“No, I was just curious. How long does it stay there?”
He shrugged, “Until the case is closed.” Then his eyes narrowed, “You got an idea?”
I shook my head, “Don’t know yet. But something’s been scratching at the back of my brain and I just can’t put a finger on it yet.”
He nodded slowly, “Well, you put that finger on it and you give me a call, okay?
“Sure thing,” I said.
And with that, Detective Marino was gone.
I was left standing in my office feeling somewhat empty. I had grandiose visions of us cracking the case together or at least of my being somewhat instrumental in cracking the case. Instead, it looked like we’d hit a brick wall.
I stood there thinking back to Linda’s story. It made me wonder just how many violent crimes went unsolved in the big city each year. How much unclaimed stuff sat aging in evidence lockers? How many murderers were walking the streets all around us? How many had visited or stayed in the Lanigan Hotel?
How many had I personally checked in?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kristen rolled in a little before nine o’clock.
She was costumed as a black cat (and a darn cute one at that!), wearing black, non-sheer tights (complete with tail of course), black knee-high boots, a black cashmere sweater, black cat ears atop her head, and a penciled-in black-tipped nose with whiskers drawn on her cheeks.
Her shock of pony-tailed blond hair stood out in stark contrast to her black outfit like a strike of lightening down her back.
“Early tonight,” I greeted her as she threw her bag on her desk and shrugged out of her coat, draping it on the back of her chair.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she moaned. “Cat kept me up all day with his crying.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I did my best to sympathize. “He’s not doing well?”
She shook her head, “No. Doctor says it’s only a matter of time…maybe days.”
“That sucks. Anything I can do?”
“No,” she said sadly, “it’s just a part of life. I’ve been preparing for it for a while now, so it shouldn’t come as much of a shock…but it still does.”
“I like your costume.”
“Thanks,” she nodded. “I thought it’d be a fitting tribute to him. Plus, it was cheap and readily available. I had the tail and ears left from a costume I used several years ago.”
“Well hey,” I said, trying to sound chipper, “I’ve got something to help take your mind off your troubles tonight!”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” she said morosely.
“We’re taking a haunted tour of the Lanigan, led by yours truly!” I said in my best ghostly voice.
“Cool,” she nodded, unenthusiastically.
“Oh, come on! You love that kind of stuff.”
“No, it sounds great. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“No problem,” I backed off. “We’ll take an early lunch, get some food in you, maybe a little coffee, and then hopefully you’ll feel up for a tour you’ll never forget.”
“Okay,” she perked up, albeit slightly, “it’s a deal.”
“Good girl,” I nodded. “Now let’s get some work done so we can enjoy ourselves later.”
“Sounds good,” Kristen nodded. “I’ll check on the desk agents and make sure everything’s clear out front.”
“Right,” I said. “While you’re out there, will you double check that the four R & T VIP rooms are comped for tonight?”
“Sure,” Kristen said. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, check on seniority out there. I think Albert is low man on the totem pole tonight, so he’ll probably have to man the fort during our tour. I really don’t think he’ll care, but tell him he can come on next year’s adventure. Just remind the others that we’ll start the night audit later tonight after the tour, probably around two. Have Albert start running the reports after his lunch, but he can wait for us to get back to reset the system.”
“Will do, captain,” she saluted.
I couldn’t help sneak a peek of that little kitty’s snugly packed rear as it bounced out of the office.
“Man,” I muttered, shaking my head and taking a deep breath, “that’s one fine looking cat.”
I picked up my office phone and dialed.
Several rings later, a groggy voice answered, “’lo?”
“Tommy? That you?”
“Yeah…it’s me.”
“Robert Haze from the Lanigan.”
“I know…what’s up?”
He sounded tired.
“First off, happy Halloween. Secondly, I wanted to see if you’d like to join us for an early…well, early for us, meal and a Halloween tour of the hotel.”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone.
“Tommy, you there?” I asked.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind if I take something home with me for mom to eat?”
“Not at all,” I said cheerily. “All you can eat…or carry.”
I was looking forward to my tour and was hoping to draw a crowd so that others would find it entertaining enough for me to make it an annual event.
“Can you make it by ten?” I asked. “We’ll eat and then gather everyone for the tour.”
“Sure,” he said slowly. “I’ll be there.”
His tone did little to inspire confidence, but if he didn’t show, he didn’t show. I’m sure he’d had a rough day delivering all those invitations and I wasn’t going to push him on the subject.
“Great. Just stop by the front desk.”
“Okay, see you then…” his voice trailed off and the phone clicked dead. It actually made me wonder if he’d fallen asleep while talking to me.
“We’ll see,” I mumbled as I hung up the phone.
Kristen appeared in my doorway. Seeing the expression on her face, I could tell my pretty kitty was not a happy kitty.
“Uh oh,” I said. “What’s up?”
“We’ve got an issue,” her black-painted kitty nose crinkled in distaste.
“I can tell. What is it?”
“There’s a double booking for tomorrow…one of the conference rooms. Somehow catering booked the third floor conference rooms for a movie showing for the gamers from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. overtop the all-day Hollingston Cooling Systems meetings.”
“That’s not a big deal,” I shrugged. “Those conference rooms are small. We should be able to put the gamers up on the sixth floor somewhere.”
“Typically,” Kristen nodded, her kitty tale wagging out behind her as she stood before me, “but the Illinois Association of Leather Dealers have the entire 6th floor booked for tomorrow and will be setting up.”
“Ugh,” I moaned. “I forgot about them. I take it that you’ve already checked our other meeting space options?”
She nodded her cat ears, tail bobbing behind her, “Nothing.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I said, “let’s do this. Since the gamers only had the space for three hours, let’s go ahead and move them up to a suite for their movie. A suite is as big as several of those third floor conference rooms combined, and it might make for a more comfortable movie screening area. Who knows, they might even like it better.”
She nodded, “I’ll send a message to Diana up in sales to notify the gamers’ group contact first thing in the morning.”
“Send an email, leave it on her voicemail, and follow up with her as soon as she arrives in the morning,” I said as Kristen left for her desk. “I don’t want any confusion. And if the gamers are going to have an issue with it, I want some time to work things out before their movie is set to debut.”
I pulled a bottle of water from the mini-fridge beside my desk, twisted the cap, and took a big swig. Gulping it down, I called after her, “What kind of movie are they showing anyway?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Kristen called back from her desk. “In the meeting notes, it says something about a screening for a movie one of
their VIPs made himself. I’m not sure what it’s about.”
“Oh great,” I called back, “we’re going to ruin his big red carpet debut. I can hear it now. Tomorrow, Diana is going to be down here giving us grief about how the whole convention has been ruined and she’s lost this group for next year because of this.”
“We’ll deal with it when we deal with it,” Kristen called back.
“Good advice,” I said, taking another drink of water.
Moments later, I heard her leaving the voicemail message for Diana Massa in sales.
With Kristen squared away keeping an eye on the agents out front and dealing with the conference room issue, I settled in for an hour of sorting through emails, updating myself on the rest of the week’s upcoming groups and events, and making a few adjustments to billing issues and customer service items that had somehow escaped other department managers. I also contacted security, housekeeping, property operations, and the facilities departments to remind them of the evening’s Halloween tour.
Before I knew it, an Elvis-look-alike desk agent was peeking his head around the corner of my office door to let me know that a “Tommy” was here to see me.
I glanced at my watch. It was already 10:02 p.m.
“Wow, that was fast,” I said to myself.
I stood up and put my jacket on. “You about ready to eat, Kristen?” I called.
“I’m not really hungry,” she said, coming to stand in my office doorway.
“Will you at least grace us with your presence?” I asked, giving her a wink.
“Us? Who else is coming?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I invited the currier that saved our tails this morning, Tommy. Hope it’s not a problem.”
She shrugged, “No biggy.”
“Great,” I said. “I’ll tell him to come around to the back office door.”
“I’m gonna put on some lipstick,” Kristen said. “I’ll meet you up there.”
“Will do,” I nodded and headed out to the front desk and into the dull rumble that issued from the still quite active lobby.
I saw Tommy standing off to one side of the front desk, his leather-jacketed back turned to me. He was people watching.
“Never gets old watching all the different folks that come through here,” I said as I approached.
He turned around to face me. He was much more awake and alive looking than I had expected after our conversation on the phone. He gave me a toothy white smile that stood out in sharp contrast against the black leather of his jacket.
“I’m sure,” he said. “Everything go okay with the invitations I delivered this morning?”
“Perfect,” I said. “Thanks again. You get your money?”
“Yep. And you were right; it was a pretty nice tip,” he added with a grin.
“Hungry?”
“You bet. What’s on the menu for tonight?”
“Not sure. It’s usually a surprise.” I gave him a sidelong glance and leaned in confidentially across the front desk, “Either something drenched in grease that our night cook has whipped up on the spur of the moment or leftovers from the day’s catering and banquet service. But there will certainly be plenty of it, that’s for sure, and there are always cheeseburgers on tap if the entree isn’t to your liking.”
“I’m not picky,” he smiled. “And I’ve never been known to balk at a little grease.”
“Ah, my kind of guy,” I grinned. “If you’ll just meet me at the door by the end of the desk,” I pointed, “I’ll catch up with you there and we can head to the cafeteria.”
***
The smell of lamp chops lingered heavy in the air.
“Uh,” I moaned to Tommy as we exited the stairwell into the smoggish air of the cafeteria. “I’m not a big lamb chop guy.”
“Good,” Tommy laughed, “more for me.”
“Load up. I’ll be burgering it tonight.”
Since we were early, there were only a couple guys from the facilities department sipping sodas and watching the local news on one of the cafeteria’s wall-mounted televisions. Kristen had been just behind us and was now picking out a few leafy greens from the salad bar located in a corner of the cafeteria.
“A little catnip for kitty,” I called to her.
She just looked at me, shook her head, and rolled her eyes.
“Whoa,” Tommy stopped short in front of me, seeing Kristen. “Who is that?”
“Who? Kristen?” I said surprised. “Didn’t I introduce you two this morning? She’s the one who brought you your costume”
“Uh, I don’t know,” he said shaking his head. “Maybe…I can’t really remember. I was in such a hurry. And I sure as heck don’t remember seeing her wearing that!”
“Well, that’s Kristen. She’s our night front desk supervisor.”
A breathed, “Wow,” was all Tommy could muster.
I took my jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair at one of the cafeteria tables.
“You can just throw you’re jacket here,” I said, pulling out a chair for Tommy.
He slid off his jacket and hung in on the back of the chair, never ungluing his eyes from Kristen as she continued unaware with her salad building.
“Come on,” I said, guiding Tommy over to the lunch line, handing him a lunch tray and taking one for myself.
The night chef was there, grinning like a fool. Everyone just called him Habeebee because they couldn’t understand his real name. He was from somewhere in Iran. We weren’t sure where since we couldn’t understand that either. We all guessed that he must have been underfed as a child and now compensated by shoveling as much food onto our plates as he could possibly fit whether we wanted it or not.
Tommy graciously accepted the mountain of food.
“Burger for me tonight,” I acknowledged the chef.
His smile cracked almost imperceptibly as he stared at me.
Then it began.
“Burger? Burger? You always want burger! All this food,” he waved his hands overtop the pans of pre-cooked food. “You see? You see! So much food,” he gestured to the mounds of lamb chops.
“Why you no like? Why I make, you no like? Burger! I no make burger. You eat this!”
He picked up a pair of metal tongs and jabbed at the chops. “You eat! Is good!”
Tommy was staring back and forth between me and Habeebee.
Habeebee started moving the mass of chops, pushing them around with his tongs, holding up what to him were choice pieces.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shrugging, “I’m just not a big fan of lamb chops.”
The chef dropped the tongs onto the pile of meat and held up his hands.
“What? No big fan? No big fan? How you no be fan lamp chops? They good,” he rubbed his stomach while picking the tongs back up and continuing to poke around in the pile of chops. “Mmm,” he grinned. “Just for you, just for you, I make. You see? Is good.”
My shoulders sagged and my head tipped back. “Fine,” I gave in, “give me some chops.”
“Ah, you see. Good, good. You eat. You like. You see,” he jabbered endlessly.
“Whatever,” I said. “But I want my burger too.”
“Eh,” he said in disgust. “Burger, burger, always burger. I make burger, but you eat lamb too!”
He handed me a heaping plate, the sight of which immediately churned my stomach, simultaneously ruining my appetite.
“Bahaah! Bahaah! Lamb good,” he chortled.
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved him off, “just make the burger.”
Tommy had already taken his plate of meat and moved on. He was sitting at the table. Kristen was there too. I could see she was talking to him, but he was just staring at his lamb chops, not eating, and occasionally nodding at something Kristen said.
I took my tray, now heavy with my plate full of chops over to the soda machine. There, I filled a red plastic cup halfway full of ice, topped it with soda, and then made my way over to the table where Kristen and Tommy sat
.
Kristen had finished whatever she had been saying, and Tommy was still just staring awkwardly at his food.
“Man,” I said, in an attempt to spark the conversation, “what is that guy’s deal with forcing food on people?”
“He does it to everybody,” Kristen said, poking at her salad. “That’s why I didn’t even go over there tonight. I could tell he was just waiting for his first victims.”
Tommy let out a laugh that was overplayed and slightly embarrassing.
I forged ahead, “It totally ruins your appetite.”
“I know,” Kristen said, taking a sip of water. “I don’t know why he does it. It’s just too much food. I mean, I’m glad he doesn’t want to waste it, but he wastes more of it by giving everyone too much.”
“Why he can’t just make my burger like I ask him,” I muttered, taking a sip of my soda. “So anyway,” I moved on, “I hope you two had a chance to get acquainted while I was busy with sir serves-a-lot over there.”
“Oh yeah,” Kristen scoffed sarcastically, “I could barely get a word in edgewise.”
Tommy was now poking silently at his lamb chops.
“Thought this was your meal?” I said, reaching over and shaking his shoulder good-humoredly.
“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled. “You’re right. He gives you too much.”
“Oh, come on!” I said in my best broken-English Habeebee impression. “You growing boy. You need eat much food! Eat! Eat!”
We all laughed.
“So you coming on the big tour tonight, Tommy?” Kristen asked.
Thank god she was at least making an attempt to be friendly.
He peeked his eyes up from his plate at her and nodded.
“You okay over there,” Kristen asked, peering at him, a little concerned.
I felt bad for Tommy. I knew he was smitten, but I could tell that Kristen wasn’t picking up on the signals. And I had to admit, even I was a bit flustered with Kristen prancing around in her skin-tight cat outfit. With the hot pink lipstick she’d donned just before lunch, there was no denying that she was one smokin’ hot little number.
“I’m just tired, that’s all,” Tommy mumbled.
The Case of the Guest Who Stayed Over (The M.O.D. Files Book 1) Page 19