Death in the Honeymoon Hotel - 2. Chapter 2

“Joe, take the boys to breakfast, and get away from this place,” Ken ordered. “I’m going to talk to the detective on the case.”

Reluctantly, Joe and his sons left. They were really broken up. There was no doubt that they had bonded to Juan in the brief time they spoke to him. After they left, the police officer took Ken to the detective on the case.

“Detective Guzman,” the policeman said, “this gentleman would like to talk to you. He says that he knew the deceased personally.”

Ken stuck his hand out. “I’m Ken Hall,” he said. “I’m a New York City police detective, and I implore you to let me help you.”

Guzman looked surprised. He wasn’t sure what to do. Ken showed him his badge, and he was less suspicious. Ken was a fellow officer after all. As they shook hands, Guzman introduced himself.

“I’m Alejandro Guzman,” he said. “You can call me Alex. Everyone does. Just how did you know the victim?” he asked.

“Yesterday, when we checked into the resort, Juan took my bags and my husbands to our room. He also took the bags of our two sons to their room. My sons are the same age as Juan, and they hit it off immediately. They even made plans to socialize during our stay.

“My boys have it easy compared to Juan. My husband and I have plenty of money, and life is not a burden for us. Juan told us what a financial struggle it was for him and his single mother to make ends meet so he could stay in school. All our hearts went out to him. My husband is a big philanthropist, and he confided in me that before we left, he was going to give Juan a substantial check to use for his education.”

Ken had mentioned “his husband” several times, prompting Alex to say, “I knew you were gay because this is a gay resort, but frankly I have never met any gays who are married. It’s nice to meet you, and I admire your honesty.”

Ken smiled at Alex. “There’s a nice restaurant right around the corner. Please have breakfast with me, and we’ll discuss the case. My husband and kids might even have gone there.”

“Sure, let’s go. As a gay man this case will be of particular interest to you.”

As soon as they walked into the restaurant Ken spotted Joe and his sons. “Come,” he said to Alex, “I’ll introduce you to my family. My boys are particularly broken up by this tragedy. They had planned on spending time with Juan.” Ken winked.

“I understand,” Alex said.

Ken introduced everyone to Alex, and Joe asked if they would like to join them.

“No thanks,” Ken answered. “Alex and I need some privacy to hash out the clues, if any, on this case.”

As soon as they were seated and ordered breakfast, Ken asked, “What did you mean when you said that as a gay man this case will be of particular interest to me?”

Alex sighed, as if it was hard to talk about the case, and he wanted to find the right words. “This case is more than your everyday homicide. In the past few days’ other gay young men, all under twenty, have been murdered in a gay resort. The murders took place in three different hotels. It’s beginning to look like we have a serial killer on our hands, and I’m really worried.”

“Wow, which is disturbing,” Ken said. “I’ve investigated a few serial killings in my time. Let me review what I know about them. Whether they occur in the streets or in a building there are always repetitive signs. If we’re lucky we can get a profile of the killer from those signs. The hard part is to identify them. What similarities do you have so far?”

“Well, what I’m thinking is that all the victims were young gay men, and all the murders were committed in a gay resort. None of the men were sexually assaulted. The profile of the murderer that those facts suggest to me is that he’s a homophobe. He either solicited the boys for sex or they went willingly. If they went willingly, I posit that the murderer is young and attractive. If he solicited them his physical appearance is up for grabs, and he could be any age.

“Those are logical conclusions, Alex, but if any of the victims were looking for a sugar daddy, the murderer could be any age. Is there a pattern as to how often and what time of day the murders were committed?”

“Yes. So far, it’s been every other day and approximately between the hours of seven in the morning (like today) and four in the afternoon.”

“What about security tapes?”

“We’ve gone over the tapes a dozen times from the first two resorts, and we’ve come up with a lot of nada. We’ll be examining the tapes of The Honeymoon Hotel as soon as possible.”

“Can I come down to the precinct, and examine all the tapes with a fresh eye? Maybe I’ll come across something to help us.”

“Sure, Ken, which might be a good idea. Come after lunch. I should be back by then. But please promise not to interfere with any of my staff’s routines. In the meantime, I presume you’re on vacation. Go enjoy the rest of the morning with your family.”

The two detectives ate their meals without discussing the case again, but they filled each other in on their lives. Although Alex was on the Miami Beach police force, he lived in the city of Miami. He had a lovely wife, and two adorable six-year-old twin sons (he showed Ken a picture).

He was curious how two gay men, who had never been married to women, had two sons, who were now handsome young men. Ken told him about Tom, who was homeless and was caught trying to rob their house, and George, who was in the foster care system and was about to lose his home.

“We took them in and obtained guardianship when they were young teen-agers. After a while we wanted to adopt them for fear of losing them. A judge advised us to get married. He said it would make it easier to adopt the boys. Joe and I hadn’t considered marriage, but we’re happy we tied the knot.

“It was very altruistic of you to take in two young boys, strangers at that, and assume all the responsibility that a parent has with children. I applaud you.”

Before they parted, Ken paid the check and Alex gave him the names and addresses of the other resorts where the murders had occurred. He also gave him a business card with the address of the police station.

“I’ll see you about one o’clock,” Ken said. “Is that all right with you?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you later.”

Ken returned to the resort and found a note from Joe on the dresser. Strip and come on down to the pool. We’re waiting for you.”

When he arrived at the pool, Joe and the boys were generously applying sunscreen “Fill us in,” George pleaded.

“Well, guys, Juan is not the only victim. There have been two other murders in the last few days. Some low life is going around to gay resorts and murdering very young men. Alex and I have started to profile him. I’m going down to the station after lunch to see what else is new, and then I’m visiting all three resorts to examine their registration books on the day of the murders. Maybe I’ll find a recurring name.”

“Not very likely,” street smart Tom piped up. “The perp may never have registered in the hotel, and if he did, he would use a different name at each resort. In that case, there’s a statistical probability that he used the same initials in all three of his phony names, and an equal probability that he used his own initials.”

“How do you know all this?” Ken asked in amazement.

“I read a book about serial killers a short time ago. The author cited some common mistakes they all make, and creating aliases with their own initials is one of them. It’s a form of narcissism.”

“Amazing, Grasshopper. Have you got any more advice for me?”

“Yes, photograph the significant registry pages, and George and I can help you search for the repetitive initials.”

“How about you George? Have you got some advice for me also?”

“Of course I do. What were the names of the other resorts where murders were committed?”

Ken filled George in.

“Remember when Tom and I researched gay resorts in South Beach, we told you that there were four major hotels which catered to gay men? All the rest were small motels, and not strictly gay. The murders were all committed at three of the four major places. The next murder will be the day after tomorrow at the Peter Pan Hotel on Ocean Drive.”

“I’ve got another suggestion,” Tom said. “Double check the coroner’s estimated time of death. Since the murders were all committed during the day, the guy may be retired, a part time student, or filthy rich.”

Ken scratched his head in amazement. He was totally impressed by his sons’ logic. “You guys should be detectives,” he said.

He wasn’t really serious, so he was shocked when Tom said, “Yes, we’ve both been thinking of switching our majors to criminal justice.”

“But if we do, we’ll have to transfer out of Binghamton, and most likely enrol at John Jay,” George added. “We love it at Binghamton, so we have a lot to consider.”

Ken’s heart skipped a beat. If they transferred to John Jay, they would live at home again.