The Perfect Impression by Blake Pierce
CHAPTER SEVEN
As they rushed to the second floor, Peters explained the problem. The guests were complaining about being cooped up without any sense of when they’d be able to leave.
“Some of them want to go back to their rooms and pack so they can catch the first ferry back to the mainland. They just want off the island.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Jessie said, unable to hide her irritation as they hurried up the stairs. “These people are all potential witnesses and suspects. No one’s going anywhere until we talk to all of them.”
“I’m not sure we have the power to prevent them all from leaving,” Peters said. “There are only so many of us and my captain is big on keeping visitors happy about their time here. Remember, in one way or another, tourism employs over half the island’s population. We can’t afford to alienate a bunch of visitors in one night.”
Jessie was about to read him the riot act, but before she could reply, they reached the top of the stairwell, where she was dismayed to find a half dozen people milling about in the hallway, talking to each other. Tommy the bellboy stood helpless in the corner, clearly beaten down by being assigned a responsibility well above his pay grade.
“Where’s Deputy Heck?” she asked Peters, trying to keep her voice even.
“He’s still outside the Crewe suite providing security.”
“I think Long Beach CSU can handle things up there,” she said. “Get him down here. We need him more than they do.”
As Peters spoke to Heck on the radio, Jessie strode into the center of the crowd and shouted in a booming voice.
“I need everyone to move into the Catalina Ballroom, please,” she ordered. “Everyone in the hall here and everyone in the Wrigley Ballroom, please make your way into the Catalina.”
A few people walked up to her, looking annoyed, but she held up her hand.
“Please move into the ballroom, folks,” she insisted. “We’ll deal with your concerns once everyone has assembled in there. And remember, no discussion amongst yourselves.”
People, some grumbling, shuffled through the doors. Jessie poked her head in and got the attention of Stone the security guard, who was still more focused on his phone than keeping folks under control.
“Tommy,” she said to the bellboy, “can you please get the guard from the other ballroom?”
They left the doors open to keep an eye on the crowd as all the security personnel arrived. She looked around to see what she had. In addition to Detective Colby Peters, Tommy, and Stone, there was Deputy Heck, who had just jogged down from the fifth floor, and another chunky, red-cheeked security guard whose name tag indicated he was called Dooley. She didn’t know if that was his first or last name and she didn’t care. The time for polite, deferential interactions was over, as she was determined to make clear.
“Listen up,” she said to the assembled men in a hushed, urgent voice, feeling her cheeks flush with anger. “In case you forgot, a woman was murdered just a few floors above us. I’m here to catch whoever did it. And any one of you who makes that job more difficult is going to pay a steep price. I’m here on behalf of the Los Angeles Police Department’s Homicide Special Section. We don’t mess around in HSS. And whether you’re a cop, a security guard, or a bellboy, you will do your part to make sure we get justice for this woman. If you’re law enforcement and you don’t do your duty, expect sanctions. If you’re a civilian, I’ll find a way to get you charged with something. Do we understand each other?”
Peters looked like he wanted to object but when he saw the fire in her eyes, held his tongue. The others were too stunned to do anything other than nod. She continued.
“That means no more looking at your phone when you’re supposed to be handling crowd control,” she said, boring a hole into Stone with her eyes. “That also means no more letting people wander around, chitchatting, sharing details with each other that could undermine this investigation. There are twenty people in that room, including an infant. There are six of us out here. We should be able to contain a bunch of half-asleep tourists for a few hours.”
“Most of them aren’t sleepy though,” Stone said. “They hyped up.”
“You all have radios,” she reminded him forcefully. “Use yours if you need backup. Stone—you and Dooley walk around these ballrooms like you give a damn. If someone starts jabbering, firmly remind them that it’s not allowed. I also want you to radio the hotel’s night manager that some security folks from the day shift need to come in early. If he balks, tell him to take it up with me. In fact, send him my way. I want to have a word with that guy.”
“What do we tell people who want to go back to their rooms?” Dooley asked.
“I’m about to address that with them in a second,” Jessie said. “For now, Detective Peters and I will split up the remainder of the interviews. Deputy Heck will supervise the whole floor. Stone and Dooley will patrol the ballrooms, switching back and forth every five minutes. Stay moving. Tommy, just do your best. Stay in the hall. Escort people to interviews when asked. Try to look more pissed than scared.”
She looked around the entire group, glaring at each of them in turn. She was so incensed that she spat the last words more than said them.
“Are we all on the same page?”
Everyone nodded, even Peters. Jessie gave them what she hoped was an encouraging smile and motioned for them to follow her into the larger ballroom, where every eye was on her. A woman near the front tried to soothe her crying baby. As Jessie opened her mouth, a man in the back waving his hand started to call out. She ignored him and launched in as if he didn’t exist.
“Folks, I want to update you on where things are,” she began loudly but without the venom she’d used moments earlier. She thought she sounded like a tour guide at a historic landmark. “As you all surely know, a woman died here tonight. We’re trying to get to the bottom of that and you are essential to that process.”
The guy waving his hand again tried to interject and again, Jessie verbally plowed through him, proceeding as if he wasn’t there.
“Some of you knew the victim. Many of you happened to be staying on the same floor. I understand that spending your night stuck in a sterile ballroom instead of in your bed is not ideal. I get that you’re exhausted and in some cases, drunk; maybe even hung over. I know that some of you just want to leave Catalina entirely and go home. I recognize all that, and while I sympathize with your plight, I want to be forthright with you: no one is leaving this island until I authorize it.”
There was aloud chorus of dissent with a few distinct phrases emerging, including “who the hell…?” and “…calling my lawyer.” She ignored it all.
“This is a murder investigation,” she declared over the noise, “and your temporary discomfort will not take precedence over getting justice for the victim. Anyone who tries to leave Avalon before they have permission to do so will be arrested and end up spending a lot more time here than just a few extra hours.”
“I have work tomorrow!” someone she couldn’t see shouted out.
She didn’t even bother to look for the source of the comment.
“Now that you understand my priorities, I think we can all work toward some kind of accommodation that will meet our investigative needs and allow you to get back to some kind of normalcy soon. Would you like that?”
A collection of mostly cowed headed nodded. The crying baby screeched in general rebellion.
“Excellent. Then this is how we’re going to proceed. Everyone will return to the table they were at before. We will work with hotel management to find additional hotel rooms so that people who have already been interviewed can get out of the ballroom, but still be isolated so they don’t interact with other witnesses. For those remaining here, we will expedite your interviews. Now, if you were asleep prior to the incident and came out of your room because of the disturbance, raise your hand.”
About a dozen people did. Jessie realized she was accepting people’s words about their status, but hoped that Peters might be able to suss out any obvious deception when he questioned them.
“You folks will be interviewed by Detective Peters, starting with you, ma’am,” she said, pointing at the woman with the baby.
“Thank you,” the mom mouthed silently.
“Of those who were awake when the crime occurred,” Jessie continued, “how many have not yet been interviewed?”
Five hands shot into the air.
“I’ll be speaking with each of you momentarily,” she assured them, before leaning over to Peters and whispering. “When does the first ferry leave?”
“Around nine a.m.,” he muttered.
“And the last one?” she asked.
“Six thirty at night.”
Jessie looked at her watch. It was just after three.
“It’s possible that some of you may be able to leave on the morning ferry. Everyone else should be able to depart on the evening ferry, assuming you haven’t been arrested. That’s the best deal I can offer. Now I recommend everyone settle in. The sooner we get started, the faster we can get you back to a room.”
She spun on her heel with the five men in tow. When they were back in the hall, she pointed at Stone.
“Did you get hold of your manager?” she wanted to know.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly. “He was on a call with the senior hotel manager, who is visiting family in Cerritos. He was getting instructions. But I told him you wanted to talk to him and he’s on his way up.”
“Good,” she replied. “Now you and Dooley get in there, put people back where they belong, and keep them from talking. Remember, keep moving and rotating rooms. I want all these folks looking over their shoulders, worried they might get busted if they cough too loud.”
She turned to Tommy, who looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.
“You’re doing great, buddy,” she told him in her best head coach voice. “Can you give me a couple more hours here?”
He nodded meekly.
“Thanks. And remember, if anyone gives you a hard time, remind them about the whole ‘arresting them’ thing. If they don’t back down, let them know you’ll call me to get my instructions. That should shut them up.”
She handed the now-smiling bellboy her business card and sent him on his way before turning to Heck and Peters.
“Heck, you’re his backup, okay?” she said quietly. “That kid’s not paid enough for this crap. Throw your weight around a little if you have to.”
Heck nodded. He was smiling too. She turned to Detective Peters, who was not. She understood why without asking.
“I know you think I pulled rank,” she said quietly when everyone else was out of earshot. “And I know you’re concerned because your boss is more focused on tourism than solving this case. Guess what? I don’t care. I tried things the island way, courteously coaxing answers out of rich jerks. And it got us nowhere. So we’re doing it my way. You can get in my way and deal with the consequences. Or you can get on board and who knows—maybe you’ll be lauded as a hero. Then you can push to be captain.”
“Are you suggesting that I undermine my supervisor?” Peters asked with his eyebrows raised, though his voice wasn’t.
“I’m suggesting you do your job to the best of your ability and see where the chips fall,” she retorted. “It could work for you or not. But at least you’ll be able to sleep at night knowing you didn’t just let a murderer get away with it. And here’s the best part.”
“What’s that?” he asked unenthusiastically.
“Doing it my way might just work out for you. Interview those folks who claim they were asleep, starting with that new mom. Try to confirm their stories. It should be straightforward in most cases. But look for inconsistent stories, stories that are too perfect, or people who are more nervous than a standard police interview justifies. Hopefully, most of those people should be able to go home on the morning ferry, which will make your captain happy. I’ll start questioning the others. If I’m still at it when you’re done, you can help me finish up. How does that sound?”
“It doesn’t sound like I have much choice,” he replied, failing to keep the surliness out of his voice.
“No, you don’t,” she said. “But you can take solace in one thing. You and your boss are in special company. I haven’t been this pissed off at someone since my ex-husband stabbed my boyfriend in the chest. I broke that guy’s neck. All I did was yell at you a little.”
Peters looked like he was about to reply when someone called to them from the stairwell.
“I demand an explanation!”
Jessie turned around to see a small, officious man in a suit and tie rumbling toward them.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“The night manager,” he told her. “You think I’m a pain? This guy makes me seem like Mary Poppins.”
Despite the hour, the lack of sleep, and her general irritation, Jessie couldn’t help but smile.
“We’ll see about that,” she said.