Page 34

THIRTY-THREE

They’ve been following Janice through the hotel for ages now, up flights of stairs and down marble hallways, past darkened conference rooms, until the crowds of tourists thin out and they are deep inside the hotel, walking quickly down a narrow hallway lined with gilded mirrors.

“Are we there yet?” Ray calls out, limping as he tries to catch up.

“You’re sure it’s way back here?” Alex asks as they weave around a row of potted palms. She is starting to get claustrophobic.

“This place is old-school, trust me. That’s why it’s called the Nest. They don’t want just anyone finding it,” Janice says without slowing her pace. “No interlopers. Or even worse, tourists. Ah-ha, this is the one,” she calls back to them victoriously. They follow her up a small marble staircase and turn one last corner before emerging finally into a domed atrium. She takes them through an elaborately carved wooden wall into a soaring stone barroom. At the entrance they stop, gaping at the grand room.

“Whoa,” Raymond says, taking in the human-sized granite fireplace that occupies nearly an entire wall. On the other end of the room a grand piano is being played by a man in a tuxedo. Between them is a long polished-mahogany bar, backed by a wall of windows through which the city lights glitter, blurred by hundreds of panes of beveled glass. There are only a few tables of people in the center. They sit in wingback club chairs, their drinks glowing warmly in front of them on small cocktail tables.

Alex has never seen anywhere like it. “I can’t believe this is inside a hotel.”

“Not so shabby, huh?” Janice says, obviously impressed with herself for finding it.

Raymond pulls on his jacket collar, straightening the front of his suit. He tries to seize control of the situation. “Listen, you two, we need a strategy. We get in. We get what we need. Then we get out.”

Janice isn’t paying attention. “Look, this is where my friend and I used to get the guys to order us drinks,” she says, twirling in front of the bar. “We had no money to drink those Sazeracs and martinis, you know, so we had to resort to flirting with the rich guys. And this is where the dance floor used to be. Otherwise, it really hasn’t changed much.”

“Okay, long enough stroll down memory lane for you?” Raymond says. “We need to focus, you two. We’re here on a mission.”

“We have to at least order a drink,” Alex says, eyeing a bright-green cocktail on one of the tables.

Janice nods. “Relax, Ray, it’s a bar. Doesn’t hurt to have a little fun while we’re here.” She pokes Alex in the ribcage and smiles conspiratorially. “How about a little ambience to set the mood? I’m going to see if that piano man takes requests.” She charges away, beelining to the piano, a pep in her step Alex can’t help but smile at.

“So, tell me what our main questions for this bartender are?”

“Okay, Ray. We need to find out what Howard was doing here before Francis died and who he was with.” They settle onto two empty barstools.

“Look, it’s like the Bluebird but with alcohol,” Alex jokes. But Raymond’s face is hard and vigilant, like he’s on the job. His eyes follow the bartender as he stirs a dark drink with a long silver spoon, straining it into a glass with a single cube of ice. He twists an orange rind into it, so fresh that Alex can smell the spray of oils from the peel. He passes it to a server waiting with a silver tray.

“Can I help you?” the bartender asks, handing each of them a card with a list of cocktails. Alex and Raymond exchange a look.

“I’ll have the Garden Gimlet,” Alex says, hoping for the green drink she saw earlier.

“I’ll do… ah… the…” Ray flips over the bar menu. “Where’s the beers on this thing?”

“He’ll do the Stubborn Old-Fashioned,” Alex reads from the menu. “Sound good?”

Raymond gives the bartender a nod and hands him the menu. “Smartass,” Raymond mutters. Alex shrugs. They watch the bartender mix their drinks.

“We’re here to see if you know anything about a guy,” Ray says. The bartender doesn’t look up as he pours a drink from a silver shaker through a strainer into a highball glass and finishes it with a sprig of rosemary.

“I wouldn’t tell you if I did. Bartender’s etiquette.” He says it amiably enough, but Alex detects a sharpness to his voice. It makes her realize that directly questioning him is going to get them nowhere.

“He probably doesn’t know him anyway,” Alex says to Raymond loudly enough for the bartender to hear.

“Sure he does, he sees everyone who comes in here.” Alex gives Raymond a meaningful look and he gets what she is trying to do. “You’re right,” he says, playing the part now. He leans back in his stool and turns toward her. “He wouldn’t know Howard Demetri.”

The bartender, who has been cutting the rind off a lemon with a paring knife, stops mid-slice. The tang of it hangs in the air as he gives them a long look.

“What name did you say?” He is acting different now, actually looking at them as he slides their finished drinks over the bar.

Raymond keeps his eyes on the man. “He was here the first week of October of last year. We think he was with a woman.”

“We were hoping you could tell us who it was and what they were doing,” Alex adds.

“Just one moment, please. Let me see what I can find out.” He disappears around the side of the bar. She looks at Raymond and shrugs.

“You think he’ll tell us?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know. There’s something off about him,” Raymond says.

“I agree.”

They sip their drinks. “How’s yours?” Alex asks.

“Tastes like the man stirred potpourri into a vat of Lysol,” he deadpans. Raymond looks more nervous than he has in the entire time she’s known him. He pulls a packet of Tums from his breast pocket and drops a few into his mouth. He chews noisily and washes them down with his cocktail.

“Well, that was a bummer,” Janice says, coming up behind them. “Can you believe it, he was offended? Said he doesn’t do Taylor Swift.” She shrugs. “Wouldn’t know a classic if it bit him in the ass. What’s going on here? Did we get what we need?”

“Not yet,” Raymond says, eyeballing the entrance. “And I got a bad feeling about it.”

The bartender comes out from around the back of the bar and they look up, watching as he is quickly followed by a giant cinder block of a man dressed in a black suit. As he moves toward them, Alex sees the wire loop around his ear.

“These are the patrons asking about some of our clientele,” the bartender says, raising his eyebrows at them. Raymond’s hand clenches on the edge of the bar. Alex is beginning to catch on. The larger man looms over them.

“What the hell is going on here?” Janice demands.

“Your friends have been overserved and need to leave.”

“Nah, these two haven’t had a drop. Look at them. They aren’t even dancing.”

The bartender leans forward onto the bar. “Why don’t I call you a cab,” he says firmly. His large forearms pulse on the bar between them.

“Back when Jimmy worked here, there is no way he would have let us get treated this way,” Janice tells him. Alex cringes as the man looks down at her.

“I don’t know a Jimmy, ma’am.” The other man is stone-faced. “Why don’t you all move along. Before I put in a call letting Mr. Demetri know you were here asking about him.” Alex’s mouth goes dry. She hadn’t considered the effect saying Howard’s name would have. She should have found a way to be more subtle.

“I will not. I have as much right to be here as anyone,” Raymond says.

Janice chimes in: “Yeah, this is a public place. We’ve done nothing wrong.” Janice’s finger comes down square in the center of the man’s giant chest. The man’s hand moves toward his belt and Raymond steps back, spreading his arms out in surrender.

“No need to escalate things. I see where you are coming from.”

“Let’s go,” Alex says. She feels the men’s eyes boring into her back as she leads Janice and Raymond from the barroom. The upbeat tinkle of piano music follows them as they flee down the hallway.

“I don’t remember this area,” Alex says as they come into a small square atrium, its walls covered in stark abstract paintings.

“We must have gotten turned around.” Janice stops and puts her finger to her lips, mumbling directions under her breath.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” Raymond says, uncomfortable.

“This looks right.” Janice points them into another corridor. This one is darker than the others, lined with hotel rooms. The runner is plush beneath their feet as they follow it right, then left.

Raymond stops, peers back into the quiet hallway. “Do you two not hear anyone else?” he says. “I swear we’re being tailed.”

“Let’s keep going,” Alex says, distracted by worries of the large barman calling her boss. They take another turn. A maid’s cart rolls into the hallway in front of them, blocking their path. They come to a sudden halt in front of it.

“Is that you, Ray?” A woman’s voice comes from behind a pile of little travel bottles, a stack of individually wrapped hotel soaps.

“It is you.” The woman is tiny and delicate. She is wearing a crisp red tunic and black pants, the uniform of Temple Hotel employees. “They said it was, but I didn’t believe it. I didn’t think you’d show your face here after everything.” She eyeballs Alex and Janice.

“Evelyn?” Raymond gasps. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

She holds a squeegee out in front of her. “Well, got to do a lot more work to support the family now. Thanks to you.”

Raymond stumbles backward, his trembling hands reaching back into space. Alex and Janice freeze, turning to watch the scene unfold.

“What’s going on, Ray?” Janice hisses. “An old friend of yours?”

The woman gestures at Alex and Janice with the squeegee. “Who are your friends? Do they know what you did to Armond, to our family?”

Raymond looks helpless. “Please. I need you to know I never meant any of that to happen.”

But she is having none of it. She advances on him. “Bullshit,” she says, her delicate face screwing up into a venomous rage. “You’re a disgrace.”

“I’m sorry, Evelyn.” Raymond’s voice is hoarse. “You know I loved him.”

She scoffs at this, waving the squeegee. The edge of it shakes in her hand as she points it toward the loose skin of his neck. “Then why did you let him die?” Her voice is a blade dropping through the air.

Raymond has gone pale. His mouth opens and closes. “Let’s get out of here,” he mutters, backing away.

“Oh yeah, run away. Just like you always do. You coward!” she shouts. He retreats, eyes watering as she bears down on him, a tiny woman with a squeegee but she has put the fear of God into Raymond. It is easy to see in his face. This doesn’t faze the woman, who continues toward him muttering what Alex is sure are obscenities under her breath. Alex and Janice watch dumbstruck as Raymond’s foot comes up against a potted palm, and he stumbles backward, his hands flailing, fingers grasping at the air behind him. He falls hard onto his back on the carpet.

“Raymond!” Alex yells, fearing she’s let this go on for too long. She dashes to her friend who is lying there, pale and winded, on the hallway carpeting.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Ray, come on. It’s okay,” Janice whispers as they pull Raymond to his feet.

Evelyn watches them, her face a mask of anger. She is over her outburst. Her tiny chest rises and falls. It reminds Alex of an injured bird’s. “Run away, you coward. That’s what you do best.”

Grief will make a person do desperate things, Alex thinks, watching the woman’s chin tremble. The loss of someone you love can transform you into something else entirely, someone you don’t even recognize.

“Don’t you come back here,” Evelyn yells at their backs. “You’re not welcome.”

They move through the maze of the hotel, Janice leading them into a large dark conference room. Raymond looks on the verge of tears. “How do I get out of this damn place?” he cries out.

“I don’t know, this is a different way than we came in.” Janice is doubled over from the exertion, her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Alex can feel them starting to unravel. She realizes that she has to seize control of the situation before everyone loses it.

“This way,” Alex says, spotting a fire door. She pushes through it, bringing them onto a metal stairwell. They clamber down it. Alex’s knees shake as they descend. Finally, they burst outside. They are in some kind of short alleyway, standing on the edge of a loading dock. They gulp in the hot nighttime air.

“Who was that?” Janice explodes as soon as they are on the street. But Raymond doesn’t stop to rest. Grunting with effort, he lowers himself off the edge, dropping down into the street. He takes off at a fast pace, stumbling away from the hotel as fast as he can. Janice and Alex leap onto the pavement behind him, scampering to keep up. He ducks onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel and walks quickly to the curb, glancing back anxiously at the hotel’s gleaming entrance. Alex glances back too. There is no sign that anyone’s followed them out.

“You okay, Ray?” she asks. In all these years, she’s never seen Raymond this out of sorts. She doesn’t ask him what she really wants to know, which is what happened to Armond.

Raymond doesn’t answer her. He steps off the curb, his hand shaking violently as he raises it out into traffic.