Flashpoint by Ed Gorman

– reporters were hanging out in the hotel lobby. They stood around with drinks in their hands laughing and greeting new arrivals with shouts and verbal jabs. This had to be the second string. The ones freezing their asses off out at Robert’s place were the ones who mattered. These knew they weren’t important and were taking advantage of that fact.
    A few of them eyed me with whiskey scorn. I was, after all, not one of Them. The first thing I did was check for messages. There were none. The ‘kid’ as Earl called him – his name was Kevin, according to his name tag – said, ‘This is like Chicago tonight.’ He was stoned on the excitement. ‘Late in the afternoon four reporters I see on the evening news all the time checked in, all in less than an hour. I was going to ask for an autograph but I thought maybe I’d get in trouble.’ I guessed Earl was right to call him the kid.
    â€˜Somebody told me that Mr Ruskin checked out and a woman picked up all his stuff for him.’
    He allowed himself a moment of surprise and then said, ‘Gosh, word sure does get around. But that’s right. A woman did pick up his things.’
    â€˜Can you describe her?’
    â€˜Describe her?’
    â€˜Yes. Describe her.’
    â€˜Oh.’ Suspicion played across his bland face. ‘Is something going on in the hotel I should know about, Mr Conrad?’
    â€˜I don’t think so.’
    â€˜Pretty dumpy. Hippie-like. She looks real young until you see her close up.’
    â€˜So you took her up to his room?’
    â€˜Uh-huh.’
    â€˜Did you go in with her?’
    â€˜Uh-huh. She had me put all his stuff in garment bags and put them on the cart.’
    â€˜She say anything while you were helping her?’
    â€˜She just told me what to do and then she just sort of ignored me.’
    Behind us the reporters started applauding for somebody or something.
    â€˜They like to have fun, don’t they? I recognized one of them from Channel Eight from downstate. That’s where I grew up.’
    I was about five steps from the check-in when I saw Earl waving at me. He stood to the side of the door leading into the bar.
    â€˜This place is a zoo,’ he said when I got to him. ‘We should have murders more often. No offense, but I’m getting rich tonight.’
    Earl didn’t have much of a future in public relations. Good for him he was getting rich tonight. A man innocent of murder was getting lynched in the media and I was losing a vital campaign. But I needed Earl. ‘I’ll see what I can do for you. Pick out a couple of people and I’ll off them for you. I mean, since murders are so good for your business.’
    I’d tried keeping my irritation out of my little joke but he picked up on my anger.
    â€˜Hey, I said no offense, man. It was just a stupid joke, all right?’
    â€˜All right. Now tell me about the man in the bar.’
    Basically he went through what he’d told me on the phone. But this time he added, ‘He’s an official of some kind.’
    â€˜How do you know?’
    He touched his nose. ‘I can smell them. Cops, politicians, narcs. You can’t catch bells all the years I have and not be able to pick them off. All the guys can who’ve been at it for a while.’
    â€˜And you’re sure he’s still in there?’
    â€˜Unless he went out the back door, which almost nobody ever does.’
    â€˜How about you point him out to me?’
    â€˜Sure. And listen, it really was a joke I made.’
    â€˜I know, Earl. Believe it or not, I can be an asshole sometimes.’
    He handled it just right. He did a fake double take and said, ‘You be an asshole? I never woulda guessed.’
    Earl was all right; he could put you down and make you smile about it.
    We stood in the dark doorway of the crowded bar while he scanned the room. I didn’t see how he could find anybody