Gumshoe Gorilla (37 page)

"I was only out for ten minutes or so," he said.

Hm. Linda's car was still in the lot, so we probably hadn't missed anything. I grabbed the rifle mic off the back seat and put on the headphones. I was anxious to get a bead on Linda and start dishing out a little payback for the mess she'd made at my apartment.

"Which room is she in?"

"I don't know yet." Drew said. "She's being quiet, and..."

He trailed off.

"And what?" I prompted.

Drew turned to me.

"And why are you humming
I'm just a girl who can't say no
?"

"Oh. Was I?"

"Yeah. You were."

I shrugged.

"Wow. Funny what your subconscious does. So you were bringing me up to speed on the stakeout?"

"Uh... yeah." Drew said.

He studied my face for a moment, then went on.

"Like I said, I don't know which room Linda's in. But I've put a tracker on her car, and she has to come out sometime."

"I guess. But it could be a long wait," I said. "You want to try and run a fiber optic snake into each of the rooms, see if we can spot her visually?"

Drew wrinkled up his face.

"That's tempting. But it would take us an hour to cover them all. And if she came out while were stuffing optical cable under someone's door..."

"Yeah, we'd be busted."

"Better to sit tight and wait. We'll get our shot at her."

"We'd better," I said.

I'd spent most of the afternoon concocting plans for payback.

I turned on the rifle mic and panned it over the hotel windows, listening for some sign of our quarry. But Drew was right. If Linda was in there, she wasn't being talkative. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, I gave up and just hunted around for something interesting to keep me awake. There was a noisy couple banging away in 219, but the thrill of listening to other people have sex had worn off a long time ago. Occupational hazard, I guess. There was a party in 220. More groin games in 114. Eventually I settled on a room where the Cherry Chang show was playing. Her guests this time around were a couple of homeless women who were suing the government because Medicaid wouldn't pay for them to get breast implants. I'd been following the show for about fifteen minutes when I heard a phone ring in the background.

"Yeah," It was Linda's voice. "Great. I'll be right there."

Sometimes the universe just decides to play nice. I elbowed Drew.

"Room 216. She's on her way out."

A moment later the door opened, and Linda emerged wearing a black business suit. It seems like every time I see Linda she's wearing black. Someone must have told her that dark colors are slimming.

"So how do you want to play this?" I asked Drew.

"Let's split up. I'll follow her from a safe distance, using the tracker. You search her room, find out what she's been up to."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

I opened Drew's glove box and flipped through his collection of key cards. By now, we had the art of getting into cheap motel rooms down to an art. Oh, back in the old days we used to put a little more effort into it. We had all these crazy scams that we would run on hotel maids, trying to get their pass keys for a few seconds so that we could zip 'em through a card reader and get the access codes for the day. The thing was, we noticed after a while that most of these dives don't actually change the pass codes like they're supposed to. Hell, we've been using the same dummied up pass key for the Shaharazade for a couple of years now. Guess no one in their office has ever read that manual that came with their security system.

By the time I found the card for the Shaharazade, Linda had climbed into her car and was backing out of her space. I waited till she'd driven out of sight, then I hopped out of Drew's rambling wreck. I nodded goodbye as he took off in pursuit, and then I made a beeline for her motel room.

The pass key still worked. I opened the door slowly and very carefully. The way that Drew had been talking about Linda, you'd think she was some sort of super spy. I was halfway expecting there to be a booby trap on the door. You know, a plastique charge set to blow intruders to kingdom come. Or maybe something medieval, with a string and a crossbow. Luckily though, Drew's opinion of Linda proved to be a bit inflated. The door was clean. I moved into the room and shut it quietly behind me.

Inside, the place was your standard issue faux-Arabian sex pit. A big round bed with a big round mirror over it. Leopard print sheets and pillow cases. A fake tiger skin rug in front of a fake fire. Paintings of harem girls hanging on the walls. A mini-bar stocked with massage oils and condoms and some improbable looking sex toys-- a couple of which must have been designed for use on farm animals.
Large
farm animals.

The lights were off, but she'd left the TV on. The Cherry Chang show played on, throwing a colorless glow over everything. I did a quick search of the bedroom, but Linda had not been thoughtful enough to leave any obvious clues lying about. No incriminating photos. No schedules for secret meetings. No mysterious phone number scrawled on a matchbook cover. Somebody needs to take her aside and explain how this game is played. Bad guys leave clues, we find them. Linda wasn't holding up her end.

I moved on to the closet, where I found two pieces of luggage. The first was a black nylon carry-on number, the kind that pilots and flight attendants use. Inside was three or four days worth of clothes, all of them black, right down to the underwear. Guess we knew who that one belonged to. In the front zippered compartment I found some bugs, a couple trackers, and a set of handcuffs.

The second piece was a duffel bag, stuffed full of men's clothes: Jeans, t-shirts, a baseball cap, a couple pairs of sunglasses. And more clingy white boxers than an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. I checked the label in one of the jeans. 32 inch waist with a 32 inch inseam. That would be about right for Charles. Hm. Maybe this was a change of clothes for his secret identity?

I was checking the cap for stray hairs when my phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"It's Drew. Get out of there fast. She's on her way back."

"What? Already?"

"Yeah. She almost ran into me, she's in such a hurry. You must have set off an alarm or something."

"Hey! No way!" I said, stuffing the jeans back into the duffel bag. "I checked the door, there was nothing on it."

"Damn," Drew muttered. "Too late. She's in the parking lot."

He didn't need to tell me. I heard the squealing of tires as her car screeched to a halt outside. For one panicked second I started heading for the door, but I caught myself in time. I'd be running straight into her. OK Jen, time to focus.

"Any suggestions on a way out of this mess?" I asked Drew.

"Uh... not unless you've perfected some sort of invisibility spell."

"Rats," I said, trying to sound calmer than I felt. "I knew that there was something I meant to do last weekend."

I looked at the door. Linda would be coming through it in a few seconds. I thought about hiding in the closet. But really, how long till she thought to look in there? Same problem with hiding under the bed. Or the bathroom. Or...

Wait a minute. There's a window in the bathroom. Bingo.

"I've got an idea," I told Drew, and hung up.

I sprinted into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The window was right were I remembered it being in these units, up over a shelf with little bottles of bath oils and scented soaps. The window was small, but I'm flexible. If I timed it just right, I could slip out onto the walkway while Linda was searching the closet and checking under the bed.

I heard the front door open and slam against the wall with a thud. I scrambled up on the counter, managed not to knock over any little bottles, and opened the window. And then I heard a voice whisper.

"She's in the bathroom with me."

I turned around. There was no one visible, but the shower curtain was drawn closed. A print of crocodiles and reeds.

They say that curiosity killed the cat.

I heard the footsteps in the next room. I saw the bathroom door start to open...

And I moved. I jumped off the shelf and threw my weight against the door, slamming it shut. There was a soft thud and some cursing, as Linda fell backwards into the bedroom. I locked the door and turned back to the shower. Two more steps and my hand was on the curtain.

So who was Linda hiding away? Come out, come out, whoever you are. I pulled the curtain away.

He stood there in the huge blue tiled tub, in a t-shirt and jeans, clutching a cell phone like it was a lifeline. His eyes were wide like a scared little boy. Charles.

My heart dropped. He must have slipped in while Drew was asleep. Great. I'd been hoping for someone more interesting. A mistress. A hollywood mogul. Maybe an international arms dealer. Anybody but the one person that I already knew was involved in this case. I looked him in the eye, wanting to scold him for wasting my time.

And that's when I saw it.

This wasn't Charles. There was something different about the eyes. And the hair, now that I was paying attention. OK, maybe Charles could have curled his hair and added some highlights since I'd seen him this morning, but there was no way that it could have grown an inch and a half in one afternoon. This had to be one of the brothers who wasn't on the show. It could be Albert, but he was off doing some movie in Asia. So Eddie. This had to be Eddie Rockland.

We stood there looking at each other for a couple of seconds. And then he screamed.

"LINDA!"

I heard the first kick land on the door, with a loud splintering sound. Involuntarily, I turned my head to look at it. But out of the corner of my eye I saw Eddie drop his phone and start to make a grab for me. I used the opportunity to teach him a little aikido move with this pretty Japanese name that translates roughly as
with the wind at its back, oh how easily the gull soars.
Or something like that. I think my instructor makes half this stuff up. Anyway, it sent Eddie flying over my back and crashing to the bathroom floor. I even managed to position him in front of the door, where he would help block it shut.

Another kick, and chunks of thin plywood came flying off the door. Cheap construction, but it was working in my favor. If the door had been tougher, Linda would have broken the bolt with her first kick. As it was, the door was falling apart so fast that she couldn't land a solid blow on it. One of life's little ironies.

I ran across the room, using Eddy's back as a springboard, and got a foot up on the counter. Another kick rattled the door, as I stuffed my head and arms through the window. Then an even louder one as I was struggling to pull my hips through. This one sounded like a solid kick that must have blown the remaining door clean off its hinges. I though I'd had it then, but Eddie's bulk lying on the floor must have bought me the extra split second I needed. I rolled onto the walkway with only a couple of minor scrapes, and started running.