Other People's Baggage (4 page)

MIDNIGHT ICE: SEVEN

  

“And what about the other man? How is he involved?” I asked tentatively.

“That's where I'm stumped. I ran the name you gave me, ‘Brad Turlington,' through the hotel reservations and there's no record of him.”

“You were talking to him at the bar while I was waiting. It was you, and him and two other guys. You were arguing.”

“I was at the bar, yes. A couple of guys were talking baseball. Things got heated. Those two guys know me as the concierge. As long as I'm here, I have to treat every person who I see like a guest, for the sake of the hotel. Are you sure you didn't make a mistake?”

I had been sure. As sure as I'd been the man sitting in front of me was involved in something crooked, as sure as I'd been the men above me were out to kidnap me. I'd been as sure as when I'd thought I had the suitcase of a cross-dresser from Dallas, and as sure as I'd been months ago when I thought I had everything I'd ever needed out of life.

I wanted to believe I hadn't seen Brad. I wanted to believe I'd left him behind when I left Pennsylvania, that I'd moved on.

“Madison, look at me.”

I looked up from my hands to the face of the security manager. The sun had etched lines of maturity into his face, but his ruddy complexion lent him a youthful appearance.

“Madison, why did you react the way you did? When I came into your room. Like you were fighting for your life?”

“Because I am,” I said. I stared behind him at the bright white baseboard that joined the textured wheat wallpaper to the muted tones of the carpet. A soft ivory, or better yet, a taupe would have been better complement to the décor.

I shut my eyes, blocking out the decorator's instinct to improve the room and thought about my actions. When I opened my eyes, I looked Jack in the eyes.

“This trip was meant as a way for me to get away from what's going on in my life right now.” Or not going on, as the case may be. “I need a fresh start, but before I can look forward I have to shake this feeling that another shoe is about to drop.”

“You had a bad scare. Anybody would have reacted the way you did. I'm going to keep looking out for you because that's my job, but I have to tell you I don't know anything about this third man. As far as I can tell, there's only the two of them, and nobody followed you here, from Dallas or from Pennsylvania. Can you believe that?”

“I guess I have to.”

“I think you should stay in for the rest of the night,” he said.

“I will. Wait, where's my dinner?”

“What dinner?”

“I called for room service. You even said you had it. Before I opened the door.”

“I did, didn't I?” he turned around and looked at the door, then scratched his head. “After we talked, I asked the front desk and the operator to let me know if you made or received any calls. They told me you called in a dinner order. I figured you might freak out when you saw who I was, so I used that to get you to the door.”

“So where's my food?”

“They didn't have an order. I figured you changed your mind.” He looked at the clock behind him. “But it's late, the kitchen's closed now. I don't know what happened to your food, but how about I get you something from town? You like pizza?”

“You don't have to do that,” I said, only half-meaning it.

“Then let the hotel pick up your breakfast tomorrow morning. Give your name to the restaurant hostess and she'll take care of the bill.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

“You don't happen to keep spare pets around the hotel, do you?” I asked.

“You know, it's not a bad idea. Maybe I should suggest it to Ms. Day.” He smiled warmly.

I stood and walked him to the door.

“Good night, Madison. Try to get some sleep. I'll check on you tomorrow.”

He opened the door to my room and stepped into the hallway, nearly tripping over a room service tray on the carpet in front of the door.

“What the—?”

“I didn't hear a knock. Did you hear a knock?” I asked.

His face clouded. “No, I didn't hear a knock.” He bent down and picked up the tray, then carried it past me into the room. “Where do you want it?”

“Bed's fine.”

He set the tray on the bed. A silver dome covered a plate that sat on the center of a white doily-like mat. Tucked under the plate was a white envelope. Jack picked up the envelope, tapped it twice on the edge of the tray, and held it up. “Dinner's on me.”

“I ordered a lot of food. You might want to look at the bill before you make that kind of offer.”

He raised an eyebrow then made a showing of peeking into the envelope. Within moments the humor left his face, replaced with a creased forehead and a downturned mouth.

“I was kidding. I ordered a Cobb Salad. How much could that be?” I asked, straining forward to see the bill.

He looked up and stared at me for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Jack? What is it?”

“Nothing.” He slid the envelope into the back pocket of his pants. “Stay put tonight, Madison. And make sure you lock the door.”

An uneasiness swept over me, like the chill that shudders through your body seconds after biting into ice. I started to shut the door and the phone rang. Before the latch connected on the door, Jack pushed back inside.

“Does anybody know your room number?” he asked.

“I don't think so.”

“Then pick up the receiver. but don't say anything.”

The shrill ringing continued in the background. “Won't it be better to let it ring?”

“No.”

On his instructions, I picked up the receiver and held it to my head. The line crackled. Jack stood next to me, and I angled the device so it pointed to the ceiling, so we both had a chance at hearing. He held a finger up to his mouth to remind me to be quiet.

“That wasn't very bright, skipping out on us tonight,” said a male voice. “Don't try to hide. We're watching you.” The line cracked a bit more, and then there was a click.

“They know I was at the bar, that I saw them and left. I don't like this,” I said.

“I don't think that message was for you.” Jack dialed zero on the phone and spoke into the receiver. “Hi Sophie, this is Mr. Jordan. A call came in to 319 just now. What can you tell me about it?”

I heard a tinny voice through the receiver, picking out only the occasional word. “Ms. Night wants privacy for the rest of the night. If anybody rings her room, either get a message or forward it to my room. Is that clear?”

He hung up the receiver. “Madison, I don't know what to tell you. Our operator asked someone to cover the booth while she stepped out for a break so she doesn't know anything about the call—if it came from inside the hotel our outside. I know you're worried, but you won't be interrupted again. Can I do anything else to make you more comfortable?”

“I don't suppose you'd be willing to share a room with me tonight, would you?” I said, not quite believing the words coming out of my mouth. Too many unexpected things had happened since I'd arrived in Carmel, and I didn't want to be alone. “There are two beds, after all.” I felt my face go hot. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I don't know what came over me,” I added.

He blushed. “It's okay. Under the circumstances, I'm surprised it took so long for you to ask. And even though I can appreciate the request, I have to decline. There's someone at home waiting for me.”

This time the blush crept over my face, and didn't leave until well after I locked the door behind him.

After Jack left, I wandered to the room service tray and looked under the silver dome. My appetite was no longer an issue. I put the dome back on top of the plate and moved it back into the hall, then hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door and put the chain in place. I changed out of the maxi skirt and crawled into the bed in my underwear.

  

I awoke in the middle of the night. The room was a cocoon of darkness and the only sound was that of pacing over my head. Someone above me was very much awake. The clock read three-thirty. There were too many hours between now and dawn for me to consider anything other than staying put safely under the covers.

I thought about what Jack had said earlier. He checked out the people I thought I'd seen, and Brad hadn't been one of them. Was it possible I was so desperate to believe he'd follow me that I was seeing him in places where he wasn't? And if so, how long until the memory of him faded and I could go on with my life, life as Madison Night, single forty-something? I'd heard statistics about single women in their forties, statistics more in favor of lightning striking than finding a relationship. I didn't want a relationship anymore. I'd figure out a way to get everything I wanted out of life and I'd do it all for me. Who knows? When I figured out where I wanted to live, maybe I'd even get a dog
.

The footsteps over my head continued in a random cycle. I pictured someone crossing the room, stopping to look out the window, then crossing back. That's it, I realized. Whatever it is they're looking for out their window, maybe I'll see it, too. I pushed the covers back and eased myself onto the floor, then quietly hobbled to the curtains and the magnificent view I'd been ignoring.

Earlier, before I'd considered that there was a threat to my presence, I'd stood on the balcony and stared at the view. The dark blue water had crashed against the rocky Monterey cliffs in the distance while the sun cast shimmering highlights over the beach, the sand, the horizon, and the ocean. But now, in the middle of the night, I saw none of that. What I saw was a flickering light, flashing at equally repeated intervals, from the sidewalk half a block from the hotel. Flash-Flash-Flash. Pause. Flash Flash Flash. Pause. I strained my eyes to make out the figure with the light, but I couldn't. Aside from the light, there was nothing decipherable about the scene.

The phone jangled a tortured ring. I jumped. My heart pounded in my chest and adrenaline shot through my arms and legs. I stared at the machine on the table between the beds. Jack had given instructions not to allow any calls into my room. Was this a call for me that had been screened?

I gripped the long curtains and stared at the phone, wishing for a sign. After twelve rings, the phone stopped. I crawled across the bed, closer to the windows, and sat next to the phone, waiting. When it started ringing a second time, I was equally scared. I picked up the receiver after one ring and held it to my head, not saying a word.

“You saw the signal. Now it's time for us to see the pretty lady,” said a low voice. “You have fifteen minutes.” The line disconnected.

I didn't know how to reach Jack. I sat on the bed, considering my options for about forty-five seconds. When nothing else came to mind, I dialed the operator.

“Good evening, Ms. Night,” said a female voice.

“Hi, is there a way to get a message to Mr. Jordan?” I asked in a hushed voice. I kept one hand cupped around the receiver so my voice wouldn't carry.

“Ms. Night? I think there's a problem with our connection. I can barely hear you,” said the woman.

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Jordan left instructions for you to keep calls from coming through to my room, but one just did. I need to talk to him to tell him what the caller said. I know it's late, but is there a way to reach him? An emergency number?”

“Ms. Night, Mr. Jordan gave me no such instruction.”

“Yes he did. I was sitting right next to him when he told you.”

“I'm sorry, Ms. Night, but I don't know what you're talking about. Jack Jordan left no such instruction. In fact, I haven't spoken to Mr. Jordan since he returned from his vacation last week.”

MIDNIGHT ICE: EIGHT

  

“Is this Sophie?”

“Sophie who?”

“Sophie the operator. Mr. Jordan called the operator ‘Sophie' earlier.”

“Ms. Night, we don't have an operator named Sophie. Are you okay?”

“No, I'm not. I'm coming to the lobby.”

“Ms. Night—” the operator started, but I set the receiver back into the cradle before letting her finish her thought.

It was a few minutes after four. The sun wouldn't be up for another hour or so, but I wasn't comfortable staying in my room. Something was happening, something that had to do with me, and I wasn't going to stick around to let it happen. I knew my injured knee would hinder any chance of leaving the hotel, but the idea of staying was worse than that of trying to get away.

I wrapped my knee, redressed in the maxi skirt, and pulled the Dodgers t-shirt over my head. I slicked my hair back with hotel moisturizer, stepped back into my sneakers, grabbed my crutches, and locked the door behind me.

The hallways were empty. I winced every time the crutches made a sound, but made it to the elevators and traveled down to the ground level. It took longer than I'd thought to move to the lobby of the hotel. I hid behind a column and leaned forward, looking at the concierge desk. The first place I'd seen Jack Jordan had been at that concierge desk and I hoped, desperately, he wasn't there again. A woman in a white shirt, thin black neck tie, and black blazer stood behind the desk tapping keys on the hidden keyboard. Her hair was parted on the side and slicked back into a tight bun she wore at the nape of her neck. Her nametag said Kitty. Other than a thick coat of scarlet red color on her lips, her face appeared un-made-up.

Slowly, I approached her.

She looked up and smiled.

“Good morning,” she said in a cheerful voice. “Or at least it will be morning soon, I guess.”

“Good morning. Can you tell me what time the sun comes up?”

“Yes I can,” she said with a smile. She waited a beat for me to acknowledge that technically she'd answered my question, but I wasn't in the mood for jokes.

“What time?” I prompted.

She leaned forward over the surface of the concierge desk and looked at the door, then pulled herself back and looked at her watch. “You'll see a glow in about ten minutes. Everything turns kind of an orangey-gold. You'll see the sun shortly after that, maybe fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. In forty-five it'll will be hard for our guests to sleep if they didn't shut their curtains.”

“Thank you,” I said, starting toward the door.

“It's still pretty dark out. Would you like a flashlight?”

I turned back to her, poised atop the crutches. “I don't know if I can maneuver these and hold a flashlight, too.”

“Where are you going?”

“I'm an early bird. I thought I'd go to the beach, sit on one of the rocks by the road, and listen to the waves.”

“I broke my leg last year and was on crutches for a solid three months. It's a bitch getting down the slope of Ocean Avenue with them. Hold on.”

She disappeared behind a door to the left of her. I tapped my fingers on the marble counter, eager for her to return. I didn't know what kind of time I had but I didn't think I had much.

From farther inside the hotel I heard a soft ding. The elevator. I quickly grabbed the crutches and moved to a yellow gingham sofa. I propped the crutches behind another column, out of sight. I reclined, pulling the fabric of the maxi skirt around my legs. I rolled into the back of the sofa and hoped I looked like someone who had chosen not to sleep in their room.

“Where is she?” asked a familiar voice. It was same man who had cornered me in front of the drug store before Jack Jordan had come to my rescue, before Jack Jordan turned out to be not who he'd seemed. It was Louis.

“She was here a second ago,” said Kitty.

I curled back into a ball on the sofa but kept my head raised so I could hear their conversation.

“Did you see which way she went?”

An awkward silence followed. My mind pictured a thousand permutations of what was going on. I imagined the man seeing the crutches I'd stashed behind the column and coming over to me, to do—do do what I didn't know, only, I was convinced it wasn't going to be good.

“She said she was going to the ocean.”

“At this hour?” Louis asked. “Sounds suspicious.”

“That's what I thought. I said I was getting her a flashlight but she must have left without it.”

“Tell you what, Kitty, I'll look for her. The ocean, you said?”

“That's what she said.”

I waited on the sofa, considering my options. I could go back to my room, or I could follow Louis, the man from the elevators. After the front door to the hotel shut, I stood and flexed my legs individually, then spied a small flat rectangle on the lobby floor. A room key tucked into a paper sleeve. I felt my pockets for my own key. It was where I'd tucked it, in the pocket of the skirt.

I bent down to pick up the keycard when Kitty called out to me. “There you are!”

“I had to go back to my room for something, but I must have dropped my key.” I flipped the sleeve over. The number 419 was written on the back. I looked at the front doors, then quickly looked back down at the keycard. Louis had dropped this.

“Looks like the sun is starting to come up. I won't need that flashlight after all.” A cloudy plan formed in my mind. I made a show of fussing with my crutches and hobbling out the front door, then tossed them by the flower beds that decorated the walk up entrance to the hotel. Adrenaline coursed through my body and eliminated any pain that had been there days earlier. In the dark, I moved to the side of the hotel and reentered through another door.

I picked up the receiver on the hotel phone that sat next to the ugly lamp on the marble table across from the elevators. I dialed 419. I counted at least ten rings, a good indication that the room was empty. With one hand on the wall, I moved through the hallway to the elevator, then hit the button for the third floor. A plan had formed, but first I needed to better my disguise.

In my room, I emptied a packet of instant coffee into a hotel glass and added enough of the serum from Elli Lisbon's overnight kit to make a paste with my fingers. I raked the resulting brown glop through my hair, temporarily turning myself from a blonde to a brunette. Next I swept my face generously with bronzer, then changed from the bandana printed skirt into a pair of white linen drawstring-waist pants, the faded Dodgers t-shirt, and a dark brown cowboy hat. I looked at myself one last time and was shocked by the stranger in the mirror.

I dialed 419 and heard the ringing phone through the ceiling. Five rings, then six, then seven. When I hit double digits, I knew no one would answer. I left the room and returned to the elevator, riding up one floor. I followed the same path I'd been following to get to my room one floor below, took three quick breaths to pump up my courage, and shoved the keycard into the door. I held my own key in the opposite hand, prepared with a cover story if anyone were to discover me. Nobody did.

The light outside the door turned to a bright lime green. Quietly, I turned the brushed chrome handle and pushed the door inside, then closed the door behind me. I waited for a couple of seconds to make sure I was indeed alone, then moved further inside and turned on the light.

Both beds were made. There were no signs of luggage or personal belongings. I fed my hand between the thick fabric of the curtains and held it open far enough to make out a few figures on the street by the waterfront. Where earlier I'd seen the flashing light, now I saw the outline of two men, one holding the other at gunpoint. Even from a distance I could tell the man with his hands in the air was Jack Jordan.