Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [169]
"Yeah," he said. "Washington says you should listen to your gut."
"What's next?" she asked.
"I've been thinking about that," he said. "Before we go to the police station, or wherever they have this guy, I'd like to know more than we read in the paper."
"How are you going to get that?"
"I think I'm going to start with the civilian--from the Citizens' Watch, or whatever the hell it's called--who saw him by the window."
"How are you going to find him?"
"When we get to the hotel, the first thing I'm going to do is plug in my brandnew cellular battery charger, then I'll ask, look in the phone book, whatever."
She nodded.
The waitress delivered the bill. Matt handed his credit card to the waitress and said, "Please add fifteen percent for yourself. Great meal."
Olivia shook her head as the waitress walked away.
"What?"
"You didn't even look at that check," she said. "And God knows how much we spent in the shopping center. And you got a lot of money from the ATM. Don't you worry about maxing out your card?"
"No, I don't," Matt said. "And I took the money from my bank. If you get money on a credit card, they charge you some outrageous interest."
"So you are rich? I heard something--"
"I'm comfortable, Olivia. So what?"
"It must be nice."
"It is."
It took them a little over an hour to drive from McGuire's Irish Pub to the Marriott in Point Clear, Alabama. Their route took them first through Daphne. There Olivia touched his arm and pointed out a sign identifying the entrance to the Lake Forest Yacht Club & Condominiums.
A mile or so away they saw the Joseph Hall Criminal Justice Center, which was obviously the police station, an attractive brick building that looked as if it had been built last year. As they went through Fairhope, they saw the Fairhope Police Station, another clean, attractive building that looked even newer.
The hotel was several miles the other side of Fairhope, down a tree-lined road along the shore of Mobile Bay. There were half a dozen fair-sized sailboats bobbing along in the bay.
"I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this," Matt said.
Neither was the hotel what Matt had expected to find after Mrs. Craig had told him she'd reserved two rooms in his name at the Marriott.
It turned out to be more of a luxury resort than a hotel. Ancient oaks lined the drive to the entrance. There were signs indicating the direction of a golf course, and he could see both an enormous swimming pool and the masts of a fleet of sailboats.
A gray-jacketed bellman pulled their luggage from the backseat of the roofdown Mustang and said, "Welcome to the Grand Hotel."
There were two pleasant young men behind the reception desk.
"My name is Payne," Matt said, as he handed one of them his American Express card. "I'm supposed to have a reservation. "
The young man consulted his computer.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Two 'nice' singles is what was requested. We think our bayside rooms are 'nice,' and we've put you into two of those. I'm afraid they're not adjacent . . ."
"That's fine," Detective Lassiter said.
". . . at $305 per day. Will that be satisfactory, Mr. Payne?"
"That's fine," Matt said.
They were handed brochures outlining all the hotel had to offer and electronic keys to the rooms. Two bellmen appeared.
"Call me when you're settled," Matt said. "I'm going to get on the phone."
"You want me to come there?" Olivia asked.
"Probably a good idea," Matt said.
Following the bellmen, they marched off through the lobby toward the elevators.
The young man who had handled their reservation turned to the other.
"What would you like to bet me that only one set of sheets will be mussed tonight?" he asked.
[SIX]
"Police department," a female voice with a thick southern accent announced.
"Good afternoon," Detective Olivia Lassiter said. "I'm hoping you can help me."
"Be happy to try, ma'am."
"Do you happen to have a phone number where I could call the Jackson's Oak Citizens' Community Watch?"
"You mind if I ask why you want to call them?"
"Well, we just moved into