AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How did he get here? Taxi?”
Grunelli shook his head. “Car.”
“Rental?” They hadn’t heard back from the rental companies yet.
“Probably, I didn’t check.”
“Did you write down the plates?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, many motels do it for security, so only guests park in their lot.”
Grunelli barked out a laugh. “Like I have that problem. Don’t know the plates, can’t tell you the make. It was white, that’s all I remember. Foreign sedan-type. Like a Toyota Corolla or Honda or something.”
Noah made a note to stop at Dulles, the most likely place that Morton had rented a car. The analysts had looked for a rental, but if Morton used a name other than his own or Cliff Skinner, they might not have tracked it down yet. Sometimes face-to-face interviews could yield better information, faster.
“And the last time you saw Morton was when he drove away on Friday morning. What time?”
“Before lunch. I don’t know when. He’d paid up; I didn’t think much about him until he didn’t check out on Sunday. By three, I had to haul my ass to his room. He wasn’t there. I boxed his stuff and that was it.”
“Did Morton have any visitors while he was here?”
“No.” Grunelli frowned and looked down.
“Do you remember something?” Abigail asked.
“The car. I thought I saw his car in the lot early Saturday morning. I mean, real early, like two or three. I was outside having a smoke, upstairs on my deck—the owner gets all anal about me smoking inside. It was fucking cold, but I couldn’t sleep. And I saw the car. I hadn’t heard it come in, so I was like just watching and smoking and this guy left room 103.”
“Morton?”
“No. Another guy. Not as big as Morton. Different shape, but I couldn’t tell you if he was taller or shorter or whatever. It was dark. I just knew it wasn’t the guy who rented the room, and he got into the white car and drove off. That was the last time I saw the car.”
“And you weren’t suspicious?”
“Hell no. The guests here have people come and go all the time. As long as they’re not loud or fighting, they mind their business and I mind my business.”
“And you’re certain it was the same car?”
He shrugged. “No, but I don’t get many people driving brand-new cars into this place, unless it’s a rental, and most of the guests here don’t drive rentals, either.”
When they stepped out of Grunelli’s squalid office, Noah said to Abigail, “Contact Vigo and get an administrative warrant in the works for the rental agencies. Once we ID the company, we’ll want all the logs and GPS tracking, if they have it.”
“Most do these days.”
“It should be pretty straightforward.” Noah pulled out his phone. It had vibrated several times during his conversation with Grunelli.
“Donovan has been ringing me.” He called Kate right back. “It’s Noah.”
“Robbie Ralston, one of Morton’s closest associates from the old days, is dead.”
“Ralston?” Noah didn’t remember the name.
“He was a low-level pimp, but provided a steady stream of girls for Trask and Morton back when Trask Enterprises was mostly legal. I ran him while waiting for you to call me back. He served a few years in prison, was on disability, and get this—he had a ticket bought and paid for to Miami last Sunday.”
Noah was confused. “He was killed in Miami?”
“No, he was killed in his apartment. He never made the flight.”
