Haunting at the Oneida - Part 1 - Ghost Stories

I don’t believe in ghosts, nor do I believe in anything that falls under the heading of either the paranormal or the supernatural. Let’s get that out upfront. But that’s not to say I’m not intrigued by the case a new client brought to my office on Thursday.

The client is named Reginald, and he works for a five-star hotel located in midtown, which we’ll call the Hotel Oneida. The is one of those historical New York institutions that everyone is familiar with. The Oneida has been in business since the 1800’s, and thus has a great amount of history and romanticism attached to it. During prohibition, for example, the hotel secretly operated the most elegant “speak-easy” in New York for its rather wealthy clientele. Every U.S. president has stayed in the hotel at least once since 1860. The roof has an enormous pool which has an unrivaled view of the New York cityscape. Its reputation is among the highest in the city.

And, like almost every major hotel in any major city, the Hotel Oneida supposedly has a ghost. Or several ghosts, depending on which legend you choose to believe. In 1942, a daughter shot both her parents in their room after they prevented her from marrying a boy who didn’t live up to their financial standards. In 1875, a man drowned his wife in the bathroom tub, then threw her body out the window to try to pass it off as a suicide. In 1950, a man hung himself from a chandelier in the grand ballroom. None of this is very unusual, of course. If you imagine owning a hotel that houses countless guests per year, it’s only mathematically logical to expect some amount of tragedy to occur over time.

These stories, of course, give rise to legends of ghosts that supposedly continue to walk the hallways. And again, this is to be expected in any major hotel. Strange occurrences like showers turning on without warning or flushing toilets often go unexplained by the management and ultimately wind up as part of the mythology of these buildings. And to some extent, I think any good manager would encourage it. Because at the end of the day, there are no ghosts, and everyone knows that (i.e. they’re not losing business). But a nice romantic or spooky ghost story to talk about before you go to sleep gives a certain amount of character and intrigue to any hotel.

But things have changed. The hotel recently switched hands, and a new manager, Reginald, was brought on board. Reginald is a tall, skinny man in his 50’s. He is almost completely bald, and his brow hangs far out over his nose. He’s originally from England, and has clearly adopted an accent of the highest class. He’s not outwardly snooty, but then again, it’d be almost impossible to say that he’s not snooty either.

His transition into his new position was not an easy one. Many resented the new ownership of the hotel, and resented it even more when a series of firings left a number of long-standing employees without a job. Reginald claims he was not fully behind the lay-offs, but was merely acting for people higher up. Of course, as manager, he takes all the blame, and he’s already detecting a cold attitude from almost all his staff. That, he says he can deal with.

But something else is going on, and guests seem to be pointing fingers at the supernatural. He has received numerous complaints over the past two weeks of various unexplained phenomena. Incredibly loud banging will be heard on bedroom doors in the middle of the night, yet when the guests open them, the hallway will be completely empty. Sink taps will start running without warning, then stop just as suddenly. Footsteps and laughter are heard in adjoining rooms that are supposedly empty. And last week, a woman claims to have opened her closet door to see a man hanged from a rope staring back at her. The man vanished, she claims, but it was too much for her. She checked out immediately.

I’m much more likely to believe in whacko guests than I am to believe in ghosts, and so is Reginald. Regardless, the disturbances are clearly real at this point, and Reginald considers them to be harassment of his customers, most likely by former employees who still have access to the building. He wants it to stop right now, which is why he’s hiring me. The house dick they originally had on staff was one of the many laid off recently, and despite Reginald’s begging, he wouldn’t come on to help with the problem. I know the guy very well, and will probably still be able to get some help out of him on my own.

In the meantime, Reginald has asked that I stay in the hotel for the weekend and keep a constant eye on exactly what’s going on. All expenses paid, of course, and on top of my regular salary. And in the end, ghosts or no ghosts, you always say yes to a free vacation.

If the hotel has internet, I’ll see if I can post sometime this weekend. If not, I’ll try to have something on Monday. I’ve gotta pack a bag now.

Chinatown - Part 7 - Dirt On Tanaka

I apologize for the delay in updating, but getting dirt on someone that can be used for blackmail purposes can take weeks, or even months if the person is cautious enough. I needed something on Tanaka that could be effectively used by Saito to keep him from hurting Natalie, but it quickly became apparent that he keeps whatever hidden secret side he has very hidden and very secret.

The weekend didn’t yield anything. On Saturday, Tanaka and his wife went out together, spent the day walking around Central Park, had dinner downtown, and returned home early. On Sunday, Tanaka went out to lunch with a few respectable-looking guys in suits, then walked around alone for a while. He got back to his building in the evening and didn’t come out again.

Monday – Tanaka went to work early in the morning. He didn’t leave his office until around 7pm at night, after which he went straight home and didn’t come out.

Tuesday – same as Monday. I called Tanaka to let him know I had uncovered some leads on the case, and that I’d have the tape to him in no time. I also called Ruby to give her the same bullshit.

Today (Wednesday) – Paydirt. After going to work, Tanaka left the office at the uncharacteristic time of 4:00PM. He got in a taxi, and I followed after him in my car. The taxi took him to a small but elegant hotel in the Village. He went inside. I grabbed my suitcase of goodies and followed after, though made sure to keep my distance.

The deal with getting around in hotels is that you have to look like you’re staying there without any hesitation. If you walk in and stare around nervously, you look like you don’t belong and they’ll ask you your business. If you stride in like a tourist whose left his subway map in his room (preferably with a key dangling in hand) and go right up the elevator, no one will get in your way. This is exactly what I did.

Tanaka had taken the elevator to the third floor, and I did the same. The hallway was quiet. I took out my sound amplifier and quickly walked up the hall listening for the sounds of humans mating. None doing. Clearly, the girl wasn’t here yet. I readied a very small digital video camera that fits in the palm of my hand for her big arrival, then pretended like I was trying to decide which candy to buy from the vending machine. There was a hotel security camera above me in the corner, and I made sure to stay as far outside of its reach as possible.

About ten minutes later, the elevator binged its arrival, and the doors opened. I continued to inspect the candy options as if the cure for cancer was hidden somewhere between the Butterfingers and bags of Doritos. The person exited, and I slowly looked to the side, then looked away as fast as humanly possible.

It was Ruby.

In retrospect, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it. Sure, she had an ad in the Adult Bodywork section of the Voice, but that could have been planted. Then again, it looks like Tanaka was going for authenticity. And what better way to get it than with a whore you've worked with before?

She walked down the hall towards me, and if she had suddenly gotten the urge for M&M’s, it would’ve all been over. She didn’t though, and went to the door behind me to the left. She knocked a few times and said “housekeeping” in a voice that suggested she was a hotel cleaning lady who worked overtime as a phone sex operator. The door opened, Tanaka appeared, and the two did a whole bunch of tongue wrestling while I got it all down on video.

Suddenly she slapped him across the face. “Naughty boy,” she said. “I didn’t tell you you could touch me yet.” I expected him to kill her for this, but he went all apologetic.

“I’m sorry!” he said like a little kid who knows he’s been bad and is trying to get out of the worst spanking of his life. “I’m so sorry!”

“Not half as sorry as you’re going to be,” she said in that same sultry voice, and pushed Tanaka into the hotel room. The door slammed shut.

What I had on video at this point was good but not enough. I had to get into the room beside them. Problem was, the hotel security camera was staring down at me. Lock-picking was clearly out. I turned on my cell-phone and put in a call to the desk. I told them I was in a random room on 3, and that I needed an extra pillow. They assured me that someone would be up promptly. While I waited, I wadded up a few pages from my notepad into a tight ball.

Soon after, a maid arrived and went to the closet to get a pillow. I stood in front of the door of the room next to Tanaka’s and called to her.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I just checked out, and I think I left my watch in the room.”

“We already cleaned there,” she told me.

“I think it dropped behind the bed.”

She looked at me skeptically. “Fine then,” she said. She opened the door and went inside. As I followed after, I jammed the wadded up ball of paper into the lock cavity. She didn’t notice. Then I did a little acting routine, pretended to find my watch under the bed, thanked her for her time, let her exit first, then shut the door behind me. She went to deliver the pillow, and I hid in the stairwell. After a few moments of knocking and getting no reply, she took the elevator down. I went back up and simply pushed the door open to the room beside Tanaka’s, went inside, and locked it behind me.

I didn’t need any sound amplification to know that Tanaka and Ruby were going at it hard. I started a tape recorder to pick up the delightfully naughty reprimands Ruby was yelling (“You’re a bad boy! Now I’m punishing you!”), while Tanaka just moaned.

I went to the window, opened it, and saw that theirs was open as well. Finally a break. I put together my snake camera (a very small video camera head mounted on a long wire) and carefully looped it around the corner and in through their window, letting it rest on the sill. No way in hell they’d notice in the middle of what they were doing. I plugged it into the IN on my video camera and began recording.

Tanaka was on all fours on the bed. Ruby was behind him wearing a strap-on dildo and giving it to him up the ass, with an occasional spanking or two.

This was like striking oil.

I got about five minutes of this down on video, then packed up shop and split. I returned to my office, made a few copies of the tape, then dropped one off with a friend I trust and another in my bank deposit box. There are certain pieces of evidence that should be duplicated and distributed for understandable safety measures. I dropped off my last copy to Saito, who was most pleased to get it. He paid me my standard fee, plus a large bonus for successful completion of the job, plus something extra for loyalty and the fact that I was going against my initial clients. Very generous guy, Saito.

I finished off the day by calling Tanaka and reporting that I would no longer be able to help him in his particular case. I said that it had become clear that Natalie was long gone, and that I doubted if she – or the video – would ever be found. He was clearly upset, but gave me his credit card number and authorized me to bill him for the services we agreed on. I did, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to cancel it later. I did the same for Ruby, and she said she would get back to me regarding the payment. Yeah, right.

As you might be able to tell, I’m a big fan of using blackmail against blackmailers. I find it solves problems a lot better than simply outing the initial blackmailer. It puts everyone on an equal playing field and forces them to follow the flawless Do Unto Others maxim (though let’s all be a little careful about this; I’d be out of a job if everyone took the Golden Rule to heart).

I’m waiting for an angry call from Tanaka or Ruby (hell, maybe she’ll try to spank me) but it hasn’t come yet. Otherwise, it’s time to deal with other cases. I’ve been putting off new client appointments until Thursday, so maybe something new and intriguing will come along. My secretary keeps telling me she thinks it would be cute if I said that Sammy says “meow” to you all, or something. I, on the other hand, don’t think it would be cute at all, and am thinking of lowering her hourly wages. Now that would be cute.