Quarterback Trap (A Carlos McCrary novel Book 3)

by Dallas Gorham

  “Yes, thanks.” I wrote down the time the video was taken. “Can we access the elevator video to see where she got on?”

  “You do know I have other duties, right?” He stared into his empty coffee cup as if he could will it to refill itself.

  “Wally, that woman is a guest in your hotel. She is missing and maybe in danger. Finding her trumps your duty to refill your coffee.”

  The guard scowled, but he punched a few keys. The picture switched to split screen, high-angle shots from the elevator car’s top corners. “I’ll run this back one minute earlier.”

  Two men were in the elevator, one in a black tuxedo and one stuffed into an ill-fitting business suit. The second man had a shaved head and a crooked nose. He tugged at his collar, loosened his poorly knotted tie. Part of a neck tattoo peeked above the shirt. The men stood side by side against the back wall.

  “Zoom in on the tattoo. Let’s see if we can tell what it is. Hmm. Can’t tell, but it looks familiar.” I gestured at the screen. “Keep going.”

  A few seconds later, the doors slid apart and Graciela entered the elevator unsteadily. Her purse swung from the shoulder chain. A couple followed, arm-in-arm. The man wore a blue tuxedo that matched his date’s long, blue cocktail dress.

  “Must be Cowboys fans,” I said.

  Graciela raised a champagne flute to her lips, emptied it, and placed it on the elevator floor in the corner. She steadied herself with a hand on the wall as she straightened up. Her face came into sharp focus on the monitor.

  Wally froze the picture. “Is that who I think it is?”

  I shrugged. “Who do you think she is?”

  “The Latin Angel…what’s-her-name. The super model…” He snapped his fingers. “Graciela! That’s it—she’s Graciela, ain’t she?”

  “Right on.”

  “I saw on the television where she’s the Jets quarterback’s fiancée.”

  “That’s right.”

  The guard seemed more engaged in helping me now. “See this indicator?” He pointed to the lower left corner of the screen. “She got on at the third floor, where the Palm Paradise Pavilion is. That’s where the network threw the party.” He punched the keyboard and the video played again.

  Blue Tuxedo put his arm around the woman in the blue dress and copped a feel. She put her left hand down and stroked his crotch discreetly, if you can stroke a crotch discreetly in a crowded elevator. She looked at him and winked. His jacket gapped open to reveal a silver cummerbund. Their mouths moved as they smiled at each other and talked.

  “I don’t suppose you have audio, do you, Wally?”

  “Too many privacy issues, man. Just the video.”

  “Just as well—that conversation’s gotta be X-rated.”

  The woman leaned her head on Blue Tuxedo’s shoulder, blew in his ear, then kissed him with her mouth open. The other two men stood in the back, oblivious to the enthusiastic display of young love. Some people have no romance in their souls. Graciela leaned her head against the side wall, oblivious to the other people in the car. In a few seconds, the door opened on the eighteenth floor and the two Cowboys fans strolled off, groping each other as they went.

  After the door closed, Graciela straightened up and spoke over her shoulder to Black Tuxedo. He took an envelope from inside his jacket and leaned close to the woman. Crooked Nose watched from the back. Black Tuxedo and Graciela exchanged a few words as she opened her purse and stuck the envelope in it. She wrapped her hand around the top of the purse, covering the clasp.

  Graciela flashed a plastic smile at Black Tuxedo as the elevator door opened. Crooked Nose exited first. His jacket bulged under his left arm.

  “Freeze that, Wally. I want a printout of that frame.”

  “Yeah, yeah, anything you say.” Wally tapped the keyboard. “Is that bulge a gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that tattoo on his neck?”

  “It’s a prison tattoo.”

  Wally shivered. “Geez, maybe Graciela is in danger after all.” He started the video again. Graciela said something to Black Tuxedo as he waved and followed Crooked Nose from the elevator car.

  Wally pointed at the screen. “That’s the thirty-fourth floor.”

  “Let’s come back to that floor in a minute, Wally. I want to see which rooms they went into.”

  On the screen, Graciela leaned against the wall and took off her shoes. This time she grabbed the purse in a death grip. Whatever she had in that purse was valuable.

  “What do you think was in the envelope?”

  “His Grandma’s family recipe for cornbread.”

  We watched the video until Graciela exited the elevator. No one else entered or left the car.

  Wally punched the keyboard again. “Okay, hall camera on thirty-four coming up.”

  Crooked Nose looked both ways and nodded his shiny, bald head to Black Tuxedo before he exited.

  “Freeze that too, Wally. I need several blow-ups of those guys.”

  The two men stopped at a door. Black Tuxedo pointed back toward the elevator, said something to Crooked Nose, then entered a room on the right.

  “All the units on that side are suites, Chuck. They overlook Seeti Bay. The rooms on the left have a city view and they’re smaller.”

  Crooked Nose entered a door on the left.

  “What suite number did that guy in the tuxedo enter?”

  “I can’t tell from the video; it’s too far down the corridor to see.”

  “Can you access the keycard files and tell which rooms on that floor were entered at—” I glanced at the screen, “2:20 a.m.?”

  “I didn’t think of that. Hold on.” The guard swiveled to another computer and pulled the keyboard over. “Suite 3406. The ex-con is in 3405.”

  “Thanks, Wally.” I wrote that down. “Now let’s look at the elevator video again and see where those two guys got on.”

  Wally ran the elevator video back three minutes. “They’re already on the elevator.”

  So I noticed. “Run it back another three minutes.”

  The elevator held another couple. They got off on twenty-six. The empty elevator rose and stopped at thirty-four. Black Tuxedo and Crooked Nose got on and took their positions at the rear of the car. For the next six minutes the two men stood motionless as the elevator went down to the lobby, up to the thirty-ninth floor, and back down to the lobby. Other people got on and off the elevator, but the two men never moved. Finally, the video showed Graciela and the Cowboy fans getting on.

  “You think they were waiting for Graciela to get on that elevator?”

  I nodded. “Now let’s go back to the thirty-seventh floor camera and watch for Graciela when she came out of the suite.”

  Chapter 6

  Brian Wallenda, manager of the Super Bowl headquarters hotel, spread the stack of pictures on his desk. “What you’re asking is highly irregular, Mr. McCrary.” Even on a Sunday, he wore a suit and tie.

  “Call me Chuck. This may involve a guest’s safety. The guest is Graciela Perez, the fiancée of the Jets starting quarterback. That’s why I asked you to meet me here on a Sunday.”

  “I’m well aware who Graciela is. I don’t live in a cave.” Wallenda pursed his lips. “Frankly, if not for the potential danger to a guest, I wouldn’t entertain your request—not without a search warrant.”

  “The bald man with the prison tattoo carried a gun. He and the man in the black tuxedo rode the elevator up and down twice, waiting for Graciela to get on. All I want you to do is help me identify the men in the elevator with her.”

  “That would require accessing the hotel’s reservation system and our guests’ personal information.” He slipped a finger inside his collar and tugged. “That goes against my hotel training.”

  “How about having a guest kidnapped from your hotel? Does that go against your training?”

  Wallenda’s face blanched. “I… I, uh, I don’t know what to say. We’ve never had anything like this happen before.”
He straightened up. “You don’t know she was kidnapped.”

  “I don’t know that she wasn’t, either. I do know she was with two suspicious men and now she’s disappeared.” I’d had enough of this guy tiptoeing around the issue. “Let’s cut to the chase. Can we go off the record, Mr. Wallenda?”

  Wallenda raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

  “Times being what they are, we both know that it wouldn’t damage the reputation of the Port City Palace if Graciela were discovered to have a controlled substance in her hotel suite.”

  “The Palace is a big hotel.” Wallenda shrugged. “No one expects us to control what goes on in our rooms or what guests bring in with them. And everyone knows what celebrities are like.”

  “Right. But if she obtained the controlled substance from another hotel guest in your elevator, and that guest was accompanied by an armed bodyguard who is an ex-convict, and your surveillance cameras captured the exchange…” I gestured to the photos on the desk. “And that guest disappeared from your hotel in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t look good if it came out that you ignored the potential danger to a guest—especially a high-profile guest like Graciela.”

  “Should I call the police?”

  “Not yet. The police never take a missing person report seriously for the first forty-eight hours, unless it’s a child or there’s evidence of foul play. Let’s keep my investigation low-key for now.”

  “If I’ve learned anything in thirty years in the hotel business, it’s that things you hope won’t come out, always do. Always. More so with a celebrity. It’s just a matter of time.” He pushed the stack of pictures together. “You’re right. I’ve got to do something. Okay, Chuck, we keep it off the record. Now tell me: What the hell’s going on in my hotel?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out. And when I do, you’ll be the second one to know—after Bob Martinez.”

  ###

  “Come in, Mr. McCrary. Whatever this big emergency is that couldn’t wait ’til tomorrow, it had better be a matter of life and death, or else I’m gonna be severely pissed.” Giselle Foreman, the chief accountant for the Port City Palace, looked at me over the top of her glasses. “Since I can’t be pissed off at my own boss, you’re next in line. Do I make myself clear?”

  I didn’t have to be a detective to know that she wasn’t a happy camper.

  “Now convince me this was worth me missing a family trip to the beach on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.” She sighed. “Okay, okay, I know it’s not your fault. The boss may know all about managing a hotel, but he stopped using computers when they put more than ten buttons on them. He said to help you any way I can, keep your visit under my hat, and not to ask questions.” She gestured to a chair across from her desk. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I slid the pictures across the desk. “I need to know who these two men are. They’re in rooms 3405 and 3406.”

  “That’s all?” Foreman glanced at the pictures as she slid a keyboard in front of her. “Why couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”

  “It was Mr. Wallenda’s decision to call you in. And, while I agree with that decision, he should be the one to tell you why it’s important.”

  “Well, he has conveniently gone home and left me holding the bag.”

  “I sympathize with you. If it’s any consolation, this is ruining my Sunday too.”

  She waved it off. “Oh, forget it. I’m just venting. 3405 and 3406, you said? Let’s see…those rooms are both registered to XPVV Corporation. They were checked in with a corporate American Express card at the same time.” She pushed the keyboard aside. “That doesn’t help, does it?”

  “Did they sign a register card when they checked in?”

  Foreman glanced at the screen. “They checked in yesterday. The register cards would be scanned into our data base by now.” She pulled the keyboard over again. “Here they are.” She rotated the monitor so I could see.

  The two signatures were illegible.

  Chapter 7

  “Wally, this is Ray Snopolski, my associate.” I had called in Snoop to give me an extra set of eyes on the case.

  “Call me Snoop.” They shook hands.

  “I want Snoop to see that security video of the third floor lobby where Graciela got on the elevator. The one we looked at earlier. Okay if we pull up a couple of chairs?”

  “Sure thing, Chuck.” The hotel security guard glanced at my friend and occasional employee. “Snoop, was it?”

  “Yeah, I used to be a police detective. I did a lot of snooping.”

  Wally punched a few keys. “Here’s the Latin Angel getting on elevator number four.”

  “Go back three minutes. I want Snoop to see her when she arrives at the elevator lobby.”

  Wally nodded. “Mr. Wallenda said I should do anything you want and not tell anybody about it.” He typed in the new command. “Here’s the lobby three minutes earlier.”

  Graciela was already there, standing near elevator four.

  I pointed at the screen. “Snoop, she waited next to elevator four. Everyone else is waiting near elevators one and two.”

  Snoop shrugged. “Human nature. The party was at the end of the floor nearest to elevator one. People leaving the party naturally stop at the nearest elevator.”

  “But Graciela didn’t.” I turned to Wally. “Run it back three more minutes please.”

  “Right. Here it is.”

  Graciela was not in the lobby.

  “Play it in real time, please Wally.” The picture began to move. Six hotel guests in evening dress walked into the picture and waited near elevator one. Elevator two arrived and all six got on. More guests entered the picture. They got on elevators four, three, and one.

  Graciela entered the picture with another couple and two single women. The five of them smiled and chatted as they waited for an elevator. Elevator one arrived again. The man in the group waited as the two single women and his date got on. He swayed back and forth as he waited for Graciela to board next. When she didn’t, he spoke to her and bowed with an exaggerated gesture for her to go first. She shook her head and said something. He shrugged, waved to Graciela, and wobbled into the elevator.

  As soon as the elevator doors closed, Graciela walked carefully—like drunks walk—to elevator four and waited.

  “Snoop, she waited specifically for elevator four.”

  Snoop said, “Graciela must have known the guy in the black tuxedo would be on elevator four.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I figure. Play it in real time please, Wally.”

  We watched three other elevators arrive and depart. Graciela sipped her champagne. The couple in the blue tuxedo and blue cocktail dress entered the picture and waited near elevator two, arms wrapped around each other. The green light went on above elevator four. Blue Tuxedo took his date by the arm and steered her toward the elevator. Graciela looked into the elevator, nodded, and walked through the open doors.

  “She made sure Black Tuxedo and Crooked Nose were in the car before she got in, Snoop. The three of them planned that meeting.”

  ###

  I pushed the stop button and got down on my knees. “You’re too old to squat anymore, aren’t you, Snoop?”

  “Yeah, my squat broke a long time ago. Have a ball, kid.”

  “Here’s the mark where she caught her heel in the elevator door.” I pointed at the brown scuff mark.

  Snoop nodded. “Like in the security video.” He released the stop button as he followed me into the elevator lobby.

  We studied the floor all around.

  I said, “After she picked up the overnight bag, she walked to that metal door with her right hand in her purse. Maybe she was reaching for her keyfob.” I mimicked the motion we had watched on the video. “She bumped the crash bar with her hip and turned around to back through the door…” I bumped the door like Graciela had and backed through it into the parking garage. “And vanished.”

  Snoop followed me out to the parking deck. �
�What kind of first-class hotel doesn’t have security cameras in the parking garage?”

  “The Port City Palace kind. No sense complaining, Snoop. It is what it is. We work with what we’ve got.” I looked around the parking deck. “Her car must be here. What’s that?”

  Snoop walked over and squatted in the driveway. “My squat’s not really broken.” He grinned at me and pulled on a rubber glove. “Looks like a smashed keyfob. Maybe somebody drove over it. We can fingerprint it to see if it’s hers.” He picked up the fob. “This has a rental car company key ring on it. Let me see if I can make out…” He walked a few feet to hold the crushed plastic under an overhead light. “I can read the license number.” He showed it to me.

  “Good work, Snoop.” I glanced around. “There, the red convertible.” As I walked over, I pulled a small Maglite from my pocket. Shining it in the windows, I noticed something unusual. “It’s unlocked.” I opened the door and tried the driver’s seat. “This seat is adjusted to where a five-foot-seven woman like Graciela would have it.” I moved the seat all the way back. I sat down and inhaled. “That’s the same perfume I smelled in Bob’s closet in their hotel suite.”

  I found a button on the instrument panel and popped the trunk. “Check the trunk. I’ll look for paperwork.”

  A few seconds later Snoop returned. “Trunk’s empty.”

  I handed Snoop a thick cardboard folder. “These rental papers were in the glove box. This is her car all right. We won’t need the fingerprints from the keyfob. You’ll have to get a new one at the car rental office.”

  “Maybe we’ll learn something from the GPS after I get the new fob. I’ll head out to the airport.”

  “I’ll pay another visit to the security office and see if we find anything useful from the garage cashier videos.”

  ###

  A green Mercedes approached the main garage exit. The time indicator showed 03:33:45. The driver’s window rolled down. An arm reached to the exit console and swiped a keycard across the reader.

  “Freeze that, Wally. Now zoom in. See if the driver’s wearing a tuxedo. Zoom in on the French cuffs. I want to see the cufflink.”