Page 42 of Bad Seed

“Necessary now and then for me to view parts of the hotel that are off-limits to guests, although I’m certain you already know that. Just know that I won’t get in the way of anything. I’m just auditing, not redecorating,” she said, and then laughed.

The sound went all the way to Larry’s toes as he laughed along with her. Then to his dismay, she was on her feet and in the act of leaving.

“Thank you for letting me disturb a bit of your day. I’ll be on my way now. I’m taking a little tour of the shops and guest amenities. I rented a car that will be delivered here sometime tomorrow. Other than that, I think we’re good for now.”

Larry hurried to open the door for her and, as she walked past him, realized she was taller than he was. He watched her walking away before he shut the door and then went to the bottom drawer of his desk, pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass, and poured himself a drink. He tossed it back in one gulp, then rode out the fire and heat as he swallowed, before returning the bottle to the drawer.

“That is one fine woman,” he muttered, and went back to work.

Satisfied that hand had played out as she intended, Harley took an escalator downstairs to the lobby and began wandering through the shops, eyeing what was for sale, and noting how the shop clerks interacted with the guests, then took the elevator down to the pool area. Rising vapor from the water was visible from where she was standing, which told her the pool was heated.

She found the spa area and stopped in to visit a bit and pick up a brochure.

“Welcome to the Serenity Inn. I’m Tori. Are you here to book an appointment?” the receptionist asked.

Harley shrugged. “Maybe later. I’m going to be here for a while. I’ll check my schedule and get with you later,” Harley said, and left the spa.

She was back up on the ground floor and walking through the lobby when she saw a police car come to a quick stop at the front entrance. Curious, she paused to watch, and as they got out, she did a double take. The tall one with black hair could have been Brendan Pope’s twin. Then she remembered he was one of four brothers, two of whom were officers with the Jubilee police force.

Both officers came hurrying inside in long, hasty strides as two security guards from Hotel Security came out of a room with a fortysomething woman in restraints and handed her over to the officers.

One guard quickly read off her particulars.

“Virginia Taylor. Age forty-seven. Caught in the act of picking a man’s pocket in the bar. When searched, we found a purse full of wallets belonging to some of our guests.”

Virginia had been crying. Her mascara was smeared and there was lipstick on her teeth, likely from biting her lip as she was doing when they handed her over.

“This has all been a misunderstanding. I think some teenagers planted that in my purse while I was at the bar,” she wailed.

The moment that excuse came out of Virginia’s mouth, Harley saw the Brendan look-alike frown as he pulled out his handcuffs.

“Well, Virginia, you didn’t think that story through. Teenagers aren’t allowed in the hotel bar. Please stand still,” he said, and read her the Miranda rights, but when he went to cuff her, she let out a wail.

“You’re hurting me. I have witnesses,” she whined.

He looked up, eyed the gathering crowd, and snapped on the second cuff. “I’m not hurting you. You’re hurting yourself. I asked you to stand still and you chose to ignore the order. And yes, there are people witnessing your arrest for pickpocketing.”

“I have rights. What’s your name and badge number?” she shouted.

Without missing a beat, he rattled off the info.

“Officer Wiley Pope…spelled like the one in Rome…related to half the population of Jubilee. Badge number ten, as in the number after nine, but the onebefore eleven.” And then he slipped his hand beneath one elbow while his partner took the other, and they walked her out of the hotel to the tune of continuing verbal complaints.

It was all Harley could do not to laugh. She didn’t know about the rest of Brendan’s brothers, but on the job, this one was unflappable. She was still smiling as she headed back to her room.

Chapter 8

Ollie Prine had exhausted all of his Chicago contacts and online searches. He had finally remembered the man’s name he’d known from prison. It was Schyler, and he was dead.

He was toying with the idea of ignoring Berlin’s orders and just calling the number with some cocked-up lie, when it occurred to him to check food delivery services. He didn’t have the hacking skills for that, but he knew someone who did. He pulled up the contact list on his cell phone and then made a call. To his dismay, it rang and rang with no answer. Just as he was about to leave a message, he heard a high-pitched whiny voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is Rosey there?”

“She’s dead. Who is this?”

“Ah, man, I’m sorry to hear this. Is this Thor Kowalski all grown up? it’s me, Ollie Prine.”

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