The Waiting Game (Garvey Fields) (13 page)

The girl inside was sitting bolt upright in the driver’s seat and was still wearing her simple blue knitted dress. Her eyes were open wide as was her mouth. Her hair was ruffled in a way that suggested she’d just woken up or had sex and the bottom of her dress had ridden up her thigh so high to show the start of her patterned panties.

I didn’t try and open the car door; I didn’t need to know how she died. The same familiar bruises around the neck that I’d seen on Gloria were well apparent on Olivia’s neck.

I walked back to the Mercedes and drove away slowly thinking about the grandparents that raised her as a living testimony for the loss of her own parents but instead she become a tomb of shame. She’d been beautiful and talented, but given it all for a man with big hands.

I drove.

I was sure I knew how this would get written up. She would be a girl coming home from work or a night out late, and got stuck up by some goons. Those goons then strangled her and snuffed out her pure light. It was simple enough, another heroin of urban crime.

If I left it as it was within twenty-four hours a local prowl car would find her or the neighbors would call in the strange new car on the drive of a foreclosure that no one lived in. And of course a curious child or vandal could come across her. I didn’t have to worry, it wasn’t my problem.

When I’d driven an hour I bought myself a disposable cell phone and slipped in a chip my techie friend Sebastian had given me a while back. It took time to connect to the police front desk of the precinct that dealt with that house and drive because it was rerouted through ten countries, five of which the FBI couldn’t access phone records for let-alone the NYPD. The desk sergeant wanted to know where I got the number from and why I sounded like a robot.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Write this down. Send someone to Saddle Rock. No too far from the Cuckoo House in the drive way of an empty house you’ll find a black Mini, ragtop. You write that down?”

“Yeah, but why do I care?

“The driver is a dead girl.”

9

I
t was a strange feeling coming back, although technically I hadn’t left and I’d only been away from the building for a day and a half.

I knew how the night would be so far because Quinn was off on holiday somewhere with his kin. So Hobart the day guy would be in the place bored to tears. Hobart was twenty-six, good looking and had a middle distance runner physique. He was an effervescent man with a college degree and no desire to spend his life being the best servant in a big house, he wanted a hotel of his own and his big mind was always making notes. He shared with me that he’d been on extra course in financial management and he’d be using that knowledge for himself and the Mayflower that had wastage of about twenty-five percent and staff taking all sorts of kickbacks for free rooms, free restaurant meals and sexual services. He was half Korean and told me he knew people that wanted to invest in him and he’d found a place in Fresno.

He was engrossed in paper work at the desk which I knew was his business plan for his small hotel at which he intended to make use of technology and minimalism. Minimalism was cost effective, easy to maintain and profitable he told me.

I rang the desk bell.

“Be with you in a moment sir,” he said without looking up. “We have two suites available and premium guest room.”

“Can I get an employee discount?”

He looked up, “old man it’s good to see you. They finally got rid of you, but for the wrong reason.”

“Life goes on; you got a new head of security?”

“Nope never needed one.”

“Security?”

“Sent them home for the week. I want to prove we don’t need security like that.”

“Like a motel.”

He shrugged.

“You like to run this place like your own little experiment lab don’t you.”

“If they wanted me to work for them they’d pay me less and give me strict duties. They don’t, all they want is results. I give results which is why that lifelong lover the hotel, Quinn, will only ever be the night manager no matter how hard he works for this company.”

“You know good security do more than just beat up people and throw them out right?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“We also deal with occasions when day managers registered obvious sluts looking for a payday on the same floor as international pop stars like Marley One.”

He looked bored again and his eyes half closed. He said flatly, “dude I didn’t do that. Quinn isn’t the kind of guy that should be behind a desk, you need to understand a little human psychology, he just gets basic numbers and manners. He probably didn’t see the signs.”

I was still for a moment; Hobart didn’t have to and to my best knowledge never had lied to me. He was usually too busy showing off how talented he was. So either he was right and Quinn had made a mistake or Quinn had deliberately lied to me.

“Why wasn’t Marley One in one of the tower suits?”

He smiled sympathetically at me. “Man pay attention, I didn’t register him, he’d reserved the room ahead of time. Look.”

I looked at the reservations list for the dates he stayed on the computer screen.

“Okay.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to spend money or maybe he thought my going low rent he’d get less attention from the paparazzi. Any other questions?” he said smugly.

“Yeah, was 9 occupied last night?”

“Nope, see here. Something entered manually about the air-conditioning being out. Odd, it’s usually the system that generates thoughts alerts and it hasn’t been closed.”

“Who put it on the system?”

He turned the screen back so I couldn’t see it and his eyes got brighter. He didn’t answer me.

I spoke for him. “This is what I think happened. We know that Marley One was in room 10 and the two girls were in 11 so that only room 9 was between them. So if the occupants of the two rooms unlocked the communicating doors and a member of staff there did the same thing with the doors in the empty room all parties could access each other rooms or just have a great big shindig in the middle.”

“Okay, so we get conned out of a couple of night rent for a room that wasn’t exactly banging in the money anyway. You think hotels with a lot more clout and custom don’t get this kind of thing happening again and again?”

“What I’m saying is why? Quinn is not the kind of guy to risk a decent job for what thirty-bucks. He don’t count coins like that, it would lack class.”

“Alright Mr. D.A, what you thinking.”

“One of the girls in 11 had a burner and Marley One got a threatening letter the day I bounced him out. He didn’t give a shit about because I found it in his bin tore up. I had to put the pieces back together to know that much. I'm guessing no ones left from his entourage.”

“Of course, no Marley One, no party. They went over to the Coronet.”

“Alright, call the Coronet and ask for him. If he’s there he’ll probably be drunk whilst bouncing some stupid chicken off his balls, either way they’ll know.

“Why?” Hobart asked subtly.

“Because I want to see if you can do it. If he’s in then no worries, but if he went out to try and see if you can coax out of them where.”

He smiled at me accepting the challenge. Then he straightened himself up in his chair, took some deep breaths and dialed the Coronet his phone voice was a lot deeper than his speaking voice.

“Hi Georgina, it’s…. Yes it’s been a long time I know, yes I still think about the Christmas party, yes I’d love to. No I was just wondering did Marley One and his people come over to you safely. Really, isn’t that your biggest suite, yeah he made a lot of noise her too. Oh just his friends… well I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Yes, lunch sounds good, yeas me too, bye bye sweetie.”

When he came off the phone he looked exhausted.

“Georgina?” I asked.

“Man, she thought I was gay, I have no idea why. Said she had a thing for Asian guys and could I do kung fu, I explained it was Chinese and she pounced on me. “

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, staff toilets December just gone. Said she was going to ride the gayness out of me, whoever heard such nonsense. So I thought fuck it why not, she hot, looks like Megan Fox. She let me fuck in her in the ass because I was gay and used to it. Some chicks are just crazy. Ever since that she’s been on at me for a date.”

“And?”

“I don’t know man, my mom told me to watch these girls.”

“You’re moms white.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s messed up.”

“I know, my dad just wished me luck.”

“So Marley One went out?”

“Yep, got a leased Lambo around ten-thirty after getting a call from a girl she was told by the butler, apparently a hot date desperate for the One or some such shit. They have butlers, how much does a room cost with a butler?”

“I’m grateful to you. I know you're smart enough to figure there’s more to this than I’m telling. Maybe I can let you know soon. It was nice working here, you don’t realize something’s until they’re done.”

I turned for the automatic doors. The outside cold hit me just as Hobart called me.

“Listen, I think you got stiffed,” he said. “Carter saw the smashed glass in Marley One’s suite was talking about the fact that you could sue the hotel and hoped you didn’t. I think if you threatened him he’d give you your job back on better terms.”

I shook my head, this close to freedom I wasn’t going to turn back. “Thanks for think of me, but…”

“The shooting reminded me of another shooting in that room a few years back. A girl killed herself who was in one of the tower suites ain’t that a coincidence?”

“Who was she?”

“Off the top of my head I don’t remember her name, not the real one anyway. But she was really low, really fucked over by life and decided she wanted to go in a nice clean bed without anyone dictating things to her.”

I spoke in a way that sounded hurried, “does the hotel still have this on file on the system.”

“You should see your eyes. The hotel doesn’t keep stuff like this on the system; we’ve got a locked cabinet with incidents, newspaper clippings and stuff for insurance purposes.”

“I want to see them.”

“Give me a reason.”

“Check on the system, I'm still head of security.”

He did. He smiled.

“Let me get covered from the night time receptionist.”

I froze.

“Is it Veronica?”

“Why, you do something you shouldn’t have?”

“I had my own version of your Christmas party.”

“I’ll get the safe keys,” he said.

10

I
t was a long drive into the mountains of Monticello, the kind of drive that sat nav didn’t get you to within a mile of your destination. Out in that part of the world there wasn’t a number one or even Giles residents. If you wanted post you drive down a trail and went to a mail office next to a diner where everyone knew your name and out-of-towners presence flew through like a case of the shits.

To get to the lodge we had to drive through town which meant that if anyone was looking down they’d see us. And doubted the fact that we were driving through town at six in the morning in a Ford pickup truck in work clothes and shovels showing and an environmental department logo on the side we wouldn’t be seen before reaching the lodge.

“Sebastian wake up,” I said and pushed the young man in the shoulder.

“Where we at man?”

“Monticello.”

“The hell, what, is that still America.”

“Look out the window.”

He did and ducked down in the Ram.

“What wrong?”

“I saw a place like this in A History of Violence and I ain’t trying to get shot in the face by some schizophrenic psychopath gangster. Feel me?”

“Please, the most dangerous thing in this town is your black ass, now sit up fool.”

“Shit still ain't right.”

“You cool with what we went through?”

“Yeah, bikes good for thirty miles if things go sideways. Call the cops at that point.”

“And before?”

“Oh shit yeah. Hover the drones out of sight and use the special one only if I have to.”

“I thought you were a tech whizz.”

“I am, memorizing fucking war games isn’t normally my thing.”

“You play Call of Duty?”

“Of course.”

“Think like that then.”

The lodge was actually a clever piece of modern architecture; it was part of the mountain. I couldn’t figure out if it had been a cave or dug out over time. Either way the large opening in the rock was sealed with a mix of glass and steel. The roof was hard rock covered with grass and if the light had been bright you might have mistaken the building for a low rising hill that blended into the landscape in the mountain’s foothills.

Sebastian was a mile away flat on his back operating four drones that would be feeding him video from outside the building and measuring for heat signals. He’d also brought along an electric motorcycle like something out of the Oblivion.

I turned my earpiece on.

“Sebastian, you receiving me?”

“Dude this ain’t the fucking navy, I hear ya,” he responded jovially.

I guess for him it was like a game, he wasn’t risking anything.

“You get anything?”

“I got at least one heat signature, looks male. Went up high with a couple of drones and I reckon there’s nothing in either direction for about three miles.”

“Good, remember what I…”

“Yeah, yeah, shit goes sideways runaway like a bitch.”

“Not quite how…”

“Man just chill, I got this.”

As I approached the gates of the property the building seemed to get larger, like secluded hotel, which made me wonder if there were hidden cameras, perhaps motion detectors. Going through the gate was like entering a TARDIS, the place just seemed to grow as the road dipped toward the hole in the side of the mountain.