“You can just leave them here,” the man replied. “We’ll see that she gets them.”
“I wouldn’t want to put you to all that trouble. I can take them up.”
“I’m sorry. We don’t give out room numbers of our guests. Company policy.”
“Ah, yes. I understand. I’ll just leave these with you.”
Moreno watched as the clerk looked up Hartman’s room number on his computer, scribbled it on a sticky note, and attached it to the flowers.”
Room 918, he thought. So much for security.
He left but returned shortly thereafter.
He took the elevator to the ninth floor, found room 918, and seeing no one in the hallway, opened the door with an electronic device.
He knew Hartman was making a presentation in one of the meeting rooms. She would be returning afterwards, probably thirsty and maybe a bit hungry.
Form a satchel, he took a tray filled with fancy crackers and cheese and placed it on the coffee table with a note. “Compliments of the President Hotel. We hope you enjoy your stay with us.”
Then he went to the mini fridge, pulled out the bottles of water, and with a syringe, injected Devil’s Breath through the caps.
Most likely, Hartman would return, see the crackers and cheese, and wash them down with the doctored water. Later, he would return. It would make his job easier if she ingested the drug, but either way, he would finish what he had come to do.
Either Kevin or I had been with Kristen since her scare at the Hilton Inn. One of us would meet her at breakfast and stay with her during the day. The other would take the evening shift and stay until she was safely tucked in her room. She argued that it wasn’t necessary, but we had made a commitment and meant to follow through as long as she was in our city.
I had the evening shift. That meant I would be accompanying Kristen to her presentation to the Kiwanis Club.
The room was full and Kristen began with her usual presentation, outlining the benefits of legalized medical marijuana. I thought she was about to wrap things up, but then surprised me with a new twist.
She held up a copy of the Kansas City Star.
“I know many of you have reservations about legalizing medical marijuana on moral grounds and I totally understand that, but today’s headline speaks to that issue. The Supreme Court has legalized sports gambling for all fifty states. I’m sure there are many who object to this on moral grounds as well, but what the court has done is acknowledge something that is already going on and made provisions for it to be regulated and taxed.
“The American Gaming Association says that $150 billion is illegally bet each year, the profits going to bookies and other underworld characters. With legalization and regulation, sports betting can now be taxed with revenues going to support our schools and other public services. Lotteries were legalized several years ago and in 2017 close to $300 million went to public education in Missouri. It is estimated that the taxes on sports betting could likely beat those numbers.
“Let’s face facts. Would it be better if people didn’t waste their hard-earned dollars gambling? Absolutely! But it’s going to happen anyway, so why not control it, tax, it, and regulate it.
“The same is true with medical marijuana. People are using it and will continue to do so. Why not regulate it and tax it as well, putting the profits in our schools instead of into the hands of drug dealers.
“I hope you will support my initiative so that this issue can be presented to the voters in November. Thank you.”
The audience stood, giving her a round of applause.
As soon as Irina Petrov saw Kristen enter the conference room, she made her way to room 918. Wearing a disguise, she had followed Kristen when she checked into the hotel and learned which room was hers.
Using a key card she had taken from the cart of a hotel cleaning lady, she let herself into the room. When Kristen returned from her presentation, she would be waiting and finish the job. She would take the photo confirming her kill, send it to her employer, and await the transfer of the funds to her offshore account. By this time tomorrow evening, she would be lounging on a sunny tropical beach.
Settling in, she spotted the tray with cheese and crackers. She won’t be needing these, she thought, tearing off the wrapper. After a few bites, she went to the fridge, found a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and washed down the snack.
That was the last thing she remembered.
Carlos Moreno heard the applause and knew Hartman would soon be returning to her room. Not wanting to run into her in the corridor, he went to the ninth floor and hid in an alcove at the end of the hall.
He waited a half-hour, then made his way to her room. Using his electronic device, he cautiously opened the door. The light in the room was dim, but he saw the figure on the floor, a water bottle by her side.
Perfect! he thought. Now I can finish this once and for all.
He pulled a revolver with a silencer from his bag, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
There was a muted ‘pop.’
He looked up and down the hall, and seeing no one, quietly slipped away.
I was pooped and I thought I was almost through for the evening.
I met Kristen after she had finished shaking hands.
“I’m bushed,” she said. “I’ll bet you are too. Let’s get me to my room so you can go home to your wife.”
I was all for that, but just as we were leaving the conference room, we were approached by a young woman. She held up a plastic card.
“I’m Marcy Welch with the Kansas City Star. I really enjoyed your presentation. I wonder if you could spare a few minutes? I’m doing a piece for tomorrow’s edition and I’d like to get some quotes from you.”
Kristen looked woefully at me. “Would you mind? Just a few more minutes. You know the old saying about publicity.”
I nodded. “Not a problem.”
The few minutes turned into thirty. Finally, we were alone and headed to the elevator. I walked her to her door, she opened it with her key card, stepped inside and turned on the light.
I was expecting a ‘Thank you. Good night.” Instead, I heard, “Walt, you’d better come in.”
Kristen was staring, horrified, at the body of a woman on the floor of her room.
I moved closer to examine the body.
“Holy crap! This is Irina Petrov!”
CHAPTER 21
“Unbelievable!” Detective Blaylock said after examining the body. “Any ideas how the body of a hired assassin found its way into the hotel room of Kristen Hartman?”
“Actually I do,” I replied. “I’ve thought all along that Kristen was in danger from two groups, Big Pharma and a Colombian drug lord.
“I think Petrov gained entrance into Kristen’s room and was laying in wait for her so she could finish the job. Thankfully, we were delayed by a reporter wanting a story. Carlos Moreno or one of his henchmen slipped in, thinking Petrov was Kristen, and --- well --- you see the outcome.”
“Then, according to your theory, the Columbian thinks Kristen is dead. If we can keep the story under wraps, maybe he will pack up and go home.”
“I think we’re too late,” I said, pointing to a gaggle of reporters in the hallway. “That ship has sailed.”
“Damn!” Blaylock said, shaking his head. “That means that once the assassin finds out he whacked the wrong girl his job isn’t finished. Undoubtedly he’ll try again. What’s Kristen’s schedule?”
“She’s through here. Her next stop is St. Louis. I’m taking her to the airport in the morning.”
“I doubt the assassin will try again tonight, but I’ll post a guard outside her door just in case. I’ll notify the chief in St. Louis and give him a heads up so he can prepare. The problem is, we don’t know who we’re looking for. This Columbian assassin could be anyone.”
Blaylock was right. Kristen was still very much in danger and we had no idea who was after her or when he would strike again.
Natura
lly, Kristen was shaken, finding the body of an assassin in her room.
Now that her room was a crime scene, the hotel moved her to another suite. I helped her pack her things and we headed out the door. Immediately, we were accosted by reporters and cameramen pleading for more information. Police pushed them aside but they were relentless, firing questions in our direction.
One stuck a microphone in my face. “We understand you’re Ms. Hartman’s body guard. Can you tell us how an assassin gained entrance into her room?”
“No comment,” I replied, shoving the microphone away.
As we were moving down the hall, another reporter shouted, “Ms. Hartman. With all these attempts on your life, are you going to quit your campaign to legalize medical marijuana?”
I was hoping Kristen would ignore the taunt, but to my dismay, she turned and addressed the press.
“Am I going to quit? Absolutely not! Giving the voters of Missouri the opportunity to legalize medical marijuana is the right thing to do. Being threatened by drug lords and giant corporations only reinforces my belief that we’re going in the right direction. If everyone abandoned their causes in the face of opposition, nothing would ever be accomplished. So, to answer your question, yes, I’m going to continue. Tomorrow morning I’ll be flying to St. Louis to continue my campaign.”
Like Ben Foster, the girl had passion. I just hoped her outcome would be better than Ben’s.
Once in her new suite, she collapsed in a chair. I could see she was drained.
“Quite a night,” I said. “Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded. “I will be. I’m just a bit strung out. It’s not every week that people try to kill you three times.”
“Try to get some sleep,” I replied. “You’ll be safe tonight. Detective Blaylock has stationed a man outside your door. Your plane leaves at ten in the morning, so I’ll pick you up at eight. That should give us plenty of time to get to the airport and get you checked in. Blaylock is also contacting authorities in St. Louis. Someone will meet you at the airport.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she replied, wiping away a tear. “I still don’t understand why you and your partner are helping me.”
“Let’s just say we’re rooting for the underdog. You taking on drug lords and Big Pharma is like David taking on Goliath. You need all the help you can get.”
Carlos Moreno was exuberant. He had succeeded where others had failed.
If you want something done right, he thought, do it yourself.
The woman leading the campaign for legalization was dead, and he hoped her cause was as well.
He flipped on the TV in his motel room hoping to catch a bit of news before retiring. Tomorrow he would interview some candidates to take the place of Ramon Dias. He had not given up on Kansas City as an outlet for his marijuana and he knew he could find someone to replace Andre and Marcia Kepler to handle the Devil’s Breath robberies. Greed is a powerful aphrodisiac and there would be many who jump at the chance to make a small fortune.
Breaking News! Flashed across the screen.
A reporter was standing outside the Hilton President Hotel. He turned up the volume to hear every word of how the body of Kristen Hartman had been found in her room.
Instead, his mouth dropped open as he listened to the account of how an assassin’s body was found in Hartman’s hotel room.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Hartman was alive! He had killed the wrong person!
He watched a reporter approach an old man and identified him as her bodyguard. The old man shoved the mike away with a “No comment!”
Hartman was halfway down the hall when she turned and spoke to the reporters, saying there was no way she was giving up her cause and that tomorrow she would be leaving for St. Louis to continue her quest.
Moreno flipped off the TV in disgust.
How is it that this woman has escaped the jaws of death so many times? he wondered.
His jaw set and he slammed his fist against the night stand. Tomorrow, he would end it. There was no way she was going to make that flight to St. Louis.
I parked in one of the multi-storied parking garages downtown and headed to Kristen’s room. The guard outside her room was eating a Danish and slurping coffee.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“It is now,” he replied. “For an hour after you left I had to shoo reporters away. They finally gave up. Since then it’s been quiet.”
I knocked. “Kristen. It’s Walt.”
Cautiously, she opened the door. “Come in. I’m ready to go.”
“Have you had anything to eat? You must be hungry.”
“I just want to get out of here,” she replied. “We can get something at the airport.”
We thanked the officer and headed to my car.
There was no one else in sight when we stepped out of the elevator on the garage’s top floor.
I had just hit the door opener on my key fob when a man slipped out from behind a van. He was holding a gun.
“Stop right there,” he ordered. Then he turned to Kristen. “You have been a very elusive young lady, but today your luck has run out.”
“Who are you?” Kristen asked defiantly, “and why are you doing this?”
“At this moment, who I am and why I’m doing this are of no consequence to you. The only thing you need to know is that you are about to die, and your cause will die with you.”
“So you’re just going to shoot me here in cold blood? What kind of animal are you?”
He smiled. “My goodness no. I have no intention of shooting you.” He turned to me. “This man will do it for me.”
“The hell I will.” I replied with as much bravado as I could muster.
“Here’s how it will go,” he said, holding a bottle of water. “You will drink this, and in a moment you will do my bidding, which is to put a bullet in this young woman’s brain. If you refuse, it will be a slow, painful death for her. First one knee, then another, then a hand. You see where this is going. After I make you watch her agony, it will be the same for you.
“If you cooperate, it will be over quickly for her and you won’t even know when it’s your turn.”
I knew that the moment I swallowed the water laced with Devil’s Breath that I would be totally under his control. I quickly weighed my options, none of which were good.
I thought about going for the gun, but he was much younger and stronger. He would have a bullet in my gut before I took a second step. Then I thought maybe I could grab him and hang on long enough for Kristen to get away before I collapsed.
Either way, I was going to be a dead man, and Kristen would most likely die as well.
He tossed the bottle to me, then pointed the gun a Kristen’s knee.
“Now drink! You have until the count of three before I fire the first shot into her pretty little leg.”
He began counting. “One --- two ---.”
I had decided to rush him and take my chances. I was about to leap, when I heard a ‘POP’ and a bright red circle appeared in his forehead. He slumped to the ground before the word ‘three’ left his lips.
I turned and saw Carmine Marchetti standing with two of his henchmen. The ‘POP’ had come from a .38 in Carmine’s hand.
“Well, well,” he said. “Looks like we got here just in time.”
“Carmine!” I gasped, “How ---?”
“It was your little visit,” he replied. “Moreno has been trying to get into our city for a long time. When you told me he might be coming for this young lady, I spread the word. My people have been on the lookout for him since our conversation. One of them spotted him going into a seedy motel last night. We’ve been following him ever since.”
He turned to Kristen. “You’re a very courageous young woman. I admire that.”
Kristen had finally recovered from the shock of seeing a man gunned down right in front of her. “Who are you exactly?”
Carmine grinned and gave me a wink.
“Let’s just say I’m a friend of Walt and leave it at that.”
Then he became more serious. “Now we have to talk about how we’re going to handle this.” He pointed to Moreno. “This creep is a Columbian national who snuck into our country for three reasons; to assassinate this brave young woman, establish a market for his marijuana in Kansas City, and recruit more dupes to commit robbery with his damnable Devil’s Breath. No one except us knows who he is. We have two choices; we can call the cops and answer a lot of difficult questions or I can take care of things and no one will ever know this little incident ever took place. What do you think?”
Kristen turned to me. “Walt, I’m not sure I understand. What do you think?”
I knew what Carmine was talking about. The boss of the Kansas City mob isn’t exactly comfortable telling the cops how he offed a Columbian drug lord to protect his market share of marijuana sales in Kansas City.
“I think we’re very lucky Carmine showed up when he did. Otherwise we’d both be dead. Under the circumstances, I think it would be better to let him handle this. Like he said, you can catch your plane and we can go on like this never happened. Are you all right with that?”
She nodded. “I trust you, Walt. If you think that’s for the best, I’ll go along.”
“Good!” Carmine said. He pointed to the body. “Vito, take care of this mess.”
“You got it, Boss,” Vito grunted.
Then he turned to us. “Better get going. This young lady has a plane to catch.”
I loaded Kristen’s luggage in the trunk.
Once she was inside the car, Carmine stepped up beside me. “Glad you’re all right, gumshoe, but don’t forget --- you owe me one.”
It was only eight-thirty, but it had been quite a morning.
Kristen was safe --- at least for now.
We had been within one count of being blown away, but thanks to Carmine, we were still breathing.
As I drove to the airport, I was glad we were both still alive, but I had to wonder when Carmine would come calling to cash in his chit.
Lady Justice and the Devil's Breath Page 10
