“Why? Was Cortez known to be involved with the cartels?”
“Not necessarily. But most men who ran successful businesses around here at that time were tied to the cartels in one form or another. Plus, you know, they cut off his damn head. Only the cartels would do something like that. Usually as a warning to others.”
“Any idea why they killed him?”
“Nothing was ever verified. But there was a rumor back then that either he or someone working with him had stolen fifty million dollars.”
“Wow. Fifty million?”
“Yeah, that’ll get your head chopped off around here real quick.”
“I bet.”
“Look, I gotta get on another call. We done?”
“One more question. You remember anything about a plane crash around that same time that killed two lawyers from Dallas?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, thanks for your time.”
Hanging up, I felt a chill race down my spine. Had Joe somehow gotten his hands on $50 million and then disappeared? Had he held on to it all these years? Was it stolen cartel money that had funded my company and created a brand-new life for Taylor and me? Were they still searching for that money? I desperately needed to talk to Greta today. She was the only hope I still had for putting the pieces of this dark and crazy puzzle together.
After renting a small car, I drove straight to the historic Hay-Adams hotel, just a block north of the White House, where I knew from reviewing his credit card statement that Joe had stayed on his recent trip to DC. I wanted to see if I could find out any details about what he did while in town or, more important, whom he was with while at the hotel. I parked along a curb, made my way inside the hotel lobby, and sidled up to a front-desk clerk a moment later.
“Checking in?” the young man asked me.
“No, I’m actually looking for some information about my father-in-law, who stayed here about ten days ago.”
“What kind of information, sir?”
“I was hoping someone on the hotel staff might be able to give me some insight on whether they saw him here with anyone. Can I show you a photo?”
“Well, I’m not really supposed to talk about hotel guests. It goes against our privacy policy.”
“Look, I understand that. And I know this is an odd request. But my father-in-law was killed a few days ago. My family is in tremendous shock and looking for answers. I’m the executor of his estate. I can show you paperwork, if you want. I just need some help.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” He took a glance over his shoulder, like he might be checking to see if his manager was around. “What was his name?”
“Joe Dobson.” I showed him a photo on my phone. “Do you recognize him?”
He studied my phone, shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But other than checking guests in and out, I don’t really have too much involvement with them. Plus, I only work four shifts a week.” He typed on his computer, squinted at the screen. “Yeah, I wasn’t even working when your father-in-law was staying here with us. Sorry.”
I took a shot in the dark. “Can you tell me if someone named Greta Malone was a guest here at that same time?”
“Like I said, I’m not allowed—”
“Come on, help me out. It’ll take you two seconds to check, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
The clerk gave another quick glance over his shoulder, then typed on his keyboard. “No Greta Malone.”
“Anyone else around here you think might be helpful to me?”
“The most connected person here is Ms. Marley. She runs a bar downstairs called Off The Record. The bar is closed right now, but she usually comes in early to get things rolling.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
I found my way down to an upscale lounge that basically felt hidden in the basement of the hotel. As the clerk suggested, the bar was currently closed, but I did see some activity in the back. I navigated the oversize wingback chairs sitting below brass chandeliers and noticed all the caricatures of political figures on the walls. A young guy with a well-trimmed beard wearing a white button-down shirt and a gray vest was stacking up glasses behind the bar.
“How’re you doing?” I said, stepping up to the bar.
“Good, man. We don’t open for a bit.”
“I know. Any chance Ms. Marley is around?”
He nodded over his shoulder. “In the back.”
“You mind asking her if I can have a moment?”