A/N: More story. Hoping to entertain you a little. Be well, be safe, stay home.
(She Was A) Hotel Detective
Chapter Twenty-Two: Loose Ends
Tuesday, November 9, 1965
The Palmer House, Chicago
Room 2022
Sarah stood under the hot water, knowing the risk. It was not high. She and Chuck had heard Edna and Edgar James leaving their room earlier, bickering in the hallway, and Devon told her that no one was currently in 2020.
The shower was worth it.
She closed her eyes and melted into the water, trying to let her mind go limp, just for a moment. But no longer.
The clock was still ticking.
Sarah woke up to discover Chuck standing by the room's window, the orangy sunlight of the rising sun sliced thin by the barely open blinds, streaks on his naked chest.
He did not know she was awake. He rotated away from the window and toward her. Sarah left her eyes nearly closed. His eyes as he looked at her were dark and deep, as they had been while talking last night — before Ellie and Devon had left. He gazed at her like that for a long time, standing in his boxers, streaked in orange slices, unmoving.
Chuck's reverie — and Sarah's witnessing of it — was cut short by a quick, soft knock on the door. Sarah opened her eyes. Chuck looked at the door then at Sarah. He gave her a smile.
She smiled at him as she jumped up and grabbed the gun from the nightstand. She ran to the door in her underwear and peeked through the peep-hole.
Devon.
"Just a minute, Devon."
Sarah ran to her clothes still piled on the floor and put them on. Chuck had started dressing already. After a moment, Sarah opened the door. Devon stepped inside with a coffee tray in one hand, a coat folded across that arm, a bag in the other hand. He was winded, limping slightly. He handed the tray and bag to Chuck.
"Hey, some coffee and breakfast for you two. Sarah, here's a coat out of Lost-and-Found. You can't wear the one with the bullet hole." She took it and put it on the bed. "Sorry to wake you guys, but I needed to talk to you." He glanced around the room but at nothing in particular. "Should we do it here?"
"Sure, Devon, we don't have much choice."
Sarah crossed to the dresser as she spoke and picked up the stationery she had written on the night before.
She waved it silently at Devon and he nodded in response. He understood what he could not say.
"First, I talked to Carina. She's fine, getting ready for an automat shift this morning. She's going to call someone to come by and fix the door. So, that's one thing.
"Louisa was on the eighth floor when her shift ended. But I heard her talking to Morgan; she told him she would work a double. Of course, with checkouts and so on, she won't be able to move around as much as she did last night, so I don't expect her to make much progress up the floors if that's what she's doing. That's another thing.
"Ellie is doing...better this morning. I stopped by her room on the way up. I had to dodge that FBI guy, Lakoff. He was prowling around her floor, I guess hoping Chuck will show up. And Agent Rizzo is awake — boy, is she ever, and on the warpath.
She knows about last night, the parking lot." Devon put his hands up, a gesture not to worry. "There was a blurb in the Tribune, the bottom of the first page, not much, no names, no mention of a woman, just that shots were fired in a parking lot, one man dead, two men wounded," he fished in his pocket and handed Sarah a small piece of newspaper neatly torn, "but she must have been on the phone because I heard her talking to Casey as soon as he arrived, and she mentioned Shaw. Not you. So, that's yet another thing, or maybe it's two more, or three. Anyway…." Devon blew out a breath, finished.
"Okay, Devon. Thanks. Look, I need you to do me a favor. Tell Casey I called and that I will be in today. Then ask him to do me a favor. Demand a meeting with Rizzo and Lakoff, both, at…" She looked at the clock by the bed, "in forty minutes. 10 am. Tell him to keep them for at least fifteen minutes. And tell him I know who killed Tomek and will brief him after he's done with Rizzo and Lakoff. I will talk to him after I talk to Ellie."
"Sure, Sarah. Morgan's taken over at the desk; Robert's gone. So, if you need Morgan, he's there. He told me to tell you. Oh, and he sends greetings, Chuck."
Chuck, listening, grinned. "Send mine back. You know, quietly."
Devon smirked. "You and Sarah here seem to specialize in quiet." His smirk graduated to a grin. "Okay, off to do what you said. I'll be in the office otherwise. Or with Ellie. — Oh, by the way, 2020 is empty now, so if the Jameses in 2024 leave, you won't have anyone in neighboring rooms..." He waggled his eyebrows and turned to the door.
Sarah shut the door after Devon left. She turned around. Chuck was staring past her, at the door. "He does like her, doesn't he, Sarah? Ellie. It was obvious to me last night. And the way she looked at him, especially when he mentioned Carina, the way Ellie reacted to him the whole time, took his hand as they left. I'm not sure she knows it, yet, but I think she likes him. I hope so. She's tried to fix me up but since Aidan died, she hasn't dated, hasn't even acknowledged that she is interested in men, any man."
Sarah gave Chuck a teasing smile, putting the newspaper clipping Devon brought on the dresser. "And how did all this fixing up go for you?" She crossed to him, standing a couple of steps away, waiting for an answer, one eyebrow up, perched to fall.
"Um, not so well. Or, actually, just right, like Goldilocks. Turns out I was available until I met a certain bespectacled brunette at a diner in Chicago."
"Oh, really, Goldilocks? And you aren't available now?"
"Nope. Off the market. And I don't care if the entire damn Kremlin knows it. Brezhnev himself!"
Sarah almost skipped to him and kissed his lips. "You're wonderful." She kissed him several more times, counting out loud: "один, два, три…"
Chuck stared at her in wonder. "You speak Russian?"
She winked at him and kissed him once more without counting. "And who called me 'Lara'? Other than the poetic cabbie?"
"Poetic cabbie? Who was this cabbie?" Chuck asked, tightening his arms around her.
Sarah extricated herself from his embrace, laughing softly, despite the protest from her shoulder. She stopped when she heard Edna and Edgar arguing in the hallway. After a moment, their voices trailed away, toward the elevator. "Just a man who doesn't think all beauty is skin deep."
Chuck laughed softly. "He's right." Chuck caught her eyes. "There are exceptions."
Sarah warmed all over, thrilled by Chuck's words. "I'm going to get a shower while I can."
Chuck straightened a bit, his smile left him. "Right, I'm on the clock."
"We both are, Chuck." Sarah stepped to him and kissed him once more, soberly, before going to shower.
Sarah checked her watch, pushing back the sleeve of the coat Devon brought her. 10:04 am. She was standing outside the US Grant Suite, listening. She heard nothing from inside, so she used her skeleton key to get in. She closed the door. Moving quickly, surely, she crossed to the desk.
She had the bag Devon had brought to the room in her hand. She put it on the desk.
The Xeroxed letter from Aidan to Maria was not where it had been. Sarah suppressed a curse and picked up a stack of pages. Thumbing through them revealed the letter near the middle of the stack. She separated the stack into two, like a deck of cards, and then picked up the Xerox.
Dearest Maria,
I can't express how lucky I feel that we've found each other again. I have often wondered about you, always hoping for the best. I feel I owe you so much.
But you should know, my current circumstances make acknowledging you problematic. I have obscured my past here in Hollywood, and it would not be prudent for me to bring this part of my story to public light. Not right now.
And it is not just my job, it is also my wife, Ellie. I need time to prepare her for this story, to make sure she understands what happened and why. I will tell her but not right now. Dark figures like those in our past come into my life and are making demands.
I have enclosed a money order to help you. It is much more than you asked for. Still, I wish I could do more than give you money.
I am planning to put you into my will, just in case. I have made a ridiculous amount of money, and Ellie will understand why I want you to have half of it.
I often think of our time together. I know you will be happy when I tell you that I have found the first home here, with Ellie, that I have known since our home together.
Love,
Aidan
Sarah put the letter on top of one stack of papers, where it had been, and then put the other stack on top of it. She stood for a moment, thinking.
Picking up her bag, she went into Lakoff's bedroom.
His suitcase was on a hotel luggage rack. Sarah put the bag down beside the rack. The suitcase was locked but Sarah had her bobby pins and made short work of it. Inside were clothes, a Dopp kit. Nothing seemed of interest until she checked the bottom. She recognized CIA handiwork, a false bottom. She had one of the same sort in suitcases she had carried on missions. She felt for the hidden latch and found it.
Beneath the false bottom was an array of gadgets, all CIA-issue: a miniature camera, two mics, two earbuds, two listening devices, two hand-administered tranqs. All the items were clipped in place. None looked used.
Lakoff was working for the CIA. He was a double-agent, a Bureau-Agency double-agent, FBI, but working for the CIA. Strange. Sarah secured the false bottom back in place.
She rearranged the clothes, shut the suitcase and relocked it.
She hurried out of the room, making sure she picked up her paper bag.
Sarah went down to the basement by the steps. She was hurrying now. She would not be able to assume Rizzo or Lakoff's location soon. She made it out of the hotel.
She walked quickly down the street until she found what she wanted. A city garbage truck. The men were ahead of it, gathering cans. No one was watching. Sarah passed by the back and threw the paper bag deep inside it. In the bag was the gun Lombardo gave Shaw, still wrapped in the cloth. It had been in the pocket of Sarah's damaged coat until just before she left 2022.
She sighed in relief and walked on, not stopping until she found a phone booth a couple of blocks away.
She put the phone to her ear and dropped in her dime. She dialed the number.
"Drab Olive Drab. Marlena. How may I help you?"
"Marlena, it's Sarah."
"Oh, hello, Sarah. Are you still enjoying your boyfriend?"
"Actually, that's why I am calling. I know we've not been close, Marlena, and that's been mostly my fault. I know you are straight now, not conning anymore, but, if I need a place to hide him, my boyfriend, could I bring him to you? Would you help me?"
Silence. "Yes, I would. Have no fear. I may be 'straight', as you say, but most of my friends are crooked. If you need me, just go to the back door of the shop and knock."
"Thanks, Marlena."
"Don't mention it. But don't forget to pay your tab. Eventually."
Sarah hung up the phone. She paged through the phone book in the booth, checking to find a name she had remembered.
Then, she deposited another dime. She dialed Ellie's room directly.
"Hello?" Ellie's voice sounded tentative.
"Ellie, it's Sarah. I was going to come to your room, but I decided this was safer. Lakoff, Rizzo's partner, been in your hallway off and on."
"Big guy, little suit?"
"Yes, Ellie, that's him. — Look, two things, no, three, then I need to get back to Chuck. First, about last night," Sarah took a moment to gather herself, "I understand your being angry with me, suspicious of me. My past, coupled with what I told you last night, must make me seem...monstrous. Dark. I understand if you don't think I'm right for your brother…"
Sarah heard Ellie inhale, exhale. "Sarah, I don't decide who is right for Chuck, he does. And I realized this morning that I was really mostly angry at this whole mess, not at you. You've gotten pulled into it too because you love my brother."
Sarah was silent but her heart started to hammer.
"None of us chose this," Ellie continued, taking what she said to be incontrovertible, "you chose against the life you've been pulled back into. Devon talked to me this morning. He told me about how much he's learned from you, how much he admires you. He even said he fixed you up with his brother, but that it didn't take. He mentioned...that you double-dated with him and...Carina." The last comment was somewhere between a question and a declaration.
"Yes, Ellie, we all went out once. None of it took, however. I never went out with his brother again and Devon never went out again with Carina."
"But...he wanted to, right?"
"Yes, he did, but, as I told you, Carina's been grieving."
"I remember."
"And I don't think Devon's interested in Carina anymore, not romantically, at any rate."
"Really?"
"Yes, I think he's met someone...new."
"Oh. Oh. Um….Well, I'm sure you didn't call to talk about men."
"No, but that's okay, Ellie. So, you and I, we're okay? I'd like to be...friends. I'd like that a lot."
"Yes...me too, just give me some time to get used to the idea of Chuck's girlfriend — and my friend — in gangland shootouts and shadowy meetings with Russian spies…"
"Fair enough. — Second, I was able to get a look at that letter from Aidan to Maria this morning. I snuck into the FBI's room."
"Was it a love letter, Sarah?"
"No, I don't think so. Clearly, Aidan knew Maria. In the past. He told her how happy he was with you." Sarah heard Ellie sigh. "He sent her money and he told her he was going to change his will, leaving her half his estate. Did you know anything about that?"
"No, nothing. There was nothing like that in the will..."
"Huh. I suspect Rizzo is treating the line about the will as a motive. It's flimsy but combined with the other evidence, I can see how Rizzo would think it potentially damning. — Have you thought any more about whether you've ever seen Maria?"
"I have — thought about it. I still don't know where it would have been."
Sarah pondered the question for a moment, then she went on. "Ok, it may still come to you. — Third, do you think that you and Devon could go to Mercy Hospital and talk to the toxicologist there? I remember hearing him lecture once. You could tell him some story, tell him about the sort of poison Algernon described, see if it's possible. Could you do that?"
Ellie was quiet for a moment. "Like a spy mission? Devon as my...partner."
"Yes, but I don't want to pull you in…"
"No, no, that's fine, Sarah. I would feel better all-around if I could just do something. I feel so powerless. I'll call Devon and we'll go."
"Great." She told Ellie the doctor's name. "I'm going to head back to Chuck now. We have things we need to do."
Ellie cleared her throat. Sarah blushed. "Thanks, Ellie."
Sarah was about to enter the Palmer House lobby, to find Casey, when she heard her name.
"Walker!" It was Agent Rizzo, Zondra. She was standing off to the opposite side of the entrance. She had a cigarette in her hand. Sarah crossed in front of the revolving doors to meet her.
Zondra took another hard, quick puff on her cigarette then ground the butt out on the sidewalk. Sarah watched. "I didn't know you were a smoker."
"Only when slow suicide prevents immediate homicide."
"Homicide?"
"My partner, Lakoff, he's driving me up the wall. I'm going to kill him."
"How so?"
"It doesn't matter. I just hope never to work with him again. But that's not the reason I wanted to talk to you. Casey told me you would be in." Zondra paused, becoming uncomfortable. "I...I wanted to tell you that I'm...um, you know, sorry...for some of what I said to you the other day. It was...out of line. The whole...CIA prostitute...thing."
Sarah nodded but said nothing. She waited, leaving Zondra marooned in discomfort. Zondra shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A long moment passed. Zondra stepped on her cigarette butt again, although it was extinguished. "Did you by any chance know that my father worked for the Company?"
Yes. Sarah shook her head, no.
"Well, he did. And, well, I haven't talked to him in...years. Not since he left my mom."
"Left her?" Sarah asked softly.
"Yes, he had been on a deep-cover mission, some woman was his...asset, and he ended up sleeping with her. It nearly got him fired. Mom found out and was broken-hearted. Dad eventually left her for that woman. I haven't spoken to him since.
"I was...taking out some personal shit on you, and that wasn't right. I just don't have a very high opinion of...spooks. Too many that I've known, my dad first, have thought they could excuse any misbehavior by citing the job. But that's bullshit. Misbehavior is misbehavior, greater good be damned."
Sarah nodded, her gesture true. "Actually, Zondra, I agree. It's why I left. And, apology accepted. We've all got...baggage."
They stood in awkward silence, the wind blowing hard between them and whipping along the street.
Zondra looked at Sarah. "Are you still skeptical about Bartowski as Tomek's killer."
"More skeptical than ever. Did you see the piece in the paper this morning, the Tribune?"
"The gunplay in the parking lot? Shaw and The Clown shot? That P. I., Larkin, dead?"
Sarah nodded, making sure to repress the tremor that ran through her, the memory of Bryce's lifeless eyes. "Does that all seem coincidental to you?"
"No," Zondra said, her shoulders dropping a little. "But neither of them is telling a story about last night that makes any sense, especially when combined. I assume it was some Outfit on Outfit violence. And it is peculiar that Shaw was there, mixed up in it. I'm almost sure he's dirty. But there seem to be no witnesses to what happened.
"One thing, though. Shaw's car was not at the scene. It was actually not far from here. They're hoping to get prints. The longer this goes on the more sure I become that the Palmer House is at the epicenter of some...event. — But I don't have a clue yet what it is."
Sarah stood still. "Any luck tracking down the records Tomek was supposed to have?"
"No, none. And damn, I want them. But I have people trying to reconstruct her history, all of it. I'm hoping for something." Zondra stopped. She seemed annoyed with herself for saying so much.
Zondra cleared her throat. "Do you have any reason to throw suspicion on Lakoff?"
Sarah gave Zondra a frank look. "If you know something about me, about my Company time, you know I was...good at...what I do...did. Lakoff gives me a bad feeling, and I think you should take my feeling seriously."
"Like trusting someone else's conscience? It doesn't work that way, does it, Company?"
"All I know is that he worries me, and I think he should worry you, Bureau."
Zondra hunted in her purse. She pulled out a pack of Camels. She offered one to Sarah. Sarah took it.
Zondra got one for herself and then put the cigarettes away. She produced a lighter and lit Sarah's cigarette, then her own.
After a puff, she smirked at Sarah. "Didn't know you smoked?"
Sarah blew out a breath, the wind stealing it away. Tick, tick, tock. "I don't. I smoke now and then, but I'm not a smoker, like I am...irritated now and then, but am not irritable."
Zondra laughed silently and considered that as she took another, slower puff. "You know, under different circumstances, we might have been friends."
"But not under these?"
Zondra's eyes glowed with a challenge but a controlled one. "No. Not under these. Behave, Detective Walker."
"You too, Agent Rizzo."
Sarah wanted to talk to Casey but she had been away from Chuck longer than she wanted. And Agent Rizzo was lurking in the lobby. Sarah decided to return to 2022.
She went to the basement, then took the elevator up to the sixteenth floor. She climbed the stairs from there, seeing no one in the stairwell.
She checked the hallway from the landing, through the stairwell door, then she hurried to 2022 and opened the door. As she stepped through, she heard a groan.
Chuck was doubled-up on the bed, rocking. Sarah shut the door and rushed to him, panic seizing her whole being.
"Chuck, Chuck! What's wrong?"
He did not speak. And then she saw a paper bag on the floor, and the final quarter of a Chicago-style hot dog, toppings mountained atop it, on the nightstand.
Chuck finally spoke, a guttural whisper. "I need some...peppermints. My ulcer…"
"Chuck, where did you get that hot dog?"
"Morgan."
Sarah was not sure whether to laugh or cry. After grabbing Chuck a peppermint from the bathroom counter, she sat down on the bed and did both.
A/N: Bismol, anyone, anyone? Just a teaspoon full?
Things are gradually getting clearer. We are now ready for the final chapters of the second arc, This Fevered Spring.
