Page 25 of Hawk & Sparrow

They exited the elevator, then headed left down a quiet, dimly lit hall. Eventually, they reached a set of white double doors marked ROOM 1624. A simple DO NOT DISTURB sign hung from one of its polished gold handles.

“I don’t think the police have been here yet,” said Maximilian. “That concierge wouldn’t have let us up here otherwise.”

“That’s odd,” said Vesper. She ignored a small pinch of guilt as she thought about Chief Stettner. She’d promised him that she wouldn’t interfere in his case, and deep down she knew he’d be disappointed if he knew what she was doing.

It’s only interfering if you do something that hurts his work, she reasoned. So long as you’re careful, there’s no reason you can’t conduct your own separate, parallel investigation. You might even find something that helps him.

“I’ll do the honors.” Vesper moved aside as Maximilian placed his hand just above the knob. He murmured something under his breath, and then there was a click as it unlocked.

“Surely that’s not a part of your formal training,” she accused.

“Not at all.” Maximilian gave her a sly look. “I actually won that incantation in a game of poker.” He gestured to the door. “Ready?”

Vesper nodded.

Maximilian turned its handle and entered. Vesper had only taken one step inside before a gasp escaped her.

Francis Gladwell’s suite was in disarray. Clothing and shoes were strewn all about the room; a vase full of flowers had been knocked on its side; and the bed linens looked to have been ripped off the mattress. Crumpled papers littered every inch of the floor.

“Good grief,” Maximilian muttered.

Vesper pulled out her notebook and began jotting things down.

“I don’t understand.” Maximilian shook his head. “How could Francis have lived like this?”

“I don’t think he did,” said Vesper. “I think someone’s been in Mr. Gladwell’s room looking for something. The suite’s not just messy, it’s been ransacked. Look at all the open drawers. If I had to guess, they were here within the last few hours, maybe even earlier this morning.”

“How do you know?” Maximilian asked.

Vesper pointed to the desk. Nearly its entire surface was covered with papers, but her eye had gone to a small, overturned glass of water. “Those papers are still wet,” she said. “Which means that glass of water was knocked over recently.”

“Huh.” Maximilian tilted his head. “You’ve really got an eye for this, Evans.”

“Thank you.” Vesper’s cheeks warmed for a moment, but she shook her head and refocused. “Whoever was here is long gone, and we don’t know if they found what they were searching for, but let’s look around and see if we find anything.” She started toward one of the bedside tables, while Maximilian examined the papers on the desk.

“This is odd.” He held one up. “I think this is supposed to be a sketch of the Gladwell Machine, but it looks … well, bad.”

“Old drafts, probably.” Vesper examined an empty wineglass. Thinking about the Gladwell Machine reminded her about what Stettner had told her about the missing prototype from the museum. She made a note to look into that too.

Maximilian had moved to a sitting area next to the balcony with a love seat and coffee table. “Think this is important?”

Vesper looked up. He was holding what looked to be a hatpin, long and needle sharp, with a single golden honeybee affixed to its end. “It could be.”

“It was on the coffee table,” said Maximilian.

Vesper nodded. “That’s set for two people. It looks like Gladwell may have had company recently. Judging by the hatpin, it could have been a woman.” She paused. “Did he have any romantic partners that you know of?”

Maximilian scoffed. “It would be easier to name the girls he didn’t have dalliances with.”

“Interesting.” Vesper made another note before returning to the desk. The spilled water had blurred the ink on most of the papers and rendered them unreadable, but her eyes caught on a folded paper that had fallen to the floor and been spared. She picked it up.

“Come look at this.”

Maximilian crossed the room in a few steps. Together, they read the typed letter.

Monday, October 31st

Francis,