IN ROOM 33 (17 page)

"Was there? A woman?"

"A man says he wants to have sex with you and you want his life story. This a new approach?"

"Maybe the woman is interested and wants to know what she's getting into."

His face unreadable, he studied her for a long time. "What she'd be getting into would be a bed, where she'd have sex—as good as it gets, more sex—then a long good-bye kiss. You want that?"

"The word I used was 'interested,' not yes with a capital Y and an exclamation point." She took a giant mental step back, sorry she'd opened her mouth. There was something in the way he kept looking at her that told her to be cautious—with an exclamation point.

Silence, long crazy beats of silence.

His eyes hotly speculative, Wade raised an eyebrow. Trapped in his smooth, knowing gaze, Joy busied herself by flipping the flash drive between her hands, trying to think. Finally, she blew out a breath, and irritated, raised her eyes to meet his directly. She was no ingenue—why act like one? "Okay, I admit it. I've been thinking about it ever since I saw your sweet ass that first day in the Phil."

"The 'it' being sex? With me?"

She rolled her eyes.

He smiled as though he couldn't help himself, but it dropped off his face as fast as it appeared. "There's always a woman."

"And?"

"And she's my business, not yours."

Joy thought about her own past, her own painful mistakes—the responsibility she had for her mother, how much Wade would hate the idea of his efforts being to Lana's advantage. How much she needed his help. She stood. "You're right about that." She retraced her steps to the door. "And you're right about something else. You and I diving under the sheets would be a bad idea." She tossed a smile at him from over her shoulder, determined to lighten—and inject common sense into—what had to be a working relationship. "No matter how interested we are in each other's 'sweet asses'... Good night, Wade."

* * *

Wade's night was anything but good. His bed was a rack, pulling the lower half of his body into a sexual hell and the top half into ambition central. Neither arousal made him happy. His mind went from Joy to the Philip and the neat row of numbers he'd created to prove the viability of Joy's plan. He hadn't been smart; he should have walked away from this place the day the will was read. Who the hell was he kidding? Thinking he could stand by like a damn eunuch and watch the Phil be brought back—and him have no part in it.

For weeks he'd ignored Sinnie's harping, filled his days with mops and buckets, convinced himself he didn't give a damn. Enter Joy Cole with her crazy "possibilities." From there all it had taken was a computer spreadsheet, a bunch of "what if s," and a gust of fresh hope.

He swung his legs bedside, stuffed them into running shorts, and pulled a sleeveless tee over his head. Time to run a thousand miles, clear his head, and do some serious planning. He did his best thinking working up a sweat.

He went to the fridge and drank orange juice from the carton. About to put it back, he heard a thump on his door.

"Wade, you in there?" It was Sinnie.

She poked her head in.

Feeling grim, he forced a smile. "Hey, Sin. You're up early."

She eyed him. "And you look as if you've been run over by a truck. One of those big ones."

He stowed the orange juice. "Didn't sleep."

"Why not?"

"Too much noise in the alley. Must have been a dozen cats out there."

Sinnie made a clicking noise with her teeth. "You should marry the girl, you know. That way, you'd get your hotel back. And everything would be... over."

He blinked."Jesus, Sinnie!"

"Don't curse! And you'll be pleased to know I'm not here about your love life—or lack of it," she went on. "Old Henry's gone and a couple of people from six. The lot of them cleared out without so much as a by-your-leave." She plopped herself down at his table.

"And, you're telling me this because..." Wade ambled over to his coffee pot. Might as well make himself one, because it looked as if Sinnie was going to be here a while.

"Something's fishy. Henry wasn't feeling good, and he had a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I was taking him. He wouldn't have just left."

"I hate to break it to you, Sinnie, but there are a few people in this world who don't clear their decisions through you. Henry's probably gone out for a wa—"

"And I'm telling you, Mr. Wade Emerson, the man is gone." She pulled her chin back, and gave him her teacher look. "And the people from six? Same thing. Poof!"

"Poof?" Wade shook his head. He wanted to laugh—instead he smiled.

Sinnie shook a bony finger at him. "Don't you snicker at me." Her voice lowered and her expression tightened to a worried mask of well-used wrinkles when she added, "Something strange is going on here. Something
very
strange."

Wade stopped his coffee-making. Hell, why not humor her? He could use the distraction. "Okay, Sin, let's go take a look." Secretly he figured Henry had just got tired of Sinnie being on his back and gone on a bender. The couple on six? Probably skipping on the rent.

He and Sinnie stepped into the hall at the exact moment Joy opened her door. Wade sucked up his irritation, sent one of those male,
What the hell did I ever do to you, Lord?
prayers heavenward.

The woman looked like gold-plated sin.

She smiled at Sinnie, then said, "Wade, I was just coming to see you." She lifted the papers in her hand. "I have some questions."

"Is that them?" He gestured at the papers.

"Yes, I printed them out."

"Shove it under my door. I'll look at them when I come back."

Her eyes went all fiery. "Back from where?"

Sinnie piped up. "Something funny's going on 'round here. We've got ourselves some missing tenants. We're going to check. You can come along if you want."

"Missing tenants?" She looked alarmed. "What happened?"

"Most likely nothing, but Sinnie here"—Wade attempted to kill her with a look—"has concocted a conspiracy. Aliens, I think."

Sinnie glared. "You'll see."

"I think I will come along," Joy said, and gave him an I-dare-you-to-stop-me kind of look.

It was his turn to glare. "Fine. Let's go."

They went to Henry's room first. The door was unlocked—not unusual for Henry—so they walked in.

"See?" Sinnie said, but her tone was more worried than triumphant. "I told you it was strange."

Wade didn't answer, but he did take a good look around and Sinnie was dead right—it was strange. He bent to pick up a broken lamp and return the table it had sat on to an upright position. He went to the kitchen counter, much like his own. Someone had eaten a sandwich and left all the fixings out. Old Henry was a drunk, and he didn't have much, but what he had was always neat and clean. He kept his room trim. Navy training, he'd told Wade proudly. Wade checked the closet and bureau. Empty.

"What's goin' on?" Big Mike walked in.

Wade glared at him, but kept his curse in lockup. Did this asshole have a goddamn tracking system up his butt, or just a severe case of bad-penny syndrome?

Mike moved close to where Joy stood by the lamp table Wade had just righted and smiled down at her, a big, toothy smile that made Wade want to belt him. Joy quickly moved to the other side of the room.

"Something funny's up, that's what. Old Henry's gone," Sinnie said, her tone apprehensive.

"Yeah, I know. He left last night."

Wade swung around. "You talked to him?"

"Passed him in the hall. He said somethin' about goin' to his sister's place in Portland."

Wade turned to Sinnie. "Does he have a sister in Portland?"

"Yes. Doris." She looked confused. "Don't know her last name. Not sure Henry did. The man couldn't stand the woman. He'd never go there."

"All I know is what he said."

"What time was that?" Wade asked.

Mike appeared to think. "Ten o'clock. Maybe later. Not sure, exactly."

Wade looked at Sinnie. "Makes sense."

She stared at Mike as if he'd grown two heads, then turned the same look on Wade. "Makes no sense at all! I'm telling you, he wouldn't go there. And he sure wouldn't head for Portland in the middle of the night."

"Ten o'clock isn't the middle of the night," Wade reminded her.

"It is when you're seventy years old," she announced.

He couldn't argue with that. "Let's check out number six." He moved toward the door, and Sinnie and Mike fell in behind him.

"He left his suitcase," Joy said.

Wade shifted his gaze back to her. "What?"

She pointed at the shelf on the top closet. "Looks like a suitcase to me."

"Maybe he didn't need it," Mike said. "Man didn't have much of anything."

"He must have used something for his clothes. His bureau's empty." Sinnie looked at Mike as if his brain was leaking.

She was right, which didn't make Wade feel any better. "Let's check out six." he repeated. At the door, Wade eyed Mike. "You must have something better to do than follow us around."

"Can't think of nothin'."

Through gritted teeth, Wade reminded himself it was a free country.

Room 6 was in worse shape than Henry's place. Someone had trashed it. But no mystery here, just traces of white powder, burnt spoons, and hypodermics.

"Junkies," Mike announced the obvious. "Probably went out for more drugs and just didn't come back. Might yet." He picked up a spoon, sniffed. "Bad stuff. Real bad stuff."

Wade ignored him, looked around. Must have been one hell of a party, because there was enough drug paraphernalia for ten users.

"Tragic," Joy said, more to herself than anyone else in the room."Just damn tragic that people continue to kill themselves this way."

"Did you know them?" Wade asked Sinnie.

"Sort of." She looked uncomfortable.

He waited.

"Her name was Marianne and the fellow's name was Bruce. Cherry was working with them, trying to get them into one of those addiction programs."

"Maybe that's why they bolted."

"Maybe," Sinnie conceded. "But Cherry's going to feel really bad about this."

Wade looked around the dirty, chaotic room in disgust, caught the trace of a smirk on Mike's face. "Now that we're satisfied"—he looked at Sinnie and quoted—"there's nothing
'funny'
going on other than everyday life at the celebrated Hotel Philip, let's get out of here." Mad as hell, he strode toward the door. He hated this aspect of the Phil, the decay and relentless deterioration that made it a home of last resort for people whose next stop was the street. They deserved better and so did the Phil. He shut down his thoughts. Not his hotel, he reminded himself. Not his problem. But after last night, he found shutting down harder to pull off. "I'll come back later and clean the place up," he said, his voice brusque.

"Why bother?" Joy said and followed him into the hall along with Mike and Sin. She lifted the sheaf of papers in her hand. "If this works out, we'll have a cleanup crew in here next month. Leave it for them."

All eyes turned to Joy. Sinnie's set on her fast and hard. But before Wade could stop her, Joy went on. "In six to eight months, the Hotel Philip could be completely renovated with people lined up at the registration desk, and—"

"Joy."
Wade snapped out the word. This wasn't the way to let people know their homes were about to be decorated and rented out from under them.

Joy's gaze shot to Sinnie's face, then to Mike's. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

Sinnie looked as if she'd been punched; it was the first time Wade had seen her at a loss for words. Mike looked thoughtful, which made him look as if he were lifting boulders in a rock quarry. Wade didn't give a damn about Mike, but he did about Sinnie. And he didn't like to see her with that panicky look on her face.

"I'm
so
sorry, Sinnie," Joy said again. "I didn't mean to blurt things out like that. Nothing's for sure yet. But it's only fair you know I'm thinking about reopening the Phil. As a hotel. But if it happens," she said, touching Sinnie's arm, "you'll be welcome to stay on, if that's what you want. If you don't, I'll help you find a place you like and pay the rent for a year."

"What about everyone else?"

"I'll offer the same arrangement to anyone who's made their home at the Phil for over five years."

Sinnie said nothing, still dumbstruck.

"It will work, Sin," Wade said, relieved Joy had opted for his recommendations on the tenants.

"This your idea, Wade?"

Joy answered, "Yes, it was Wade's idea—and a good one."

Sinnie shot a nervous glance in Joy's direction. "So you're really thinking of operating this old place as a hotel again?"

"Yes."

"Where you going to get the money?" Trust Sinnie to be direct.

Joy glanced at Wade—he could have sworn she looked guilty—then said, "I've got the money, or at least most of it."