Chapter 1106 Doctor and Drug Lord

In the end, Cassel was unable to eat the roast duck he had been longing for. It was still the Chinese takeaway from Chinatown that took on the responsibility of midnight snack, but Jack promised to make it for him once in the future.

The Wolfe brothers' farm raised a group of Cherry Valley ducks, which were a breed bred from Peking ducks and Ellisbury ducks by a British company called "Cherry Valley Farm".

This duck has a higher lean meat rate than traditional Peking ducks and grows faster. Nowadays, most of the roast ducks eaten by Seres are actually made from Cherry Valley ducks.

Barbecued pork wrapped with lettuce and crepes can be regarded as an alternative shawarma. The taste of pork trotter rice is as popular as ever. Cassel, who did not eat roast duck, grabbed a roast pigeon and ate it with relish.

When Esposito, who came late, stepped out of the elevator and smelled the aroma of roast meat that spread throughout the office, he subconsciously covered his rumbling stomach.

"Where have you been?" Beckett asked casually while biting a burrito and reading documents.

"Drink coffee." Esposito took the beef dumplings handed to him by Jack, put them under his nose and took a deep breath.

Kevin was already wiping his mouth with a tissue, and was a little surprised to hear his answer, "Drinking coffee took the whole afternoon and half the night?"

Esposito glared at him unhappily, "I found the coffee shop that Dr. Monroe went to almost every day, right next to the Faircloth Hotel.

I showed her photo to the hotel manager, and then learned that our victim would come to the hotel almost every Monday to Friday night and stay overnight in a long-term rental suite."

Jack felt that things were becoming more and more interesting. The Faircloth Hotel was not a cheap motel. Even if it was a long-term rental suite, the monthly cost would be more than 50,000 US dollars.

"No, the person renting the suite was not a doctor, but Caesar Calderon." Esposito turned on his computer and retrieved a document.

Hearing the name, Cassel jumped up from his seat as if his butt was equipped with springs, "Is it that Calderon?"

"Do you know him?" Jack was startled by this guy and threw a pack of wet tissues to him to signal him to wipe his greasy paws clean.

"Calderon was a famous drug lord in Colombia in the 1990s, nicknamed 'Devil'. Although he is not as famous as 'Medellin' and 'Shorty Guzman', he is definitely notorious.

I have looked up some of his information for material. I heard that he has been living in seclusion in New York since he spent a lot of money to get rid of the wanted list of the Colombian authorities."

Cassel's expression can be described as flying with joy, and his face is full of gossip.

"The beautiful doctor and the drug lord have a secret meeting late at night, and the angel who cures and saves lives spends a good night with the devil who sells evil"

Someone's mental excitement lasted until the next morning. When the three of them walked into the elevator to the high-rise suite of the Fairclos Hotel, Cassel was still chattering non-stop.

"A well-known criminal lives in a secret suite in a high-end hotel, very much like Al Capone."

Jack resisted the urge to kick him out of the elevator, pressed the elevator button to the 26th floor, and asked the long-legged beauty beside him who was also speechless, "What do you think of this story about the doctor and the drug lord?"

"I don't know, but injecting air into the victim's neck doesn't seem like a murder method for a big drug lord." Beckett looked thoughtful.

Cassell raised a finger and said mysteriously, "Unless Calderon deliberately wanted to cover up and turn suspicion to hospital employees to prevent the body from being discovered."

"Bad review, the plot is too stiff." Jack's ruthless contempt made Cassel's face fall, and he looked at the beautiful detective pitifully.

Beckett forced himself to ignore Cassel's funny expression, "I just don't understand why a respected doctor would be willing to get involved with a notorious drug lord."

"This is part of the best explanation." Cassel boasted again, "Women don't love bad men."

Jack and Beckett didn't object to this.

The elevator door opened with a ding, and three people left the elevator and stepped into the corridor. Jack looked down at the carpet, which was dark red.

The high-end hotel with a price of $1,600 a night has a very luxurious decoration style, with gold and red as the main colors, making people feel as if they are in a palace.

Cassel continued to indulge in his creative inspiration, "'Devil' Caesar Calderon, a super villain, who knows what kind of person we are about to step into."

While reciting the narration in an aria, he did not forget to help Beckett press the doorbell very gentlemanly, and then continued.

".Twisted, corrupt, evil world."

"Do you need me to lend you a pistol to boost your courage?" Jack lifted his coat to reveal his SIG Sauer sidearm, successfully interrupting the guy's chatter.

Just at this moment, the door opened, and a Latino man in his forties with ordinary looks appeared at the door, looking at everyone with vigilance, his eyes just fell on the sidearm and police badge on Jack's waist.

Caesar Calderon should be more than 60 years old this year. This man obviously does not meet the description in the information, so Jack introduced himself first.

"Hello, sir, I am Agent Jack Tavoler, this is Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD, and Richard Cassel, we are here to find Caesar Calderon and want to talk to him."

The middle-aged Latino man put away his alert face and forced a smile, "I'm sorry, but I think you've walked into the wrong room. I haven't heard of Caesar."

If his smile was more sincere, Jack might believe it and take another look at the room number, or suspect that the hotel manager gave the wrong information.

However, someone has never had much patience for drug dealers. If it weren't for the fact that he was playing the crime-solving game with Cassel and relaxing at the same time, even if the so-called "devil" Caesar Calderon is now living in New York with a legal identity, he wouldn't mind visiting at another time and with a different identity.

Just as Jack's face sank and he narrowed his eyes dangerously and was about to attack, a man's voice with a heavy Spanish accent came from the room behind the middle-aged Latino man.

"Richard Cassel? Is it the famous writer, Richard Cassel?"

The voice was a little weak, indicating that the owner of the voice was not in good physical condition, but it had a tone of being in a superior position for a long time, like someone who was used to giving orders.

"Let them in, Manolo, let them in."

Cassell's smug smile was harder to suppress than AK, and his expression was exactly the same as that of a certain commander who dodged bullets by shaking his head and successfully returned as a king.