The Case of the Guest Who Stayed Over (The M.O.D. Files Book 1)

by K. W. Callahan

  Her grip on my arm relaxed slightly, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she sighed.

  I thought I noticed a slight wistfulness in her voice, but maybe it was just my male ego kicking in. I couldn’t be sure.

  “We’d better get back upstairs,” I said. I wanted to get out of there before I started having any second thoughts of doing a little “interrogating” of my own with Kristen.

  ***

  Back upstairs, a sole guest was at the front desk, which wasn’t uncommon for three in the morning. These were often the guests preparing for early flights, just getting in from late ones, had arrived from overseas and hadn’t adjusted well to the time change, or night owls who just preferred being up at odd hours. A hotel never slept.

  This morning’s guest was a little different though.

  The desk agent – Sarah Ruiz – an agent who had been with the hotel for almost a year now, waved us over as we approached.

  Sarah was a single mother of two and was in the process of getting an education degree through an online program. She did her coursework and cared for her children during the day and worked at the hotel at night, leaving the kids with her parents in the afternoon so that she could catch a few winks before coming in each evening. She had a good head on her shoulders, so I knew that if she was having difficulty with the issue at hand, it must be something other than the norm.

  The guest standing before her had no bags with him. But lack of luggage wasn’t always an indication of whether he was coming, going or staying. He could already have called a bellman to pick up his travel accoutrements. However, travelers typically showed signs of having been traveling or planning to be on their way, such as a jacket, coat, some sort of travel bag, purse, or similar sort of accessory.

  This guest had none of these things.

  The man was tall, thin, wearing saggy blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a t-shirt that exposed pale boney elbows. He had a beak-like nose, and an Adam’s-apple that thrust forth and could have been confused for a nose itself had it been eight inches higher.

  I nodded to Sarah and the guest as Kristen and I approached.

  “Hello, Sarah,” I said, then shook hands with the guest, who appeared nervous. “Robert Haze, hotel manager on duty. This is Kristen Sparks our night supervisor. How can we be of assistance?”

  “Hi, Mr. Haze, my name is Ken Clemens. I’m the events planner for the gamer convention you currently have taking place in your hotel. I have a real dilemma on my hands, and I’m just not sure what to do.”

  “Well, we’ll do everything we can to accommodate you, Mr. Clemens. Why don’t you explain the issue to me so we can start figuring out a solution?”

  “Uh,” he groaned, “I’m not sure there is a solution. That’s the problem. I really screwed up, and my job’s on the line if we can’t find a way to fix this,” he slapped the front desk with an open palm in frustration.

  “Just calm down, Mr. Clemens,” Kristen soothed. “I’m sure we can figure something out, whatever your issue is.”

  Her kind and reassuring words seemed to have a calming effect on him. “I sure hope so,” he said, looking at her, “but I just don’t see a way. You see, I was in charge of making sure all the downtown area game shops received invitations to this morning’s expo. We have new game distributors from around the country arriving to display this year’s newest products. The problem is, I arrived a day ahead of the rest of the planning group and was supposed to send all the invitations out by mail. Here it is though, the morning of the event and I just stumbled across the invitations in my suitcase. I had sent emails to all the invitees letting them know that their tickets to the event would be enclosed with the invitation. They’d still be able to get in without them since their names are on our guest list, but these were personalized tickets prepared specifically for the event.” He looked back and forth between me and Kristen, shaking his head and trembling. “I forgot! I completely forgot! I never forget stuff like this. But of course, this time, when it really counts, I did. I just can’t believe it!”

  “How many invitations do you have to go out?” I asked.

  “There are nearly thirty recipients scattered all over the downtown area,” he said, looking defeated. “I’d try to deliver them myself, but I don’t have a car and there’s no way I’d make it anyway with morning traffic downtown. I don’t mind the cost, whatever it is; I just need a way to deliver these invitations.”

  “Couldn’t you just email your guests and ask them to stop by the front desk to pick up their tickets when they arrive?” Kristen offered.

  He paused, considering the option. “I guess…no…no, that just wouldn’t work. It would look so bad, as if they were an afterthought…as though I’d forgotten. These are important clients to the association. I can’t make them feel as though they were forgotten about…even though they were. I just don’t know what to do.” His shoulders sagged, and he let out a deep breath. “I really liked this job too,” he said sadly.

  “Now don’t give up, Mr. Clemens, we’ll figure something out,” I reassured.

  I took a moment, trying to think of how to get every attendee his or her ticket without making it appear the late arrival was anything but planned.

  Then it hit me.

  “Mr. Clemens, what time does the event start?”

  “Eleven o’clock this morning. Why?”

  I looked at my watch. It was 3:08 a.m.

  “What is the drop dead time for having the invitations to your guests?”

  “I don’t know, probably 9 a.m.”

  “Do you have, or can you get a costume for a main character in one of the new games being displayed at the show…the biggest, hottest, greatest new game coming out? Preferably for a male character, that doesn’t require a mask, and that’s easy to move around in.”

  Mr. Clemens thought for a moment and then he said slowly, “Yes…I think so. But I still don’t understand.”

  “Leave it to me, Mr. Clemens. I have an idea. If you could go upstairs and get your invitations and the costume and meet me back here at the front desk, I’ll explain what I hope to do.”

  He shrugged, “I guess I’ve got nothing to lose at this point. I’ll put my faith in you, Mr. Haze.”

  After he hurried back upstairs, Kristen looked at me questioningly, “What have you got planned?” she asked.

  “You’ll see,” I smiled.

  While Mr. Clemens was away, I made a phone call and set Kristen to work finishing the night audit reports, writing the night’s M.O.D. report, and checking with the staff to make sure everything was ready and that we didn’t have any loose ends for when the first shift arrived.

  I hated passing issues along to other shifts if at all possible. In my opinion, nothing showed lack of caring about team unity and being a cohesive organization more than passing issues you didn’t want to deal with on to the next shift.

  Even before Mr. Clemens got back downstairs with his invitations and the costume, my secret weapon had arrived, though he looked more like a possible stumbling-block than any sort of weapon.

  “Good to see you again, Tommy,” I said, grabbing our dine ‘n dash courier’s hand and shaking it heartily.

  He was still sporting his multi-day facial scruff and didn’t appear to have showered in as many days either.

  “You really think you can handle this?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Haze, I’ve had worse.”

  “Really?” I said surprised.

  “Yeah,” he laughed, “at least it’s not snowing.”

  I shrugged, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Still raining out there?”

  “Nope. It stopped on my way in.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it. Now listen, I’m going to need you to get cleaned up before our guest returns with your outfit.”

  “My outfit?” he said, giving me a wary stare. “You didn’t say anything about an outfit. What are we talking about here?”

  “Don’t worry. Just a little something to help you better fi
t in with the gamer crowd.”

  He looked a little unsure, but I didn’t pay any attention; instead, I handed him a disposable razor and several packets of shaving cream from boxes we kept under the front desk, along with a room key.

  “Here,” I said. “The key is for room 8-214. It’s an out of order room so you can shower and shave. I need you to be quick though. Our guest is going to be back down here any minute. I’ll bring your costume up to you.”

  “Whatever you say,” Tommy shrugged.

  And with that, he hurried off to his room to get cleaned up.

  Almost as soon as he was gone, Mr. Clemens was back with his invitations and the costume.

  He laid the attire out on the front desk.

  “Oh boy,” I said under my breath as I looked at it.

  “It’s for the latest game craze,” Mr. Clemens said, looking excited. The character’s name is Shoufa. He’s a futuristic Japanese fighting fashion designer. He does battle against fashion villains who he dresses in the Shoufa style once defeated.”

  “And Shoufa style is?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

  “Well, I guess you’d call it a Japanese take on Parisian inspired, Indo-styled traditional garb.”

  “He won’t be able to use those,” I said, nodding to a pair of gold slippers that Mr. Clemens had laid on the desk.

  “Who won’t?” Mr. Clemens asked.

  “My courier.”

  “Ah, you have a courier. I never thought of that! It’s perfect! He’ll be able to dress as Shoufa and deliver the invitations in true gamer fashion. Do you think he could memorize a couple of lines to say when he hands the invitations to the invitees?”

  “Uh, well…I suppose,” I drawled, hoping it wouldn’t push Tommy over the edge.

  At this point, I was really just hoping Tommy didn’t turn and run as soon as he saw the outfit.

  “Oh wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!” Mr. Clemens clasped his hands together and took a huge breath.

  “This is perfect, and it won’t look like I’ve forgotten at all. It’ll look like I’ve been planning this special presentation for them. Thank you so much, Mr. Haze.”

  “Yes, well, I’d better get this costume and the invitations to my courier so he can start planning his route. It’s nearing four now.”

  “Kristen,” I called behind me, “can you run this stuff up to Tommy in 8-214?”

  “Sure thing,” she said, emerging from the back office. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the costume. “He’s going to wear that?”

  “Yes,” I said, grabbing the monstrosity off the front desk and shoving it into her arms along with the invitations. “Please hurry.”

  “I can’t wait to see this,” she mumbled as she turned to leave.

  I turned back to Mr. Clemens, handing him a pen and paper. “Would you please write down what you’d like him to say when he makes his deliveries?”

  He thought for a moment, and then scrawled a few lines. He picked up the pad and peered at it. “How’s this sound?”

  “Shoufa, master of fighting and fashion, cordially invites you to the Midwest Gamer Association’s annual convention at the prestigious Lanigan Hotel.

  Your presence is requested at 11 a.m. in the Lanigan’s famed Lake Ballroom to review the latest and greatest in gaming.”

  “Sound’s great. I’ll make sure our courier gets this,” I said, as he handed back the pen and notepad.

  “Thank you again for this, Mr. Haze. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. Now I can actually go up and get a few hours sleep.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Clemens,” I nodded.

  “Oh,” he said, as he turned to leave, “tell you’re currier that there will be a very good tip involved if he pulls this off…a very good tip.”

  “I’ll be sure to let him know,” I nodded.

  Several minutes after Mr. Clemens had left, Kristen returned.

  “That poor guy up there,” she said. “He didn’t even say a word when I handed him that costume. He just stared at it. I don’t think he knew what to do.”

  I just shrugged.

  “I’d suggest you wait out here until he arrives. I think it’ll be worth your time.”

  “Don’t worry. You couldn’t pay me not to see this!” she laughed.

  Twenty minutes later, Tommy made it back downstairs fully outfitted in the costume that Mr. Clemens had provided.

  I could see his furtive glances even as he stepped off the elevator across the lobby from us. He hurried over to the front desk, cape flapping behind him.

  He was adorned in bike shoes, pink tights that exposed bare ankles, a Japanese-style short-sleeved pajama top that was barely visible through the loosely wrapped red and gold sarong that tailed into a sort of cape behind him.

  Tommy stood there starting at us.

  “Looks good,” I tried to say with a straight face.

  Kristen just burst out laughing.

  I side-kicked her with my leg behind the desk.

  “You know, it’s bad enough I have to go out in public looking like a vampire going to a drag show, but how in the hell am I supposed to ride in this thing?” Tommy said sourly.

  “It could be worse,” Kristen giggled.

  “Oh yeah? How’s that?” Tommy glared.

  Kristen gave a little shrug, “I don’t know…it could be snowing.”

  “That’s what I said,” he frowned. “I’d rather have to deal with snow than wear this…disaster.”

  “Sorry, partner,” I said as sympathetically as I could. “But hey,” I said in a chipper tone, “try to look on the bright side, you clean up pretty good when you’re all showered and shaved.”

  Tommy actually looked his youthful age for the first time since I’d met him.

  “Yeah, thanks. So how many invitations?” he said, unfazed by my attempts at flattery.

  I gave him the invitations, wrapped in a plastic bag in case it started to rain again. “Twenty-seven. Sure you can do it?”

  “Sure I’m sure. It’ll be tight, but I’ll map it so I can knock ‘em out quick once businesses start opening.”

  “By the way, the guest requests that you read this when you deliver the invitations,” I said, handing him the lines that Mr. Clemens had penned.

  Tommy’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled heavily. “So now I’m a damn singing telegram?”

  “You don’t have to sing it,” I smiled. “Although, now that you mention it…

  “No, no, no. Just give it too me,” he said, quickly snatching the sheet of paper from my hand.

  He looked at the lines for a moment, reading them aloud softly.

  “The guest said that if you can get this done, there’s a big tip involved.”

  “Ha! There’d better be!” Tommy scoffed. “I ain’t doing this for my health!”

  “Anything you need from us?” I asked.

  “Help me get this thing fixed so it doesn’t get caught in my bike spokes,” he said, tugging at his draped attire.

  After several minutes of fidgeting, tucking, twisting, and pulling, Kristen and I managed to get all of Tommy’s costume stashed so that it wouldn’t be caught up as he rode.

  “Well, I’m off then. I’ll call you, as well as the guest, when I’m done.”

  “Sounds good,” Kristen and I waved. “Thanks again for your help, Tommy. I really appreciate it,” I called after him.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he waved back, his tucked-in cape ruffling behind him as he disappeared down the lobby stairs.

  “Seems like a nice enough guy,” Kristen said, after he was gone.

  “Yep, a pretty good kid…” I nodded, “…especially to go outside dressed like that.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  To: allstaff.lanigan@sharedresorts.com

  Subject: 10/31 M.O.D. Report

  THE LANIGAN HOTEL

  CHICAGO, IL

  MANAGER ON DUTY REPORT

  Tuesday, October 31st

  HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

  Weather: 46/39
Rain

  Occupancy: 99%

  Arrivals: 352

  Departures: 107

  Event Resume:

  Blue Velvet Room - (8 a.m. - 4 p.m.) - American Whole Life Trust annual training seminar

  3rd floor Vista Rooms I, II, III - (all day) - Hollingston Cooling Systems meetings

  Sky Ballroom - (all day) - MGC (Midwest Gamer Convention)

  Lake Ballroom - (9 a.m. - 7 p.m.) - MGC Expo.

  Grand Ballroom - (all day) - Modern Pharmaceuticals Corporation meetings

  Note: Don’t forget the staff costume contest to be held at lunch today!

  ***

  I could hear the wind whipping by outside my window as I lay in bed. I squeezed down under the covers. The bed had been made yesterday and the sheets were still crisp from the laundry’s pressing. It always gave me the feeling of sleeping on a freshly starched shirt.

  The dull gray light that leaked its way between the blinds seemed fitting for Halloween.

  It was almost noon, and I’d slept soundly after all the action from last night and early morning.

  My phone had remained remarkably quiet after I’d wrapped up the invitation issue for Mr. Clemens earlier in the morning, but it wasn’t destined to stay that way for long.

  I pushed the sheets back and sat up, rolling my neck from side to side to work out the kinks. I arched my back, heard a pop, then gave myself a good stretch and got out of bed.

  I slipped into my white cotton Lanigan-logoed robe, cinched its belt up tight around me, and headed over to the thermostat on the wall to turn up the heat. I had nearly half a closet full of such robes now.

  When I was a newbie in the hotel business, my first general manager had recommended that I keep a robe from each hotel at which I worked as a reminder of my career progress. I liked the idea and now had quite a collection.