Geek Mafia: Mile Zero (7 page)

"If that woman decides she wants to press charges..." Gutierrez said. Chloe knew this was bullshit of course.

If the woman wanted to press charges they would've had Cassie in handcuffs already. They just wanted to extort some sort of penalty from Cassie in order to make it worth their time.

"You could take her skates," Chloe suggested. "She doesn't go anywhere without them. I'll bring her by tomorrow to pick them up and you can question her then if you still need to."

"And until then she'll be staying with you?" Hurley asked.

"Yes," said Chloe. She pulled out her wallet and handed the officer a driver's license with the name Jennifer Kimball and the address of an apartment in New Town. The cop copied down the info and asked for a phone number. Chloe gave him one for a throw away cellular she kept back at the house. Meanwhile, Cassie was stripping off her skates, and suddenly the whole area around her smelled like feet.

"You know what," said Hurley, leaning back away from the stink. "Why don't you keep those."

"Are you sure?" asked Cassie.

"Yes, go on and keep those on," agreed Gutierrez. "But you head right back home with Ms. Kimball here. We won't see you again tonight, right?"

"Right," said Cassie.

"Absolutely right," agreed Chloe.

"All right then," said Hurley. "You folks have a good night."

"You too, officers," said Chloe.

"Yeah, you too!" Cassie chimed in.

The cops had made their deal and seemed happy with it. As long as they didn't see Cassie bothering anybody for the rest of the night, they were willing to let things go. Cassie and Chloe stood and watched them saunter back up the street toward the main tourist areas.

"So we're going to your house?" asked Cassie once they were out of earshot, her voice full of hope.

"No. You're going to go somewhere out of sight for the night. I'm going to go back to doing what I was doing."

"Oh," said Cassie, disappointed. Chloe felt a pang of guilt - Cassie sticking up for me though."

"I'll have you over some other time, Cassie, ok?" said Chloe. "It's just really crazy right now."

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"That's me," she said. "Crazy. Crazy Cassie they call me. I know."

"Yeah," said Chloe. They did in fact call her Crazy Cassie. Everybody did. "But you know..."

"Ok, thanks. Bye-bye," the homeless woman said as she strapped her skates back on. "Thanks, thanks." She gave Chloe a big hug and then pushed off into the street, skating north into the shadowy streets of Old Town before Chloe could get in another word.

Christ, Chloe thought, she was such a fucking softie. Time to get back to work. She found her scooter a couple of minutes later, right where she'd left it. She disengaged the security system with a fob on her keychain and thumbed the ID pad. The engine started right up and she zipped away, heading toward the beach hotels along Atlantic Boulevard.

CHLOE moved as fast as she could through the chain hotels. Her Crew didn't have anywhere near the contacts in these corporateowned places that they did in the scores of guest houses and small inns that blanketed Old Town. She started her search at a small motel down the street from the Southernmost Point marker; a massive, brightly colored concrete tourist magnet that marked the beginning (or end) of the highway that ran from Miami down through the keys. As you drove that stretch (which she'd done many times now) the miles counted down to zero until you ended up here, with no road left to travel. Mile zero was the end of the line, and more and more she was worried that it was a dead end for her and Paul and the crew as well.

She showed Raquel's picture around, pretending that she was looking for her sister-in-law, whom she was trying to surprise. Most of the hotel clerks seemed to buy this story, especially when she slipped them a $20

bill for their help. Unfortunately, there was no hint of recognition in any of their faces, and when they checked their reservation computers they didn't find any Raquels. Chloe would've been surprised to find her at any of these places, but you had to be thorough.

A little over an hour after she'd started, Chloe got a reprieve from her fruitless search when Paul called. "I think I've found her," he said, breathless. "Or at least where's she's staying."

"Where?" asked Chloe.

"The Weaver House."

"Off Grinnell Street?"

"Yep."

Chloe knew the place. Off the main roads, small, quiet, cheap. A good place to lie low, although a little ratty.

If she were Raquel she might've picked a place much like it. "Are you there?" she asked Paul.

"Down the street. The day desk clerk's name is Carlos. He's dating Kyle, who's on our housing plan right now."

"Do we know the night clerk?" asked Chloe.

"No. She's new. Even Carlos doesn't know her."

"Fuck. Ok, well, I'll be there in a few. If you could scope the place out..."

"Already done. Just the one entrance in front. A little pool area along the side where there's a gate to the alley behind, but it's locked."

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"Fuck again. Ok. I'll be there in a minute."

Chloe mulled over plans in her head. The sister-in-law line might or might not work, depending on this new clerk. Anyone working a nightclerk job at a small guest house in Key West obviously needed money, so maybe they could just bribe her, although she'd definitely remember that if it happened, and Chloe didn't like being memorable in that way. It was possible the place had its computer reservation system online, but Chloe doubted it, and without a skilled hacker, they didn't have time to break into the system anyway.

She found Paul standing on the corner, talking on his cell phone. She pulled up next to him and said, "How much for a quickie?"

He smiled and hung up the phone. "$15 around the world."

"Damn, you're cheap!" Chloe said, climbing off the Vespa.

"My pimp believes in volume discounts. She's weird that way," he said, giving her a kiss.

"Yeah, she must be. Who were you talking to? Has Bee or San scared up anything new?"

"I wasn't talking to anyone, but I thought it looked better if I had a reason to be standing around on the corner.

In case you're wondering, the time is now 10:47, and the temperature is a balmy 70 degrees."

Chloe was pleased with Paul's improvisation. He'd come a long way in their year together, and thinking like a paranoid was now second nature for him. For a moment she considered the possibility that this transformation was not actually a cause for celebration, but she pushed such doubts aside. There was work to do.

"So," she said. "How're we getting in? Do you have any angles on this night-clerk woman?"

"I thought we'd just get a room," said Paul. "They're only half-full, so we should have our pick."

"Well sure," said Chloe, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of the obvious. "If you wanna do things the simple way."

"Sometimes, simple is best. This hot chick I know told me that once."

She took his arm in hers and they started down the quiet street to the guest house's front entrance. "Come on lover, let's get a room for the night."

"I thought you'd never ask," said Paul.

The Weaver House was like most of the guest houses in Key West - a converted old Key West house that had been added onto, subdivided and re-subdivided over the past five to ten decades. It was independently owned and operated, and odds were that the proprietors lived in the building or next door. The small front porch had two comfortable looking bench seats and a rocking chair. Inside, the small foyerturned-lobby had just enough room for the receptionist's desk and the door leading into the interior rooms. Behind the desk sat a thin, middle-aged woman with reading glasses who looked up from her crossword puzzle as Paul and Chloe entered.

"Hi!" said Chloe. "Can we get a room?"

"Oh... yes, of course," the woman said with a distinct French accent. "For how many nights?"

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"Just the night," said Paul.

"Maybe only a few hours," Chloe added, giggling. They didn't have luggage and it was almost 11:00 p.m. The only legitimate excuse they had for getting a room was to fuck, or do something unusual. Chloe wanted to leave no doubt in the French woman's mind that they were here for the fucking.

The receptionist, wanting to be professional, tried to stop herself from smiling but failed. "Of course," she said. We have one room left with a king-size bed," she said, looking over the register in front of her.

Apparently the place didn't even have a computer for registrations, so hacking wouldn't have been an option anyway.

"Actually," said Paul, "the bed doesn't matter so much." He seemed embarrassed. Paul leaned over and looked down at the register himself. "We might be better off with a room that was sorta private. I mean away from..."

"Of course," the woman said with a knowing nod. Together she and Paul looked down at the list. "Why don't we put you in room 11?"

"Sounds perfect!" said Chloe, running a hand through Paul's hair. "The sooner the better."

"Will that be cash or charge?" the receptionist asked with a wink.

THE second floor room was small - a single bed and a small dresser. But they weren't staying long. Chloe peered through the door she'd opened just a crack, watching as the French woman headed back down the stairs to her crossword puzzle.

"There weren't any Raquel's on the register," said Paul. "But there were only two single occupancy rooms, so we should probably start with those. Room 9 two doors down is one, and then room 5, which is somewhere downstairs."

"We'll start with 9," said Chloe, opening their own room door and examining the lock mechanism. Not hotel grade at all - just the kind of lock you'd have on a bedroom door inside a house. She could pop it with a credit card. "The lock's no problem," she told Paul. "Let's go."

They listened close at room 9's door and heard nothing. Chloe popped the lock as quietly as possible, but the hinges squeaked as she pushed it open a few inches. She winced, but a quick glance inside told her that the room - a mirror image to their own tiny room - was empty. They both ducked inside. A quick look at the XXL

T-shirts in the dresser and the men's shoes by the bed and Chloe knew this was the wrong room. They slipped back out into the hall.

The only danger was that the receptionist would notice them coming down the stairs. Fortunately there was a door between the stairwell and the front desk, and the steps didn't creak too loudly as they crept down. Room 5 lay at the back of the guest house. The lock opened just as easily as the first one, and at least this one didn't squeak as she pushed it open a few inches to peer inside.

Oh shit! There was someone lying in the bed.

The room was much bigger than theirs, with a queen sized bed, a large armoire, and a table and chairs.

Someone lay prone on the bed, face down. A woman, Chloe thought, judging from the smooth, shapely legs.

But this was Key West. Plenty of men had smooth shapely legs as well. Could that be Raquel? Could she have just overslept?

Chloe withdrew, but left the door open for Paul to take a look. "I think that's her," he whispered to Chloe.

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"Don't you?"

Chloe just nodded. Should they wake her up? She might not appreciate two strangers breaking into her hotel room to rouse her from a deep sleep just because Isaiah wanted to see her. Chloe knew that she wouldn't want to be woken under those circumstances.

Paul closed the door again and they both stepped back a few feet. "What do you think?" she asked him in a low voice.

"I think we should wake her up," he said.

"Me too."

Chloe walked back to the door and knocked lightly. She waited and knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing. She looked at Paul, and he shrugged and motioned for her to open the door.

She knocked again as she swung the door open, calling into the room. "Hello?" she said, "Raquel, is that you?"

It was Raquel, but she was in no condition to answer. She was dead.

IT only took Paul a few minutes to get back to the La Concha on Chloe's scooter. Paul had noticed the odd look the receptionist had shot them as he and Chloe left again so quickly after checking in. She must think I'm pretty quick on the draw, he thought. "We'll be back," he'd assured her, and he didn't think she even tried to hide her smirk this time. Chloe had called Bee while he mounted her scooter to head back to Winston and Isaiah.

On the drive over to the hotel, Paul had called Sandee. "We found her," he'd said. "You can call off your hunt."

"Thank God," Sandee had said. "I'm not cut out for this gumshoe gig. I'm much too delicate for this kind of work." Paul had laughed, knowing that San was anything but delicate, not when it mattered.

"Don't go thanking me so quick; I might need you to go watch another place for us."

"I was thanking God, not you," Sandee joked. "You've never answered any of my prayers."

"Who brought you those two sailor boys for your birthday?" Paul asked.

"Mmm, sailor boys. Ok, that one..."

"Please San, this is getting pretty serious," Paul said. "Chloe's on her way back to the house. I just want to make sure you stay by your phone and are ready when we need you."

"Serious, huh? Ok, honey," Sandee said. "I'm all over it like brown on rice."

"Thanks, I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"No worries, sweetie. Anything for you."

Paul hung up, and a minute later he parked the Vespa beside the side entrance to La Concha and paid a Chapter 06

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bellboy to ignore the fact that it was illegally parked. He headed for the elevators and the mysterious conspirators waiting for him on the top floor, nervous as hell about having to face them alone with the news he was bringing. But he and Chloe had decided that one of them needed to take care of the Raquel situation right away, before the others got involved, and Paul had volunteered to be the bearer of bad news while Chloe went to get Bee to help her.

Little had changed in the rooftop bar over the past two hours. Isaiah's guard still sat at his seat by the door to the ballroom. Some of the other customers were still there as well, along with several new faces. Paul noticed more people outside on the observation deck as well. He headed straight for the guard, who just nodded at him and motioned toward the door with his eyes.