Chapter 30
“Ispoke to the gas station attendant, and he said he remembered the guy, cause he talked with a bit of an accent,” Rivers said. “Like he wasn’t from around here, but still American. He confirmed the purchases on his security camera from the receipt you found.”
Sean studied the picture that the gas station security camera had captured, but it wasn’t a familiar face. “Whoever this is, they’re not staying at The Bonnie,” Sean said. “Who is he?”
“Guy’s name is Marco Donovan,” Rivers said. “He did time for a triple homicide but was granted release after another person confessed to the murders. The DA said it was bullshit, but the individual was able to prove things that only the killer would have known.”
“Why’d the DA think it was a ruse?” Sean asked.
“Because of who Marco Donovan’s uncle was,” Rivers answered.
“Christopher Donovan, who runs the only remaining crime syndicate in Chicago. They think he was trying to get his nephew released, and it worked. Ever since then, Marco was sent to Boston to work odd jobs for his uncle. He’s managed to stay out of trouble, at least officially, but I spoke to Boston PD, and they keep tabs on him. ”
Sean thought back to Jonathan Travis and his connection to Boston. It also made him wonder if anyone else at the hotel had a connection to either Boston or Chicago.
“And before you ask, no, there aren’t any direct connections between your guests or staff to Marco that I could find,” Rivers said.
“No one from either of those cities?” Sean asked.
“Not according to their socials,” Rivers answered. “Though, it was impossible for me to do a very thorough deep dive in the time frame I have, but I can keep looking.”
Sean watched the video again, but it didn’t have a good shot of Marco’s face. “Can you?—”
“I just sent his mug shot to you,” Rivers said.
Sean’s phone pinged, and he smiled. “You’re getting scary good at this,” Sean said.
“Yeah, well, when you work with the best, it tends to rub off,” Rivers said.
“You’re really pushing for that raise, huh?” Sean asked.
“I meant that I was rubbing off on you,” Rivers answered.
Sean smiled. “All right, well, keep digging on any connections to this mobster.” Then he thought of something. “Actually, it turns out that Roger has a record.”
“Who?” Rivers asked.
“The hotel owner,” Sean answered.
Rivers was quiet for a moment, and then she cleared her throat. “Shit, yeah, I didn’t search him. He wasn’t listed as an employee. Who is he, the owner, you said?”
“Yeah,” Sean answered.
“Okay, I’ll do some more digging on him and see what comes up,” Rivers answered.
“So, who’s rubbing off on who now?” Sean asked.
“Yeah, I put my foot in my mouth on that one,” Rivers answered.
The call ended, and Sean stared back down at the picture of Marco Donvoan.
He had no idea what a mobster from Chicago was doing at a small boutique hotel in the mountains of rural Connecticut or how his receipt had ended up in the trash can of one of the hotel rooms, but he was convinced that it was connected.
Sean just had to figure out why.