Sydney’s game plan for Monday morning included picking Warren up at the precinct. His only explanation was that they were going by the Regency Hotel to do a little follow up.
“I questioned the clerk Saturday morning,” Warren said, as they pulled out of the parking lot.
“Yeah, but I wanna go over it again,” Sydney stated. “There are a lot of things that we’re gonna go over again.”
“He wasn’t a gabby fellow,” Warren warned. “It was like pulling teeth.”
“I’m hoping that he had selective memory as far as the senator was concerned,” Sydney said. “Let me handle the guy.”
Warren nodded.
After walking in, Sydney looked at the clerk on duty, then glanced over to Warren. The nod told him what he needed to know. “Mr. Myers?” he said, approaching the clerk.
The man looked from Sydney to Warren, obviously uncomfortable when he recognized the latter. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Lieutenant Berry—I believe you’ve met Sergeant Burroughs?”
“Yep, sure have,” he answered curtly.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about this past Friday night.”
“I already told your sergeant everything I know about that night,” he answered, an edge to his tone.
“And, now, I’d like you to tell me,” Sydney replied evenly.
“Look, Senator Reed asked for a room, paid for it with cash, then minded his own business. And that’s exactly what I like to do—mind my own business.”
“Unfortunately, friend, that’s just not the way it works. The mere fact that we took the time out of our busy schedule to pay you a visit, means that it is absolutely imperative that you do everything in your power to make your business and the senator’s business, our business. Now, is that so hard to comprehend?”
The clerk stubbornly shook his head. “Like I said—that’s all I know.”
Sydney smiled, coldly appraising the difficult man. “You mean to tell me that you had never rented a room to Senator Reed prior to this past Friday night?”
“Not to my recollection.”
Sydney leaned forward, nose to nose with the very uncomfortable man. “We’ve been told that he was a regular customer,” he bluffed. “If I find out that you held out on us, you’re gonna really know that I’m in your business.”
“Bullshit,” the clerk spouted, visibly shaken. “Who told you Reed’s been here before?”
“Where’s your supervisor?” Sydney replied coldly, ignoring the question. “We should probably ride on over to the precinct to finish this up.”
“Dammit!” he hissed. “What the hell difference does it make how often the man came here?”
“Did he ask you to stonewall us?”
“Nope, not you specifically. He wanted me to be discreet with everyone.”
“I suppose he paid you very well for your cooperation?”
“Hey, please keep it down. There’s no need to let my boss in on this.”
“That depends,” Sydney said, shrugging. “You come clean with us, then I’ll decide.”
“Okay, okay, but keep me out of this if you can.”
“We’re still waiting,” Sydney pushed impatiently.
“Senator Reed came her once, sometimes twice, a month.”
“With different women?”
“They were always young,” he said, nodding, “and always hot.”
Sydney did not want to play out too much of the Butcher hand. “Do you have a record of when he was here?”
“No,” he replied, fidgeting nervously, “he insisted on paying cash.”
Sydney smiled, catching on to the seedy man’s game. “I’m sure you registered him somehow.”
The clerk began to sweat. “The man wanted no records, okay? I gave him the honeymoon suite if it was available, which because of its cost, usually was.”
“So you registered him under a bogus name, paid off with Reed’s hush money?”
The clerk motioned for Sydney to keep his voice down. “Damn, man—you trying to get me fired? Give me a fucking break.”
“I don’t give a shit if you have a job tomorrow or not.” He glanced at Warren. “Sergeant, how concerned are you with Mr. Myers’ employment situation?”
“Makes no nevermind to me, Lieutenant.”
“What else you guys want? I told you what you wanted to know.”
“This honeymoon suite—that’s the room my men went over Saturday morning?”
“Yeah—room 3501.”
“Gimme the key,” Sydney said, extending his hand.
Warren was clearly surprised by the request. The clerk was not happy. “Shit, man—my boss is here today. I wish you guys would scram.”
“We’ll take a quick look, then get outta your hair.”
He reluctantly complied, handing the key to Sydney. “Please make it quick,” he said, his eyes scanning the area for his boss.
They entered the elevator, Warren pressing the button to the thirty-fifth floor. “You sure got a helluva lot more outta the guy than I did.”
“Cheer up, Bulldog,” Sydney said. “You had to interview him with your hands tied.”
“Maybe… but it sure was fun to watch a master at work.”
“I don’t know about all that,” he replied modestly, “but it sure felt good to act like a real detective again.”
They stepped out of the elevator, making their way to the deluxe suite. “What are we looking for?” Warren asked.
Sydney put the key in the door, unlocking it. “I just wanna give it a quick once over.”
They entered the room, Sydney flipping on the light switch on his way in. The room was very impressive, from the brilliant red bedspread to the plush carpeting. The décor spelled sex.
“Damn,” Warren said, “you reckon anyone’s ever been boinked in this room?”
Sydney chuckled. “I thought rooms like this only existed in Vegas.” He began to search, opening drawers and cabinets. Warren did the same, though without the same vigor.
“What you thinking, Chief?”
Sydney stopped rummaging, turning to face Warren. “I don’t really know. I guess I’m just stuck on this nagging feeling that whoever killed Ashley Tanner was waiting for her when she got home.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that either Reed is the killer, or someone else knew where she lived.”
“Like you said, that is assuming you’re right about the waiting killer theory.”
“Something the clerk said struck me as interesting,” Sydney said, rubbing his chin.
“What was that?”
“He said that Reed used this same room almost exclusively.”
“So?” Warren said.
“So… if someone else knew that he always used this room… and wanted to find out what went on in here…”
“You think there could be a bug in here,” Warren said, seeing where Sydney was going.
“Reed admitted that he wrote down the address,” Sydney answered, his mind working in overdrive. “That means that Ashley Tanner had to give it to him verbally.”
“You sure he said that he wrote it down?” Warren asked. “No chance he said that she wrote it down for him?”
Sydney shook his head emphatically, totally engrossed in his burgeoning theory. “Reed definitely said that he wrote it down.” He continued to search the room, looking in every conceivable nook and cranny. Warren joined in, much more interested than he had previously been.
It was inside a light fixture, over the table in the corner. Warren recognized the apparatus immediately, his trained eye easily spotting the listening device. “Syd,” he said excitedly, “over here.”
The hair stood on the back of Sydney’s neck, Warren’s tone shocking him to attention. He crossed the room in two seconds flat. “What you got?”
Warren gently lifted the bug with a handkerchief, then held it up for Sydney. “Bingo, you freaking genius,” he said, smiling broadly.
Sydney stared closely at the bug. “For a freaking genius, I have no freaking idea where this is headed.”
“That damned Ellis tried to tell us that Reed was innocent. I dared to doubt the gut.”
“We haven’t proven anything yet,” Sydney cautioned.
“Yeah,” Warren said, holding up the bug, “but this opens up a whole new set of possibilities.”
Sydney nodded, wondering just how the tiny little electronic device figured in. “I’d give my right nut to know where the receiver to that thing is.”
“We find that,” Warren agreed, “we probably find our killer.”
Sydney suddenly smiled broadly.
“What?” Warren asked. “You look like the cat who swallowed ten canaries.”
“Oh, I just remembered how much fun it is to be a working detective,” Sydney said, almost giddy.
“What have you got up your sleeve, Syd?” Warren asked, a smile coming to his own lips.
“Just an idea that might level the playing field a little,” he answered, brimming with newfound confidence. “Then I’m gonna get the bastard in my sights.”