A/N: We head into the action of our third arc.
(She Was A) Hotel Detective
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Dawn of the Day We Die
Wednesday, November 10, 1965
Chicago, Drab Olive Drab Surplus
8:01 am
Sarah stretched in her cot like a cat. She had fallen asleep, completely spent, completely satisfied, the night before.
As had been true all along, Chuck could make her forget the bad stuff, even though it involved him.
But after her stretch, the bad stuff began to crowd in around her. Upstairs, she could hear Chuck's voice, Marlena's, her dad's, but she did not try to understand what was being said.
She needed to plan. It was now obvious that her old tingle was on the fritz or just gone. It had gone haywire around Chuck and had proven itself less trustworthy than she had thought. It had deserted her entirely where the visit to Accardo was concerned.
Why? The answer came to her as she lay on the cot. Because the tingle was a product of her years with her father, and especially her years in the CIA, her way of trying to prevent being taken by suprise, surprised. She had projected every situation forward in a variety of ways, playing angles, looking for patterns, digging for ulterior motives. She had continued to live her life as if she were an agent, in deep cover, always in a cover, always at risk, exposed. And although she was at risk, exposed now, given all that had happened, she did not feel like an agent anymore. She did not feel unreal.
The loss of the tingle was a loss of a kind, but Sarah discovered, as she looked up at the shop's ceiling, that the loss was part of a net gain. She might not have the tingle, but she now had something to fight for, to live for. Chuck, Ellie — Devon, and Carina, and her other friends. Her tingle, while she was CIA, belonged to Joad, not to her: it was a precipitate of her training, her bizarre, lonely life. It belonged to Agent Walker, and so ultimately to Joad, as Agent Walker ultimately belonged to Joad. She was what Joad made of Sarah, not what Sarah made of Sarah. As Sarah became her own, came into her own, came to herself over the past days, that vestige of Agent Walker had finally left her.
She had taken Agent Walker up again but she had been able to let her go. That had not been true before. Agent Walker had haunted Sarah's life, Sarah Spook. Casey was right: she had been haunted, haunted by a version of herself she had not been sure was a mere version: she had feared it was her reality, Agent Walker's unreality Sarah's only reality. Not true. She knew that now.
Chuck had catalyzed that change. Deepened it and sped it up. The cost of the tingle was the cost of living as Agent Walker, and Sarah was prepared to, had, put off that form of life. She was a new woman, her own, and, in a different sense, Chuck's. The two senses of belonging were not only compatible, but they were also interlocked.
Jack's voice grew louder and Sarah tuned it in. "So, there we were, at the shelter, Christmas Eve, and Jenny, I mean, Sarah, she had all the donation money crammed in her green velvet top…"
Sarah jumped up and jammed herself into her clothes. She climbed the stairs two at a time, barefoot, and burst into Marlena's living quarters.
Chuck was seated at the small table, Jack was too. Ellie was standing by the table, a coffee cup in her hands, dressed. Devon was in his cot, but awake, leaning on his elbow. A cup of coffee was on the end table next to his cot.
Jack was laughing, red-faced. Marlena was in the kitchen, wearing a short robe, smiling and humming, pouring coffee into a decorative serving pot.
Everyone turned as Sarah ran into the room. "Howdy, Darlin'! Just telling some tales out of school."
Sarah speared him with her eyes. "You didn't have any right…"
Chuck stood up and walked to her. "Sarah," he said carefully, "your dad's been entertaining me with stories. Well, me first, then the others woke up, joined us. He's been telling tall tales…" Chuck leaned in and winked at her, then kissed her. She kissed him back but glared at Jack over Chuck's shoulder as she did.
Jack's smile slowly left his face. Sarah took Chuck's hand in hers. "What are you doing up so early?"
"Well, if you'll allow me some black humor, and to more or less quote my sister and Swinburne, this morning is the dawn before the dawn of the day I die."
"Chuck," Sarah said, squeezing his hand hard, "that's not funny." She stepped around Chuck, still holding his hand. "And Dad, those stories are mine to tell, this group of people anyway. Stop!"
"Sarah," Chuck urged, his voice still soft.
Ellie interposed herself between Sarah and Jack. She handed Sarah her coffee cup and looked carefully at Sarah's face. "C'mon, Sarah. Your face looks better, not as bruised as I expected. Let me check it in the bathroom where the light's better."
Sarah let go of Chuck's hand and followed Ellie into the bathroom. Ellie pointed to the closed toilet and Sarah sat down. Ellie did look at her face, but just for a minute. She took her coffee cup back from Sarah, dumped its dregs into the sink. She turned on the faucet and washed them down the drain.
"Sarah, don't worry about it. I think, since meeting Jack, we've all kind of known who...and what...he is. And Chuck knew you grew up with Jack. Chuck asked for the stories. He just wants to know you better, Jack too. Bond with your father. You know, guy stuff. — So, don't be angry with Jack. Or with Chuck. Being known yourself is the cost of getting to know others. You know things about me…"
"But Ellie, that was a mistake." Sarah stood up, close to Ellie.
"And what you did with your father wasn't even that, Sarah. You were a girl, a child. You bear no responsibility for any of that…"
"But it went on into my high school years, Ellie. I participated, knowing what I was doing,"
"Extenuating circumstances, still, Sarah. You have legitimate excuses. He's was your dad, you were still dependent on him."
Ellie glanced into the mirror at herself. "Last night, after Marlena turned off the lights, Devon and I, we kissed."
A small smile played on Ellie's face. Sarah grinned into the mirror.
"Just kissed, nothing more, but it was...nice. He told me again that he was sorry about what happened to me and sorry about Aidan. I realized that part of the reason I've been holding back, not allowing myself any reaction to men, was that I knew I'd have to tell that story. But I'm glad I told him, Devon, his reaction has made it easier for me to just forgive myself for that...moment. — Sarah, Chuck will do — he's already trying to do — the same for you. Don't make things strange between you because you can't forgive yourself for something he doesn't presume he has to forgive you for…"
"Wow, Ellie, those must have been some kisses, if you got all that out of them."
Ellie bumped Sarah with her hip. "I had to do something to get Devon's mind off the muffled screams from down below."
Sarah blushed. "I thought we were quiet."
Ellie shook her head. "You thought wrong. But I guess it kept you from hearing Jack and Marlena. They thought wrong too."
"What?!"
"Yeah, Devon and I were trying to kiss, just kiss, while listening to sex in stereo."
There was a knock at the door. Chuck. "Are you two finished? Succimer and I, we...need the facilities."
Ellie opened the door.
"So," Sarah said, summing up, "Accardo and his men will almost certainly be looking for us.
"Agents Rizzo and Lakoff are going to be very unhappy that Ellie never came back to the hotel. They will almost certainly think she skipped, found Chuck, maybe ran with him.
They'll be looking too, and so probably the police.
"I have no idea what Algernon will do in response to Chuck vacating 2020. Officially, so to speak, we have until tomorrow morning to get the records to him.
"Devon squared it with Casey, when he returned Holbert's car, that he wouldn't work last night. Holbert pulled a double. Casey told Devon that he was going to use Morgan as a temporary detective, use him to ride the lobby today, and Casey is going to start training Andy at the desk. So, the hotel is covered.
I need to call Casey soon, but first, we need a plan. St. Vincent's will be open to the public in a few minutes. We need to get inside and we need some direction to hunt in…"
Jack spoke. "So, if I understand, you think that Ellie's dead husband — sorry, Ellie — was a ward of St. Vincent's, his sister too? That couldn't have been more than what, fourteen or fifteen years ago?"
Sarah looked at Jack. "Something like that. And?"
"And, the nuns who work in these places typically work there for eternity...Chances are there's still someone around who knew Aidan and his sister. We just need to find that person and get her to talk to us. Make her our fall gal. And if we were wealthy possible-donors?"
"So, you want to con some nuns, Dad?"
"For a good cause, Darlin'. For your boyfriend, the monkey, here."
Jack turned to Ellie. "You've got money, right?"
Ellie nodded, self-consciously.
Jack went on. "So, I'm Ellie's lawyer. Devon is her husband." Devon, standing beside Ellie, glanced at her. She looked at the floor. "Chuck's her brother, you're his girlfriend, Sarah. We all go in together. Play it by ear from there.
"And if the con bugs you folks, Ellie can always make an anonymous donation later, to, you know, make up for it. What do you think?"
"Is there any chance someone will recognize Ellie as Aidan's widow," Sarah asked.
Everyone was silent for a minute. Then Jack laughed. "Well, there's a chance. But she can put her hair up, say, and, besides, it's not like the nuns are hiding copies of Motion Picture Magazine under their mattresses."
An hour later the group walked through the heavy wooden doors of St. Vincent's.
Ellie had her hair up, as Jack suggested. Under her arm, she had a beautiful old leather purse. She led the group inside with confident strides, Devon just behind her.
Marlena had supplied them with various items, including the purse and a couple of used wedding rings from a tray of them she had a shop drawer. Ellie and Devon were wearing them. Chuck had on the clothes Sarah had gotten for him on their initial visit to Drab Olive Drab, including the shoulder bag. Jack had a suit with him — he always did — and he was wearing it. Sarah had a black sweater and black slacks, with a dressy overcoat, all curtesy of Marlena.
A nun, her round face rounded even more by her neckerchief below her cap and enshrouding veil, smiled at them. She was seated at a small, neat oak desk. "May I help you?"
Jack stepped past Ellie but only after waiting for her gesture of permission.
"Hello, Sister. I am Perry Oldman, Mrs. Koss's attorney." He gave Ellie a formal, deferential nod. "She has become interested in the work you do here and is hoping she could perhaps get a tour of the facility. This is her brother and his girlfriend. We are sorry for not phoning ahead, but Mrs. Koss was supposed to be in a business meeting downtown. It was canceled and she decided to put the unexpected time to philanthropic use."
Jack's voice had transformed. It was rich, sonorous, all dark wood, leather and judges' robes. His posture was ramrod straight. He was Perry Oldman — if there were a Perry Oldman. Sarah shook her head inwardly. Jack was good: she had to give him that. Her infiltration skills had been fashioned more by him than by the Farm.
"Oh," the nun said, standing up quickly, rocking her chair. "Well, that's...um...too bad...about the meeting, but I am sure we can accommodate you. I'm Sister Martha. Um...a tour? Well, I am to be here, at the front desk. Let me see…"
She picked up the beige phone on the desk and dialed, her finger rotating three times. "Sister Mary? We have visitors who would like to take a tour of the orphanage. No, we don't normally do that," Sister Martha's voice grew quiet, "but in this case, I believe we should. God sends the increase, Sister Mary. Yes, it is a Mrs. Koss and her husband, her brother, and sister, and her lawyer, Mr. Oldman."
Sister Martha listened for a moment, then hung up the phone. "Sister Mary is normally in prayer at this hour, but she is going to come and take you on a tour. She will be down in a moment. May I offer you some coffee? We have some in the refectory."
Ellie stepped forward. "No, thank you, Sister Martha. We've had coffee already. — I was wondering about the history of St. Vincent's. Have you served here long?"
Sister Martha nodded. "Yes, a long time, but not nearly as long as Sister Mary. She's been here since B.C. became A.D." Sister Martha gave a sneaky grin, then her features dropped. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Just a little theological joke among we sisters. — I will have to repent of that in Confession."
"So," Ellie said, giving Sister Martha an indulgent smile, "does the orphanage care for both boys and girls?"
"Yes, now. For a while now. Many years ago it was only boys but that changed, I guess about twenty years ago."
"And Sister Mary predates that change?"
"She predates the Flood. — Oh, sorry, again." Sister Martha grinned, then made herself stop.
A door opened off to the side of the lobby and another nun walked in slowly. She was older — but it was impossible to tell how old. Her skin was not particularly wrinkled; her eyes were an intense, alive blue that seemed almost to float in front of her. Sister Martha unconsciously straightened her habit. "This is Sister Mary."
Jack stepped forward again with more or less the same speech he gave Sister Martha. Sister Mary listened for a moment, then smiled slowly. "I hope you do not take my delay in coming to meet you personally. One does not just walk off in the middle of a conversation with the Lord. — Please, if you follow me, I will show you St. Vincent's, though we are poor here, and our facilities modest. All that we have is for the good of the children."
She turned and led them toward the door she had used. She did not seem to walk but to float somehow. Sarah turned to Chuck. He could see it too. She gave him an interrogative look and he just shrugged.
The door led them into a long hallway, the stone floor almost polished from years of feet passing along it. Sister Mary stopped. "This leads into the boys' wing, the Vincents, we call them, as a group."
"And the girls are...the Vincentias?" Chuck asked.
Sister Mary smiled gracefully. "Exactly so. We hope the children come to be proud of St. Vincent's and to see their time here as good, despite the...unfavorable circumstances that brought them to us."
She led them down the hallway. There were many doors, all open. In each room were two or three beds, a matching number of small dressers and desks. The beds were all made, the rooms plain but neat.
"How many children are here, Sister Mary?" Ellie asked, speeding up a little to walk beside the gliding nun.
"At the moment, 56. We hover at or near that number."
Jack spoke up from just behind Ellie and Sister Mary. "Do you sometimes get siblings, brothers and sisters? How do they take to the separate wings?"
Sister Mary slowed but did not stop. "That has perplexed us sisters over the years. We cannot allow the boys and girls to mix, especially not as they enter puberty, but, at the same time, we dislike creating distance between siblings."
Jack hummed in understanding. "Yes, that must be tricky. Especially if the children had time together, were older, before tragedy brought them to you."
"Indeed, " Sister Mary said, nodding. "We have had a few cases like that and they have sometimes been difficult for us. Normally, we have tried to find times and places for the siblings to be together."
"A place?" Ellie said, her tone deliberately light but the question quick.
"Yes, there's a library here," she gestured to the door ahead, "somewhat between the wings, and we have used it for siblings when we needed to, allowing them to spend time together, reading or talking or playing games."
They reached the end of the hallway. Sister Mary took out a ring of keys and opened the old wooden door. "This is the library," Sister Mary said as she led them inside.
They entered. The room was large, walls of books floor-to-ceiling, around a wide and very long central table. Chairs lined the long sides of the table. No light was on but two large windows, the only vertical surfaces not covered in books, let in ample gray from outside. "It is mostly the children who use it. We sisters do not do a lot of secular reading, not that we are opposed to it. We have the Book of Books to frequent."
"This is nice," Sarah said, looking around, not acting a part. She saw Chuck nod in agreement.
Jack turned to Sister Mary. "You know, Sister Martha offered us some coffee and we turned it down, but I could use another cup on this cold morning. Would it be too much to ask...?"
Sister Mary nodded patiently. "No, of course not. Make yourselves comfortable here. I will return with the coffee."
Jack gave her his huge smile. "May I come with you, to, you know, lighten your load?"
"Of course. Thank you, Mr. Oldman." They went back the way they had come. When they were about halfway down the hallway, Chuck closed the door partially and turned to Sarah, Ellie, and Devon.
"Okay, I have to say, your dad, Sarah, wow! He's something. — This may not be where Maria hid the records, but it sure seems like it would be the spot."
Sarah nodded, turning and looking at the huge number of books. "But if they are here, where?"
They all looked at each other. There were no desks with drawers, no obvious places Maria might have secreted the records.
Chuck rubbed his chin. "Maria must have put them among the other books, hiding them in plain sight, as Edgar Allan Poe did with that letter in 'The Purloined Letter.' But there are so many books. If Maria hid the records here, she must have visited at some point, been allowed to use the library. She'd want the records to be easy for her to find again, unlikely to be found by the children..."
Sarah made herself take a deep breath, let herself relax, her mind open. "Chuck, what was it you told me the first day we met? The movie that Aidan made? Dickens?"
"Great Expectations," Chuck said. Ellie nodded.
Sarah walked to one wall. "Okay, these are alphabetically arranged. A...B…" — she moved along the wall — "C...D…" She stopped and looked up. She turned to Chuck. "Dickens is up there."
Chuck picked up the small library steps that stood near the end of the table and he put them in front of the Ds. He climbed up. "Huh. Yeah, looks like all of Dickens is here, but not in a matched set. Different publishers, different bindings. Let's see...Great Expectations, Great Expectations...Wait, here it is. And there are two ledgers here beside it, thin!" He reached up and took them down. Sarah took them from him as he climbed down.
She opened them. She did not know what exactly she was looking at, but she knew she had found them. She had what she needed to save Chuck from Algernon's poison.
She had the records.
Although it was difficult to do it without fidgeting, they sat and drank coffee with Sister Mary. The records were in Ellie's large leather purse.
When they finished, Sister Mary led them back to the lobby. Sister Martha stood, smiled. "Have you seen enough?"
Ellie gave Sister Martha a fully genuine smile. "This is a fine place, Sisters. I can imagine that the children you care for come to see themselves as lucky to be here."
"We do what we can," Sister Mary said, "but it is hard to keep the doors open. There was a time, fifteen years ago or so, when we closed for a while. All our children had to go elsewhere, to other orphanages or into foster homes. We pray never to have to do that again."
Ellie nodded. "I will be in touch with you soon and we will see what we can do to make sure you don't." Ellie's voice sounded determined.
Sister Mary bowed slightly, her face alight. "You are an answer to prayer, Mrs. Koss, you and your whole family." She gestured to the entire group.
They left the orphanage and stood on the street. Jack looked at Sarah. "You found them?"
Sarah nodded.
Jack frowned. "So, now what?"
A/N: Hey, hope everyone is keeping their distance. That's the way to express closeness at the moment — if you see what I mean. Stay well.
And stay tuned for more chapters of Hotel Detective. Thoughts?
