The Hidden Suite

The Hidden Suite



Remarkably hidden somewhere in an ocean front inn named, Your Fish Inn, on Interstate Highway 1, twenty miles North of San Francisco, is an exceptionally luxurious suite, even by San Francisco’s rich hotel’s standards. The remainder of the Inn’s suites are very much as the average traveler would expect, but The Blue Heron Suite is so luxurious that only the super-rich can really afford to stay there. Ralphie Farsali, an Italian ship builder, Mr. Umish, an Indian, who runs the Bank of India, the Honorable Ling Ko and his wife, both political leaders in Hong Kong have been guests. The presidents of the Silicon Valley Company, Maxchip, Mr. Matsumi, are further examples of the class of guests that The Blue Heron Hosts. Super-rich guests with super-rich tastes in food, wine, sleeping accommodations, other expected amenities are only accommodated. The guests of the $1,800 per night suite receive more than their demands. The guests are always pleased with the innkeeper, Tommy, the Twin, Petrianio. Tommy is a gangster from Palermo, Sicily, and his astonishingly brilliant service has kept him the number one choice of the Mob to run Your Fish Inn.

He has installed, within The Blue Heron, a stereo system that ranks among the finest systems in the world. He has equipped the suite with a computer system that is superseded only by the business world’s systems. He provides his guests hand held wireless units that access the Internet. These units operate up to 15 miles from the suite’s PC thanks to “The Wave Booster,” by RCA. Tommy, the Twin, Petrianio sends his extraordinarily gracious servants to The Blue Heron suite bringing any of the lushes breakfasts the guests may desire at the hour they desire. This gracious service is seen through out the guests’ stay. There are masseuses, of both sexes, who take their delight in providing any pleasure the fortunate guests may want to enjoy. Tommy also has a chauffeur with a limousine happily awaiting the chance to bring the Heron’s guests to where they want-when they want, and as often as they want for the duration of their stay. Included on the list of amenities is an, either male or female, escort service to any theater, club, private event or any other place in the surrounding area; video-graphics and still photography services for those guests wanting a keepsake record. Dictation and other related secretarial services are available day or night. Pick up and delivery services are also available around the clock...

The Mafiosi’s Blue Heron suite, a well-hidden suite, in the Your Fish Inn, is not a business to earn rent money. The underground uses the suite to blackmail guests. While catering to the super-rich, Tommy gleans information on the criminal activities that his guests are encouraged to engage in. The Blue Heron’s guests, suckers in their lusts, victims while in their indulgences, patsies while pleasure seeking are a pitiful collection of souls. They’re caught fish of Tommy Petrianio and the other gangsters of the Petrianio family; these souls have fallen into a mob trap. The Petrianio's crime family have opted for the outlaw activity of blackmail. The gang obtains photographs, tape recordings, witness’ statements, finger prints, DNA samplings and other sound evidence that would hold up in court or a scandalous, Delinquent Employee Hearing.

If a CEO, company president, board of directors, the stockholders or maybe even a spouse examined such conclusive proof of a particular Blue Heron’s guests’ indiscretions, there would be hell to pay. One or more of these important persons seeing such facts may deem it necessary to fire, and/or sue or divorce the guest in question. In every case, when one of the guests is presented with The Proposition, they take it. They haven’t much choice, so they always choose to become a Patron. Patrons donate a one time, small amount of only three-hundred thousand dollars to The Benevolent Society of Fishermen. Donating to this most righteous group, guests share in sending a few poor fishermen’s children to collage. This is a small price to pay for in insuring that certain important people do not see any incriminating evidence.

You may wonder how guests learn of this hidden suite. Let me ask; which of the criminal guests would want the wrong people to learn they dealt out three-hundred thousand-dollars to Tommy, the Twin, Petrianio’s favorite charity? Word of mouth is the Inn’s best advertising. Patrons have an outstanding success rate in recruiting their millionaire friends and neighbors to pay a visit to the Blue Heron. “Give it a

try, you’ll like it,” is the by word of the ex Blue Heron guests, the Patrons. The family prides itself on

asking the Patrons for only two referrals each; then it’s by, by for good. The mob knows Patrons shouldn’t

be pushed beyond their interest in keeping their reputation. They know that running into an, “I’d rather die

than yield to these blackmailers’ schemes” is deadly.

On the Friday afternoon that preceded Detective Eugene Vibes’ two week vacation, the detective received an anonymous telephone call offering him thirty-five thousand dollars if he would rid the North Coast of the Your Fish Inn and its hidden Blue Huron suite. Vibes received explicit directions to the Inn, and some of the particulars, but wasn’t told of criminal acts that the caller who was blackmailed committed. Vibes said, “Look, I need to know what you did to be forced to pay three hundred thousand dollars. Paying blackmail money like that leads me to believe either you are filthy rich, or have done something so filthy, I don’t even want the case for fear of getting as you. Did you rape, murder, commit grand theft? What filfth have you reveled in?” The voice on the line said that he took some illicit recreational drugs, committed adultery with a strange woman and told her a few secrets about some stocks his company is going to purchase pushing their price up. He said that if his human resource manager found out, he would be terminated immediately, and he asked, “Would you rid the world of this hell up on Highway I?”

Vibes answered, “Is that all you did, give some free advice to a hooker?”

The caller said, “That is all I did, but to my company, I have breached a sworn vow.”

Vibes asked, “So this guy you spoke of, Mr. Petrianio, does he appear dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“Is he a member of the Mafia?”

“Yes.”

Vibes said, “This isn’t my work! You called a poor, lowly PI, the dunce that you are, to do FBI work. Report your bungling stupidity of getting yourself blackmailed to the FBI.”

The caller responded, “Wouldn’t you do an investigation into the Blue Heron Suite for $4,000? I will pay you cash if your work leads to closing it down and putting Lucian into jail.” Vibes hung up, but within thirty minutes, there was a knock at Vibes’ door. Vibes asked, “Who’s there?”

A voice answered, “Help me!”

Vibes asked again, “Who is it?”

The voice cried, “Please help me!”

Vibes went out his window onto the balcony stepped softly along it until he could peer into the adjacent window, so he might observe just who it was who was knocking on his door. In dulcet tones, but softly aloud, “What the hell, a badly beaten up taxi cab driver?” Vibes opened the window from the balcony, and adked, “Just what happened?”

The taxi driver cried, “Mr. I have been given an envelope to deliver to detective Vibes in this suite.”

Vibes answered, “I’m Vibes.”

While getting out of the cab, I was beaten up. I still have the envelope, but the guy wrote on it and hit me again.”

Vibes left the window, went into his office and opened the front door and let in the victim, “Man, they laid one on you. Why?” Vibes tended to some of the victim’s wounds with a little first aid.

The man answered, “Thank you. All I know is that some rich guy said to meet him at the Fairmont Hotel’s Lounge that he had some money for me, a lot of it, if I would make a little delivery of an envelope for him. I picked up this envelope, here it is; it’s yours-the bully wrote on it, but the funny thing is, he didn’t take my three hundred or your envelope.”

Vibes opened the envelope only to find blank pieces of paper; the writing on the outside read, “I have the money that was in here. It was paid to you for investigating the Blue Heron. Do not investigate the suite, or the beating the cabby took will look like a massage compared to what you will be getting.”

Vibes said, “He exchanged envelopes on you. There’s only paper in here. What did the guy look like?”

The cabby answered, “He was about six feet, 200 lbs, a white guy, dressed in regular street clothes, yet there was one thing I can’t forget.

“What’s that?”

“His breath.”

“His breath?”

“Yeah, his breath had the sent of Johnny Walker Scotch, the blue label. I know that sent from working the bar at Jimmy’s Bar and Grill on Eddy Street, we had a few detectives who drank the stuff. It’s 25 bucks a shot.”

Vibes said, “Tell the truth, did you ever serve this guy Johnny Walkers, blue label?”

“No,” said the cabby, “but the way he punched me, he knows how to fight as the law guys I served did. Yeah, he hit me, as he might have been a cop-you know, like a professional fighter.”

Vibes said, “OK, here’s $10, if you learn any more about this whole deal, let me know; there’s more where that came from.

“Sure, I’ll let you know,” said the cabby, and he left.

Vibes was tidying up when the telephone rang. Vibes picked up the receiver and listened to the voice on the other end say, “Detective, did you get the money in the envelope?”

Vibes answered, “Nope! The guy you sent was beaten up, the money stolen, and I received a threatening note instead. The guy who wrote it thinks I was going to investigate the inn you’ve been crying about. What do you use for brains, straw?”

The caller answered, “Someone must be observing me and my actions; I wonder what else I do is being kept under surveillance. Maybe every move I make is being watched.” Just then, after Vibes heard a loud slam of a door, he heard horrifying sounds from his receiver, “Jesus, no, no; I won’t tell-no, Lord, no, here, take this money.”

“Hello, hello, Sir, Sir, Sir?” Vibes hung up the phone only to pick it up again to call the police department, who sent an officer to Vibes’ office, where he reported everything he experienced from receiving the initial call of the stranger telling about the Blue Heron Suite to the horrifying sounds from the same caller.

“Thank you,” said the officer from downtown, “Take this JW, blue label, but if you say anything about this case again, you will wish you hadn’t. You won’t work as a PI again, and you will incur a hospital bill.

Vibes said, “Warning me serves to show how dedicated of an officer you are to upholding law and order and keeping the peace.” Vibes, unobserved, reached under his desk and drew his pistol from its holder. “Put up your hands, or I’m about to save our penal system money.” The rebellious officer lunged at Vibes, who pulled the trigger three times. The cop fell to Vibes’ office floor dead. After the FBI completed their closing of the Blue Heron, Vibes went on his belated, by two months, vacation.