Page 38 of I Need You to Read This
They’ve been following Janice through the hotel for ages now, up flights of stairs and down marble hallways, past darkened conference rooms, until the crowds of tourists thin out and they are deep inside the hotel, walking quickly down a narrow hallway lined with gilded mirrors.
“Are we there yet?” Ray calls out, limping as he tries to catch up.
“You’re sure it’s way back here?” Alex asks as they weave around a row of potted palms. She is starting to get claustrophobic.
“This place is old-school, trust me. That’s why it’s called the Nest. They don’t want just anyone finding it,” Janice says without slowing her pace. “No interlopers. Or even worse, tourists. Ah-ha, this is the one,” she calls back to them victoriously. They follow her up a small marble staircase and turn one last corner before emerging finally into a domed atrium. She takes them through an elaborately carved wooden wall into a soaring stone barroom. At the entrance they stop, gaping at the grand room.
“Whoa,” Raymond says, taking in the human-sized granite fireplace that occupies nearly an entire wall. On the other end of the room a grand piano is being played by a man in a tuxedo. Between them is a long polished-mahogany bar, backed by a wall of windows through which the city lights glitter, blurred by hundreds of panes of beveled glass. There are only a few tables of people in the center. They sit inwingback club chairs, their drinks glowing warmly in front of them on small cocktail tables.
Alex has never seen anywhere like it. “I can’t believe this is inside a hotel.”
“Not so shabby, huh?” Janice says, obviously impressed with herself for finding it.
Raymond pulls on his jacket collar, straightening the front of his suit. He tries to seize control of the situation. “Listen, you two, we need a strategy. We get in. We get what we need. Then we get out.”
Janice isn’t paying attention. “Look, this is where my friend and I used to get the guys to order us drinks,” she says, twirling in front of the bar. “We had no money to drink those Sazeracs and martinis, you know, so we had to resort to flirting with the rich guys. And this is where the dance floor used to be. Otherwise, it really hasn’t changed much.”
“Okay, long enough stroll down memory lane for you?” Raymond says. “We need to focus, you two. We’re here on a mission.”
“We have to at least order a drink,” Alex says, eyeing a bright-green cocktail on one of the tables.
Janice nods. “Relax, Ray, it’s a bar. Doesn’t hurt to have a little fun while we’re here.” She pokes Alex in the ribcage and smiles conspiratorially. “How about a little ambience to set the mood? I’m going to see if that piano man takes requests.” She charges away, beelining to the piano, a pep in her step Alex can’t help but smile at.
“So, tell me what our main questions for this bartender are?”
“Okay, Ray. We need to find out what Howard was doing here before Francis died and who he was with.” They settle onto two empty barstools.
“Look, it’s like the Bluebird but with alcohol,” Alex jokes. But Raymond’s face is hard and vigilant, like he’s on the job. His eyes follow the bartender as he stirs a dark drink with a long silver spoon, straining it into a glass with a single cube of ice. He twists an orange rind into it, so fresh that Alex can smell the spray of oils from the peel. He passes it to a server waiting with a silver tray.
“Can I help you?” the bartender asks, handing each of them a card with a list of cocktails. Alex and Raymond exchange a look.
“I’ll have the Garden Gimlet,” Alex says, hoping for the green drink she saw earlier.
“I’ll do… ah… the…” Ray flips over the bar menu. “Where’s the beers on this thing?”
“He’ll do the Stubborn Old-Fashioned,” Alex reads from the menu. “Sound good?”
Raymond gives the bartender a nod and hands him the menu. “Smartass,” Raymond mutters. Alex shrugs. They watch the bartender mix their drinks.
“We’re here to see if you know anything about a guy,” Ray says. The bartender doesn’t look up as he pours a drink from a silver shaker through a strainer into a highball glass and finishes it with a sprig of rosemary.
“I wouldn’t tell you if I did. Bartender’s etiquette.” He says it amiably enough, but Alex detects a sharpness to his voice. It makes her realize that directly questioning him is going to get them nowhere.
“He probably doesn’t know him anyway,” Alex says to Raymond loudly enough for the bartender to hear.
“Sure he does, he sees everyone who comes in here.” Alex gives Raymond a meaningful look and he gets what she is trying to do. “You’re right,” he says, playing the part now. He leans back in his stool and turns toward her. “He wouldn’t know Howard Demetri.”
The bartender, who has been cutting the rind off a lemon with a paring knife, stops mid-slice. The tang of it hangs in the air as he gives them a long look.
“What name did you say?” He is acting different now, actually looking at them as he slides their finished drinks over the bar.
Raymond keeps his eyes on the man. “He was here the first week of October of last year. We think he was with a woman.”
“We were hoping you could tell us who it was and what they were doing,” Alex adds.
“Just one moment, please. Let me see what I can find out.” He disappears around the side of the bar. She looks at Raymond and shrugs.
“You think he’ll tell us?” Alex asks.
