Some Like It Hawk(70)

The room was empty. Empty, at least, of humans, living or dead. Apparently I wasn’t developing psychic powers after all, just an overactive imagination.

It wasn’t my imagination that Caroline also breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well,” she said, as she looked around. “It’s certainly not the Washington Cottage.”

Actually, Denton’s room in the Annex wasn’t bad at all. The ceilings were normal height; the furniture was nice but didn’t look as if it belonged in a museum; and best of all, there wasn’t a scrap of chintz in sight. Lots of tweed. The huge reproductions of landscapes had given way to reproductions of antique botanical prints. I had the feeling if I were one of the maids or nannies I’d probably breathe a sigh of relief when the end of the day arrived and I could flee the expensive, impeccable, and overwhelming halls of the main wings for the more plebian yet cozier comfort of the Annex. I shut the door behind us, and Caroline and I both relaxed slightly at having put a barrier between us and any onlookers. Well, I did. Caroline was looking around in her sharp, birdlike way.

“Not too bad,” she said. “Now what are we looking for?”

“You’re the one who arranged the key,” I said. “What did you plan on looking for?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “That’s why I also arranged you. Use that brain Monty keeps bragging you inherited from him and figure out what we need to find.”

“Like pornography, I will know it when I see it,” I said.

I was looking out the window. Carefully, at first, since the curtains were open, and I had no idea if there was anyone outside to see me.

Clearly Denton had not found favor with the management. His room looked down on the loading dock and its concrete apron lined with Dumpsters. Though if you kept your eyes elevated, you could gaze out at a small copse of trees that shielded the loading dock from the view of any golfers on the course. You could even catch a glimpse of one of the greens.

A lesser hotel might have advertised this as a room with a balcony, since the window was actually a sliding glass door—clearly added during a modern remodel—with a foot-wide ledge outside. The ledge was fitted with a nice, sturdy waist-high railing to keep the guests from plunging down to the concrete if they had any momentary lapses of memory and thought they were in a room classy enough to have a full-sized balcony. The ledge extended beyond the window on either side, and each end was decorated with a large clay pot containing bright purple petunias.

I glanced up and down the side of the annex. I saw no other curtains open and no one leaning on their railings to take the air—not that the air would be all that delightful this close to the Dumpsters baking in the July heat. And even if the distant golfers took a break from their game to look our way, the distance and the glare would keep them from seeing what we were up to, so I left the curtains open.

“Leave the lights off,” I said. “And let’s start with a general search, paying particular attention to any interesting papers we find.”

“Good thinking,” she said. “Here.”

She handed me a three-inch by four-inch plastic zip bag marked EXAM GLOVES: 2 LATEX-FREE, LARGE, POWDER-FREE VINYL EXAM GLOVES. Dad kept dozens of these in his doctor’s bag. I wonder if Caroline had raided her own first aid kit or if Dad had helped provision our expedition.

I pulled the gloves on, pocketed the little bag, and began my search.

Luckily Denton appeared to be a light packer, which would make our search a little easier. His empty suitcase was in the closet, along with a sports jacket, several pairs of pants, and a couple of shirts. They filled the closet—an incredibly tiny closet for a hotel room. Presumably maids and nannies weren’t expected to bring extensive wardrobes. Denton’s shaving kit sat on the bathroom counter, and the few toiletries not inside it were arranged neatly on the counter.

“Tidy, for a man,” Caroline said.

“Unless the maids have tidied up after him,” I said.

“No.” Caroline shook her head. “I thought we’d want to see it just as he left it, so I had Ekaterina put it at the end of her schedule. So it’s him who’s neat.”

“Or he hasn’t been home since they cleaned yesterday. The bed’s still made.”

“Some people do make their beds, you know,” she said.

“In a hotel? Not many. He travels light, doesn’t he?”

Caroline gave a last look around and abandoned the bathroom. I poked around for a few more minutes, but I had to admit that if there was something to be found, it would take a more expert hunter than me.

“This armoire is locked!” Caroline called out.