Smart Moves Read Online Free PDF Page B

were flashing on the elevator board next to her.
    “Good help is hard to find,” the bellhop commented, nodding at the closing doors of the elevator as he headed down the corridor. “They’re lucky guys like me are willing to go back to work.”
    “You and the FBI,” I said.
    He walked ahead, shaking his head. He wasn’t about to try to figure out an insane guest, especially one who made war jokes and nutty comments about the FBI. The corridor was quiet and dark, the carpet a deep brown with grey vases, wearing away from a generation of shod feet. In front of 514 the bellhop put down the suitcase and opened the door.
    The room was small, clean, with a view of another hotel from the window. The bellhop put the suitcase down and said, “Have a good stay in New York.”
    I handed him two quarters, which he pocketed without looking, handing me the room key.
    A hot bath and a toothbrushing later and I was in my shorts, lying on the bed and considering my next move when a knock came. The guy at the door tried not to look at my scarred body as he handed me an envelope with TAFT HOTEL printed in the corner. Behind him a maid stepped forward to hand me a bowl of fruit covered by green cellophane. “The management would like to apologize for any inconvenience,” the man said with a fixed smile, touching his Wildrooted hair to be sure it wasn’t inconvenient.
    “No trouble,” I said, resisting the urge to scratch my stomach.
    “If there is anything you need to make your stay more comfortable, Professor Peters, just call the desk and ask for Calvin or Alexander.”
    “I’ll do that,” I said, taking note and fruit. “I’ll really do that, Calvin.”
    “Alexander,” he corrected.
    “Alexander, yes,” I said, pushing the door closed.
    The envelope contained cash from my Einstein check and a note welcoming me to the Taft. I put the cash in my wallet after picking my pants up off the floor and spent the next few hours coming up with no good plan while I ate Florida oranges.
    Just before three I took my suit into the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and went back into the room, closing the bathroom door behind me. By four, when I checked, the bathroom was at the level of a zero-visibility fog, but my suit was wrinkle-free. It was also damp, but I was the only one who would know that. After checking to see that I didn’t need a shave, I dressed in the soppy suit and went down to the lobby. There was a new clerk at the desk and the woman who reminded me of Anne was nowhere in sight. I hadn’t really expected her. I went up to the new clerk, who was as neatly dressed as the morning clerk and a decade older, his hair nearly white. I hung around the lobby, watching him and the passing parade until the desk was patron-free, then strode up, looking as respectable as my body allowed.
    “My name is Peters,” I said. “Professor Peters. I’m in five-fourteen.”
    “Yes, Professor Peters,” the man said with a false-toothed smile. “I was informed that you were here.”
    “I was wondering,” I said confidentially, “if you could do me a small favor.”
    “Anything at all,” he beamed.
    “I’d like to examine the registration books for the past three weeks,” I said.
    “No,” he said.
    “Mr.…”
    “Sudsburry,” he replied.
    “Sudsburry,” I said, as if savoring the name. “This is a delicate matter which I’d rather not explain. You understand, I hope.”
    “No,” grinned Sudsburry. “I can’t say that I do, Professor Peters, but it really doesn’t matter if I understand or not. I simply can’t let you examine the hotel register. I hope you understand.”
    I understood. I’ve filled in for enough house dicks to know that you didn’t let jealous husbands or process servers kick up cow pies in your corridors, at least not in reasonably respectable hotels.
    “If you’ll just tell me who you are looking for,” he said amiably, “perhaps I can tell you if they are registered and what room they