“Whose?”
“Yours. The woman on the phone told us to run the bath for you and cover the floor drain.” Her husband nodded, water spilling from the pipe and onto his lap.
“A woman? Hmm, the voice I heard last night was a man,” said Sterling. “What else did she say?”
“Asked where you were…” said Marina, still dazed. Her eyes had a bit too much sparkle and wonder.
“Captain, did you and Marina take anything last night?” asked Sterling gently.
“Aye, we were gifted a bit of sweet icy delight from the gentleman down the hall. He was lost at sea, poor lad.”
She remembered the ice cream cake delivery.Oida. Of course the only type of dessert delivered at that hour was averyspecial one. She examined them closer before pulling the detectives aside.
“I think they’re on acid? That wouldn’t have worn off yet. There must have been something in the bachelor party’s cake.”
“How can you tell what they took?” asked Beate, her tone accusatory.
“It’s a guess. I dated an ER doctor who volunteered as a rave medic. He had some wild stories.”
“He? I thought you were a… I’m confused,” said Andreas.
“I know, Detective,I know,” said Sterling.
Marina began singing, and the Captain hummed along.
Sterling whispered, “You won’t get more from them today. You should get them to a hospital.”
He agreed and had the officers escort them out.
“So.This bachelor party that ordered a ‘special’ cake. How can we find them?” asked Andreas.
“They checked out at five. If I’m right, before the drugs fully took hold. They werewasted, though. I’d check the hospital.” She rubbed her eyes, mascara clumping under her fingers. “I need to rest. I need to go home.”
“We have your address on file, yes?”
She hesitated. “Uh, of course you should. I gave it to an officer earlier.”
No, she hadn’t.
Andreas gestured at her bathrobe. “One of our officers can drive you there.”
“Oh, well—” She was interrupted by Mr. K’s heavy footsteps and booming voice.
“Detectives, I’ll ensure she gets home safely. It’s no trouble,” said her boss.
Mr. K wrapped one arm around her shoulders, passing her a cup of tea. Not the drink she craved. She sipped it grudgingly, then smiled. He’d laced it with bourbon.
Beate looked at Sterling. “You’re right. This is the best place to get them to talk.Ifyou find the suspects, you can interrogate them here.”
On her way out, Sterling passed Fernando, next in line to be questioned. She kissed his cheek.
“See you soon,” he whispered.
Once the door to the interview room shut, she scurried upstairs, winking at the cop guarding the hall. He was a regular.
Her commute was shorter than she’d let on, merely the walk to Room 25. Home at last. For now. Until the detectives realized she lived here, or noticed she lacked fingerprints, or that the redhead on her expired residence permit resembled her, but wasn’t her.
She slowly ran her hand down the slanted list carved in the door frame. Initials of every concierge who’d resided there before her were etched into the wood with hers at the bottom,SL. A few inches above them were the lettersSE,from her aunt Serafina. She’d worked at the Orient for less than a year and never talked about it, in line with the rules. Sterling traced her finger over the curve of theSand sighed.
