Hell Up in Houston (The Drifter Detective Book 2) by Elliott Garnett

Author:Elliott, Garnett [Elliott, Garnett]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: General
Publisher: BEAT to a PULP
Published: 2013-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

Anne Fletch looked just as offended when Jack asked her about the maids assigned to 409.

"There's only one and it happens to be me," she said, slapping a hand against her chest.

"Just you?"

"It's the presidential suite. A guest pays for the finest accommodations, they get the best staff."

"What about your time off?"

"I don't have 'time off.' I live at the Fulton. Being the head of housekeeping means I've got certain responsibilities. Unlike the younger generation, I take my obligations to heart."

"Alright." Cynical as Jack was, he could not imagine a world where someone like Anne Fletch smuggled heroin to hotel guests. "What can you tell me about a bellhop named Shelby Dawes?"

"Shelby?" Anne frowned. "He's evenings. I never trust anyone who goes in for those kind of hours. Layabouts, I say."

"Is he trouble?"

"Don't know. I'd imagine. Most bellhops try to run some racket on the side of their regular business."

"Hector said he was 'shady.'"

"If he said that, then it's probably true. Hector's a good boy."

Jack thanked Anne for her time and went back down to the front desk. Mr. Broad-shoulders was gone. Hollis looked relieved.

"What time does evening staff come on?" Jack asked.

"About five o'clock." Hollis checked his watch. "That's not too far off."

Jack looked at the registry for guests booked on the fourth floor. Only a third of the rooms were occupied, and none of the patrons, according to Hollis, seemed suspicious. Satisfied, Jack filched a carafe of coffee from the lobby and went up to Grogan's office. The 'food stash' promised by the older detective had turned out to be several tins of Spam and saltines. He took some crackers, his old chessboard with magnetized pieces, a book of chess problems, and a folding chair up to the fourth floor. There was a spot at the end of the hallway affording a good view of 409. Dirty dishes had been set out on a tray next to the door; Irene must've already had her dinner.

Jack unfolded the chair and sat.

At ten past five Dr. Streit came out of his room. He noticed Jack, walked over to explain he was feeling poorly and needed air, then left.

At six sharp a well-heeled couple in evening attire stepped out. They only had eyes for each other.

At forty past six Streit came back, his face a little flushed. He nodded to Jack and returned to 408.

Time passed. Jack finished a chess puzzle and started on a second. Somewhere farther down the hall a newborn wailed. His eyelids drooped; a bad sign, to be nodding so early. He drained the carafe. He'd have to relieve himself eventually, but there were always vacant rooms around.

At ten to eight he dozed. The sound of the lift's gate rattling snapped him awake. The well-dressed couple had returned from their outing, kissing even as the man fumbled with his room key. Newlyweds, Jack figured.

He dozed again.

At ten o'clock the lights in the hallway dimmed. Soft footfalls sounded from the stairwell. Jack hunched forward, dropping his chess book. A lanky figure entered the hall, dressed in the hotel's signature brown and red.

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