What was going on was the video camera lens cap on the beach blanket, but apparently this FBI guy who was doing the briefing did not mention that to his troops. Dick Kearns knew about it from the local cops, but apparently Marie hadn’t heard that rumor. As with any investigation, if you spoke to enough people and triangulated information, eventually things started to take shape. But Marie understood, because she was smart, that something else was going on. I asked her, “Who was this FBI guy who was briefing you?”
“I told you-no names.”
“Did you know this guy?”
“A little. Kind of a hard-on who thought he was a hard-ass.”
“Sounds like Liam Griffith.”
She smiled. “That’s a good name. Let’s call him Liam Griffith.”
“Who was with him?”
“Like I said, two other guys. Fed types, but I didn’t know them, and they were never formally introduced. They just sat there while Griffith briefed us.”
I described Mr. Ted Nash to Marie, reluctantly using the words “good-looking,” and she replied, “Yeah… I mean, it’s been five years, but that sounds like one of them. Who is he?”
Against my better judgment, but to keep Marie happy and intrigued, I said, “CIA.”
“No shit?” She looked at me and asked, “What are you on to?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“No, I don’t. But… maybe I’ve said enough.”
I looked at the kid in the playpen, then back at Marie. I said, “Are we afraid of them?”
She didn’t reply.
It was time for a little speech, and I said, “Look, this is the United States of America, and every citizen has the right and the obligation to-”
“Save it for your departmental hearing.”
“I will. How about this: Are you satisfied with the conclusion of this case?”
“I’m not answering that. But I’ll tell you what happened that day at the Bayview Hotel, if you level with me.”
“I am leveling with you. You do not want to know.”
She thought about that, then nodded. “Okay… so one of the four NYPD asks Griffith why this is so important, and Griffith is annoyed that a cop is actually questioning him about this, and Griffith replies, ‘Let me worry about why we need to find this person or persons. Your job is to question staff and guests.’ So Griffith explains to us that a maid there at the Bayview reported a missing blanket in Room 203. The blanket was shown to the maid and to the manager, and they say this could be the blanket missing from the room, but they also say they have, like, six different kinds of synthetic blankets, and they can’t say for sure if that’s the one that was missing from Room 203, but it could be.”
“Okay. So who was registered in Room 203? Or don’t we know?”
“Obviously we don’t know yet, or we wouldn’t be there. What we do know is that a guy came to the Bayview Hotel about four-fifteenP.M. on the day of the crash-Wednesday, July 17, 1996-with no reservation and asks for a room. The clerk says there are rooms available, and the guy fills out a registration card and pays two hundred bucks in cash for the room. The clerk asks for a credit card backup, in case of damages, mini-bar, and so forth-but the guy says he doesn’t believe in credit cards, and he offers the clerk five hundred bucks as a security deposit, which the clerk accepts. Then, according to Griffith’s briefing, the clerk asks to photocopy the guy’s driver’s license, but the guy says it’s in his other pants or something, and the guy gives the clerk his business card, which the clerk accepts. The clerk gives the guy a receipt for his five hundred bucks and hands the guy the key to Room 203, which is in the modern wing of this hotel, away from the main building, which is what this guy requested. So the clerk never actually saw this guy come back in the lobby, and the clerk never saw the guy’s car or if he’s with anyone. Follow?”
“Yeah. I think I see a problem with IDing this guy.”
“Right. But when Griffith arrived on that Friday morning, he probably thought he’d hit pay dirt. He runs the vehicle info from the hotel registration card-make, model, and tag number-which turns out to be bogus. Griffith also tells us, according to my notes, that the business card says Samuel Reynolds, Attorney-at-Law, with a Manhattan address and phone number, but this is also bogus, of course.”
Marie looked at me and said, “So, what we seem to have here is a typical Don Juan who’s done this before, and he’s with a lady he’s not supposed to be with. Right?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
She smiled. “Me neither. Anyway, the clerk knows it’s a shack job, but he’s got five hundred bucks security, and probably a few bucks for himself. Bottom line, Don Juan left no paper trace, so that the Bayview Hotel will not be mailing him a thank-you note or special offers to his home address.”
“Married guys learn this stuff fast.”
“I think it’s an instinct.”
“Whatever. When did Don Juan check out?”
“He didn’t. He just disappeared sometime before elevenA.M. the next day, which is check-out time. According to Griffith, a maid knocked on the door of 203 about eleven-fifteenA.M. that day, but got no reply. Then, the desk clerk-a new clerk-called the room about noon, but got no answer. So the maid entered the room and reported that there was no sign of the guest, no luggage and stuff, and that the bed blanket seemed to be missing. Apparently this guy was gone and skipped out on his five hundred bucks. Griffith says to us that this is suspicious.” She laughed. “Like, what was your first clue, Liam?”
I smiled and said, “Hey, he’s not a detective.”
“No shit. Anyway, what starts out as your everyday hanky-panky-nooky-pooky now looks like something else. For a cop, the next thing that comes to mind is a felony in the room. Rape, assault, murder. Right? But the room shows no sign of anything like that. Though that’s not to say this guy didn’t murder whoever was with him and dump her in the car trunk before he snuck out. But we have this other thing to consider-the blanket on the beach that looks like it may have come from his room. The way I see it, this guy and his lady were having a thing they weren’t supposed to be having, and they were on the beach, and they saw the crash, and they didn’t want to be identified as witnesses. So they get back to the room after the crash, collect their stuff, and beat feet out of there. Right?”
“Sounds like it.” I knew from Kate that there were two people on that beach blanket, but I didn’t know yet how Marie or Liam Griffith could be sure there were two people in that room. I asked, “How could you be sure there was a woman?”
“The maid said there were definite signs of two people in the room. A man and a woman. Lipstick on a glass for starters. The FBI completely dusted the room for prints and vacuumed for hair and stuff. But this maid had cleaned the room since this couple beat it, so the only prints this guy left was on his lady’s ass, and she’s gone, too.” She thought a moment and said, “So Griffith tells us we now have to question the staff and any guests who’d been there the day of the crash and see if they noticed this guy and/or his lady. We had a description of the guy from the desk clerk-Caucasian, about five-foot-ten, medium build, brown hair, brown eyes, fair complexion, no facial hair, no glasses, no visible scars or tattoos, no apparent disabilities or deformities. The clerk described him as well dressed with tan slacks and a blue blazer… what am I leaving out?”
“The bulge in his pants.”
She laughed. “Yeah. He had a pocket rocket. Anyway, the clerk was working with an FBI sketch artist when we got there, and later we got the sketch to show around.” She added, “Nice-looking guy.”
“Did you keep the sketch?”
The mobile had wound down, and the kid was getting worried. He started making these sounds like he was yelling at the mobile to get moving.
Marie stood and rewound the thing, cooing to me, or to junior, “Little boy loves his happy faces.”
The mobile started spinning again and playing “It’s a Small World.” Twenty years from now, this kid was going to become a serial killer who hummed “It’s a Small World” as he strangled his victims.
Marie glanced at her watch and said to me, “I have to check on Melissa. Be right back.”
She left the kitchen, and I could hear her climbing the stairs.
I thought about what I’d heard so far and thought about that couple. They arrived together, or separately,
