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Chapter no 12

The Maid (Molly the Maid, 1)

โ€ŒIwalk briskly the entire way back to the hotel, checking the time frequently. Iโ€™m making good progress. Itโ€™s now five to one, and Iโ€™mโ€Œ

nearly at the hotel, my time estimation almost exactly right. Iโ€™m 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 doormanโ€™s 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.

โ€œMolly,โ€ he says, his voice a tense whisper. โ€œGo home.โ€

I stop on the third stair. His expression is odd, as though he very much needs a washroom break.

โ€œMr. Preston, I canโ€™t go home now. Iโ€™m only halfway through my shift.โ€ โ€œMolly,โ€ he calls down again. โ€œUse the back door.ย Please.โ€

โ€œAre you quite all right, Mr. Preston? Do you need assistance?โ€

Itโ€™s only then that it comes into focusโ€”the 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.

โ€œMy dear girl,โ€ Mr. Preston says. โ€œDonโ€™t go inside.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s quite all right,โ€ I say as I march up the remaining steps. โ€œA few more questions wonโ€™t 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. Thereโ€™s something about Detective Starkโ€™s posture that I donโ€™t likeโ€”the way her arms are bowed and her hands outstretched, as if Iโ€™m a varmint sheโ€™s determined to catch before I take flight. I see Cheryl out of the corner of my eye, standing a few trolley-lengths away, but thereโ€™s something different about her too. Itโ€™s the first time Iโ€™ve seen a genuine smile on her faceโ€”a look of anticipation and excitement.

โ€œExcuse me,โ€ I say to Mr. Snow and Detective Stark. โ€œI must not dillydally. The rest of my shift begins in approximately three minutes.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m afraid it doesnโ€™t,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. โ€œMolly, the detective is taking you back to the station for more questioning.โ€

โ€œCanโ€™t I answer questions here and then get back to work? I have a heavy workload today.โ€

โ€œThat wonโ€™t be possible,โ€ says Detective Stark. โ€œThereโ€™s an easy way and a hard way to do everything. And the easy way is best.โ€

Itโ€™s an interesting comment, but itโ€™s dead wrong. In my line of work, the easy way is the lazy way, not the best way at all. But since weโ€™re 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. Theyโ€™re not milling about, heading to and fro the way they usually do. Theyโ€™ve formed little clustersโ€”by the reception desk, in the lounge chairs, on the marble landing by the grand staircase. Theyโ€™re oddly static.

And quiet. Theyโ€™re all looking in one direction. Their cold eyes are looking at me.

โ€œWell, Detective Stark,โ€ I say. โ€œIโ€™ll accept the easy way.โ€ I look at Mr.

Snow and add, โ€œBut 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. โ€œHere,โ€ he says, taking my elbow. โ€œAllow me to help you, Molly.โ€

Iโ€™m about to tell him Iโ€™m 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. Prestonโ€™s arm. It feels warm. Comforting.

We are at the bottom of the staircase. Detective Stark says, โ€œLetโ€™s go. Itโ€™s time.โ€ โ€œMolly, take good care,โ€ Mr. Preston says.

โ€œI always do,โ€ I reply, not entirely believing my own words.

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