Night Fall

“What kind of place is this?”

“A big old house that was like an i

I didn’t reply.

Marie continued, “We stayed there all day and into the late evening so we could catch some shift changes, plus I had a list of fourteen guests who’d been there since July 17, and were still there. Also, there was a list of guests who’d been there on the 17thbut who’d already checked out, and we were supposed to follow up on them the next day, but we never did.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe some other people followed up. Or maybe Griffith and his two pals hit pay dirt that night. Do these guys ever tell you anything?”

“As little as possible.”

“Right. They’re into bullshit big-time. For instance, Griffith says we were all going to meet at about elevenP.M., place to be a

I had the distinct impression that Marie Gubitosi was not happy with the way she or her NYPD colleagues had been treated. And that was why Marie was talking to me even after she’d been told five years ago not to talk to anyone. I wanted to get to the outcome of that investigation, but she needed to vent a little-and quite possibly venting was all she had to give me.

She asked me, “You want a beer?”

“No thanks. I’m off-duty.”

She laughed and said, “God, I’ve been pregnant or nursing for so long I can’t remember what a beer tastes like.”

“I’ll buy you a beer when you’re ready.”

“You’re on. Okay, so I started on my list, and I was interviewing staff. Prelim interviews, and I’m showing the sketch around. I narrowed the list to four staff and two guests and asked them to meet me at different times in a back office of the hotel. Okay, so I’m interviewing this maid named Lucita, who just got on duty and who probably thought I’m with Immigration and Naturalization, and I show her the sketch of Don Juan, and she says she doesn’t recognize him, but I see something in her face. So I ask to see her green card or proof of citizenship, and she breaks down and starts crying. Then, overstepping my bounds a little, I promise her I’ll help her get legal if she helps me. Sounds like a good deal for everyone, and she says, yes, she saw this guy with a lady leave Room 203 about sevenP.M. Bingo.”

“This is not a coerced statement?”

“No. Well, yeah, but it’s for real. I know when it’s bullshit.”

“Okay. Could she describe the lady?”

“Not very well. Lucita was about thirty feet away when she saw this couple come out of Room 203, on the second-floor terrace that runs past the rooms. They turned away from her, and went down the steps. Lucita may or may not have gotten a good look at either of them, but they definitely came out of Room 203. Okay, the lady was a little younger than Don Juan, a little shorter than him, slim, wearing tan shorts, a blue shirt, and sandals. But she was wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat, like maybe she doesn’t want to be recognized.”

“Where were they going?”

“Double bingo. They were walking to the parking lot. The guy was carrying a blanket that Lucita said looked like it was taken from the room, which is why Lucita watched them, but she also says that people do that and they usually bring the blanket back, so she didn’t make anything of it. So, this is our couple. Right?”

“Right.” I asked, “Were they carrying anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Like… anything.”

She looked at me and replied, “That’s what Liam Griffith asked this maid about three times. What are we looking for, John?”

“An ice chest.”

“Nope. Just a blanket.”

I thought about that and concluded that if this was the couple in question-and it sounded like it was-they already had the ice chest and the video camera in the car. I said to Marie, “I hope Lucita noticed the make, model, year, color, and tag number of the car they got into.”

She smiled. “We don’t always get that lucky. But she did notice the car, though she couldn’t describe it, except that this couple opened a rear hatch. So, I take Lucita into the parking lot and showed her SUVs, station wagons, and minivans, and we got it narrowed down to about twenty makes and models. She wasn’t into cars, except that she said it was light-colored. Tan.”

I nodded and thought about the light-colored Ford Explorer that the Westhampton cop had seen coming from the beach right after the crash. It all seemed to fit, like a jigsaw puzzle that you were putting together facedown. Someone needed to flip it over and see the picture.

Marie continued, “Lucita said this couple got in the vehicle and drove off. End of lead.”

I asked Marie, “Did you get an artist’s sketch of the lady based on Lucita’s description of her?”

“No. I think there was a language problem there-plus, like I said, this lady was wearing shades and this big, floppy hat.” Marie smiled and said, “Lucita told me maybe it was a movie star.”

I smiled, and said, “Well, in a ma

“Meaning what?”

“I’ll tell you later.” I asked Marie, “What was Lucita’s last name?”

“Gonzalez Perez according to my notes.”

I made a mental note of that, and I asked, “Did anyone speculate that the lady in Room 203 had her own car somewhere in that lot?”

“Yeah. And that would make it even more likely that they were married lovers on a rendezvous. But no one saw her in another car or anything. We ran the plates that were still in the parking lot to see if maybe a car was left there that couldn’t be accounted for. Like, there was still some thought that the lady was the victim of a crime, and the guy had offed her at the beach or maybe in the room, and threw her in the back of his vehicle, wrapped in the blanket. But nothing came of that-at least not that I know of.”

“Did anyone see them return to the hotel that night?”

“No, like I said, the first and only time they were spotted was by Lucita coming out of their room at seven. Sometime between then and when another maid entered the room the next day about noon, they disappeared and a blanket was missing from the room-apparently the blanket left on the beach.”

“Were you able to speak to this other maid?”

“No way. Griffith and his pals had already wrung her out, and she was never on our list. But Griffith did tell us that this maid remembered lipstick on a glass, the shower had been used, and the bed was still made but the blanket was missing. He said there was nothing left in that room that could give us a lead because this maid cleaned the room and removed anything that could be useful in IDing this couple.” Marie paused, then continued, “At least that’s what Griffith said.”

I suggested, “You need to learn to trust Federal agents.”

She laughed.

I thought about all of this. While I had a clearer picture of what happened at the Bayview Hotel five years ago, I was no closer to finding this couple than I was yesterday. I mean if Griffith, Nash, and the other guy had really hit a dead end five years ago, with all the resources in the world at their disposal, then I just hit a brick wall.

On the other hand, maybe they hit pay dirt.

It’s hard enough to solve an unsolved five-year-old case; it’s a lot harder to solve one that’s already been solved by someone else who’s hidden all the clues and the witnesses.

Well, all I had to do now was go back to the office and request files marked “TWA 800-Bayview Hotel,” or something like that. Right?