SAMPLE CHAPTER--THE WHITE PARTY (Second in the JJK Monstrance mystery series)

CHAPTER ONE
THE POSEIDON SUITE


A WOMAN IDENTIFYING HERSELF as Sister Mary Celeste Munroe from the Florida Catholic Contributions Foundation called The Undercurrent Hotel in early November and made reservations for Cardinal Ricardo Benedelli for November 27 thru December 3.

Sister Celeste said she was calling on behalf of His Excellency and that he would be in Miami Beach on official business. She requested one of the penthouse suites, stating that he would need strict privacy.

Prawna Bata, one of the hotel's tri-lingual reservation agents had taken the reservation and insured Sister Celeste that the hotel would look after the Cardinal, and make sure that his every wish was granted. The Undercurrent Hotel prided itself on pampering their quests. Whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, they would receive. As long as it was legal. And sometimes that didn't matter, especially if you requested it on Wedgy Wooten's shift.

The Poseidon Suite had been reserved for Cardinal Benedelli for the entire week leading up to and through The White Party, however, housekeeping had reported to Wedgy on Thursday that the suite had, as yet, not been occupied. Several matching pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage for Cardinal Benedelli had been anonymously delivered to the hotel earlier in the week and Fernando, as instructed, had taken the luggage to the suite. But as of the housekeeping report on Thursday, no one had occupied the beautifully appointed, two bedroom, ocean front penthouse suite. Wedgy decided to take matters in his own hands and went up to the suite to check it out. It was also a perfect place to sit down, relax a bit, and do a few bumps.

He noticed the suitcases had remained unopened and unpacked and Wedgy tried to open them, but they were locked. "Damn!" he said aloud, frustrated. He was dying to know what was in the designer luggage.

He learned a long time ago at The Undercurrent not to pry, or ask too many questions. What the quests did, or didn't do, at the hotel was none of his affair. But sometimes his curiosity got the better of him. They paid good money for their privacy, especially someone occupying the glorious $5,000 a night Poseidon Suite. He did a few bumps, tried unsuccessfully to unlock the suitcases again, then went back to the front desk. He'd get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

On Friday morning a very attractive middle-aged lady arrived at the hotel and walked grandly to the front desk. Dressed in a chic winter-white Chanel suit with navy trim, signature Da Voterra sunglasses, her bleached blonde hair tastefully pulled back in a French roll, she simple introduced herself as Mrs. Anne Hoover from the Catholic Contributions Foundation. She informed Wedgy that she was there to get the key for His Excellency, Cardinal Ricardo Benedelli. She reeked of wealth, class and Chanel no. 5.

"Welcome to The Undercurrent, Ms. Hoover," he said, graciously, admiring her expensive clothes and jewelry.

"Charmed, I'm sure," she said breathlessly in a deep, sexy voice. She was a real femme fatale, and Wedgy wondered what in the hell she was doing getting a key to the Cardinal's penthouse suite.

Discreetly, Wedgy looked up the reservation and saw that her name was also listed on the account and that she would be picking up a key to the room.

"Miss Hoover…"

"It's Mrs." She corrected him, emphatically.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Hoover. The reservation says this is going to be a direct bill. Will it be billed to the Catholic Contributions Foundation?" he asked, diplomatically.

"Oh, no. I will be paying for it myself. With cash." She offered, nonchalantly.

"Cash?" Wedgy perked up.

"Yes, cash," she repeated as she reached into her expensive Judith Leiber bejeweled Penguin-shaped bag and withdrew an envelope stuffed with thousand-dollar bills.

Wedgy's eyes popped out when he saw all the cash. Bingo money! He smirked to himself.

He also adored her designer bag. "Oh, I just love Judith Leiber!" He said, pretentiously.

Mrs. Hoover raised a brow. She was startled that he even knew who Judith Leiber was. Silly faggot, she thought, contemptuously.

"Did you get it at Bal Harbor?" He asked, trying to impress her with his knowledge of designer products and accessories. He was also trying to engage her in conversation so he could get the dirt on her and Cardinal Benedelli.

She just stared at him blankly. She was not there to talk about Judith Leiber, or any other unnecessary small talk with the flippant little fairy. Wedgy got the message. Rich bitch, he thought as he glared at her, biting his tongue. It wasn't even noon and he needed a bump.

"Very well. Cash it will be," he said, quickly changing the subject. He couldn't believe she was going to pay the entire bill in cash. It wasn't unusual for some guests to pay their bill in cash, especially the quests from South America. Wedgy knew where that money came from. But the Catholic Contributions Foundation and a cardinal sporting Louis Vuitton luggage paying cash, at $5,000 a night, this was highly unusual. And a lot of money. In fact, it was unusual for a Catholic priest or any member of the clergy to be staying at the posh hotel. This was a place for jet setters, high rollers, movie stars, famous models, rich gay men, but church people? No way! There was something fishy going on in the Poseidon Suite and sooner or later he'd find out what the hell was going on.

But for now, Wedgy didn't want to make any waves. Especially since the rich Catholic bitch was paying cash. Cold. Hard. Cash. He tallied the bill on his portable calculator.

"That will be $37,563.00." He said, magnanimously.

Mrs. Hoover didn't blink and eye. She counted out the money like a seasoned bank teller and piled it neatly on the desk in front of Wedgy. He gave a slight whistle, and then collected himself, and the money.

Wedgy could tell she was anxious to get the transaction over with. Who knew what she and the Cardinal were up to? Maybe they were going to have a three-way with Madonna, for all he knew. Or cared. Stranger things had happened at The Undercurrent. His mind quickly drifted to the video, Undertow: Sucked into the Abyss. Shit! That was a clever title, he thought. He was a genius.

Whatever floats your boat, he thought, as he carefully counted the money. Wedgy gave her back some change and handed her a receipt along with the key and asked if she needed a bellman to help her with any additional luggage. She curtly said no and asked where the elevators were.

"Thank you again, Mrs. Hoover. I hope you and His Excellency enjoy your stay," he said, icily, as he raised a suspicious brow at her. Two could play this game, he thought, after he had taken her money.

She was not amused, and quickly departed for the elevators. "Damn faggot!" she hissed under her breath. I will thank him not to try to insult me, especially after I just paid nearly $40,000!

She quickly forgot the bitchy queen, and the forty grand, when she opened the door to the opulent suite. It was perfect!

She was glad that mess was over with downstairs. Relieved that she did not see anyone that she knew. Or knew her. She didn't think she would. The Undercurrent was a small, discreet hotel, but one could never be too sure......