She didn’t pray. Instead, she savored the scent of old wood and melted wax and remembered Hedy on the day they’d first met, laughing in the office of Blanc de Noir, back when she still wore her gold cross necklace.
On the way out of the church, Sterling took a last longing look at the hunky monk on the ceiling fresco, clutching a cross in his strong hands. He had smooth skin, a full beard, and sultry eyes searching the sky for the Lord. “Such a waste.”
On that sacrilegious note, they exited the dim church, squinting in the afternoon sun on Freyung Square. They walked down Tiefer Graben to the Orient, where the detectives waited outside.
“What’s with the outfit?” asked Beate, crushing her empty coffee cup into a bin.
Andreas stopped her before she could say anything. “Don’t answer. I don’t want to know,” he said, then muttered to himself about a section 188 violation.
“Detectives, meet your next guest,” said Sterling.
The Ear eyed their badges with alarm. “I thought I was counseling a sinner?” he said, grasping the frayed edges of the lie like a wooden cross.
“We’ll explain inside,” said Sterling.
Although the Hotel was empty, the No Vacancy sign remained lit. Sterling led them in and upstairs to the Orient Express Suite for the Ear’s interrogation.
Room 12 was narrow, like a train car paneled in dark wood. The bed was to the left, lit by red sconces. Behind its headboard was a small stained-glass window, etched to camouflage the dreary back courtyard.
Opposite the bed, a pair of red couches faced each other. Between them, a table was fixed to the wall below a window that looked out on the street. With the curtains drawn, the illusion of a luxury train car was skillful.
The detectives slid into one velvet banquette, across from the Ear. All three stared expectantly at Sterling. Never one to miss an opportunity for a striptease, she slipped off her nun’s habit, humming as she unveiled her green work uniform.
She hung the habit in the bathroom, checked her hair in the heart-shaped mirror, then slipped into the booth beside the sweat-anointed priest, mirroring his clasped hands in hopes he might relax.
“So, Detectives, you have questions for the Father?”
On the night of the murder, after the blackout, she’d suspected the Ear was peeping outside the Boring couple’s suite. After Sterling’s brief inquisition, he’d confessed, and she’d ordered him to pack and leave, never to return. The Orient was a sanctuary for deviant activity, but only between enthusiastically consenting adults. This interview was the last he’d see of the premises.
He clasped his bony hands even tighter as the interrogation began.
The detectives inquired why he’d visited a love hotel alone. The Ear deflected. Sterling would have to tease answers out of him.
“Your visit will be kept secret if you share what you saw,” she said.
The Ear sighed. “I’m more of a listener, Detectives. I heard more than I saw. This suite lends itself to my…predilections.”
“It has thin walls,” clarified Sterling.
“So you’re a peeping Tom? Or an eavesdropping Tom?” said Andreas.
The Ear raised his arms as if delivering a sermon. “What doyouhave to confess, Officers? Are we not all sinners? I meet my needs while falling under God’s law.”
“Well, underAustrianlaw, you violated sections 120, 188, 205, and 212,” said Andreas. Beate shuffled in her seat, using the movement to subtly elbow him. He stopped.
“Tell us what you remember,” said Beate.
“I listened to my neighbors, the man and woman in Room 11. Unfortunately, they were keener to argue analytical philosophy than partake in pleasures of the flesh. A cacophony from the hallwaydistracted me. Phones ringing, shouting, the Concierge running upstairs, cursing. It was all terribly intrusive. After that, I laid a glass on the floor to monitor the suite below mine.”
“Room 5. What’d you hear?” said Sterling.
“A heavy thud.”
“What time?” asked Andreas.
“Shortly after I heard the Concierge go upstairs. Around two.”
Beate scribbled something in her notebook, which Sterling read upside down.Thud = TOD on HD.
