โIโm sitting at the coffee shop directly across from the hotel. Iโm right by the window, so I have a perfect view of the entrance to theโ
Regency Grand. The light is fading. Sharp shadows fall upon the entrance, turning the scarlet staircase a different shade, closer to the color of dried blood. It wonโt be too long before the wrought iron gaslights will flicker on and their flames will glow richly as dusk gives way to dark.
I have a metal teapot in front of me, the kind that dribbles and never pours cleanly, and a thick mug. I prefer Granโs porcelain to this, but beggars canโt be choosers. I also splurged on a freshly baked raisin-bran muffin, which Iโve divided into four pieces, but Iโm too nervous to eat it right now.
A few minutes ago, Mr. Preston emerged from the revolving doors and resumed his position at the doormanโs podium. He made a call. It was very quick, very quick indeed. I can see him look up and across the street at this very window. He probably canโt see me in the fading light, but he knows Iโm here. And I know heโs there. Which is a comfort.
My phone buzzes. Itโs a text from Charlotte. A thumbs-up emoji, which we agreed beforehand would be our sign for โEverything is going according to plan.โ
Another text arrives from her:ย Wait where you are.
I send her a thumbs-up emoji back even though I am not feeling thumbs- up at all. I am decidedly thumbs-down and wonโt feel thumbs-up until I see some movement on those steps, until I see signsโany signs beyond an emojiโthat the plan is actually working. And so far, nothing.
Itโs 5:59ย P.M.
Itโs time.
I wrap my anxious hands around my mug, even though itโs tepid now and not much comfort. I have a good view of the TV screen to the right of my table. Thereโs no sound, but itโs tuned as it always is to the twenty-four- hour news channel. A young police officer I recognize as Detective Starkโs colleague is about to speak at the press conference. Heโs reading from the papers in front of him. The captions are scrolling:
โฆthat an arrest has been made in connection to what police have now confirmed is the murder of Mr. Charles Black, on Monday at the Regency Grand Hotel. Photographed here is the accused, Molly Gray, hotel room maid at the Regency Grand. She is under arrest for first-degree murder, possession of a firearm, and drug charges.
I take a sip of tea and nearly choke when I see my face appear on the screen. Itโs a photograph that was taken when I was hired, for my HR file. I didnโt smile for the picture, but at least I look professional. Iโm wearing my uniform. Itโs clean, freshly pressed. The captions continue to scroll:
โฆcurrently out on bail. Anyone requiring further information is invited toโฆ
I tune out then because I hear cars coming to a screeching halt. Across the street, right in front of the hotel, are four dark cruisers. Several armed officers jump out of the vehicles and run up the stairs. I watch as Mr. Preston ushers them in. The whole event lasts only a few seconds. Mr. Preston emerges again from the revolving doors, followed by Mr. Snow. They exchange a few words and then turn to the various guests on the landing, no doubt reassuring them that everything is fine when everything is most definitely not fine. I feel completely helpless as I watch from afar.
Thereโs nothing to do except wait and hope. And make a call. One important call.
Itโs time.
This is the only part of the plan that I have kept to myself all this time. I never shared it with anyoneโnot with Mr. Preston or Charlotte or even Juan Manuel. There are still some things that only I know, things only I can understand because Iโve lived them. I know what itโs like to be alone, to be so alone that you make the wrong choices, that out of desperation you trust the wrong people.
I open my contacts on my phone. I call Giselle.
It rings once, twice, three times, and just when I think that she wonโt answerโฆ
โHello?โ
โGood evening, Giselle. Itโs Molly, Molly the maid. Your friend.โ
โOh my God, Molly. Iโve been waiting for you to call. I havenโt seen you at the hotel. Iโve missed you. Is everything all right?โ
I donโt have time for niceties, and I do believe this is one of the few situations in life when skipping the rules of etiquette is entirely appropriate. โYou lied to me,โ I say. โRodneyโs your boyfriend. Your secret boyfriend. You never told me that.โ
Thereโs a pause on the other end of the line.
โOh, Molly,โ she says after a time, โIโm so sorry.โ I can hear it in her voice, that little catch that tells me she is near tears.
โI thought we were friends.โ โWeย areย friends,โ she replies.
I feel the sting of this like a barb.
โMolly, Iโm lost. IโmโฆIโm so lost,โ she says. Sheโs crying openly now, her voice meek and scared.
โYou made me move your gun,โ I say.
โI know. I shouldnโt have gotten you involved in my mess. I was scared, scared the police would find it and then everything would point to me. And I figured theyโd never suspect you.โ
โThe police found your gun in my vacuum. Everythingโs pointing to me now, Giselle. Iโve been arrested on many charges. It was publicly announced a few minutes ago.โ
โOh God. This canโt be happening,โ she says.
โIt is happening. To me. And I did not kill Mr. Black.โ
โI know that,โ she says. โBut I didnโt either, Molly. I swear.โ
โI know,โ I say. โDid you realize that Rodney would frame me?โ
โMolly, I swear I didnโt. And the stuff Rodney made you do, cleaning rooms after his shipments? I only found that out on Monday morning. Before that, I had no idea. That black eye he has? Thatโs because I hit him when he told me. We had a big fight about it. I told him it wasnโt right, that you were an innocent, good person, and that he couldnโt just use people like that. I flung my purse at him, Molly. I was so mad. The chain whopped him right in the eye.โ
That was one mystery solved, but only one. โDid you know that Rodney and Mr. Black were partners in illicit activity?โ I ask. โDid you know that they were running an illegal operation through the hotel?โ
I hear her shift and shuffle on the end of the line. โYes,โ she says. โIโve known for a while. Thatโs why we spent so much time in this fucking hotel. But the part about you? About Rodney involving you in his dirty work? I didnโt know that until this week. If Iโd known earlier, I swear, I would have put a stop to it. And Iโm telling you, I had nothing to do with Charlesโs murder. Rodney and I joked about it, sure, how we would fix our lives and finally be able to be together openly, just by offing his boss and my husband with the same bullet. We even planned running away together, far away.โ
It clicks then. The flight itinerary, two one-way tickets. โTo the Caymans,โ I say.
โYes, to the Caymans. Thatโs why I asked Charles to put that property in my name. I was going to leave him and run away, file for divorce from afar. Rodney and I were going to start a new life, a better life. Just the two of us. But I never actually thoughtโฆI didnโt know Rodney could actually be capable ofโฆโ
She trails off. โHave you ever felt betrayed, Giselle?โ I ask. โHave you ever put a great deal of faith in someone who then let you down?โ
โYou know I have. You know it all too well,โ she says. โMr. Black, he let you down.โ
โHe did,โ she says. โBut heโs not the only one. Rodney too. It seems Iโm an expert at trusting assholes.โ
โIt may be something else we have in common,โ I say.
โYeah,โ says Giselle. โBut Iโm not like them, Molly. Charles and Rodney, Iโm not like them at all.โ
โArenโt you?โ I ask. โMy gran used to say,ย If you want to know where someoneโs going, donโt watch their mouths, watch their feet. I never understood that until now. She also said,ย The proof is in the pudding.โ
โThe proofโs in theโฆwhat?โ
โIt means I wonโt trust your words anymore. I wonโt.โ
โMolly, I made a mistake is all. I made a stupid fucking mistake in asking you to go back into that suite and do my dirty work for me. Please. I wonโt let you go down for this. They canโt get away with it.โ
Her voice is raw and real, but can I trust what I hear? โGiselle, youโre at the hotel now? Youโre in your room?โ
โYeah. A princess locked in the tower. Molly, you have to let me help you. Iโm going to speak out, okay? Iโll tell the police it was my gun and I told you to get it. Iโll even tell them that Rodney and Charles were running a cartel. Iโm going to get you cleared, I promise. Molly, youโre the only true friend Iโve ever had.โ
I feel the rush of tears break over the banks of my eyes. I hope itโs true, I really do. I hope sheโs a good egg caught in a rotten basket. Itโs time to put her to the test.
โGiselle, you need to listen to me. You need to listen very, very carefully, okay?โ
โOkay,โ she says, through sniffles. โCan you get to the Cayman Islands?โ
โYeah. I have open tickets. I can go anytime.โ โDo you still have your passport?โ
โYes.โ
โDoย notย contact Rodney. Do you understand?โ โBut shouldnโt I let him know thatโโ
โHe doesnโt care a jot about you, Giselle. Canโt you see that? Heโll take you down, too, at the first chance. Youโre just another pawn in his game.โ
I hear her struggle to draw in breath. โOh, Molly, I wish I were more like you. Iโm not. Iโm not at all. Youโre strong. Youโre honest. Youโre good. I donโt know if I can do it. I donโt know if I can be alone.โ
โYouโve always been alone, Giselle. Poor company is worse than none.โ โLet me guess. Your gran told you that?โ
โShe did,โ I say. โAnd sheโs right.โ
โHow could I have ever fallen for a man soโฆโ โVile?โ I offer.
โYes,โ she says. โSo vile.โ
โVile and evil are composed of the same letters. One begets the other.โ โRodney and Charles,โ she says.
โVile and evil,โ I reply. โGiselle, we donโt have much time. I need you to do as I say. And it has to be fast.โ
โOkay,โ she says. โWhatever you ask, Molly.โ
โI want you to pack your basic necessities into a single bag. I want you to carry your passport and whatever money you have right next to your heart. And I want you to run. Not out the front doors of the hotel, but out the back ones. Right now. Do you hear me?โ
โBut what about you? I canโt just let youโโ
โIf you are a friend, you will do this for me. Iโm not alone anymore. I have real friends, true ones. Iโm going to be fine. Iโm asking you to do as I say. Go now, Giselle. Run.โ
She keeps talking, but I donโt listen because Iโve said everything I need to say. I know itโs rude, and if this werenโt an extraordinary situation, I certainly wouldnโt behave in this curt and clipped manner. I hang up on her without another word.
When I look up from my phone, thereโs a coffee-shop employee standing by my table. Sheโs shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. I
recognize this behavior. Itโs what I do when Iโm waiting for my turn to speak.
โWas that you?โ she asks. She points to the TV screen. How am I supposed to answer?
Honesty is the best policy.
โThat was me. Yes.โ
Thereโs a pause as she takes this in.
โOh, I should add that I didnโt do it. Murder Mr. Black, I mean. Iโm not a killer. You have nothing at all to worry about.โ I take a sip from my mug.
The coffee-shop employee stiffens and sidles away from my table. She turns her back on me only once sheโs safely behind the counter. I watch as she rushes to the kitchen, where she is no doubt talking to her supervisor, who will soon come out and look at me with wide eyes. I will recognize the expression instantly. I will know that it means fear because Iโm getting better at thisโunderstanding the subtle cues, the body language that expresses emotional states.
The more you live, the more you learn.
That same supervisor will look me up and down and verify that itโs me, the one on the news. She will call the police. The police will say something to calm her down, tell her not to worry or that the news conference had the details wrong.
All will be well. In the end.
I take a deep breath. I enjoy another calming sip of tea. I wait and I watch the hotel entrance.
And then: there it is at lastโwhat Iโve been waiting forโฆ.
The police emerge through the revolving doors with a man in front of themโRodney, his white shirtsleeves rolled up, making it easy to see his lovely forearms in handcuffs. Trailing behind him is Detective Stark. Sheโs carrying a navy-blue duffel bag that I recognize immediately. The zipper is half-open. Even from here, I can tell itโs not filled with a dishwasherโs clothes and personal effects but with bags containing white powder.
I pick up one neat quarter of my raisin-bran muffin. How lovely. Itโs fresh. Isnโt it interesting that this shop bakes goods in the late afternoon?
You wouldnโt think many people would choose muffins in the afternoon, but there you have it.ย Perhaps there are others out there in the world just like me.
People are a mystery that can never be solved.
Itโs true, Gran. Very true indeed.
The muffin is delightful. It melts in my mouth. It feels good to eat. Itโs something so human, so satisfying. Itโs something we all have to do to live, something every person on Earth has in common. I eat, therefore I am.
Rodneyโs head is pushed down into the backseat of one of the police cruisers. Several of the officers who ran into the hotel a few minutes ago are standing guard at the bottom stair. Nervous hotel guests huddle on the landing, seeking comfort and reassurance from their doorman.
Detective Stark climbs the stairs, says something to Mr. Preston. I see them both look my way. Thereโs no way they can see me, not with the late- afternoon light hitting the shop window.
Detective Stark nods my way, almost imperceptibly, but still, itโs a nod. Itโs meant for me. Iโm certain of it. What Iโm not certain of is what it means, this small gesture from afar. Iโve definitely had my fair share of trouble interpreting Detective Stark, so all guesses are just thatโ suppositions, not certainties.
I have never been one for gambling, mostly because money has been so hard for me to earn and so easy to lose. But were I to place a bet, Iโd say that Detective Starkโs nod carried a specific meaning. And what it meant was:ย I was wrong.