practically burst onto the floor Knox was staying on. The hallway was completely empty. I glanced at my watch. Knox was already in the conference. I couldn't believe how much time had gone by since the alarm went off this morning. How could I have been so careless? And after I'd promised Novak not to get distracted. I was furious with myself.
Suddenly, an idea began to form in my devious little mind. If Knox was busy with the conference until
noon
, now was the perfect time to search his room. The only problem was I didn't have the first clue about how to get in there. If I could get his keycard somehow, or slip in while they were cleaning his room... Of course, those things probably only worked in movies and books. Novak had never given me any lessons on breaking and entering. Being a retired cop, he generally shunned such lawless tactics. I, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Whatever gets the job done; that's my motto. If only I had the know-how.
A careful perusal of the hall showed me to be alone, so I approached Knox's room to get a better look at the door. It pretty much looked tamper-proof, at least to my amateur eyes. I wondered how anyone broke into these types of door these days. They must have some sort of Bond type gadget, a card that deciphers the door code or something. I tried the handle on the off-chance it was open. No such luck.
I pressed my ear against the door, thinking that maybe the cleaning lady was in there and I could convince her this was my room and I'd locked my card inside. To my complete and utter surprise, I felt it swing open as soon as my ear touched the cold surface and I almost stumbled into a woman wearing a white fluffy robe on the other side of the door. I straightened up quickly and tried desperately to think of some excuse. Why didn't I have one ready like Novak had told me?
“Hang on,” the brassy blonde barked into the cell phone she had pressed against one ear. “Do you work here?” she demanded in a high-pitched whine.
“Yes,” I said, thrilled that she'd saved me the trouble of coming up with a cover story. I took a closer look at her. If she was in a bathrobe, she probably wasn't on the cleaning staff. It looked like this was the proof I needed that Knox was cheating on his wife. I'd met Mrs. Knox and this, quite definitely, was not her. This woman had to be his mistress, but I needed to be sure.
“Well for Chris t sake, do something!” she shrilled.
“Um, what exactly do you need?” I said hesitantly while my mind ran ahead full-tilt.
She heaved a monumental sigh meant to express her dissatisfaction with the service. It succeeded in ruffling my hair and alerting me to the fact that she hadn't yet brushed her teeth this morning.
“I told them down at the front desk that the damn toilet was overflowing. Now will you quit standing there like a dolt and do something.”
“Um, I'm not the plumber,” I said, thinking quickly. “He's been called. They just sent me up to see if I could help with anything. Want me to take a look?”
“I want you to do something!”
I stepped around her and started for the bathroom while she trailed after me grumbling into the phone. “I swear, as nice as this place looks you'd think they'd have better help.”
“Did this start after your husband left?” I asked casually.
“Ha!” she snarled into the phone. “He wants to know if it started after my husband left.” Then to me, “I don't have a husband.”
“Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed that the man who rented the room...” The toilet was indeed overflowing. A small lake had formed on the tiled bathroom floor and had started to seep by the dam of towels she'd piled in the doorway. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do now that I was here.
“He's not my
Suddenly, an idea began to form in my devious little mind. If Knox was busy with the conference until
noon
, now was the perfect time to search his room. The only problem was I didn't have the first clue about how to get in there. If I could get his keycard somehow, or slip in while they were cleaning his room... Of course, those things probably only worked in movies and books. Novak had never given me any lessons on breaking and entering. Being a retired cop, he generally shunned such lawless tactics. I, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Whatever gets the job done; that's my motto. If only I had the know-how.
A careful perusal of the hall showed me to be alone, so I approached Knox's room to get a better look at the door. It pretty much looked tamper-proof, at least to my amateur eyes. I wondered how anyone broke into these types of door these days. They must have some sort of Bond type gadget, a card that deciphers the door code or something. I tried the handle on the off-chance it was open. No such luck.
I pressed my ear against the door, thinking that maybe the cleaning lady was in there and I could convince her this was my room and I'd locked my card inside. To my complete and utter surprise, I felt it swing open as soon as my ear touched the cold surface and I almost stumbled into a woman wearing a white fluffy robe on the other side of the door. I straightened up quickly and tried desperately to think of some excuse. Why didn't I have one ready like Novak had told me?
“Hang on,” the brassy blonde barked into the cell phone she had pressed against one ear. “Do you work here?” she demanded in a high-pitched whine.
“Yes,” I said, thrilled that she'd saved me the trouble of coming up with a cover story. I took a closer look at her. If she was in a bathrobe, she probably wasn't on the cleaning staff. It looked like this was the proof I needed that Knox was cheating on his wife. I'd met Mrs. Knox and this, quite definitely, was not her. This woman had to be his mistress, but I needed to be sure.
“Well for Chris t sake, do something!” she shrilled.
“Um, what exactly do you need?” I said hesitantly while my mind ran ahead full-tilt.
She heaved a monumental sigh meant to express her dissatisfaction with the service. It succeeded in ruffling my hair and alerting me to the fact that she hadn't yet brushed her teeth this morning.
“I told them down at the front desk that the damn toilet was overflowing. Now will you quit standing there like a dolt and do something.”
“Um, I'm not the plumber,” I said, thinking quickly. “He's been called. They just sent me up to see if I could help with anything. Want me to take a look?”
“I want you to do something!”
I stepped around her and started for the bathroom while she trailed after me grumbling into the phone. “I swear, as nice as this place looks you'd think they'd have better help.”
“Did this start after your husband left?” I asked casually.
“Ha!” she snarled into the phone. “He wants to know if it started after my husband left.” Then to me, “I don't have a husband.”
“Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed that the man who rented the room...” The toilet was indeed overflowing. A small lake had formed on the tiled bathroom floor and had started to seep by the dam of towels she'd piled in the doorway. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do now that I was here.
“He's not my
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