I shrugged. “A reference, perhaps.”
I mulled over possible allusions, ultimately coming up empty-handed as Calvin pulled to the curbside in front of a hotel on West Thirty-Seventh. He got out of the car, walked around the front, and was stopped by a doorman telling him he couldn’t park there. Drop-off only. Calvin flashed his badge as I climbed out of the passenger seat. I overheard him explain he’d be inside for only a few moments, to which the employee reluctantly agreed after studying Calvin’s credentials.
Dog and duffel bag accounted for, the two of us walked through the sliding glass doors. Calvin checked in at the front desk, retrieved our room keys, and was directed to the elevators around the corner. There was a little dining area—now dark—for breakfast in the mornings, and a small bar setup on the opposite end of the room, with one tender and two young women giggling over martinis. I followed Calvin into an open and awaiting elevator.
He pressed 6 with his thumb, and the doors silently shuttered.
I reached for his hand. Calvin slid his fingers through mine. He gave me a brief squeeze. Not so strong as if to say he feared the worst, nor so little as if saying it’d all blow over. Just enough.
The doors opened on the sixth floor, and we stepped out. It was very clean and eerily quiet. Calvin checked the room card in his hand again, then walked to the left, turned a sharp corner, and stopped outside of 6112. He scanned the key, and the lock gave. He walked inside first and held his hand out to indicate staying where I was. Calvin quickly checked the bathroom, around each side of the double beds, and then briefly peeked through the curtains.
He turned on the floor lamp in the corner of the room and said, “Come in.”
I let Dillon in, and the door fell shut behind me. The dog immediately jumped onto the nearest bed and flopped back dramatically against the pillows.
I glanced at Calvin and pointed to the bed beside the window. “I guess this one is ours.”
He smiled a little, set the bag beside the desk, and approached me. “I have to go. It’ll be late by the time I return,” he said, handing me one of the key cards. “Call room service if you need anything.” Calvin gave me a kiss.
“Okay.” I turned and watched him go to the door. I took a breath. “Hey. I like you.”
Calvin glanced at me as he stepped into the hall. “I like you too.”
I ACTUALLYdid leave the room, intending to grab a beer at the bar downstairs. But when the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, the drunken laughter of the two martini-sipping ladies filled the otherwise silent dining area and reminded me why I never drank at bars. I went back upstairs and instead ordered a Guinness and slice of cheesecake from room service.
“What’re you eating?” Max asked on speaker phone.
I sat on the bed, legs crossed under me, the television on mute, with a wedge of dessert balanced on my fork. “Cake,” I said before taking a bite.
“You’ve been mailed human remains, have potentially picked up a new stalker, the police have you under protection, and you’re sitting in a hotel room drinking beer and eating cake?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re living your best life, man,” Max said.
“Thanks.”
“So this guy knows your home address?” Max asked next.
“I guess it wouldn’t be so hard to deduce,” I answered. I took another bite of cheesecake. “At least when it comes to shadowing someone whose mode of transportation is walking.”
“That and you’re a creature of habit.”
“What do you mean?”
“You take the same exact route to work every day,” Max explained. “You walk on the right-hand side of the street—”
“That’s not weird. The sidewalk on the right is about half a foot wider, and there’s less overhead construction.”
“Uh-huh. And you get to work at the same time, unless you were treated to the morning bump-and-grind. In which case you have a tendency to roll in around nine o’clock, all flushed, with your hair uncombed, and wearing mismatched loafers.”
I glared at the phone beside my knee. “Funny.”
“Only because it’s true.”
I leaned back, grabbed the beer off the nightstand, and took a sip. “Anyway. The real conundrum is that Neil is encouraging bad behavior.”
“Calvin is too. At least a little,” Max said.
