“Long shot,” said Reel, peering around until her gaze was riveted on something on the bureau.
She picked up the pack of cards. “Drango said the night she was expecting to meet Lamarre she was doing some casino work at a birthday party in Denver.”
“That’s right. Some rich a-hole, she said.”
“Roark Lambert lives in Denver. And I guess he qualifies as rich. And he’s as capable of being an a-hole as the next person. Maybe she worked the party at his house.” She paused. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s worth checking out,” replied Robie. “But how do we do that?”
“She must work for some company that does stuff like that. We’ll need to get the name somehow. Maybe Malloy or Bender would know. Small town where everybody knows everybody else’s business.”
“So maybe we can find out whether Lambert had a birthday party in Denver recently.”
“Well, we can certainly find out when his birthday is.”
Robie pulled out his phone and did a search. He read through some screens. “Okay, this is him and they have his bio.” He read down the screen. “And his birthday was . . . five months ago.”
“Shit, there goes that theory.”
Robie was looking at a pile of papers on the bureau next to where the pack of cards had been.
He started going through them.
After about a minute he held one up. “Colorado Casino Fun and Games. Located in Denver. Looks like a notice they sent out to her. It has the company’s phone number.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Robie called the number and a person answered on the second ring. “I was trying to locate one of your employees, Beverly Drango,” he said.
The woman on the line said, “Beverly’s not an employee. She’s an independent contractor.”
“Oh, sorry. I just arrived here in Colorado and was looking her up. I know she worked a party in Denver about a week ago.”
“What’s this about?”
“I’m a friend of hers. We grew up together before I left the area. We were supposed to get together when I came back for a visit. But she didn’t show up. Have you heard from her?”
“No. But she’s supposed to work a job for us tomorrow night.”
“Well, I’m at her house right now and it looks like she’s gone. I was worried about her and then found your number with some of her papers.”
“Do you think something happened to her?”
“I don’t know. I do know that she phoned me recently and said something weird had happened at the party she was working in Denver.”
“Weird how?” the woman said sharply.
“That’s just the thing. She wouldn’t tell me, but she said it had left a bad impression on her mind. Do you have any idea what she might be talking about?”
“No, she never reported anything like that to us.”
“Do you know where the party was held? She said it was a birthday party.”
The woman said, “It was at a hotel. I can’t provide the details of who it was for. That’s a client confidence. If you think something has happened to Beverly you should call the police. And I should find a replacement for her for tomorrow night.”
“The police will at least want to know which hotel,” Robie persisted. “It might be connected to whatever’s happened to her.”
“I told you that—”
“The name of the person might be confidential, but surely the venue can’t be. Not if it’s a public place like a hotel. I’m not asking for someone’s private address.”
He heard the woman sigh. “Okay, it was the Lancaster. It’s a new luxury hotel downtown.”
“The Lancaster Hotel. Thank you very much.”
“I hope Beverly is okay.”
“Me too.” Robie clicked off and looked at Reel.
She said, “I guess we’re going to Denver.”
CHAPTER
46
The Lancaster was a ten-story hotel with a granite hide and a long green awning out front, guarded by a liveried doorman in a top hat. Robie and Reel parked in the underground garage and took an elevator to the main lobby.
It was large, and meticulously designed and decorated. The men and women traversing the lobby looked far more affluent than the average citizen.
“I wonder what rooms cost here?” asked Reel.
“More than we can afford on a government per diem, that’s for damn sure,” replied Robie.
They approached the front desk, where Robie showed his credentials.
The young woman looked like she’d been jolted by electricity. “How can I help you?” she said nervously.
“We understand there was a birthday party here about a week ago, complete with a casino theme?”
“I don’t have personal knowledge of that.”
Robie pointed at her computer. “Well, maybe that thing does.”
“Should I get a manager?”
“Not if you can hit the right keys on the computer. It’s a national security interest case,” he added.
The woman gulped. “Do you mean terrorists?”
“I can’t get into that, but it’s really important that we know about this party.”
She clicked some keys and said, “Okay, that’s right. Eight days ago there was a casino-themed birthday party in the main ballroom.”
“Can you tell us who threw the party?” asked Reel.
The woman clicked some more keys. “It appears that a Roark Lambert paid for it.”
“But his birthday was five months ago,” said Robie.
“I don’t know about that. But he clearly paid for the party.”
“Do you know the name of the person who the party was for?” asked Reel.
“That’s not on this information sheet.”
“Is there another way to look it up?” persisted Reel.
“I’m not sure what a birthday party has to do with national security,” the woman said suspiciously.
“Do you at least have someone here who worked the party that we can talk to?”
The woman scanned the screen. “I think Jerry, one of the waiters, is in today. He was working the party.” She picked up a phone, dialed a number, and spoke into it.
After a few moments she put down the phone and said, “He’ll be here in a minute or so.”
“Thank you very much,” said Robie.
They moved off to a corner of the lobby.
Reel said, “Something is bugging me.”
“Like what?”
“Something someone said to us.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’m trying to think of.”
As a young man dressed in a hotel uniform came out from a back hall and looked around curiously, Reel said, “Got it.”
“What?”
She hurried over to the young man. “Are you Jerry?” she asked, as Robie joined her.
He nodded. “This is about some party I worked here?”
Reel said, “Was it a birthday party for someone named Randall?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Scott Randall. Some really rich guy. Got a supermodel wife. It was a really wild party.”
“Did you see any of the casino folks that were hired to work the party?”
“Yeah. I met a couple of them. A guy named Barry and a woman. I don’t really remember her name.”
“Beverly Drango?” suggested Reel.
He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. She had a name clip with Beverly on it. She worked the craps table.”
“Did you see her interact much with Randall? Or the guy who threw the party, Roark Lambert?”
“Not really. It was pretty crazy. Lots of people and I was hustling drinks all night. It was free booze courtesy of the host. And there were a lot of really good-looking women. I think they might have been like, you know, escorts or something that were hired to attend. Some of the guys were getting really looped and copping feels all over the place. But the ladies didn’t seem to mind, which is why I think they were paid to be here. And some of the guys left with some of those women and went upstairs. For dessert, I guess,” he added with a grin.
“Anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?” asked Robie.
“Not really. Just lots of money, lots of booze, and people having a good time. I remember thinking that there’d be a lot of guys who’d want to be Scott Randall. He’s not that much older than me. Money, gorgeous wife. I heard somebody say he played college football. He’s a big, strong guy. Good-looking. And somebody said he’s got his own jet.”
“Makes you feel any better, he inherited it all from his dad.”