California Schemin' Read Online Free PDF

outside, and the combination of wet travelers and
heated air was stifling. I mentally ran through my usual list of
swear words and headed for baggage claim, but the bank of monitors
announcing departures caught my eye, and I stopped dead. There was
a flight to Manchester, New Hampshire, leaving in a little over an
hour. I stood there looking at the screen, needing to head for home
but afraid I’d mess everything up. Meg would be waiting for me in
Burlington in the morning. Beau and Fogel would flay me alive if I
didn’t show up at the hotel, and there was no guarantee that I
wouldn’t be stranded in Manchester. All this subterfuge was
annoying.
    I dragged my luggage off the conveyor belt in
baggage claim and wheeled it out to the taxi stand. I was about to
get in a cab when I saw the hotel shuttle. I didn’t actually like
the idea of paying for a taxi ride to the underground and taking it
to a stop three blocks from the hotel. Besides, it was really
unnecessary, so I jumped on the shuttle.
    An irrational feeling of relief washed over
me when the driver unloaded my bag at the front of the hotel.
Nothing bad had happened, and I hadn’t been required to muscle my
two-ton bag through the bowels of Washington. A bellhop practically
ran through the rotating door and took charge of my luggage. I’d
have to remember to stay in first class hotels more often.
    I smiled at the desk clerk and handed him the
business card that Sheriff Fogel had given me. The clerk
immediately stood a little straighter. He began tapping furiously
on the keyboard.
    “Would you like an upper or lower floor, Ms.
MacGowan?”
    “Upper, I think, as close to the top as I can
get.” I was thinking a nice view would be good. Maybe I’d get lucky
and get a view of the National Mall. Hah! More likely it would be
an alley or a brick office building within arm’s reach of my
window.
    “I have a penthouse suite on the top floor.
The elevator has a special key so no one can come up without your
permission. Would that be to your liking?”
    “I don’t really think that’s necessary, and
I’m not sure Fogel would want to pay for that, um, fancy a room.” I
wasn’t supposed to say anything about who I was or who was paying,
but this was ridiculous. A penthouse suite?
    “The room is complimentary, madam. There is
no need for you to worry. Is there anything else you will be
needing? I can have meals sent to your room.”
    “That would be fine. Thank you.”
    He handed me a card key that operated the
elevator and opened the room. The bellhop escorted me up in the
gilt-lined lift to the top floor. What he must have been thinking I
had no clue. The elevator doors were mirrored. My reflection showed
tousled brown hair, rumpled T-shirt, faded jeans and my dirty black
cowboy boots. I looked slightly disreputable and very rumpled after
the flight, but they were treating me like some kind of dignitary.
Or a fugitive.
    I tipped the bellhop at the elevator after he
dragged my suitcase into the hallway. Across from the elevators a
set of shiny red doors framed with gold filigree faced me. I slid
my card key through the electronic lock on the double doors. They
opened into the suite, and I caught my breath. Floor-to-ceiling
windows looked out over the city from three sides. From where I was
standing I could see Washington through the open living area.
History oozed from the city.
    I dropped my suitcase and flung my purse onto
the bed. I sank onto the couch and dug my cell out of my pocket. I
didn’t know who to call first, Meg, who would be awed, or Beau, who
must know what Fogel had said to the hotel to get me such a
fabulous room.
    I called Beau first, just so I could get the
scoop and tell Meg. It would be so much more satisfying if I could
tell her the whole story.
    “So,” I said after I’d updated him on my
flight, “what did I do to get the penthouse suite overlooking DC?
I’ve got a special key to the elevator and everything.” I flipped
the key card in