Page 102 of Lorenzo

His face closes immediately.

“We don’t give out guest information.”

“I understand.”

“Then you understand I can’t help.”

Donna pulls up a picture on her phone that she took at Elaine’s house.

“I’m not asking for records. I only need to know whether you recognize her.”

He does not look at the picture.

“No.”

“You haven’t seen it.”

“I don’t recognize her.”

Donna sets her phone on the counter anyway.

The man glances down despite himself.

He can't hide the brief flash of recognition.

“You have seen her,” Donna says.

“I see hundreds of people.”

“This one stayed here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

His eyes shift toward me.

I say nothing.

“So,” she says mildly, “we can do this the difficult way, where I come back with paperwork and questions that make your guests uncomfortable, or you can just tell me whether she rented a room.”

His jaw tightens. “You police?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t have paperwork.”

“I used to be. I can get the paperwork if that's what it'll take.”

She used to be. Of course I had my suspicions, but it's the first time she's ever spoken about it.

I can typically clock police pretty quickly. She was no regular cop either.

The man looks at her again, more carefully this time.

Donna doesn't bother to elaborate or explain.

His eyes drop to the photograph again.