I rounded up the guys, and we sped off in two cars. We drove north on Michigan Avenue until the SWAT-enforced roadblock ended our progress. After parking just outside the barricade marked with yellow crime scene tape, we exited our cruisers. I flashed my badge at the SWAT team member patrolling the perimeter. With a nod from him to go ahead, we ducked under the tape and continued on foot until we reached the hotel a block away. The streets were eerily quiet, and other than the SWAT presence, nobody else was outside. Businesses were locked up tight, and their normally bright lights were dimmed. The scene reminded me of an apocalyptic “end of times” box office hit. We entered the hotel and didn’t see a soul in the lobby. Seated behind the reservations counter was one person who looked like he didn’t want to be there. I understood his concern. Mills and I stepped up to the marble-topped counter, introduced ourselves, and showed our credentials.
“How you doing tonight, sir?” I asked. “Everything seem okay here in the hotel?”
“Plenty of calls came down from guests in the upper floors about hearing what sounded like gunshots, but according to what I’ve heard from people in the neighboring buildings, they’ve gotten calls to their lobby reception and security desks too. It was chaos here in the lobby for about ten minutes. People ran around and ducked under furniture. Most of them headed back upstairs and are probably hiding out in their rooms. I don’t even know what happened to the people that were checking in. I’ll admit, I’d rather be safe at home.”
As I stood against the counter, I took in the hotel lobby’s layout while Henry continued the conversation with the reception clerk.
“Understood,” Henry said, “and we’ll do our best to ensure everyone’s safety here too. It doesn’t look like you’re too busy at the moment, so how about giving the Chicago PD a hand?”
I turned toward the man and saw a look of relief spread across his face. He wore a name tag that had Roger M. stamped on it.
“I’d be happy to lend a hand, and it may even get my mind off what happened across the street.”
I patted the counter. “Good, and you might even get an attaboy from the hotel’s bigwigs. What we need are printed copies of every man that came in and was given a room facing Michigan Avenue, preferably on a floor higher than the third one.”
“That leaves a lot of floors, Detective McCord.”
“We’re well aware of that, Roger, but if the pool of guests is narrowed down to single men only, men who checked in today and were given rooms facing Michigan Avenue, that list goes down exponentially. You obviously know all the room numbers that face Michigan Avenue, right?”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll get right on that.” Roger pointed his chin toward the opposite wall. “There’s complimentary coffee, tea, and hot chocolate on that counter in the corner. Help yourselves.”
I nodded a thank-you, and the guys and I headed that way.
It took Roger only fifteen minutes to find the rooms rented out to men that day, and he said they were usually the business types. Another ten minutes went by before he matched a handful of those men to rooms facing Michigan Avenue.
“Detective McCord, I have them,” he said after printing out the names and room numbers. He held the sheet above his head and waved it in our direction.
“Here we go.” I pushed off the wall, guzzled the rest of my coffee, and tossed the cardboard cup in the trash. “How many doors do we need to bang on?”
“It looks like seventeen rooms with varying views of Michigan Avenue were rented out today to men only. There are four on the fifth floor, two on the seventh floor, five on the tenth floor, three on the fourteenth floor, two on the twentieth floor, and one on the twenty-second floor. I’ve highlighted the room numbers in yellow.” Roger passed the sheet across the counter to me.
“Thanks, buddy.” I studied it as Mills spoke up.
“Does this hotel have an outdoor lounge or something where guests can access the building’s rooftop?”
“No, the roof’s shape doesn’t allow for it.”
“Okay, and what kind of windows are in the guest rooms?” Mills asked.
“Old windows that still open but are in good shape.”
That comment caught my attention. “Windows that actually open on a high-rise building?”
“They are screened, Detective, but yes.”
“Thanks, Roger.” I pulled the guys to the side. “There are only four of us, and I won’t allow anyone to work alone. I need to make a call to Lutz and get some more detectives over here to lend a hand.” I stepped aside and stared out the windows as I made the call. The phone rang in my ear five times before Lutz picked up.
“What have you got, Jesse?”
“Seventeen men that checked in alone today and have rooms facing Michigan Avenue.”
“But that wouldn’t matter if the killer shot from the roof.”
“This hotel doesn’t have roof access, but it does have old windows that still open.” I waited and knew full well Lutz was processing that information.
“Shit! You might be on the right path, so name it, what do you need?”
“More help. I’m not going to let anyone bang on doors alone. We have seventeen rooms that are scattered between the fifth and twenty-second floors.”
“You got it. Let me pull Jennison and Lewis aside and get their best detectives over to you.”
“Okay, and we’ll coordinate our approach here in the hotel lobby once they arrive.”