“Not yet. I can tell you it was not at one of the large casinos.”
“The boys in the orange coats are sure of that?”
“They are.”
“What about a small casino?”
“There are establishments, and then there are establishments. In any case, to resume, Senhor Penza was definitely downstairs in the lobby at six thirty P.M. He gave his home address as Residencia Julia Calle Six, Number Twenty-four, at Fourteenth Street, Isabelita, Santo Domingo.”
“He wasn’t preregistered?”
“No, he did not have a reservation. May I continue?”
“Claro, sim.”
“You speak Portuguese like a Russian, Inspector.” Luis thumbed through a small notebook. “There is such an address. In fact, there is also a Raoul Penza in Santo Domingo. He is a baker at a place called De la Casa Pain, and he has never applied for a passport. So right away, we know we have a little problem, wouldn’t you agree?”
There it was again-the “little problem.” I wasn’t about to agree to anything. “Not to get off track, but I like to fill in the details as things move along. It saves time later. Who checked him in?”
“The desk clerk was an intelligent young woman, named Lilley Li.” He turned the page of the notebook. “She is observant, good memory, single, witty, and lithe.”
“One of us should propose.”
“One of us should.”
“And what does lithe Lilley remember?”
“Our man wanted a room overlooking the blessed ruins of St. Paul’s. He was not looking for anything ostentatious-a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom with plenty of hot water, and a balcony. Lilley told him she could satisfy some of his needs.”
“Lilley, darling,” I said, “you should be more careful.”
“She was, actually. She wisely pushed the signal for the Assistant Manager to appear.”
“And he did?”
“When summoned, the self-important Winston Woo brushes off his striped pants, pulls straight his cutaway jacket, slicks back his oily hair, and sallies forth. He greets Senhor Penza with a cold smile.” Again Luis turned the page-not hiding the fact that there were a few observations he did not wish to share as yet. “Young Penza nods to Lilley and says he is sure the hotel will do its best to accommodate his requirements.”
“Not his wishes. His requirements. As if he is used to being obeyed.”
“That is the word Lilley says he used, and Lilley would not lie.”
“I’m not saying the girl lied, Luis. Perhaps she misremembered a detail here, a detail there. Witnesses do that.”
The friendly air around Luis dissipated for a moment. “Not Lilley,” he said in a tone that gave no quarter. “The girl is a bulldog with details.” He flipped through the notebook, skipping over additional characteristics of the bulldog Lilley that I was not to know. “Ah, here! Our fellow signs up for five nights. He is very tired and hopes to rest. He is handsome and composed, does not appear nervous or ill at ease. He is unhurried, smiles at Lilley frequently. He melts her heart.”
“Lilley said that?”
“She didn’t have to, Inspector. I know her heart.” Luis stands and looks out the window for a moment. “Our man asks for a safe-deposit box-a detail you inquired about, I seem to recall. Only then does Senhor Penza turn to Winston, whose smile, Lilley recalls, is fixed on his face like a week-old slice of mango.” Pages turn in the notebook. “Yes, here is what I was looking for. The bell captain, an experienced source that pays attention whenever the Assistant Manager appears, notices that Penza has one suitcase, a Louis Vuitton. I told you it was expensive. More precisely, it was a Pegase 60.”
“Not very big. A 70 would be better for body parts, but it only has two wheels. You told me the body was in a four-wheeler.”
Luis whistled. “You know suitcases?”
“I’ve been around the block,” I said modestly, and shifted back to business. “Our man gets settled. Then what? Goes out for dinner? Gambles? Comes back drunk and collapses on this uncomfortable couch?”
It is clear that Luis is annoyed that I have interrupted his fable. “None of the above. For three nights and three days, he does not leave his room. No movies. No room service. Nothing from the minibar. The DO NOT DISTURB sign is lit the whole time, so no maid service. No visitors.”
“You know that? I mean, no visitors?”
“In this hotel, on this floor, they make it a point to know such things. His door never opened.”
“He must have eaten something. Maybe he brought his own food. You could pack quite a meal in a Pegase 60.”
“He had tea. In fact, he used all of the hotel tea bags along with two bottles of water.”
“You said nothing from the minibar, I thought.”
“These were not the fake Evians from the refrigerator. These were the tap water in the bottles kept on the shelf above the bar. The maid says that when she was finally allowed in on the fourth morning- Thursday-he had gone through all of the towels, even the little ones, but had not even rumpled the bedsheets. No one was ever in the bed as far as she could tell, and she can tell plenty. This maid has been around the block, as you put it.”
“In sum, for three nights, he was a monk. No phone calls?”
“None.”
“Maybe he used a cell phone.”
“Maybe he tied a string to a soup can. Yes, or maybe he stood at the window and used semaphore flags to talk to a long-lost relative. Anything is possible, Inspector, in your world as in mine. But he did not use a cell phone,
“One of the details you skipped over. You merely mentioned that he said he was tired.”
Luis gave me a charming smile. “There was a message left for him the first night, but they held it at the concierge’s desk until he came back to earth. They wait for the DO NOT DISTURB light to go off before they deliver messages. They don’t even slip them under the door. Some people are sensitive to the sound of paper on marble.”
“Did he ever get the message?”
“Yes, he did. On the day he left.”
“Is that why he got nervous, changed plans, wanted to rent a car?”
“One can speculate. Before you ask, the reason he didn’t get it on the fourth day was that the concierge forgot to give it to him. Sad but true, a gap in the Great Wall of service. I’m told it has been plugged.”
“Very convenient. Do we know who the concierge worked for?”
“You mean, other than the hotel? No, but we’re looking into it.”
“You know, of course, what the message said.”
He scratched his head and looked in his notebook. “ ‘Hurry up, hurry up cows.’ That was in English, incidentally.”
“Any idea what it meant?”
“Furious research is underway.”
“To review. So far, we have a Dominican monk drinking tea, sleeping on the floor or in the bath.”
