Anonymous Rex by Eric Garcia

Author:Eric Garcia [Garcia, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-81945-1
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2012-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

No rest for the wicked. I have no sooner arrived back at the hotel room, removed my guise, taken a much-needed shower, sewn up more gaping holes in the pseudoflesh, reguised, and begun to dress for bed before there is a knock at the door. I waddle over, penguinlike, pulling a pair of pants up and around my hips, and peek through the peephole. Can’t be too careful, what with folks trying to kill me and all.

It’s the concierge, a pleasant fellow named Alfonse whom I had the pleasure of meeting this morning on my way out of the hotel. I open the door.

“Good evening, Mr. Rubio,” he says, bowing slightly at the waist. “I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“No trouble.” I pause. “Unless you’re here to tell me there’s trouble.”

“Oh no, sir. You have a message, sir.”

I glance toward the phone; the message indicator is not lit. Alfonse must understand, as he says, “I chose to deliver it by hand, Mr. Rubio, at the request of the lady who delivered it to me.”

A lady, eh? Alfonse places a small pink envelope in my outstretched palm, and I trade him for a five-dollar bill. Pleased, the concierge thanks me, bids me a good evening, and departs. I close the door and sit on the bed.

The envelope is scented with a strong perfume, which tells me right away it’s a human that sent it. Sarah.

Dear Mr. Rubio, the letter reads, I would be grateful if you would accompany me to the theater and dinner this evening. They always give me Halloween off, and rather than play dress-up, I would prefer to spend my night off with someone as interesting as you may prove to be. If you are able to join me, please arrive at the Prince Edward Theater no later than 7:30 P.M. I hope to see you there, and remain Yours Truly, Sarah Archer.

In my rule book, it’s illegal to turn down a dinner offer from a dame, especially when she’s also a suspect. But Sarah Archer … she’s interesting—intriguing even—and I can’t help feeling drawn to her in some way, even though the rest of her kind give me the shakes. As it is, logic’s been out the window since I got to New York, and though I’m treading in thick water, I choose to go with my instinct.

Downstairs, Alfonse gives me directions to the Prince Edward, which—surprise—consists of him hailing a taxicab to take me there. I’m decked out in the one suit I brought with me, a well-made ensemble of black and gray pinstripes, and while it might not have come from the rafters of Rodeo, I think it looks darned nice over my guise. I hand another fiver to Alfonse, he shuts the door, and the cab shoots off toward the heart of the theater district. I haven’t had any time to stock up on basil, and I find that though I’m fresh out, the lack of herbs doesn’t inspire in me the panic it once did.

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