that—”
“That’s right, Mrs. Fletcher. You should not have tried to talk to my goddaughter. And if you ever try again, I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
With that threat hanging in the air, she turned away and walked heavily, but quickly, through the lobby and out the revolving door.
“Whew!” I said, resting my elbows on the front desk. The clerk asked, “Is everything all right, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Yes, everything is fine. Thank you for asking. I was about to use the pay phone over there and—”
“No need to do that, Mrs. Fletcher. Use the hotel phone right here.”
He reached for it, but I said, “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.” I wanted privacy when I reached George Sutherland. I was no longer cavalier about whether he had other plans for the evening. I wanted his plans to include me, and hoped I’d reach him before he’d made another commitment. His comforting manner, to say nothing of a calming drink, were very much on my agenda.
I retraced my steps in the direction of the pay phone next to the marble shelf with the intention of calling George. At first, I didn’t notice the small black leather purse next to the house phone. When I did, my heart tripped. Had it been left by the large, combative woman I’d just encountered? I looked around. I hadn’t seen anyone use that phone except for Nancy Antonio, although I’d been distracted by her and wasn’t keeping tabs.
I approached the purse as though it might be hot. A ticking bomb. My initial thought was to bring it to the front desk for delivery to lost and found. But I suddenly had a vision of not making it to the desk, of Ellie’s godmother realizing she’d left her purse behind and returning for it, seeing me with it in my hands, and physically attacking me.
I decided to leave it next to the phone where I’d found it. I wanted nothing more to do with this woman, or her goddaughter. I would continue to investigate Kimberly’s innocence, but would keep Ellie and the formidable Ms. Antonio out of it. At least for the moment.
But as I started to walk away, my eye went to a small piece of paper peeking out from beneath the purse. I glanced left and right. Confident that I wasn’t being observed, I slipped it out and read: “She’s staying at the Westin St. Francis. We’ve got to warn her off, make it clear that her snooping is not welcome.”
I looked across the lobby and saw Nancy Antonio return through the revolving doors and head my way. I crumpled the note in my hand and quickly stepped behind a column that shielded me from her view, but that allowed me to observe her. She picked up her purse. A quizzical expression crossed her face as her eyes scanned the marble shelf, and then the floor. I held my breath. Would she extend the area of her search for the slip of paper to where I stood?
I was able to breathe again a few seconds later when she walked away and left the hotel.
Chapter Ten
They say that everything in life is timing. That day, my timing had been at once splendid and at once dreadful.
On the dreadful side, I’d chosen a bad time to take a walk on the Golden Gate Bridge, and to be looking for a pay phone in the lobby of the St. Francis.
On the splendid side, my call to George Sutherland at the Mark Hopkins caught him for the few minutes he was in his room between seminar commitments. “Are you free this evening?” I asked.
“Yes and no, Jessica. I’m hosting a cocktail party in twenty minutes. It seems we have more cocktail parties than working sessions, but I suppose that should come as no surprise.”
“And after that?” I asked. “Free for dinner?”
“With you? Of course. You sound upset.”
“Do I? I’m trying not to. But yes, I am upset. I need to talk to you.”
“I’ll pick you up in two hours. I’d come sooner, but this angersome party has me—”
“I’m leaving the hotel, George. I’ll meet you at yours. Upstairs. At the Top of the Mark.”
“Right on, Jessica.
“That’s right, Mrs. Fletcher. You should not have tried to talk to my goddaughter. And if you ever try again, I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
With that threat hanging in the air, she turned away and walked heavily, but quickly, through the lobby and out the revolving door.
“Whew!” I said, resting my elbows on the front desk. The clerk asked, “Is everything all right, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Yes, everything is fine. Thank you for asking. I was about to use the pay phone over there and—”
“No need to do that, Mrs. Fletcher. Use the hotel phone right here.”
He reached for it, but I said, “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.” I wanted privacy when I reached George Sutherland. I was no longer cavalier about whether he had other plans for the evening. I wanted his plans to include me, and hoped I’d reach him before he’d made another commitment. His comforting manner, to say nothing of a calming drink, were very much on my agenda.
I retraced my steps in the direction of the pay phone next to the marble shelf with the intention of calling George. At first, I didn’t notice the small black leather purse next to the house phone. When I did, my heart tripped. Had it been left by the large, combative woman I’d just encountered? I looked around. I hadn’t seen anyone use that phone except for Nancy Antonio, although I’d been distracted by her and wasn’t keeping tabs.
I approached the purse as though it might be hot. A ticking bomb. My initial thought was to bring it to the front desk for delivery to lost and found. But I suddenly had a vision of not making it to the desk, of Ellie’s godmother realizing she’d left her purse behind and returning for it, seeing me with it in my hands, and physically attacking me.
I decided to leave it next to the phone where I’d found it. I wanted nothing more to do with this woman, or her goddaughter. I would continue to investigate Kimberly’s innocence, but would keep Ellie and the formidable Ms. Antonio out of it. At least for the moment.
But as I started to walk away, my eye went to a small piece of paper peeking out from beneath the purse. I glanced left and right. Confident that I wasn’t being observed, I slipped it out and read: “She’s staying at the Westin St. Francis. We’ve got to warn her off, make it clear that her snooping is not welcome.”
I looked across the lobby and saw Nancy Antonio return through the revolving doors and head my way. I crumpled the note in my hand and quickly stepped behind a column that shielded me from her view, but that allowed me to observe her. She picked up her purse. A quizzical expression crossed her face as her eyes scanned the marble shelf, and then the floor. I held my breath. Would she extend the area of her search for the slip of paper to where I stood?
I was able to breathe again a few seconds later when she walked away and left the hotel.
Chapter Ten
They say that everything in life is timing. That day, my timing had been at once splendid and at once dreadful.
On the dreadful side, I’d chosen a bad time to take a walk on the Golden Gate Bridge, and to be looking for a pay phone in the lobby of the St. Francis.
On the splendid side, my call to George Sutherland at the Mark Hopkins caught him for the few minutes he was in his room between seminar commitments. “Are you free this evening?” I asked.
“Yes and no, Jessica. I’m hosting a cocktail party in twenty minutes. It seems we have more cocktail parties than working sessions, but I suppose that should come as no surprise.”
“And after that?” I asked. “Free for dinner?”
“With you? Of course. You sound upset.”
“Do I? I’m trying not to. But yes, I am upset. I need to talk to you.”
“I’ll pick you up in two hours. I’d come sooner, but this angersome party has me—”
“I’m leaving the hotel, George. I’ll meet you at yours. Upstairs. At the Top of the Mark.”
“Right on, Jessica.
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