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“I won’t, but I appreciate it. So you’re divorced.”
“Yes, and before you ask, it was my fault.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Why, because I’m a nice guy? Sensitive and nice don’t always mean the same thing.”
“No. Because it’s never just one person’s fault. I can’t blame everything on Todd. He’s never once looked at another woman, unless it was to acquire her company. Believe me, he’s had opportunities, a fellow with his looks and portfolio. If he has a mistress, it’s Aspectus. I could have worked harder to change that, but I was too busy working on my own career. That’s one of the reasons I’m not going to pick his pocket.”
They finished their drinks in silence. He slid off his stool and put out his hand. “Drive carefully.”
She took it; held it. She met his gaze. “What are you going to tell him?”
“That when I got up tomorrow, you’d already left. Maybe you suspected something and took off early. You were more than twenty miles down the road and beyond range of the homing device, and when I got to the Kansas City Hilton I found out you never checked in.”
She let go, shaking her head. “I’ll text him I’m stopping there early to take a break from driving, which is true. Otherwise I’d have to put in somewhere else tomorrow night, and he’d have to call you and inform you of the change in schedule; less complicated for a newbie like you. Then I’ll take 29 North and switch to 80 West to Reno. Why let him think you lost me after one day?”
“I don’t know. It seems like I’m taking advantage, finagling another night in a luxury hotel on his dime, and under false pretenses.”
“My God. You’re not only honest, you’re honest to a fault.”
“Is that so unusual?”
“Dennis—is it okay if I call you Dennis?”
“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask. Yes.”
“Dennis, in my world, it’s as rare as lawyers in heaven.”
CHAPTER 12
THE MATTRESS WAS just the right combination of firm and soft, and the thread count in the sheets had been calculated as if by Euclid, but he never got under deep enough to dream. When he closed his eyes, Anne Plevin’s perfect profile appeared inside the lids, as if projected from a lens inside his head.
At dawn he gave up. He stood a long time under the excellent shower head, dried himself with a plush towel, and shaved slowly and carefully, using the magnifying mirror on its scissors extender and the army of toiletries on the sink. Stretched out on the bed in a terry robe, he watched an inane early-morning talk show on TV, checking his watch every few minutes until seven o’clock, when room service opened. Breakfast was worth the wait; he lingered over it. He wasn’t luxuriating in the Hawthorn’s appointments so much as giving Anne time to get down the road.
He was ashamed to face her. She’d talked him into entering a conspiracy to defraud his employer; and it hadn’t taken much talking. After all that conversation about his trustworthiness, he’d rolled over on his back like a naughty puppy. While trying to sleep he’d told himself he was sympathetic to her situation, that was why, but he hadn’t made a convincing case. Over the last of his coffee he made a decision: confess everything to Plevin, take his punishment, and walk away. Let Mr. Aspectus revoke his reward. Cooke hadn’t really believed Anne when she said that wouldn’t happen. In that moment, he hoped he was right. To return to poverty would be his penance for violating Plevin’s trust.
He dressed quickly, eager now to escape that gilded cage. A great burden had lifted from his shoulders, like a miserable fog in the warmth from the sun. When the day clerk at the desk asked him if he’d enjoyed his stay, he said, “Very much,” and meant it.
When he started the Toyota and activated the tracking device, the blip did not appear. Only yesterday that would have thrown him into a panic, but now he saw it as confirmation that he’d acted wisely. Anne had risen early as expected and was already more than twenty miles down the road. Reentering the interstate, he accelerated to the speed limit; there was some shred of loyalty in taking steps to retrieve the signal. That’s what he’d have done if he were still acting in good faith.
After an hour, signs began to inform him of the dining and accommodations Kansas City had to offer, the Hilton among them; by then the green dot had reappeared, the beep growing stronger and more rapid as he entered the city limits. He took the Hilton exit. The big rectangular building was visible from the ramp. What it lacked in the unique design of the Hawthorn Arms it made up for in the familiar architecture of a major chain with all the creature comforts reassuringly in place.
He circled the building, found the Lexus parked behind it, then continued around to the canopy above the main entrance. In the spacious lobby he waited while another guest finished checking out, then gave his name to the clerk, who found his reservation in the computer. “The room’s not ready, yet, sir. Can you wait?”
“Sure. Did Anne Plevin manage to check in?”
He had no reason to ask the question, other than to prove to himself that he didn’t care if it got back to Todd.
“We know Mrs. Plevin. She hasn’t been in yet.”
He’d taken a good look at her car. It was unoccupied. She’d probably assumed it was too early to claim a room and was waiting somewhere.
“Where’s your dining room?”
“Just past the elevators, but it doesn’t open again until lunch.”
“Is there a restaurant nearby? Or a store?”
