Chapter 2 - THE COMPLAINTS THAT DISAPPEARED
I slept for ninety minutes.
At 5:30 a.m., Lily was still curled around a pillow when I called my chief legal officer.
Rachel Monroe answered immediately.
“Clara?”
“I need an audit.”
“What kind?”
“Silent.”
That word woke her faster than coffee.
I explained nothing about Patrick at first.
Instead, I asked for raw complaint exports from the hotel’s central system, including deleted records.
By 6:40, Rachel had sent me eighty-three files.
Not three.
Eighty-three.
Complaints about rude desk staff.
Improper room charges.
Guests being told reservations did not exist.
Cash upgrades.
Missing deposits.
Discriminatory comments.
One elderly couple reported being told their prepaid suite had been “released” and then charged an extra four hundred dollars to get it back.
I stopped reading.
This was not bad service.
It was a system.
Someone was selectively creating reservation problems and charging guests to solve them.
But there was more.
Seventeen complaints had involved guests who appeared, according to staff notes, “unlikely to escalate.”
That phrase appeared repeatedly.
I knew exactly what it meant.
Guests who looked tired.
Foreign.
Elderly.
Young.
Poorer than the lobby.
Families with children.
People less likely to threaten lawyers.
People Patrick thought nobody would believe.
Like me last night.
Rachel called back.
“Clara, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The adjustment account.”
Hotels use adjustment accounts constantly.
Refunds.
Rate corrections.
Incidentals.
Nothing unusual by itself.
But this hotel had refunded nearly nine hundred thousand dollars in eighteen months.
“Where did it go?”
“Not back to guests.”
My stomach tightened.
The refunds were routed into a third-party payment processor called Lakeshore Guest Recovery Services.
I had never heard of it.
“Who approved the vendor?”
“Robert Ellison.”
The general manager.
Then Rachel paused.
“And one board officer.”
“Who?”
“Victor Lang.”
I went still.
Victor was chief operating officer of Vance Hospitality.
Daniel’s oldest friend.
The man who had helped me run the company after my husband died.
He had held Lily at Daniel’s funeral while I could barely stand.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Maybe there was an explanation.
I wanted there to be one.
Then somebody knocked.
Softly.
I opened the door.
Lupita stood in the hallway holding a small vase.
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
Inside were fresh red roses.
“I saw yours were damaged.”
For a second, I could not speak.
“You bought these?”
She looked embarrassed.
“The flower shop downstairs opened early.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
That mattered.
She still did not know who I was.
I invited her inside.
Lily woke and smiled at the flowers.
Lupita smiled back.
Then I asked casually:
“Do employees feel comfortable reporting problems here?”
Her expression changed instantly.
Fear.
Not confusion.
Fear.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I think something is wrong.”
She stared toward the hallway.
Then whispered:
“Something is very wrong.”
Before she could explain, her phone buzzed.
She read the screen.
Color drained from her face.
“What?”
Lupita turned the phone toward me.
A staff message.
MANDATORY MEETING — 7:00 A.M.
Below it:
Housekeeping disciplinary review.
Employee:
LUPITA RAMIREZ.
Reason:
May you like
Unauthorized interference with guest-relations operations.
Patrick had reported her for helping me.
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