โIwalk briskly the entire way back to the hotel, checking the time frequently. Iโm making good progress. Itโs now five to one, and Iโmโ
nearly at the hotel, my time estimation almost exactly right. Iโm a bit flushed from the walk, and the wad of bills over my heart is slightly damp, but no matter.
It would appear the hotel has cleared out a bit since the morning; there are fewer guests about. Mr. Preston is alone at his doormanโs podium. When he sees me approaching, he steps out from behind it, his arms oddly stiff by his sides. I wave and rush up the stairs, but Mr. Preston calls down before I reach the top.
โMolly,โ he says, his voice a tense whisper. โGo home.โ
I stop on the third stair. His expression is odd, as though he very much needs a washroom break.
โMr. Preston, I canโt go home now. Iโm only halfway through my shift.โ โMolly,โ he calls down again. โUse the back door.ย Please.โ
โAre you quite all right, Mr. Preston? Do you need assistance?โ
Itโs only then that it comes into focusโthe absence of guests in the grand entrance, Mr. Preston standing too formally at the podium, his
strange, whispered orders. Through the glass of the revolving doors, I can make out Mr. Snow and beside him, a looming, shadowy figure. Detective Stark.
โMy dear girl,โ Mr. Preston says. โDonโt go inside.โ
โItโs quite all right,โ I say as I march up the remaining steps. โA few more questions wonโt kill me.โ
I push through the doors. Before I can take more than one step into the lobby, Mr. Snow and Detective Stark block my path. Thereโs something about Detective Starkโs posture that I donโt likeโthe way her arms are bowed and her hands outstretched, as if Iโm a varmint sheโs determined to catch before I take flight. I see Cheryl out of the corner of my eye, standing a few trolley-lengths away, but thereโs something different about her too. Itโs the first time Iโve seen a genuine smile on her faceโa look of anticipation and excitement.
โExcuse me,โ I say to Mr. Snow and Detective Stark. โI must not dillydally. The rest of my shift begins in approximately three minutes.โ
โIโm afraid it doesnโt,โ says Detective Stark.
I look to Mr. Snow, but he can barely meet my eye. His glasses are cantilevered to one side. Beads of sweat have formed at his temples. โMolly, the detective is taking you back to the station for more questioning.โ
โCanโt I answer questions here and then get back to work? I have a heavy workload today.โ
โThat wonโt be possible,โ says Detective Stark. โThereโs an easy way and a hard way to do everything. And the easy way is best.โ
Itโs an interesting comment, but itโs dead wrong. In my line of work, the easy way is the lazy way, not the best way at all. But since weโre in the hotel and that technically makes the detective a guest, I will be polite and bite my tongue.
I look around the lobby again and notice that more people have begun to gather. Theyโre not milling about, heading to and fro the way they usually do. Theyโve formed little clustersโby the reception desk, in the lounge chairs, on the marble landing by the grand staircase. Theyโre oddly static.
And quiet. Theyโre all looking in one direction. Their cold eyes are looking at me.
โWell, Detective Stark,โ I say. โIโll accept the easy way.โ I look at Mr.
Snow and add, โBut just this once.โ
Detective Stark gestures for me to lead the way out the revolving doors, which I do, as she follows too closely behind me. As I pass, I take one glance back and see all eyes tracking my departure.
Mr. Preston is outside the door at the top of the stairs. โHere,โ he says, taking my elbow. โAllow me to help you, Molly.โ
Iโm about to tell him Iโm quite all right, but as I look down at the stairs, the red carpet undulates in a vertigo-inducing wave. I hold tightly to Mr. Prestonโs arm. It feels warm. Comforting.
We are at the bottom of the staircase. Detective Stark says, โLetโs go. Itโs time.โ โMolly, take good care,โ Mr. Preston says.
โI always do,โ I reply, not entirely believing my own words.