Jesse leaned against the counter, casual and confident. "I have a room reserved for Jesse Moreno and hers is in the name Avery Rich." I forced a smile in agreement. My face still felt strange. Judging by the clerk's reaction, I was certain I didn't look quite right either. She stared for a moment before clacking away on the keyboard to find our reservation.
"This is strange. It shows you had reservations, but somebody called and canceled them."
"Canceled them? There must be some kind of mistake. I know I didn't cancel. Avery, did you?"
I shook my head no.
"There you have it: neither of us called. Never mind, just book us two rooms."
"I'm sorry, sir, but that isn't possible—we’re booked up."
"You must be kidding. We're from outside of the country. We flew in for a vacation."
"No, I'm not kidding. Lots of people are in town for the hockey game. I'm sure most of the hotels are booked up."
"Look: this is your hotel's mistake. I suggest you call around and find other arrangements for us."
"I…I…well, I'll give it a try." The clerk grabbed the phone and started calling. Jesse winked at me. "Don't worry about a thing. We’ll find a place in no time at all."
I nodded, feeling useless and out of place. The whole day was a flop, and I was ruining Jesse's vacation. Why in the world had the hotel canceled our reservations? Something seemed off about the situation. I was ready to climb into bed and hope the next day would be better.
"I have good news and bad news," the clerk said.
"What's the bad news?" Jesse asked.
"As I told you: almost all the hotels are booked up because of the big game."
"What's the good news?" Jesse asked.
"Well, I found one room. It's the penthouse suite at the Omega. Unfortunately, there’s only one room, and it’s expensive."
"How expensive?" Jesse asked.
"One-thousand dollars per night," she said.
Jesse's mouth opened and closed like that of a fish. "That’s ridiculous," he stammered.
"We'll take it," I croaked.
"I'm booking it now." The clerk pushed a button on the phone and keyed something in on her keyboard. "This hotel's owned by the same company, so I can transfer your information."
Jesse looked flushed. I was sure he was thinking about spending a month's salary in only a few days, but I pulled out my wallet and handed the clerk my credit card. "It's on me," I whispered.
Jesse shook his head. "I can't let you do that."
"Yes, you can," I croaked. I pulled myself up to my full height and looked him in the eye. Now was not the time to let ego or duty get in the way of what needed to happen. We were out of options, and I had no desire to live out of the airport for our entire trip. The one room thing was awkward, but we'd figure out how to arrange things when we got there.
Jesse sighed after a long moment of uncertainty. He ran his fingers through his hair from front to back. "Well, I'm going on record—I don't like it. I feel like I'm taking advantage."
"I asked you," I whispered.
"This is true. Well, it looks like we’ll be roomies."
I nodded.
Jesse and I headed back to the car and headed for the Omega Hotel. When we pulled up, the reason for the nine hundred dollars a night difference in price was obvious: the place looked like a modern-day palace. A bellhop wearing a full suit rushed out to the car to take in our bags.
"I can get those," Jesse mumbled.
"Oh, no, sir. I wouldn't hear of it." The man tipped his hat, rushed off with his brass cart, and met us at the front desk.
I went to the desk and presented my ID and card information to verify the reservation.
"Welcome!" The concierge grinned. "You folks barely made it. You’re renting our last room, but lucky for you, it’s our best one."
"Thank you," I croaked.
"The Pinnacle Suite has the best view. It overlooks the city. You can even see the Scotiabank Arena from here. We provide shuttle service to the event so you'll have no trouble enjoying every minute of your stay."
Jesse spoke up, "We won't need shuttle service to the game. We’re just here to get away for a few days. Honestly, we didn't even know about the Leafs game."
"What are the odds? I guess you’re Americans?"
"Yes, we are," Jesse said. His tone was gruffer than usual.
"Well, I certainly hope you enjoy your stay. There’s a gas fireplace in your suite. I think you may want to use it. We're expecting snow this evening."
"We may just do that," Jesse said. "Do you have a restaurant in-house?"
"We do," the concierge handed Jesse a menu. The restaurant's open to nine, but the bar stays open to eleven."
"Thanks," Jesse said.
I collected our room key, and we headed to the elevator. We rode all the way to the top floor before stepping out into a small hallway area. Only one door graced the hallway. I checked the number over the door: it was us.
I used the scan card to open the door. The room looked like something out of a movie with old-school mobsters. The place was enormous. There was an entire wall of windows displaying a stunning panorama of the city. Exposed brick and hewn, wooden floors accentuated the modern décor. One wall featured a fireplace that wouldn't have looked out of place in a castle somewhere. Its gas logs were already lit and crackling. I noticed that the bedroom and bathroom were separate rooms, and there was a nice-sized kitchenette, complete with marble countertops.
"Wow! We're really roughing it on this trip," Jesse said.
"It's nice,"
"But seriously, Avery, this is too much. At least let me pay half."
My throat was feeling better. It must've been the pain medication I'd taken. Either way, I was glad. "I promise this isn’t a big deal. I came into some money a year ago, and I’m just happy we found somewhere to stay.”
"This is too much," Jesse grumbled.
"It’s better than sleeping at the airport."
"This is true." Jesse arranged the luggage on the suitcase rack in the closet area.
"Besides, this was my wild goose chase. You agreed to come along for moral support."
"All right, but I’m staying under protest." Jesse grinned. "Let's get you settled in. This time yesterday you were almost dead. You need to take things slow."
I plopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace and glanced out the window. "It looks like you may just get your wish. Look at the snow coming down!" The landscape of the city was in the process of being blanketed by a thick layer of snow.
Jesse went to the window and whistled long and low. "Oh, wow! At this rate. we may never make it to that bank to ask questions."
"Oh, we'll get there, but not today," I said.
"You take the bedroom, and I'll take the couch," Jesse said. The surge of relieved expectations had been overruled by the sting of rejection a moment later.
"That works," I said. "I think I’ll take a shower and see if I can feel like a human being again."
"Enjoy. I'm going to test out this TV."
"TV?" I realized I hadn't noticed one until he'd mentioned it.
Jesse pushed a button on the credenza, and a flap opened. A television that was almost as large as a full movie screen seemed to grow out of the high-end furnishing as though it was magic. "Nice," Jesse grinned. "I always wanted one of these. I wonder if there’s a football game on."
"Good luck," I said and headed off to the bathroom.
It had a huge Jacuzzi tub. "I’ve always wanted one of these," I mumbled to myself as I turned on the water and filled the tub. I went to the vanity to undress. "Uggg!" I said when I looked at my reflection. I was splotchy and puffy all over. My long, dark hair was held back with a hair tie, but the overall effect was of a style that had weathered a major storm. Bruises had formed across my ribcage where they'd administered chest compressions, and I blushed; Jesse had done that to save me.
I bypassed the tub and went into the shower to wash my hair
and shave. The steamy hot water felt magnificent against my tender skin. The steam helped soothe my raw breathing.
After the shower, I dripped across the floor to settle into the hot tub. The jets massaged the parts of me that had seen too much action too soon. I went over the hospital visit. What had gone wrong? I flipped my hair back so I wouldn't lay on it and spotted something on my arm that hadn't been there before. A round bruise had appeared midway down my left arm. In the center of the bruise was a tiny scab where the skin had been punctured.
Nausea ran through me. Had they injected me with an EpiPen in my arm?
There was the telltale mark from another shot on my upper thigh that looked to have been made by a larger gauge needle than the one on my arm. I examined both of the marks. Something didn't add up, but since I was unconscious when I went to the hospital, I was sure they could've given me a shot of something else to keep me stable.
I shivered, thinking about how I'd gone from health to deathly ill in a few minutes. Life was fragile, but I usually met my challenges head-on.
I climbed out of the tub, dried off, and wrapped a towel around my hair and body. Looking around the bathroom made me realize that living alone had made me sloppy and that I hadn't brought any clothes with me into the bathroom. "Crap," I grumbled. I gathered my dirty clothes, opened the bathroom door, and checked one more time to make sure the towel was covering all the parts I planned to keep private before tip-toeing off toward the bedroom. Jesse was enthralled in whatever sporting event he was watching. I'd made it halfway there without attracting his attention when my bra fell out of my stack of clothes.
"No," I said in frustration and bent to grab the undergarment, dislodging my towel in the process. I grabbed the bra but dropped my shirt. That was less embarrassing, so I decided to leave it there and make a break for the bedroom. I stood up, lost control of the area the towel had covered, and took off. I glanced back to see Jesse staring at me, his eyes wide as saucers.
Oh, no—what had he seen?
I slammed the door, let everything drop, and rushed to dress in plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. I tossed the dirty clothes in a separate bag and headed out to the den.
"Hello," Jesse said. He was red in the face.
"Er…sorry about that. It seems like all I’ve done since we got here is embarrass myself."
"Don't say that,” Jesse said. "I didn't see anything. Well, not much, anyway."
I groaned. "Well, the bathroom’s free. I'm heading off to bed."
"Wait—you forgot about dinner," Jesse said.
"Oh, yeah. I don't think my throat can handle it."
"We could ask if they have ice cream," Jesse grinned like a kid asking for a second dessert.
A part of me liked the idea. "If they'll bring it to the room, I'm willing to give it a try. I'm not dressed to go out."
"I'll call them."
Ten minutes later, a staff person knocked on the door to bring us the largest ice-cream sundae I'd ever seen, along with two spoons. "Now, that's what I'm talking about." Jesse's eyes lit up as he carried the sundae in and set it on the coffee table in front of the TV. We scooted down to the floor to eat the ice cream. I took tiny, careful bites, letting the ice-cream melt as it slid down my damaged throat. Jesse took huge bites but despite our best efforts, the ice-cream melted before we reached the bottom of the bowl.
"Thanks. I mean, for everything," I said.
"I'm glad I was here. Jesse leaned in, and our lips met. The kiss was short and chocolaty, but I couldn't deny the attraction between us. I let the kiss linger a few seconds longer than I'd intended. As our lips parted, I realized I'd been holding my breath and exhaled noisily.
"That was nice," I said, "but I think I’m done for. I'm heading to bed."
"I'm going to stay up and watch the game, but I'm sure you’re ready to get some sleep. The last two days have been rough on you."
"They really have." I collected a blanket and a couple of pillows from the mammoth-sized bed for Jesse and brought them to him.
"Goodnight, Avery." Jesse kissed me on the head.
"Goodnight."
Chapter 21
The snow covered the metropolis, changing it from a sprawling cityscape to a scene from a Christmas card. Jesse and I drank our coffee and watched the plows and snow blowers clear the way for the morning's commute with amazing efficiency.
I stretched and yawned. "It looks like we might be able to head out today, after all." I had awoken to a miraculously rash-free face that was mostly no longer swollen and strange.
Jesse leaned on a credenza near the window. "I'm amazed. From here it looks like tiny ants clearing a collapsed anthill."
"I hadn't thought of it that way, but I guess you're right."
We headed down to the restaurant to find breakfast. I chose scrambled eggs, yogurt, and a glass of milk. There was no way toast would work, given my throat. Thinking of the burn of acidic orange juice made me flinch.
"So, what’s on the agenda for today?" Jesse asked.
I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered. "It looks like we're not as snowed in as we thought. We head to the bank today. We'll just have to convince them to let us see any surveillance footage they have on the ATM."
Jesse put his fork down on his plate. "I hope they go for that. It’s possible they'll shut us down."
I nodded. "They might, but I'm not after people's medical records or conversations with their lawyers."
Jesse took a sip of his coffee. "No, but banks have an image they keep up for the customers. I'm sure they wouldn't want people to know they're willing to share their information."
I swallowed some yogurt. "True, but I already know the transaction amounts and times. I don't need them to tell me that part. I need them to help me with the who part."
"All right, Avery, but you do the talking on this. I don't want to be the one to set us back.'''
I grinned. "I'm good with that."
Jesse leaned over and wiped a smudge of yogurt from my chin.
A chill shot through me. "Um…thanks. I can't seem to keep myself together lately."
He grinned. "Don't worry about it—I do that all the time."
***
We took a taxi to the bank seven kilometers away. I tried to convert it into miles, but the diver insisted there was no point in misusing the metric system.
The building was short and severe-looking, with gray stone walls and squat, square planters on either side of the small, single-entrance door. "I was expecting a bit more bank for a million dollar leak," I said.
"Maybe that's the point. The place blends in. If the person taking out that kind of cash went to some swanky, high-end, investment place and tried to withdraw money, they'd try to sell them on some new business deal."
"True. Let's see what they say."
Jesse opened the door for me, and we headed to the counter. The place was a postcard set in the nineteen-seventies. The avocado green carpet was set off by the yellow Formica counter in front of the clerks. We walked to the counter.
"Do you suppose it's vintage?" Jesse whispered.
"I doubt it."
"Can I help you? The clerk looked like she was barely out of high school.
"Yes. My name is Avery Rich. This is Jesse Moreno. We’re in town on vacation, and we thought we'd mix a little business with pleasure." I could've sworn Jesse was blushing.
"Okay, what do you need? We have a full line of traveler's checks, and we can exchange your money." The clerk cocked her head to the side like a perky dog.
"Ah, that’s where things get tricky. We're in the business of law enforcement."
The clerk let out a squeak. "Oh, somebody did something. I bet it's Melvin. He gives me the creeps." She nodded in the direction of an obese older man in a glass cubicle.
"I know nothing about Melvin. We have a murder case back in Los Olivos. It is high profile. You might have heard of the actress, Ava Lenore, being attacked?"
"Ooh, I love her mov
ies! How awful that somebody killed her boyfriend."
"The thing is, somebody's been taking money from her boyfriend's account, and we traced it back to this bank." I pulled the financial report from my bag and showed the clerk the highlighted portion, showing the dates and location of the withdrawals.
"Oh, it was from the ATM. That's outside, so I doubt I saw anything." She sounded disappointed to have missed some fragment of the celebrity drama.
Jesse shifted nervously. I hoped he wouldn’t blurt anything out and ruin what little rapport I had with the young clerk.
I leaned closer to the young lady as if I had a secret to share. "I'll bet there’s a camera on that ATM."
"Oh, there is." She nodded with confidence but didn't offer any information as to how we might see the footage.
I glanced at Melvin working in his cubicle and back at the desk clerk. "Do you ever watch the footage?"
"No, I don't, but one time, someone put one of those skimmer things on the ATM and the police came to watch the video."
"Do you remember who they talked to about seeing it?"
"Melvin would have to do that. He's the assistant bank manager."
I wrote the information down in my notebook. "Who’s the bank manager?"
Denise is. She’s way better to work for, but she’s on maternity leave."
"Well, I guess we'd better speak to Melvin about the video,” I said.
"Good luck," she grumbled. She picked up the phone and called the man in the cubicle from across the room. "These people need to talk to you about the ATM...No, it’s not broken...They need to ask about the camera." She hung up the phone. "He says he'll talk to you. I won't say the other part. I swear, that man is just gross." She scowled.
I didn't want to know want he'd said, anyway. "Okay. Well, thank you for your time." I smiled at the clerk.
"No problem. I sure hope you find out who attacked them."
"Me, too." It was the first time Jesse had spoken. For a talkative guy, he'd used a lot of restraint.
We made our way to the cubicle. The little plaque on the man's desk read, "Melvin Rook." "Hello, Mr. Rook." I held my hand out to shake his. "I'm Avery Rich." He took my hand, but instead of a handshake, he put his other hand on top of mine and caressed it. I fought the urge to yank my hand away from him.
Dressed to Kill Page 14
