Page 76 of The Mystery Guest

That’s what I’m thinking about as I sit beside Detective Stark in her parked police cruiser. We are just outside the gates of the Grimthorpe mansion, and there’s a jewel-encrusted egg in my lap, a parting gift from Jenkins.

I have just finished explaining to the detective, in minute detail, why it is we must hurry to the Regency Grand. I’ve told her everything I know, everything I remember.

“I can’t believe it,” she says once I’m done talking. “Molly, how in hell did you piece all of that together?”

“Details,” I say. “You’ve been told before that I’m very good at them, but you didn’t believe it. I may miss what you think is obvious, but I’ve always been attuned to what others ignore. We’re allthe same in different ways, Detective Stark. My gran taught me that long ago.”

“I…regret that I…underestimated you,” Stark says. It’s as though there’s a frog caught in her throat, because it takes her a good long time to spit so few words out of her mouth.

“Most people underestimate me,” I reply. “But that doesn’t matter right now. We’ve got to hurry.”

Detective Stark nods and starts the cruiser. My back is pushed into the seat as she picks up speed and races down the road.

“By the way,” she says once we’re sailing, “why did that strange man insist you take that silly old trinket?” She looks away from the road for a moment at the tarnished egg in my lap.

“The Fabergé?” I ask.

“You don’t actually believe that’s a Fabergé, do you, Molly? It’s a dime-store knickknack.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Detective. This egg meant a lot to me when I was a child, and I shall treasure it. One must look beyond the surface to see true value in anything.”

“Are you still talking about the egg?” Stark asks.

“What do you think I’m talking about?” I reply.

Detective Stark doesn’t answer, but I feel the speed of the cruiser increase. She turns the lights and siren on as we barrel down the road toward the Regency Grand.

We arrive in record time, screeching to a halt in front of the red-carpeted steps.

“Molly, what’s going on? Are you all right?” Mr. Preston asks as I jump out of the cruiser and rush past him.

“No time!” I call back to him.

“You can’t just leave a flashing cruiser in the landing zone,” a valet yells out to Detective Stark.

“Oh, yes I can!” she replies as we both hurry through the revolving doors.

We run to the reception desk, where Mr. Snow is assisting guests.

“Have the LAMBS checked out yet?” I ask him.

“Molly, you’re interrupting,” Mr. Snow says.

“My most sincere apologies for contravening guest protocol,” I say, “but this happens to be an emergency.”

“Did you hear her?” Stark says. “When do the goddamn kookballs check out?”

“Tomorrow,” Mr. Snow replies.

“We’re going into one of their rooms. Immediately,” Stark announces.

“You can’t just enter a guest room without provocation,” Mr. Snow says. “It’s a violation of privacy.”

“Your maid has just uncovered crucial information in this case. She’s on to something big,” says Stark.

Mr. Snow’s eyebrows peak on his forehead. “In that case, follow me,” he says.

The three of us head toward the elevator, where we get on and take a silent trip up to the fourth floor. The doors open and we enter the hallway. Sunshine and Lily are there with their trolleys. Sunshine’s face falls the second she sees us. Lily stops cold in her tracks.

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