“Kid, I couldn’t care less about Howard Hart and his flashy toys, but I am keen to know what his wife’s been up to lately. Tell me, you seen Hart’s Lincoln Limousine cruising the streets at strange hours?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. The last week or so I’ve seen it comin’ and goin’ at the crack of dawn.”
“Where’s it coming and going from?”
Skip smirked. “Jeepers, Mr. Baxter. I’d love to tell ya, but I seem to be forgettin’ things lately.”
I rolled my eyes. “Perhaps if I give you another dollar you could go to the doctor and see about that memory of yours.” I slipped him another crisp bill.
“Well, whaddaya know, I suddenly remember. The Cheshire Hotel. Not exactly the ritziest place in town.”
“Did you see who was driving?”
“A chauffeur. Dapper fella, the clean-cut type, at least half her age.”
“Her?”
“You know exactly who I’m talkin’ about. Mr. Hart’s missus. She was always sittin’ low in her seat, like she didn’t wantnobody to see her, but ain’t nothin’ skips past Skip. I tell ya, that chauffeur’s got a flat tire if he thinks he can get dizzy over a dame like Crystal Hart and get away with it. He might be hungry for a little high-class hoochie, but the only thing that fella’s gonna be eatin’ soon is lead.”
I couldn’t disagree. I flipped him another bill. “Thanks kid. Keep your wits about you and stay safe, ya hear?”
I turned to leave, but Skip called after me. “Mr. Baxter, that ain’t all the news I got for you today.”
I angled my head to look back over my shoulder. “Oh yeah?”
He waved me closer and hushed his tone. “Bugsy Brown’s been lookin’ for you.”
“You don’t say.”
Skip nodded. “He told me if I sees ya, he wants to meet you for dinner tomorrow night atLuigi’s Linguine Kitchen. Eight o’clock sharp.”
“He does, does he?”
“You in trouble with all the wrong people again, Mr. Baxter?”
I heaved a sigh. “Somethin’ like that.”
Skip chuckled and shook his head. “Heck, I so wanna be you when I grow up.”
I sighed again. “Always be careful what you wish for, kid. It might just come true.”
CHAPTER 4
The Cheshire Hotel was,as Skip put it, not exactly the ritziest place in town. The wallpaper in the lobby was peeling, the sofa in the waiting area was frayed and frazzled, and the coffee table in front of it was balancing on three legs. The lights in the chandelier above blinked with a last flicker of life, and there was a dark red stain on the carpet that either came from a wine bottle or a dead body. Kinda reminded me of the building where I rented my office, which in a way made me feel right at home. It was, however, the last place one would expect to find the wife of the town’s richest man.
Behind the check-in desk was a tall, thin man with his back to the lobby. He was wearing a sweaty undershirt almost as stained as the rug on the floor, and at first, I thought he was checking keys on the board behind the counter.
As I stepped up to the desk, I soon realized that was not the case. “Excuse me. Sir?”
The man responded with a grunt, then a groan, then a visible shudder ran down his spine. Yet he did not turn around to acknowledge me.
“Sir? Hello?” I dinged the bell on the desk.
The man simply groaned even louder.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
Suddenly from somewhere out of sight I heard, “For Pete’s sake, we can hear you… we’re just choosing to ignore you!”