Wendell Black, MD by Gerald Imber M.D

Author:Gerald Imber, M.D.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-03-10T16:00:00+00:00

35

The 5:15 Virgin flight from Heathrow landed at JFK a few minutes earlier than its 8:10 ETA. With only a carry-on and virtually no line at customs, I was in a cab at 8:20. I called Alison on the way in and got no answer. I was at the hotel at ten past nine. The room was in my name, I had a key card, but no one challenged me at the desk or the elevators, and it certainly wasn’t because they recognized me. I took my card out of my pocket but knocked on the door anyway. When there was no response, I rang the doorbell and slipped the key card into the slot, waited for the green light, removed it, and opened the door. Before the card was back in my pocket, I knew something was wrong. I entered the room cautiously, afraid of what I would find. All the lights were on, the bed was made, and there was no sign of life. No bags, newspapers, or clothing. To the right, the bathroom was bright and clean and waiting for use. No one was about to use it. Alison was gone.

There wasn’t the slightest hint of anything sinister. The room was clean as a whistle. Nothing out of place, just a nicely cleaned room ready for the next guest. Rodriguez was right. Alison had taken a powder. It was getting to be an old story.

There was no point asking the hotel staff for information. Alison was too smart for that. She didn’t check out, because the room was registered in my name, and I had estimated my stay at a week. Maid service was usually in the morning, unless the DO NOT DISTURB hung on the doorknob. I could check that out and have some idea when she last used the room. Not a dent in a pillow or a tissue pulled since the room had been made up.

I wasn’t at all worried; I was pissed. Alison had her own agenda, and she sandbagged me again. Like a jerk, I believed most everything she told me and definitely everything she whispered sweetly in my ear. She was working. That’s all it was, and I must have been pretty easy. When you catch a woman in a good-sized lie, any reasonable man recognizes it was not an isolated incident. With Alison, they were fast and furious, one after the other. Good spy, lousy girlfriend. I was really, really pissed.

I asked around at the reception desk, in the bar, and focused on the two young guys working the door. They didn’t seem to do much, but they wouldn’t miss a pretty woman. They were friendly and casual and never bothered to ask who, what, or why. Both had come on at four, and neither remembered seeing anyone matching Alison’s description. If she was slipping away, it was unlikely that she would set herself up to register with the doormen. More than likely Alison had made a quiet exit and found her own taxi.

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