Room 702 (19 page)

Julian claps his hands together and says, “No one wants the blame of Brendan’s death to be pointed at the hotel.”

Dawn answers, “I know this is against procedure, but should we try and get Jill first?”

“The PR girl?”

“Exactly.
 
I think she’ll know best how the Winchester comes out of this and how we should handle Mr. Mohammed.”

Jill Reynolds is the one-woman show behind PR for the Winchester brand.
 
Simply known as ‘The Fixer’ throughout the five properties, she is given a nearly obscene salary, and keeps the Winchester brand name frequently in the media.
 
When luxury brands want a place for an opening or a designer needs a place for a launch, Jill is on their speed dial and one of her hotels is almost always the location.
 
Although technically based out of the New York Winchester, Ms. Reynolds flits between the properties on a quarterly basis.
 
Thirty-two year old Jill is an intimidating force and has her eyes on much bigger chains and Europe or Asia for her next role.
 
The GM, even with his years of experience as an hotelier, nods and, scrolling through his Blackberry, finds her number.
 

Already dialing, he asks, “What time is it in New York?”
 

“Probably close to 3 P.M.”

 
Julian places his phone on speaker so Dawn can hear the conversation.

Jill, in her usual no nonsense voice, answers crisply, “Jill Reynolds.”

“Hi Jill, this is Julian and Dawn from the Winchester Beverly Hills.”

“Is something the matter?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, there is.”

“What exactly?”

“We’ve had a death in the hotel.”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“It’s Brendan Sullivan.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“Where is the body?”

“We haven’t touched it.
 
It’s here in the junior suite on the seventh floor.”

“Do the cops know?”

Dawn pipes up, “Yes, Dante has gone down and is waiting for them in the delivery bay.
 
He thought it best not to attract attention.
 
He’s going to bring them straight up through the service lift.”

 
“Good move,” Jill responds.
 
“The last thing we need is to not look as though we weren’t compliant with the authorities.”

“What else can we do?” Dawn knows her and Julian’s roles in this situation are critical.
 
Although someone dying is not their fault, the handling of the situation could mean the difference between promotion and termination.
 
They have friends down the road at the Beverly Hilton who witnesses a similar tragedy.
 
When Dawn woke up this morning, late and irritated, she had no idea how her day was going to play out like this.
The pair can literally hear Jill’s brain starting to switch gears, and she starts baking orders, “Call F&B and get plenty of coffee and pastries ready.
 
Make sure there are water, sodas, and fruit.
 
I don’t care if you have to go through all our stores or call another property.
 
We’re going to show all law enforcement the Winchester level of hospitality.”

“Agreed,” Julian answers.

“Furthermore, Julian, you are not to leave the room until correct authorities are present.
 
Am I understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“In fact, if there is any way to ensure that a member of the Winchester staff is always present in the facility, that would be ideal.
 
Don’t let the police bully you, but if they need you out of the room, that’s okay too.
 
I’m sure Dante will know how to handle this.”

“Understood.”

“Additionally, make Dante aware that as of the time he clocked in this morning, he is on double overtime for as long as needed.
 
I’ll sign off on this.
 
I know our staff are all trustworthy individuals, but we need to complete continuity.
 
I’m not going to pass this around.
 
Things cannot leak unless we decide they do.”

“We’re listening,” Dawn answers.

“Next, are there drugs present?”
 
“We haven’t checked.”
 
“Do it – as far as I’ve heard, Mr. Sullivan has been known to do more than an occasional line on property.
 
Don’t touch anything.
 
I’ll wait.”
 
Julian doesn’t question how she knows this, but says, “We’ll look.”

The duo searches the room, only to find the suite in complete disarray.
 
Given the current state of things, it is impossible to know what drugs are present.
 
After finding only empty baggies, Julian answers, “It’s entirely possible.
 
However, whatever he used is now gone.”

“Did we provide any of them?”

“I’ll have to check with Ethan.”

“Call him,” Jill directs.
 
“I think the media will want someone to blame, and we need to keep our distance.
 
While you’re entertaining the local police, I’ll draft out a statement and release it publicly, once his family has been notified.
 
We need to break this story.”
 
“What about his publicist?”
 
“I don’t give two shits.
 
Let them say whatever they want.
 
For now, this is ours.”
 
Dawn, aware of the guests checking in today, volunteers, “I’ll get started on walking the guests scheduled to stay here today and tomorrow.”
 
“Excellent.
 
Doesn’t the Peninsula owe us a favor from Christmas last year?”
 
“I believe so.”
 
“Make it happen.
 
Additionally, please be very wary of media trying to get in.
 
This is the kind of story that could make some young blogger’s career.”
 
“We’ll be vigilant.”
 
“Furthermore, as I see this spinning quickly, I’m going to book the corporate jet and get out to you as soon as possible.”

“We’ll have your suite waiting for you.”

“Thank you.
 
Now, have you informed Mr. Mohammed?”

Julian uncharacteristically fidgets and responds, “We were hoping you might break the news to him.”

Jill keeps from sighing in frustration over the phone.
 
However she got the reputation of being able to deal with the owner, she still isn’t sure if she likes it.
 
He was a well educated man, but one prone to various levels of outbursts.
 
Jill understands he likes things a specific way, and once he makes a decision he wants to see his wishes completed quickly.
 
Anything can tip him off, from not having his favorite whiskey, to the texture of the pillows.
 
While he doesn’t particularly care for how much profit the hotel brings in, something like this has never happened before.
 
Jill can’t gauge what his reaction will be.

“Fine.
 
I’ll let him know, but keep your phones on in case he has follow up questions.”

“Do you know where he is?” Julian asks.

“I think he’s vacationing in France.
 
The last thing we want is for him to find out about this through other channels.”

“Agreed.”

A knock at the door alerts the group.
 
Julian says, “That’s probably Dante with the police.”

“See you later today.”
 
The line goes dead.

 
The pair opens the door, unsurprised to find Dante escorting two police officers.
 
The first one, a tall African-American man, asks, “Who found the body?”

From this moment forward, the suite becomes a swirl of activity.
 
The hotel staff counts themselves lucky.
 
Most of the guests from the previous night have already checked out, leaving housekeeping to clean the rooms and a less populated hotel.
 
The reservations staff begins reshuffling the rooms, placing people anywhere but the seventh floor.
 
With carte blanche from Julian, they upgrade and work the rooms like a giant chess game.
 
Under Dawn’s instruction, they also begin calling hotels nearby to source rooms for incoming guests.
 
It is all hands on deck as they call the incoming guests and inform them of an undisclosed emergency at the Winchester, cheerfully offering a nearby hotel, with no additional charge.
 
The local police have posted officers on the floor as well as at the front of the hotel.
 
At the moment, only those with previously booked reservations are allowed into the Winchester.
 
Guests with current bookings are contacted an offered alternative location should they want to move to a quieter location.
 
When patrons inquired as to the reason, the hotel staff calmly mentioned a surprise inspection and would rather their guests seek peace and quiet elsewhere.

Back in Room 702, Brendan Sullivan is wheeled out in a body bag.
 

Inside the room, detectives and officers scour over every inch of the space, trying to uncover if there was any foul play involved.

Unfortunately, as tests will consistently and conclusively prove, the ending Brendan’s life is the sad misfortune of drug use.

His death will be ruled an accidental overdose (although many will wonder if it was a suicide attempt).

Checking her watch, Jill notes the late hour as she walks into the suite.
 
She is joined by Ethan deSoto, the night manager.
 
They look at the chaos in silence.

“He called me last night.”

“What? Have you told the police?”
 
“Not explicitly.”
 
“They’ve asked for our phone records.
 
I’m sure they will contact you.”
 
“I’ve got nothing to hide, and neither does the Winchester.
 
Not exactly.”
 
Jill’s already given statements to a number of major news publications exonerating the Winchester or any involvement in Brendan’s death.
 
She asks, “What did he want?”

“Not drugs, if that’s what you’re thinking.
 
As far as I know, he gets them offsite.”

“And?
 
Why did he call?”

“He wanted a call girl.”

The request sinks in.
 
Jill asks cautiously, “What did you say?”

Ethan rights a chair over and sits down, “Am I speaking to Jill the fixer who wants to help protect the staff, or Jill the PR woman with an ear to Mr. Mohammed?”

She moves aside the comforter and seats herself on the bench at the end of the bed.
 
Finally she answers, “Just tell me.”

“Look, I’m sure it’s no different in any of the other properties, but one request that consistently comes up is that of an, ahem, escort.”

“I’m not that naïve, Ethan.
 
I realize these things happen.”

“So, when Mr. Sullivan came to visit earlier this year, I sent up our ‘regular’ girl.”

“There’s a regular?” This fact surprises Jill, who thought she knew everything that happened on property.

Ethan shifts uncomfortably and says, “She gets the job done, and I don’t have complaints.
 
She doesn’t steal and keeps our customers happy.
 
What more do you want to know?”

“Did she make some sort of promise to Brendan?”

“No.”

“Did he give any specific reason why he wanted her?”

“He just did.
 
Listen, I don’t ask her what happens with each of our guests she sees.”

“So, what happened?
 
Was she already occupied with someone else in the hotel?”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you get her?”

He shrugs and answers, “It’s her rule.
 
She never sees the same guest twice.”

Jill pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “What will you tell the police?
 
I’m fairly certain prostitution is still illegal in Beverly Hills.”

“What do you think I should say?
 
I don’t want to get the girl in trouble.”

“Or us.” Jill continues, “You’re awfully protective of a whore.”

“Hey – she’s the one discreetly sleeping with our guests, apologies if it seems the least I could do is try and honor her one rule.”

“Fine.
 
You clearly have some sort of misguided feelings for this girl, but we can discuss that fact at a later time.
 
Okay, here’s what we’ll say.
 
Brendan called you.
 
We can’t deny it happened, because the call will be in his phone records and ours.
 
You will tell them he was looking for drugs.
 
Being the fine and upstanding establishment that we are, you denied his request, but asked if there was anything else you could help him with.”

“Fine.”

“You realize you might be the last person to ever speak with him, right?”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” With a dry chuckle, Ethan says, “Brendan’s last wishes were for a prostitute, I’m pretty sure that’s not how he’d like to be remembered.”

“Did you read the statement I released?”

“Not yet.”

“Basically, we’re welcomed him as a regular guest and the entire Winchester family was sad to see his passing occur on property.
 
We wish his family our condolences and other appropriate wank.”

“So what should I do?”

“Given how big this thing is already getting, I want you to not give any further details to the police.
 
Be honest if they ask, but that’s it.”

“Anything else?”

 
“Maybe call the er, girl, and tell her to lay low for a few weeks.” Jill stands up and starts pacing, “Shit, you don’t think she’s the type to come forward and sell her story, do you?”