Brooks-Lotello Collection

by Ronald S. Barak

  LOTELLO WANTED TO PRETEND his faux pas had never happened. Aside, however, from the fact that he couldn’t leave things as they were, he still had an investigation he needed to pursue. “Ms. Jackson?” he said to the closed hallway door. “Ms. Rochelle Jackson? I am so sorry for walking in on you that way, but we need to talk. I can return with hotel security if you’d feel better.”

  She must have ventured out of the bathroom. After a moment, through the closed entry door: “Hotel security? I thought you said you were hotel security. What’s going on here? Who in the hell are you if you’re not hotel security?”

  “I’m sorry for the pretense. I was as shocked as you were. I didn’t know what else to say. My name is Frank Lotello. I’m a homicide investigator with the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Police. I’m holding up my identification. Please look at it through the peephole.”

  “Washington? Did you make a wrong turn? What in the world are you doing here? What do you want with me?”

  “It’s complicated, Ms. Jackson.” Lotello pushed the panic button on his alias phone to summon his hotel security partner. “I just called hotel security. They’ll be here in a moment.”

  “Jesus. Okay, I’m waiting. But I’m not opening the door.”

  In a matter of seconds, Officer Jorge Rodriguez approached Lotello with a look of uncertainty on his face. Lotello explained what had happened. Rodriguez laughed.

  “Ms. Jackson, this is Officer Rodriguez. I’m with hotel security.”

  “I’m still not opening this door. Do you have any identification? Hold it up, please.”

  Rodriguez did as Jackson requested.

  “Hang on. I’m calling the front desk.”

  Lotello could hear her voice through the door. Followed by several minutes of silence. Finally, the door opened.

  Ms. Jackson stared at the two men, wearing an ugly scowl and a hotel bathrobe, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. “Okay, now tell me what you Neanderthals are doing here?”

  “Again, allow me to apologize, Ms. Jackson. May we please come in?”

  “Not on your life! You can stand right there in the hallway and tell me what this is about. If you take one step toward me, or make one false move, I’ll scream bloody murder and slam the door in your face.”

  Patiently, Lotello walked Jackson through why he was there, explaining that three prominent Thriller Jubilee literary professionals were missing and possibly dead and that she is one of only five authors at Thriller Jubilee whose work was rejected by each of the three missing personalities. Lotello added that the TITO board had requested that he investigate matters.

  Jackson asked Lotello for the names of the three missing persons. He felt obliged to share their names.

  “And you think I might have harmed them?” Jackson asked. “What would possess you to think such a stupid thing? How dare you? You had better damn well be careful not to disparage my name. Unless you want to find yourself on the wrong side of a lawsuit. Along with TITO and all of its directors and officers.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Ms. Jackson, I really am. TITO is being as responsible, and as discreet, as it possibly can. You are not being treated any differently than any of the other four individuals here who, like you, were declined representation by each of the missing persons. Your name has not been shared with anyone other than on a strict need-to-know basis. I hope you can appreciate that TITO only wants to do all that it reasonably can to protect the 2,000 plus registrants here at Thriller Jubilee. I’m sure you would do the same if the tables were turned.”

  “We’ll have to see about that. For now, ask me whatever you’d like to ask me. Maybe I’ll answer, maybe I won’t.”

  “Why would you possibly not want to cooperate? Unless you have something to hide.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide. But I also value my privacy, apparently more than you do. Not to mention the sanctity of my room, and my body, which you’ve already grossly violated without my permission.”

  Lotello asked Ms. Jackson a series of questions designed to determine her whereabouts since her arrival on Punta Maya. As he expected, and in spite of the fact that she was reasonably forthcoming, Ms. Jackson was a loner and could not identify any third parties who could account for all of her time on the island. At least not sufficiently to provide her with any form of iron clad alibi.

  With one exception: according to her airline tickets, which hotel security subsequently verified with airport officials, Ms. Jackson had not arrived on Punta Maya until well after Lasko had disappeared.

  “Are we done, Detective?”

  “For now, yes.”

  “Let me ask you one question then. When does TITO’s board plan to let the 2,000 or so registrants—that they supposedly care so much about—know what’s going on, given that there’s a possible killer on the loose among them?”

  Lotello didn’t have an answer to the question, but he tried anyway: “Everyone thought to be at risk has been alerted,” he said. “Thank you for your time.” He and Rodriguez turned and walked away before Jackson could ask any more questions. At least for the moment.

  GREAT QUESTION, ROCHELLE. You should have asked me. You might have been more interested in my answer.

  PAPPAS LOOKED AT HER watch. “Not that I wouldn’t love just killing time with you fabulous ladies, staring out at that view and downing a few more drinks, but I do have a couple of writing classes I want to sit in on this afternoon. Besides, I’m budgeting my finances and my calories for the bar tonight. What are you guys going to be up to between now and the bewitching hour?”

  Rutledge signed the chit and said she was off to do some networking and hopefully pick up some new author clients for the cause.

  “Since I’m not trying to write any novels like you, Petra, I’m actually going to indulge myself a bit this afternoon,” Lonergan stated. “I’ve booked a mani-pedi. I just have time to do a little snorkeling first along this incredible coastline and maybe fit in a short nap before I’m due in the spa. I think I could get used to this lifestyle.”

  Pappas frowned. “Do you think that’s wise? Lasko went swimming by herself and no one’s seen her since.”

  “That’s silly. First of all, I’m not famous, and I don’t have any enemies. Secondly, Lasko may simply have had a heart attack and drowned. My heart, and my nerves, are just fine, thank you very much.”

  BROOKS WAS DRENCHED WITH sweat. He desperately felt the need for a shower. He was definitely not cut out to be a homicide investigator. From now on I’m leaving the physical side to Lotello. And then it occurred to him. He reached for the alias phone in his pocket, speed dialed the number, spoke a few words, and then headed off.

  HEY, BROOKSIE, JUST WAIT ‘til you find out why Enright wasn’t in his room!

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Day Three, 2:20 p.m.

  LONERGAN SAT DOWN A few feet back from the water’s edge. She donned her rented fins and mask. She wasn’t planning to go out very far or to descend down very deeply, so she had passed on also renting an air tank and one of those motorized dinghies. She just wanted to look at the coral arrangements and colorful tropical fish near the shoreline. She would be able to breathe at will through the snorkel attached to her mask. She stood and shuffled into the water.

  The water was chillier than it looked. After a few minutes, however, her internal thermometer adjusted and she felt relaxed. The underwater rock formations were spectacular. The fish swam right up to her, no doubt used to being given treats by the large two-legged critters. Some of the bolder fish rubbed against her body.

  The next thing she felt was not a fish at all but five fingers and the palm of a hand pushing firmly on her back. Salt water filled her snorkel and mouth, accompanied by an extreme rush of adrenaline. She urgently tried to stand but had unknowingly drifted out to where the water was too deep for her to gain any purchase.

  LEWIS HAD JUST SPENT the last thirty minutes in the lobby bar hearing all about Donnelly’s latest manuscript, as she h
ad promised to do the night before at the cocktail party when Donnelly had interrupted the meeting with Brooks and Lotello. It sounded horrid. Some kind of weird psychological suspense story. Lewis was only able to bring their visit to a close by inviting Donnelly to email the manuscript to her and saying she would be happy to read through it and provide some feedback. Well, at least she was experienced at skimming through manuscripts in an hour or so, ten pages in the beginning, ten pages in the middle, and ten pages at the end. After that, she’d have to come up with something to discourage Donnelly from trying to continue networking with her.

  LISTEN TO THAT DAMNED Lewis. She’s saccharine sweet with everyone at this convention. Even pretending to be friendly with Donnelly. You’d think she’d be nice to me too. But no. She’s just faking it. Don’t worry, though. Her time’ll come. She’ll get hers. I’ll take care of our Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Too.

  LONERGAN WAS BACK ON solid land, still shaking. “You scared the daylights out of me! Why in the world did you grab me like that?” she asked the man standing beside her, who was looking very contrite. “I thought you were trying to drown me.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you drifting farther and farther away from land. I was afraid you might get into trouble with the currents. They can become quite treacherous.”

  “How do you know my name? We haven’t ever met.”

  “I just sat in on your Thriller Jubilee presentation. I’m a novelist. And a part-time amateur lifeguard as well. Haha. I hope I’m better at writing novels than apparently I am at lifeguarding. Allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Jonathan Connor. Can I perhaps buy you a drink to make things up to you?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Day Three, 3:00 p.m.

  BROOKS AND LOTELLO WERE seated at a small table in the hotel coffee shop, neither one of them looking very pleased.

  In his typical fashion, Brooks asked Lotello to go first.

  Lotello filled Brooks in on his fiasco with Jackson. “Imagine her dismay at seeing a complete stranger in her room staring at her au natural. And her reaction. At the top of her lungs, I might add.”

  “Actually, very little imagination is required,” Brooks answered. What was required was his very best control not to break out in laughter, in spite of the fact that he understood the gravity of the situation and knew it was no laughing matter at all.

  “Judge, I don’t have to travel half way around the world to have someone rip me a second asshole,” Lotello continued. “I can get plenty of that right at home in D.C. Jackson was one unhappy camper. I hope I calmed her down, at least somewhat, but, with the advantage of hindsight, I now realize I was not very well prepared. Caught off guard, I didn’t know what to do other than to tell Jackson the truth as to why I was there.”

  “Which means,” Brooks said, stating the obvious, “that she now realizes what’s been going on at TJ, and that TITO has not been forthcoming with the TJ participants. She could cause TITO a boatload of trouble if she’s so inclined.”

  “Awkward as circumstances were,” Brooks continued, “I don’t suppose you actually managed to accomplish anything useful in the course of your, hmm, how should I delicately put it, misadventure?”

  “Actually, that’s not quite so,” Lotello said. “It turns out that Jackson had not yet arrived on the island when Lasko went missing. Thus, she has a perfect alibi. That is, if we assume that all three of our victims met with foul play at the hands of the same perp.”

  “All four of our missing persons,” Brooks clarified.

  “What do you mean ‘four’?” Lotello asked.

  Brooks allowed as how his visit to Enright’s hotel room had proved unfruitful. “When no one was there, and the room looked superficially as you might expect, I dutifully withdrew, honoring our commitment that investigation of the room would be left to you.” Brooks did not add that actually being in the field left him with no desire to be on the scene any longer than necessary.

  “I decided a quick shower would be in order,” Brooks said. “Then, on the way to meet with you, I bumped into Enright’s two hometown colleagues. They asked me if I had seen Enright of late. I said I hadn’t. They explained that they were to meet him for drinks at 2:30 to see how he made out at Pitch Gala. After fifteen minutes went by and Enright hadn’t showed up, they wandered into the Pitch Gala center. Enright never signed in. And he never pitched any agents. So, it seems we may now have a fourth person missing.”

  “You said you showered before heading over here?” Lotello asked.

  “I did, and I know what you’re going to ask. I showered in my original suite because, if per chance I was being watched, I didn’t want to lead anyone back to our new quarters. I also asked my hotel security partner to tag along with me. After showering, I put on some fresh clothes left behind in the room for just such occasions.”

  Lotello smiled approvingly. He even added a thumbs up. “I’m glad to see you were on your toes. It may be a little premature yet, but it does seem that we’ve now eliminated two of our five so-called suspects. I’ll pursue the other three this afternoon. And this time, I will come equipped with a better cover and be far more prepared to deal with whatever might come up.”

  “You’ll get no further offers of help from me in this regard,” Brooks said. “Having belatedly considered that someone may have been following me on my brief investigative endeavor, I think I’ve now had enough surveillance activities to last me a lifetime. And that’s before Eloise learns anything about any of this.”

  “If I were you, I’d avoid bringing any of this to Eloise’s attention,” Lotello suggested.

  “Fat chance of that. No way I’ll be able to keep that from her.”

  Lotello smiled and shook his head.

  “While you’re checking out the other three on our list,” Brooks added, “I will, at least, track Hart down and fill him in on what we’ve learned so far. Given your ‘affair’ with Jackson, the board may want to revisit its decision not to be fully transparent at this point. Better late than never. Maybe. You will also be pleased to know that I’ve arranged for my hotel security shadow to stick close by.”

  Lotello brought up another point. “Leah has drawn my attention to yet another possible wrinkle.”

  “Leah has?”

  “Just before we sat down to compare notes, I went up to the suite to quickly look in on the ladies. When I mentioned that we’ve been looking into five authors here at the conference who’ve been rejected by Lasko, Llewellyn, and Simpson, Leah said she had just been reading about those very same personalities.”

  Brooks stared at Lotello. “Really? How so?”

  “You recall Jonathan Connor?” Lotello asked.

  “The TITO director with that bushy mop of silver hair who keeps trying to impress us with all of his legal knowledge?” Brooks responded.

  “That’s the one,” Lotello said with a nod. “Not surprisingly, Connor the lawyer writes legal thrillers. In between her own trial caseload, Leah likes reading legal thrillers. Small world story, Leah has read a couple of Connor’s novels. She just finished reading his latest here in Punta Maya. In doing so, she stumbled across something rather interesting about our Mr. Connor.”

  “Are you trying to write a novel of your own?” Brooks’s impatience was showing. “Can we please come to the point?”

  “Novelists typically include an acknowledgments section at the end of their novels in which they thank those who have been helpful to them. You’re familiar with that, right?” Lotello asked.

  “Of course I know that,” Brooks sputtered. “Do you think I’m a complete dunderhead? Do you have a point somewhere in here to make?”

  “In the acknowledgments in Connor’s latest novel, Connor mentions Lasko, Llewellyn, and Simpson. Turns out that Lasko is Connor’s literary agent, Llewellyn is the CEO of his publisher, and Simpson is his publicist.”

  “Are you saying—”

  “Exactly. Lasko, Llewellyn, and Simpson ma
y not have rejected Connor, as they did our remaining three suspects, but Connor may have his own agenda where they’re concerned,” Lotello said.

  “That’s a fine kettle of stew,” Brooks replied.

  “Kettle of … what?”

  “Fish. Kettle of fish,” Brooks corrected himself. “You know what I mean. We are now confronted by an additional possible suspect, one who’s a member of the very board we’re in the midst of counseling.”

  AS THE HOSTESS ESCORTED Connor and Lonergan to a booth, Connor spotted Brooks and Lotello exiting the coffee shop. I wonder what those two troublemakers are up to now?

  The waiter approached with a smile and handed menus to Connor and Lonergan. “My name’s Sandoval. Can I start the two of you off with something to drink?”

  Connor looked at Lonergan. “What would you like?”

  “Just a cup of coffee, please,” she said. “Black.”

  “I’ll have what the lady’s having. Thanks.”

  After the waiter departed, Connor asked Lonergan if this was her first time at Thriller Jubilee.

  “It is. Yes.”

  “I hope you’re enjoying it.”

  “I am, very much so. How about you?”

  “This is around my tenth time attending TJ.”

  “Wow. You must really like it.”

  “Yes and no. I’m on the TITO board. I teach some writing classes each year. It gets a little old. But it’s a break from my writing routine. And it builds my brand and sells my novels. What brought you here this year?”

  The waiter brought their coffees.

  “I’m here with a couple of partners,” Lonergan answered. “We provide a number of consulting services to authors. We thought this would be a good opportunity to build our brand.”

  “Have you had any luck yet?”

  “One prospect. A new author approached me after my presentation this morning about building him a website. We’re going to talk further when we get home.”