Except the wooden Buddha.
Now, the statue, still dusted with ash, sat in a temple in lower Austria. They’d renovated Room 6 and installed a sheet of opaque white glass outside the old windows, covering them even when opened, both to prevent exhibitionists drawing complaints and to avoid inviting further vandalism. The culprit was never found.
Sterling offered her a seat, which she declined. So they stood, leaving her eye level with Beate’s bosom. Not a bad view.
“Remind me, Sterling, why haven’t we arrested you?” said Beate.
“Because I’m so…helpful?” she said.
“Are you? That perverted priest was your sole alibi among the guests.”
Beate had a point. Her alibi was as flimsy as a page in a Bible. “I haven’t located everyone.”
“We’re following your lead on the bachelor party. But you’re concealing something. Shielding someone. Is it Fernando? Mr. K? Or the last guest on your list? We’ve had no information on Frau Thursday.”
Sterling swallowed. “She’s hard to find. A good woman usually is.”
“I’m tired of this monotonous routine. Find her or face arrest.”
“For what?”
Beate bent to meet her gaze. “I could blindfold myself and randomly select an entry from the law books and odds are you’ve violated it. Whether I do depends on if you behave andkeep your hands off my partner.”
Ah, that explained her visit. Sterling leaned in. Beate’s perfume tickled her nose. A strong, masculine scent. “Where do youwantme to put my hands, Detective?” she asked, caressing Beate’s cheek.
Beate swatted Sterling’s arm away and stood up tall, tidying her blazer. “I don’t know what he was thinking coming here the other night, but I don’t appreciate being left out of my investigation. I intend to make an arrest soon. Don’t let it be you,” she said, walking out.
Sterling heard her in the lobby talking to Fernando. She left the door open a crack, and leaned against the wall in the foyer with her coffee. While she sipped, traces of Beate’s perfume on her hand mingled with the scent of her espresso.
Usually a bit of catfighting didn’t ruffle her feathers, but her pulse was racing. Holding her arm behind her back, she caressed the wallpaper’s raised velvet ribs, counting them to slow her heart. As she did, her fingernail slipped through a hidden seam, and a panel sprang forward, pushing against her back.
Another hidden compartment, one she hadn’t known about. And here she’d thought the Hotel and her were beyond keeping secrets. Fearing the cobwebs likely inside, she pressed it shut.
Fernando eased the door open. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just stressed about the boss.”
“What was that about?” he asked.
“Nothing, really. She’s a little jealous. They’re under pressure to make an arrest. We need to find Frau Thursday somehow.”
The reception phone rang in the distance, interrupting them. They went into the office, and she answered. “Hotel Orient. Concierge speaking.”
“Hello, Sterling,” said Madame Weiss.
Sterling tapped her foot twice, alerting Fernando. He leaned his ear to the receiver.
“How can I help you?” said Sterling.
“I’m just calling to check in, dear.”
“Unfortunately, the Hotel’s fully booked at the moment.”
The lights flickered.
“Please, that dusty attic hasn’t seen a guest in more than a week.” Static crept onto the call but stopped when Sterling shot a warning glare at the ceiling. Madame continued, her voice oily. “I’m calling to check onyou.You sound dreadful. Have you been losing sleep?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
