Page 56 of Pied Sniper

“Elevator. We’ve taken enough stairs today.”

We shared the car with a miserable looking, and very quiet, couple. When we stepped out into a sage green corridor and turned towards room fifteen, I asked. “Will we ever be that unhappy?”

“Of course not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just know.”

“But...”

“Because you’re kind of crazy, Lexi,” interrupted Solomon. “Crazy and fun.”

“I was afraid you were going to stop at crazy.”

“Room fifteen,” said Solomon. He tapped the keycard against the electronic pad and the panel turned green. I pushed the handle and stepped inside.

“Hello?” I called to the silent room. “It’s dark in here,” I said to Solomon.

“Hold on.” Solomon slid the keycard into the slot and the lights came on, revealing an average-sized room with the drapes drawn. A large bed dominated the space, the comforter half-pulled back and rumpled. The remains of room service were abandoned on a tray on the console under the wall-mounted television. A sweater, jeans, and a padded vest were all slung over the chair in the corner. A small laptop was next to it. “Bathroom’s empty,” he said, stepping in and out of it.

“I don’t see any sign of Tiffany being here,” I said, moving further into the room. “The meal tray is one plate, one glass.”

“Only one coffee cup in the coffee area. Only men’s products in the bathroom,” said Solomon.

“If you were visiting your girlfriend, wouldn’t you stay with her instead of a hotel room?”

“Well, sure, but maybe he wanted to get some work done. Perhaps he did stay with her and moved here after the argument they were purported to have.”

“That makes sense. He could be cooling off here.”

“I don’t think it worked,” I said, remembering how drunk Jonathan Brett clearly was. I opened the drapes, expecting someone to jump out at me and was relieved when that didn’t happen. With natural light flooding the room, I scanned it. My first assumption was correct. No sign of Tiffany being here, willingly or otherwise.

Something else occurred to me. “I didn’t see any emails from him in Tiffany’s inbox. Isn’t that odd?”

“We don’t email often,” said Solomon.

“We live together and we’re married. We text.”

“Eggplant emojis don’t count. The laptop is password protected,” said Solomon. He pushed the lid closed.

I bent to examine the clothing on the chair. “I don’t see any blood on his clothes,” I said, straightening up again. “I don’t think Jonathan is involved. I’d like to know what their argument was about, but other than that, I’m not sure he has much to tell us.”

Solomon opened his mouth to answer but was stopped by a pounding on the door. “Jonathan?” yelled a woman’s voice. “Jonathan? Are you in there?” Solomon raised his eyebrows as he glanced at me.

I shrugged as I didn’t recognize the voice.

“You won’t believe what the bitch did this time!” continued the woman. “Honey, hurry up and open the door!”

Solomon and I jogged over and Solomon opened the door.

“Who the hell are you?” said the woman waiting in the hallway. She glanced around, like she’d gotten the wrong room, shaking out a sheen of long, red hair underneath a black beanie. Sunglasses covered half her face.

“I could ask you the same thing,” said Solomon before he yanked her inside.

Chapter Twelve

“Why are you in my boyfriend’s room?” demanded the woman. She planted her hands on her hips and stared down at me, then up at Solomon. “Wait… isthismy boyfriend’s room?” She looked around, a frown furrowing her forehead, suddenly uncertain. I knew the feeling. I’d attempted to gain access to incorrect hotel rooms more than once, and occasionally also broken in.

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