CHAPTER 25
THE ROOM WHERE the business was done had once been a bedroom but was now outfitted with a conference table. Three women over thirty, and in one case over fifty, sat around it wearing headsets, each with a Sony workstation.
Travel posters were on the wall. St. Barts. Cozumel.
The older woman was making flight arrangements, saying, “I’ve got you two first-class bulkhead seats on the fifteenth, Mr. Oliver.”
Decent cover for an escort service, Del Rio thought.
The two other women just stared back at him.
Burnett was saying, “So, let’s have that CD.”
Del Rio handed it over and went to stand behind Burnett as she brought up the video.
“What am I looking at?”
“May I?” Del Rio asked.
He leaned over Burnett’s shoulder and reversed the CD to the time and date just before the hooker got off the elevator.
He hit “pause” and said, “We have Mr. Maurice Bingham entering room 502 of the Sun at five-thirty-eight last night. He called Phi Beta seven minutes later, at five-forty-five. Call lasted three minutes. Credit card transaction at five-forty-eight for twelve hundred dollars plus tax, payable to Phi Beta Girls.”
“I don’t know that Mr. Bingham was a client,” Burnett said. “Our clients don’t always use their real names.”
“Bingham used his real name and a real MasterCard. We checked. What you’re looking at is the fifth floor at six-thirteen p.m. last night. This is Mr. Bingham’s ‘date,’” Del Rio said, hitting “forward,” showing the girl walking to the room.
“Miss Cutie Patootie was in 502 for two hours on the nose, and now”—he sped up the action—“we see her leaving. Bingham was never seen alive again.”
Del Rio froze the image of the six-hundred-dollar-an-hour escort, then ejected the CD and handed it to Cruz.
Del Rio said, “We need to talk to this girl. If she didn’t do it, you’re done with us.
“I want to remind you that if you don’t help us, we will turn this disk over to the cops. So let’s play nice, okay, Susan? Who is the girl in the blue dress? And how do we find her?”