Thrill Kill (Matt Sinclair #2) - Brian Thiem Page 0,37
his license and Visa card. He reviewed the registration form. Just shy of five hundred dollars for one night. Good thing the Feds were footing the bill.
“One or two keys?”
“Two, please,” he said.
She returned his credit card and license and handed him two key cards in a pocket-sized packet marked with his room number. “Would you like help with your luggage?” she asked.
“I think I can handle it,” Sinclair said.
The door opened to the bedroom area of the suite, with a king-size bed, dresser, and two nightstands. Sinclair threw his suitcase on the bed and walked into the living room, which was separated from the bedroom by a partial wall. A sofa faced the window. A table with four chairs took up a corner, while a desk and chair were on the other side of the sofa. The window overlooked Jack London Square, with its assortment of shops and restaurants, and the Oakland estuary, a mile-wide body of water that separated Oakland and Alameda and flowed into the San Francisco Bay. When Sinclair examined the website earlier in the afternoon to make his reservations, he saw there were other rooms with large private balconies that overlooked the waterfront. He imagined staying in one of those rooms during the summer time and watching the sunset from his balcony while feeling the cool breeze off the water.
He unpacked his suitcase. He placed his shaving kit in the bathroom, hung a dress shirt, polo shirt, and jeans in the closet, and placed two sets of underwear, socks, and a workout outfit in a drawer—the clothes a businessman would bring for a two-day trip. Props in case the escort checked. He looked at himself in the mirror. His tailored charcoal-gray suit was a donation arranged by the Oakland Business Association after he had lost his entire wardrobe last year in the fire. He’d only worn this suit to work a few times, knowing that with his luck it would be the day he got into a wrestling match with a suspect. A fitted ivory-colored shirt, dark-blue silk tie, and a stainless-steel Rolex—a gift from Fred last Christmas—completed his look.
Sinclair heard a double knock at the door. He opened it and Roberts, Braddock, and Cummings came in.
Cummings’s eyes scanned Sinclair from head to toe. “Clothes are obviously too expensive for a cop to afford.”
“I always thought a suit’s just a suit,” Braddock said. “But you do look fine.”
Looks and demeanor were everything when working undercover. If anything made the girl uncomfortable—if she thought he was dangerous or too weird—she’d walk away. The stakes weren’t as high when Sinclair did prostitution undercover work years ago. If the escort didn’t come through, they called another agency, and if that escort didn’t come through, they didn’t make a case. No big deal. Tonight, they not only had to get the solicitation from the escort; they needed to turn her, too. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Let’s make the call,” Roberts said.
Sinclair opened his laptop on the table in the living room and brought up the Special Ladies Escorts website. He scrolled through the pages of photos and settled on a blonde showing off long, slender legs in a body stocking similar to what he’d seen in Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogues. He dialed the phone number on the website.
“Good evening, Special Ladies Escorts,” said a woman in a singsong voice.
“Hi, I’d like to arrange for an escort,” Sinclair said.
“Have you used our service before?”
“No.”
“How did you learn about our service?”
“I just found you on the Internet.”
“Have you looked at our rates and decided on how much time you’d like to spend with one of our ladies?”
“I see you start at four hundred for the first hour. I’d like an hour.”
“Do you have a preference for your escort, such as ethnicity or body shape—thin, full-figured?”
“Danielle caught my eye. Is she available?”
“Let me check.” Sinclair heard the clicking of computer keys. “It appears she is. When would you like to see her?”
Sinclair looked at his watch. “Around eight would be perfect.”
“Would we be sending her to your home?”
“I’m in Oakland on business and staying at the Waterfront Hotel.”
“I believe we can arrange that. Let me get some information from you.”
The woman collected the same information from him that any normal business would for a credit card purchase. “To avoid any problem with hotel management, please advise the hotel desk that a work colleague named Danielle Jones will be visiting your room.”