the Ms. Edens. Here she was, trying to make a fresh start, and the blocks were all going to come tumbling down in a matter of moments. But then I thought about how she’d endangered the child riding with her when she was pulled over for her alcohol-related incident and I didn’t feel quite so bad. I wondered where the child was now, how it was related to her, and I hoped it would be well cared for in Ms. Eden’s absence.
The service elevator door slid open and we exited right beside the swinging double-doors that led to the guest corridor. Bear was right behind me as I pushed through them. We stopped just outside, instantly recognizing Ms. Edens about 20 feet down the hallway to our right. She was pulling several clean towels from her cleaning cart and glanced up, noticing us. She began to smile, probably assuming we were guests or other hotel employees, until she noticed Bear. Her growing smile froze in place as her eyes went from Bear, to me, and then back to Bear. Before I could say a word, she dropped the towels and bolted toward a stairway entrance directly across the hall from her.
It all happened in probably less than two seconds.
“Wait!” I put out a hand as Bear took off after Ms. Edens. But it was of no use. I watched as he disappeared through the stairway door behind her.
I took a deep breath, shaking my head as I walked back to the service elevator landing, pressed the down button, and caught the same service elevator that we’d just arrived on.
I punched the button for the 6th floor and watched my progress as each floor indicator lit and went dark, lit and went dark, lit and went dark from floor to floor as I descended.
About ten seconds later, I was standing outside the same stairwell that Ms. Edens and bounty hunter Bear had entered on the 21st floor a few moments prior. I opened the door and stood listening.
I could hear the pounding of footsteps and shouting above me. I stepped back so that I was standing just outside the door to the stairway. Several more seconds passed. The footsteps and shouting grew louder so that I could hear them from where I stood in the hallway. Suddenly the door was yanked open by Ms. Edens. She shrieked in surprise as she saw me and jumped backward straight into the meaty paws of her pursuer.
If Bear had just listened to me, he would have saved himself some effort and a lot of sweating and heavy breathing. What he (and apparently Ms. Edens as well) didn’t know was that this particular stairway didn’t descend all the way to the ground floor. There were a total of 16 stairways sprinkled thr
oughout the hotel, but only six of them actually went all the way from housekeeping on the 25th floor down to the street level, and of those, only four continued all the way down to 2B. Obviously this stairway was not one of them, exiting instead at the 6th floor.
I quickly confiscated Ms. Eden’s floor key, while Bear thanked me for my assistance and handcuffed the wily room attendant. After this, I took the elevator back upstairs to break the bad news to Marian and the 21st floor housekeeping manager regarding the fact that they’d need to find a replacement to cover the rest of their fugitive employee’s rooms.
CHAPTER 12
To: allstaff.lanigan@sharedresorts.com
Subject: 1/5 MOD Report
THE LANIGAN HOTEL
CHICAGO, IL
MANAGER ON DUTY REPORT
Thursday, January 5th
Weather: 11/7 Clear
Occupancy: 23%
Arrivals: 213
Departures: 736
Event Resume:
Triton Club (Open 4 p.m. – mid.)
Carlisle’s Whiskey Lounge (Open 6 p.m. – mid)
* * *
With the departure of the DST Trucking convention, hotel occupancy dropped again. But I didn’t feel guilty about the drop off in my related duties. In fact, such days were few and far between, and I more than earned my keep when the hotel was packed solid and calls were nonstop. Plus, I knew that we’d be picking up transient guests over the weekend now that the majority of the snow had been cleared and the forecast wasn’t predicting any more accumulation until late next week. Families and couples would be looking to break the winter doldrums and shake the cabin fever by booking a hotel room for Friday and/or Saturday night. The couples would order room service and a bottle of champagne, take in the dinner show at the Polynesian, and have some cocktails at our lounges. Parents would let the kids folic in the pool while they soaked leisurely in the hot tub.