The Case of the Linen Pressed Guest (The M.O.D. Files Book 2)

by K. W. Callahan

  Then there was silence.

  I opened the chute door and craned my head inside to take a peek over its door and down its tubular innards. I could see a distant spot of light and a small dark shape at the bottom of the shaft a dozen stories below. Several seconds later, I was back out in the hallway gathering Sergeants Grakowski and Mitts for the grim task of recovering Elon’s body from where it had exited down in the 2B linen sorting room.

  While I had pangs of sympathy for Elon, after knowing what he’d done to poor Derrick Statler, I couldn’t say I felt all that bad. And I had to admit, it was a fitting comeuppance.

  CHAPTER 16

  To: allstaff.lanigan@sharedresorts.com

  Subject: 2/14 MOD Report

  THE LANIGAN HOTEL

  CHICAGO, IL

  MANAGER ON DUTY REPORT

  Tuesday, February 14th

  Weather: 38/33 Rain

  Occupancy: 78%

  Arrivals: 873

  Departures: 389

  Event Resume:

  Sky Ballroom (9 a.m. – 4 p.m.) – Lighthouse Electric Products leadership conference

  6th Floor Meeting Rooms – Oak, Elm, Sycamore – Consolidated Group team building exercises

  Triton Club (Open 4 p.m. – 1 a.m.)

  Carlisle’s Whiskey Lounge (Open 6 p.m. – 1 a.m.)

  Blue Velvet Room (9 p.m. – midnight) – Sweatheart Ball

  Grand Ballroom (6 p.m. – 9 p.m.) – Valentine’s Day Candlelight Dinner w/ orchestra accompaniment

  **HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!! **

  * * *

  It was Valentine’s Day, and for the first time in years, I had a date for the occasion.

  It wasn’t quite six o’clock, and Kristen and I had a few minutes until the doors opened and seating began for the hotel’s annual Valentine’s Day candlelight dinner. This years event was to be set to the melodic tunes of the Bohemian Spaetzle Orchestra.

  With time to kill, we walked over to Carlisle’s Whiskey Lounge to grab a pre-dinner cocktail. The lobby was astir with couples celebrating the occasion. Many of the women wore red gowns, slinky red skirts, or sequined dresses, most that appeared to be vacuum-suctioned to their bodies. Some of the men wore red ties, had red handkerchiefs in their coat breast pockets, had affixed a rose to their lapel, or were sporting a similar red garnish. I even saw one man sitting on a lobby chair, leg propped upon a knee, exposing crimson socks.

  I personally had chosen a tie bearing tiny bare-butted Cupids shooting arrows through hearts as my personal adornment in honor of the day.

  Carlisle’s was also full of love birds. Many of them were nestled at tiny tables for two, hunkered over their drinks holding hands, caressing shoulders, or rubbing knees. And of course, Marv was at the bar to heighten the mood.

  “Every time I see you here, you’ve got someone new in tow,” he leered at me. “Last time it was that hunky dick, now it’s this vivacious vulpine. You’d better watch yourself with this cat,” he addressed Kristen.

  “Don’t I know it,” Kristen smirked, giving me sideways eyes, playing along with Marv’s little game. “That’s why I have a police escort tonight.”

  “Oh yeah?” Marv eyed her with interest.

  “Yep,” Kristen nodded almost proudly. “Detective Marino is meeting us for dinner and a show.”

  “You sly dog,” Marv leaned in to me. “A little threesome, hmmm?”

  “Marv!” I said in surprise, but not at what he’d said. “What’s that around your neck?”

  He looked down, confused at the chain hanging out from beneath his shirt. “What? This old thing?” he pointed to a half-broken heart dangling from the end of the chain. “Why I’ve had this for years. Used to be another half to it, but I gave it to my old love.”

  “Marv, I like you, but I’m sorry to say that I’m certainly not your ‘love’.”

  “What?” he frowned, not understanding.

  “The other half. You left it in my mailbox Christmas morning.”

  “Is that where it went,” he breathed. “I thought that dirty queen I was with at the Christmas party still had it. I didn’t realize I’d given it to you.”

  “You didn’t tell me about this,” Kristen nudged me forcefully in the ribs, giving me a faux glare. “You two-timing son-of-a-gun. Getting it on with Marv behind my back?”

  “You don’t remember bringing it down to the front desk?” I asked Marv, choosing to ignore Kristen.

  “Oh come on, hon’. I don’t remember much of anything about that night. You of all people ought to know that, considering you were there for me and my honey’s post-party pow-wow. Probably why you ended up with my little love locket there. I was so far gone you could have stood me up on the corner out front and sold my pretty little butt to some tall, dark, and handsome, and I wouldn’t have been the wiser.”

  “Well…at least that’s one more mystery off my plate,” I said.

  “So what’ll it be?” Marv asked.

  I looked at Kristen, awaiting her order. “I think I’ll just have a glass of Merlot,” she said after a moment’s consideration.

  “Sister, you’re going to need more than that if you’re planning to jump his bones later tonight. You gotta have somethin’ that’ll get your hormones all riled up.”

  “Oh…okaaaay…” Kristen drawled uncertainly.

  “I think one of my special Valentine’s Day cosmos would be just perfect,” Marv sizzled without waiting for Kristen to decide.

  “And for you…you dirty scoundrel and owner of my broken heart?”

  “I think a vodka martini with two olives ought to do the trick,” I offered.

  “Good selection,” Marv agreed.

  Marv moved off to fix our drinks.

  “I’m looking forward to tonight,” Kristen said once he was gone.

  “Me too,” I smiled at her.

  “I’ve been looking forward to it since you asked me several weeks ago,” she added, touching my arm lightly.

  I had to admit, Kristen looked spectacular tonight – just the right mix of class and sex appeal to drive any man (heterosexual man that is) with a libido crazy. She’d gotten her typically ponytailed shoulder-length blonde locks done so that they cascaded down around her in soft waves, framing her angelic face. She’d applied a light layer of makeup and red lipstick that gave her youthful countenance the right amount of maturity. And she’d extended and enhanced her lovely lashes, giving her eyes a wider, rounder appearance and adding to her spry, fresh look.

  She wore red velvet heels and a tight – but not inappropriately so – one-piece sleeveless dress that extended to five inches above the knee. As she sat waiting for me in my office, I noticed that it rode up slightly, intriguingly, enticingly when she sat, and especially when she crossed her shapely legs. She wore small diamond stud earrings and a delicate silver watch on her wrist as her only jewelry, and she carried a tiny hard-shell purse with a red beaded exterior. It looked just big enough to fit a tube of lipstick and a tissue inside if she really crammed it full. The accessories added just enough to accentuate her simple but sexy attire.

  Looking at her, I was surprised to find myself relieved that Detective Marino was joining us as guest and chaperone. I was a gentleman, and the work relationship between Kristen and me was certainly a consideration, but I was only human.

  Marv was back shortly with our drinks. We thanked him and accepted our libations.

  “I’ll make sure you get the other half of your locket back,” I told him.

  “You go ahead and hold onto that now, sweetie…just in case things don’t work out with your little friend there tonight,” he nodded at Kristen and then gave me a wink.

  Good ‘ol Marv.

  * * *

  Kristen and I, drinks in hand, walked arm-in-arm to the guest elevators and rode one up to the fourth floor where the Valentine’s Day gala was being held. I guided her to the Grand Ballroom where we presented our tickets. Upon entrance, we found the ballroom’s chandeliers turned down low a
nd the room ablaze with the luminous glow of hundreds of tabletop candles. I escorted her through the vast sea of tables to the stairway where we climbed the stairs slowly, Kristen’s stability on three-inch heels coming as a priority, to our balcony perch high above the masses. It was the same balcony where Jason, Kristen, and I had enjoyed observing the hotel’s holiday party a few months prior. A small table set for three was awaiting us. A candelabra with three tall candles set in the table’s center cast their dim glow about the cozy space. We stopped and stood briefly, absorbing the romantic scene.

  “This is just lovely,” Kristen smiled at me, squeezing my hand but only for an instant.

  We set our drinks on the table and I pulled out Kristen’s chair for her and waited for her to sit.

  I took a seat across from her, leaving the center seat between us for our guest of honor, Detective Marino. But really I just wanted a seat positioned so that I could secretly gaze upon the lovely dinner guest across from me without appearing too lecherous.

  The detective arrived a few minutes after six. Kristen and I had nearly finished our drinks, so when our server arrived, we ordered fresh beverages.

  “Woo…I don’t know what Marv put in that cosmo, but it really hit me,” Kristen wave a hand in front of her face. “Must have been ninety percent alcohol.”

  “We have a lightweight in our midst,” the detective smiled, taking a sip of his own drink, a gin and tonic. “You’d think someone your age would be able to out drink us old-timers.”

  “Been off my game for a while,” Kristen shook her head. “Too much work, too little partying.”

  “And so goes life,” I shook my head and took a sip of my new martini. I pulled an olive off the miniature plastic sword that had speared the garnish in my glass and popped it in my mouth after I swallowed.

  Our salads were served several minutes later.

  “So how are things going with the case against Elon?” I asked the detective, wanting to get the low down before the music started.

  “Pretty good,” he nodded. “He has recovered enough from his injuries to appear in court for the first time two days ago.”

  “I still can’t believe he survived that fall,” Kristen shook her head in amazement.

  “With a broken femur, fractured pelvis, and a back broken in two places, I’m not sure he’s counting himself so lucky.”

  “Jeez,” Kristen breathed, taking another drink and shaking her head.

  “Lucky you kept that sorting room shut down,” I said to the detective. “If you’d allowed us to process that piled up linen below the chute he would have died for sure when he impacted with the concrete floor down there. Like you said, in his condition though, he probably wishes he had died.”

  “He’ll probably never walk again,” the detective added. “As if losing a hand in combat wasn’t bad enough.”

  “He doesn’t like it, he shouldn’t go around murdering people,” Kristen said.

  “Here, here,” the detective raised his glass.

  “Plus,” I added, still thinking about the detective’s smart move of keeping the sorting room shut down, “if you’d opened it back up, that trash can would most likely have been emptied, and with it, the broken broom handle…the best piece of evidence you have against Elon.”

  “Yeah well, you almost took care of that for us, Haze,” the detective gave me a narrow-eyed stare.

  I was glad the lights were turned low to hide the bright shade of crimson my face had become from the embarrassment at almost disposing of the crucial piece of evidence in a murder case.

  “So let me get this straight,” Kristen said. “Since Elon was having trouble keeping the linen chute open while trying to dispose of Mr. Statler’s body, he broke a piece off a broom handle and used that to prop it open.”

  The detective nodded. “The chute door was on hydraulic hinges that made it self-closing. With Elon’s disability, he couldn’t hold the door open with one hand while loading the body with the other; therefore, he used the broken piece of broom handle to wedge inside one of the hinges to keep the chute door open. He probably expected to pull it out and wipe the handle clean of fingerprints once he was done with it, but it must have jarred loose when the body slid down the chute and fell down inside. Unable to retrieve the piece, since it was stuck in the chute with the body, Elon had to wait until the chute was busted by old Mangum P.I. over here,” he looked over at me.

  “Is Elon admitting to the crime?” Kristen asked.

  “He’s saying it was a crime of passion…that’s his defense at least,” explained the detective. “He says that he and the room attendant, Felicia Gonzalez, were engaged to be married and that when he saw her coming out of Statler’s room a day before the murder, he just lost it. He had the knife in his locker, having claimed it when cleaning out the lost and found room several months prior. When he overheard that Rodrigo Torez, the houseperson, had lost his floor key, he saw his opportunity. He went up, found the key, and he lured Statler out of his room by telling him he needed to accompany him to handle some business downstairs in the security office. Once he was sure no one was around, he clobbered Statler over the head, loaded him in the houseperson cart, and hauled him downstairs to the thirteenth floor by way of the stairwell in an attempt to throw us off track and avoid the elevator surveillance cameras. Then he used the houseperson key that he knew was reported lost, but that had yet to be voided, to get into the linen closet. There, he dumped the body along with the murder weapon with the initials on it…yet another attempt to throw a red herring at us. This was also when he mistakenly grabbed the wrong houseperson cart to take back upstairs.”

  The detective paused for a drink and then continued. “Elon must have realized at some point that the most damning piece of evidence, and about the only thing that could directly link him to the murder, was the broom handle that had fallen in with Statler’s body inside the chute and had his fingerprints on it. That’s why he tried to set fire to the linen in the sorting room. He thought it was still lost among the sheets somewhere and hoped that the blaze would consume the handle or at least burn it badly enough to obscure his fingerprints. And that’s also why he was there early that morning when Haze made the connection regarding the handle he’d unwittingly tossed into the trash can when he discovered Statler’s body. Something he failed to mention to the police or the detective leading the ensuing investigation.” He finished the last portion of his sentence in an exaggeratedly loud tone to ensure I recognized that he wasn’t thrilled with the faux pas.

  “Yeah…sorry again about that,” I mumbled, my eyes flickering down and side to side nervously but playfully.

  “Well, at least he remedied his mistake,” Kristen reached beneath the table and patted my knee.

  It was the third time tonight she’d made flirty body contact with me, and if she wasn’t careful, I might start to get the wrong impression. I understood that it was Valentine’s Day, but a bachelor who didn’t get shown much in the way of regular affection could only stand so much.

  “In a way, it was a good thing Haze tossed the handle in the trash can when he found the body. It kept Elon from finding it or burning it up when he tried to torch the sorting room,” the detective cut me some slack.

  “What did the room attendant, Felicia, say about it?” Kristen asked.

  “She says Elon was extremely aggressive in pursuing their relationship, and a real jealous sort. She also said that they were never engaged, nor were there any plans of ever becoming engaged to Hernandez. She makes it sound as though the majority of the relationship was all in Elon’s head and that they were little more than friends…maybe friends with a few benefits at best.”

  “Are you going to pursue charges against her?” Kristen asked.

  “I don’t think so,” the detective shook his head. “I don’t think we’d have much of a case against her. We got our man. Plus, she has the two little ones to care for. I think she’s an overall decent person…just made some poor decisions in
love.” The detective’s eyes flickered toward me for a brief instant at the mention of failings of the heart, then over to Kristen and back to me again.

  Our entrees arrived – steaks and baked potatoes for the detective and me, and tilapia for Kristen. We ate for a few moments, largely in silence, before the music began.

  Tonight’s concert was of course devoted to love themes, but it the spanned centuries in its repertoire. There was even a rendition of Robert Palmer’s, Addicted to Love and the Huey Lewis and the News hit, Power of Love to get the crowd’s adrenaline flowing right before the orchestra took at break at eight o’clock.

  During the intermission, the detective scooted his chair back from our small table and rose.

  “Haze,” he said, reaching out a hand, “it’s been a wonderful evening, but I must leave you. I know I give you a hard time on occasion, but I really do appreciate your help with the Statler case. But now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be up early tomorrow morning…thankfully to investigate a case that doesn’t involve your hotel,” he smiled at me as we shook hands. “You two have a nice evening,” he glanced quickly over at Kristen and then back to me, giving me a wink as he patted me on the shoulder. “It’s been a pleasure,” he nodded to Kristen. “Goodnight.”