by Al Boudreau
I turned to speak to Sarah, thinking she’d already paid and forgot to mention it to me. But, when our eyes met, she looked more confused than I felt. “You didn’t---”
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
I turned back toward the woman and glanced at her name tag. “Jasmine, there must be some misunderstanding. Some clerical error. We haven’t paid our bill, yet. We haven’t even seen our bill, yet.”
“No misunderstanding, and no error, Mr. Peterson. Any and all expenses you and Ms. Woods may have incurred during your stay have already been taken care of. Simply put, there’ll be no bill. Please, come back and visit Agamenticus Hotel and Spa again soon. Good day.”
I turned to find a number of guests standing behind us, waiting to check out, so I grabbed our bags and stepped out of the way. “OK,” I said to Sarah. “This is where I wake up and discover I’m dreaming, right?”
Sarah shook her head, jaw hanging open. “I just pinched myself, wondering the same thing. We’re both awake, standing inside this posh hotel.”
I motioned toward the lounge area of the grand lobby, headed for an empty sofa, and took a seat. “Think Professor Reynolds is responsible for picking up our tab?” I asked as Sarah sat down next to me.
“I highly doubt it. We never told him we were coming here. Besides, he knows he’ll be getting billed for a fair amount of expenses as it is. What would his motivation be for settling our bill?”
I shrugged, at a loss for words.
“Let’s look at this logically,” Sarah said. “The only people who knew we were coming here were Detective James, Chief Goodhue, York’s chief of police, the judge who signed the search warrant, and the head of security here at the hotel.”
Not a single individual she’d named would have had any reason to be so generous, but Sarah’s mention of hotel security did give me an idea. “Sit tight for a minute. I’m going to go have a quick chat with Kendrick Coughlin.”
Sarah nodded and let her body sink back into the overstuffed leather cushions as I pivoted around and made my way across the busy grand lobby toward the security center.
I noticed a new face on the far side of the security glass as I entered the waiting area. I was about to ask for Coughlin when the steel security door swung wide and he stepped forward. “Heading out?” he asked.
“We were,” I said. “Thing is, I just tried to pay my tab, but the woman at the reception desk---Jasmine, I think her name is---told me our bill had already been paid.”
Coughlin’s protruding lower lip and furrowed brow told me he had no idea what I was talking about. He shook his head and turned toward the security door, then seemed to change his mind. He turned back around and said, “I was going to review my footage of the goings-on over at the reception counter, but it might be quicker just to ask. Follow me.”
The two of us headed toward the reception counter, Jasmine now busy with a pair of business men. She looked to be reviewing an invoice with the men, but noticed us as we got closer. I heard her excuse herself, and she stepped over to an empty stretch of counter space. She must have known exactly what we were up to, because she locked eyes with Coughlin, kept quiet, and leaned forward to listen.
Coughlin spoke so quietly that I couldn’t hear what was being said, but after a few seconds Jasmine looked up at me then nodded and returned to what she’d been working on before Coughlin had interrupted her.
“Let’s head back to my office,” he said. “Jasmine will be joining us, momentarily.”
“No problem,” I said. “Let me touch base with Sarah and I’ll be right there.”
Coughlin broke off as I headed over to the leather sofa. “I think Coughlin’s going to try to figure out what the deal is with our bill,” I said. “Shouldn’t take too long. You want to wait here?”
“Sure,” Sarah said. “It’s a pretty comfy spot. I have no complaints.”
I gave her a wave and turned around just in time to see Jasmine entering the security center. I double-timed it across the marble floor, not wanting to miss out on what she might have to say.
The security officer behind the glass popped up and swung the security door open when he saw me coming. “Go ahead back, Mr. Peterson.”
“Thank you,” I said. I reached Coughlin’s doorway just in time to see Jasmine hand over some paperwork. I figured it had to be our bill.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Coughlin said as I walked in. “Both of you, have a seat.” Coughlin tossed the documents Jasmine had handed him onto his desk, then looked at her and asked, “Were you at your station when Corey settled Mr. Peterson’s bill?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Catch any of the conversation that took place between Corey and the individual who paid that invoice?”
“Yes. All of it, sir. There wasn’t too much else going on at six,” she said.
Coughlin pecked at his keyboard for a few seconds then turned and looked up at the biggest monitor screen in his entire office. Footage began playing which showed Jasmine standing behind the counter, alongside her co-worker---Corey, I assumed, the woman whom Coughlin had just mentioned. On the public side of the reception counter stood a third individual, his or her back to the camera while facing the desk clerks.
Coughlin then changed the footage we’d been watching with a simple keystroke.
The person we’d seen standing at the counter now filled the entire screen; the individual turned out to be a forty-something male, the image of his face so detailed you could see the pores of his skin. The logo on his uniform read Tri-State Couriers, and his nametag indicated his name was Tim. “Jasmine, what did our friend Tim have to say?”
“He told Corey that he had a delivery for the hotel, and that his instructions were to have a desk clerk open the envelope in his presence, read the enclosed documents, then sign a receipt stating the clerk agreed to the terms and conditions contained therein.”
“This all of the paperwork?” Coughlin asked. “Including Mr. Peterson’s bill?”
“Yes, sir,” Jasmine replied. “Minus the payment, of course.”
Coughlin switched the screen back to the first view, zoomed in on Jasmine and Corey, and let the footage play. “Cash?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
We watched for a few more seconds before Coughlin paused the footage. He arranged the documents---three, in total---on his desk where he could see them all at once, then studied each of them. He looked up, pecked at the keys again, and the footage showing the interaction between the three individuals played a second time. Another key stroke and the screen went dark.
“Corey split that big cash tip with you, huh?”
Jasmine’s face turned beet-red. “Yes, sir.”
“How come?”
“Not sure, really. But … we’re tight. I think I would have done the same for her.”
“Been a good day for you two clerks, so far, right?”
A subtle smile appeared on Jasmine’s face. “Yes, sir.”
Coughlin stared at the young woman for a few seconds. “Okay. That’ll be all. You can head back to your station, now.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said then stood up. “Good day, Mr. Peterson.”
“See you,” I said.
Coughlin leaned back in his reclining leather office chair, rested his elbows on the armrests, and wove his fingers together. “How important is it to you?”
“You mean finding out who paid our bill? Guess I’m more curious, than anything. Is it legit?”
“Bill was settled in cash. Doesn’t get any more legit than that. Took care of your entire invoice, gave the counter clerk an eighty dollar gratuity, and included a twenty-five percent tip for every single employee who came in contact with you. Well, except me, of course.”
“What did you get?” I asked. “Thirty percent?”
The comment made Coughlin laugh. “You’re all right, Peterson. Getting back to the matter at hand, you could petition Tri-State Courier to provide you with the name of who hired them to p
ay your hotel bill, but they don’t have to give it to you. I can almost guarantee it would end up being a fool’s errand. My advice? Thank your lucky stars you got a free stay at a four star hotel and move on.”
I got out of my chair and reached out to shake Coughlin’s hand. “I think you’re probably right. Listen, I appreciate all of your help.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” he replied. “Keep in touch.”
Chapter 16
I got the attention of a parking valet as I made my way across Agamenticus Hotel and Spa’s grand lobby.
“Have your car up in a flash,” the young man said as he reached for my ticket.
I nodded then approached Sarah, who was still waiting on the leather couch, surrounded by our bags. “Sorry. Took a bit longer than I’d anticipated.”
“Did you find out who paid our bill?” she asked.
“Nope. Doubt we ever will.”
“Really? Why do you say that?”
I took a seat next to her. “The bill was paid in cash, via courier service. Coughlin said we could question the company, but they don’t legally have to tell us squat. He said he thought we should just let it go, and be thankful we got a free stay out of it.”
Sarah sat back in silence.
“You disagree?” I asked.
“Don’t you find it unsettling? Not knowing who picked up the tab for what had to be a scary looking bill. Don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m not complaining, but we went all-out. I’m guessing to the tune of a thousand dollars, or more.”
“Oh, easily,” I said. “Our phantom benefactor also gave each staff member who serviced us a generous tip.”
“Okay, this is creeping me out a little bit. First off, why do it? What was their motivation? Second, why shroud it in mystery?”
“Let’s wait a day or two before hiring a private investigator to figure this out,” I said---earning me a wicked look from Sarah. “The responsible party may come forward and answer all of our questions.”
A bellboy rolled up just as Sarah was about to respond to what I’d said. “Mr. Peterson, Ms. Woods, your car is out front.” He proceeded to place our bags on his cart.
I took Sarah by the hand and stood up. She rose to her feet, took one last look around the grand lobby, then starting walking toward the exit.
The bellhop followed us out to the car. I tipped him and the parking valet, grabbed my keys, and we were out of there. I glanced over at Sarah after I put the car in gear and began rolling. She didn’t look well.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head. “The surveillance cameras, everyone knowing our names without us telling them first, the whole hotel bill fiasco. I’d be lying if I said that stuff didn’t bother me. We just had a free stay, so I know I’m supposed to be happy. Only, I’m not. I can’t help but feel as though we entered the Twilight Zone as soon as we walked through the door of that place.”
“I get it,” I said as I pulled out onto the main road. “OK, it’s official. Agamenticus Hotel and Spa is in our rear-view mirror. As of this very moment, no more Twilight Zone.”
Sarah looked over and gave me a weak smile. “I’m torn, Carter. I enjoyed the experience so much while we were immersed in it, but now it all feels a little tainted.”
I reached over and began massaging her shoulder as I drove. “Do me a favor. Give it a day or two. Chances are it’ll all make sense by then.”
She remained silent for a moment then turned and kissed the back of my hand. “Thanks. For being you. You always know how to make me feel better. And, safe.”
“Hope so,” I said.
“In regard to the case, what’s our day looking like?”
“Well, it’s twelve-thirty now. I doubt we’ll be able to reach Professor Reynolds until later this afternoon. Let’s get the new picture of Melody Savin over to Stoney. See if he gets any hits on it. Savin didn’t have all of that cosmetic work done for no reason. Makes me think she, or the con artists she’s working with, felt her face was a liability. If so, we may have her real name before long.”
“That would be a nice way to end what started out as an unsettling day,” Sarah said.
“It would. Getting our hands on that pre-permanent makeup photograph was key. It doesn’t get any better than a straight-on head shot when it comes to searching facial recognition databases. Our decision to visit the hotel gave us the jump start this case desperately needed.”
“You know, you’re right. My little pity party this morning was personal. But, as far as our work is concerned, our York outing has been wildly successful. Didn’t even cost us anything, other than tipping the guys at the beginning and end of our stay.”
“I’ve got to admit, it went way more smoothly than I’d anticipated. Coughlin couldn’t have made it any easier. He’s one of the good guys.”
“Doesn’t hurt that you’re both ex-cops,” Sarah said. “I’ve got to believe that gave us an edge.”
“Yep. No doubt about it.”
“Question,” Sarah said. “Let’s say Stoney works his magic and gives us Melody Savin’s real name. Do we share that information with the professor?”
I thought about it for a beat before answering. “Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t hesitate to let him know. He is our client, after all. But, this investigation has proved to be a mystery within a mystery. Reynolds’s wife showing up on our doorstep. Our tab getting paid at the hotel. Savin doing the old hocus-pocus with her facial features. My gut says let’s keep her real name close to the vest. At least until we have more information on the woman.”
“I’m on board with that,” Sarah said. “Speaking of Reynolds’s wife … maybe she’s the person responsible for picking up our tab. She is loaded, after all. Maybe it was meant to be an indirect bribe.”
“A bribe? I don’t get it,” I said.
“Remember what Arnahj said right before she left our house? Her bizarre riddle? It was something about us being able to help her, and that we will. Maybe she’s trying to sweeten the deal so we’ll throw her a bone.”
“Interesting theory, but I have my doubts. Time will tell.”
“I hope so, because it’s really bugging me.”
I bit my tongue, opting to say nothing more on the subject. “Interested in getting a coffee?”
Sarah pointed over the dashboard at the road ahead. “You thinking about hitting the drive-thru?”
“Yep.”
“Sure, I could go for a cup.”
I signaled our turn then wheeled into the lot where an Aroma Joe’s coffee kiosk was located. The line was short, so I got my wallet out as we came to a stop behind a beat-up Pontiac. “What would you like?”
“Small black is fine.”
I pulled up to the order window and started talking to the cashier when my cell phone began ringing. I felt Sarah reach inside my jacket pocket then heard her start talking. I finished the transaction and pulled ahead to the pickup window, doing my best to figure out who Sarah was talking to. I grabbed our coffees and turned to hand Sarah hers just as she ended the call.
“That was Professor Reynolds,” she said. “He’s all in a tizzy, and asked if we could meet with him as soon as possible.”
“Did you set it up?”
“I did. He’s not far from here, so I told him to meet us out front,” Sarah said while pointing toward Louie’s Hot Wingz restaurant, located over on the other side of the parking lot.
I let go a laugh. “Not exactly the Whiskey Barrel, is it?”
“Yeah, well, too bad. The professor’s just going to have to deal.”
I took a sip of my coffee and began driving across the lot toward Louie’s. “You’re not going to lose your temper with him this time, are you? Remember, this guy’s case is helping to pay our bills.”
“Guess that will be up to him,” she said. “I’m not making any promises.”
I pulled up in front of the restaurant, then backed into an available parking spot so we could keep an eye o
ut for our client. “Reynolds give any indication why he was so anxious to see us so soon?”
“I asked. Said he didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.”
“Well, looks like we’re about to find out. Here he comes,” I said and flashed my headlights.
The professor noticed my signal and steered in our direction. I expected him to park, but he pulled up in front of our car and got out. I rolled my window down to speak with him, but, of course, he chose to communicate with Sarah, instead. Guess the tongue-lashing he’d received the day before didn’t deter him from showering his attentions on her.
“Good afternoon,” I heard him say to her. “I hope you won’t find my suggestion offensive, but would you mind terribly if I were to recommend an alternate venue for our meeting?”
“Suit yourself,” Sarah said.
“Joe Tecci’s. Do you know it? They have a wine list that’s second to none. Frankly, I’m in dire need.”
“We’ll follow you,” she said and rolled her window up.
Reynolds gave me a half-hearted wave as he made his way back to his vehicle.
“Frankly, I’m in dire need,” Sarah parroted, sounding more like Thurston Howell the third from Gilligan’s Island. “What a snooty little snit he is.”
I broke out into laughter as I began following the professor’s car, nearly spilling my coffee in the process.
“Careful,” she said. “Seems you and to-go coffee cups are a dangerous combination this week.”
I ignored the dig and got right to the heart of the matter. “You really don’t like this guy, do you?”
Sarah shrugged. “It’s not that I dislike him. He’s just so … pretentious. It’s not an endearing trait. At least, not from my perspective.”
“I understand. You’re more down with the good-old-boy types, like me.”
Sarah smiled. “You’re a good mix. Civilized, with a bad-boy edge.”
“Bad-boy? Never thought of myself that way. I kind of like it.”
The professor slowed and turned off the main road onto a decorative bridge which crossed a ravine.
“Never been here before,” Sarah said.
“Me, neither. Probably because it’s just another place the money crowd hangs out.” I parked near the front door of the restaurant, downed my coffee, and we got out.
