Meanwhile, back in a corner of the pub, Murrow had been excitedly giving the color commentary of the meeting when his eyes got big and he slumped down in his seat so that he was hidden by his girlfriend's large head of hair. "What's the matter?" she whispered, trying to look over her shoulder without having to completely turn around.
"Christ!" he exclaimed. "You'll never guess who just walked in. No! Don't turn!…I just met one of them, PBA union boss Ed Ewen. There's some other middle-aged guy with him…dude's a cop if I've ever seen one but in a suit…wait a second, that's Tim Carney, the captain in charge of Internal Affairs!"
"I know Ewen and Carney, but odd that the head of the union and the guy whose job it is to bust dirty members of the union are hanging together at a swanky hotel in the Adirondacks," Stupenagel said. "Hmmm…as Alice once said, 'This gets curiouser and curiouser.' Have the other three seen them?"
"Had to but you'd never know it. They're standing maybe six feet apart and acting like they're complete strangers, but you and I know that Ewen and Carney know who every member of the city council is-not to mention that Louis and Shakira made a career out of suing the police department. Something doesn't smell right."
"Now what are they doing?" Stupenagel asked.
"Nothing much." Murrow noticed the glint in his girlfriend's eyes. "Hey, wait a minute. This is why you wanted to come up here. You knew these guys were going to be here."
"Nonsense," Stupenagel lied.
The truth was, she'd received a telephone tip that there was going to be a meeting "between some folks you'll find very interesting bedfellows…and once you figure out who they are, you might want to check into some of the real estate transactions in Bolton Landing, which should lead you-if you're as good as they say-to the story of the year." The caller then hung up before she could ask any questions or get a good handle on the voice, which seemed familiar but she couldn't quite place it. Whoever he was, the tipster certainly had the goods. In the morning, she'd have to head over to Bolton Landing, the town on the other end of the bridge that crossed Lake George to Green Island, on which the Sagamore was built, and find someone who could tell her about real estate in town. Maybe the tax assessor's office, if there was one way up here.
"No way," Murrow hissed. "I can see the 'hot scoop' look in your eyes. You used me."
Stupenagel was prepared to launch into a rehearsed spiel that would at least give her plausible deniability when she noticed the hurt look in his eyes. She didn't know what it was about this funny little man-she'd been the confidante and lover of pro athletes, world leaders, artists, and movie stars-but she'd found love in an intelligent, gentle bureaucrat (though she would never have called him one to his face). She resolved that she would never lie to him again…unless she had to.
"Okay, you're right, but only partly," she said. "I got a tip that there was going to be a meeting of some kind up here and that when I saw who was involved, I'd know what to do. But I could have come up alone and done my job. I just thought that this way, I'd get some time with you away from work and the city. And if this tip didn't pan out, we'd have even more time to ourselves."
Murrow allowed himself to look a little mollified. He had to admit that life with this woman was a hell of a lot more exciting than his usual fare. "Wait a second," he said, throwing himself into the spy game and stealing a glimpse over her shoulder. "Something just happened…some sort of signal between Louis and Ewen. Everybody's finishing their drinks and leaving…mmmph!"
Ariadne had stopped him from finishing his sentence by putting a hand behind his head and pulling him to her. Then she kissed him ferociously. When she let him go, he blushed. "What was that for?"
"Because I think I'm in love," Ariadne said. She wasn't surprised that she'd said it-she'd said a lot of things to a lot of men to get what she wanted-she was only surprised that she meant it.
Murrow was surprised to see the tears in her eyes. While very much a woman in most respects, she wasn't given to girlish emotions. "I love you, too, Ariadne. What do you say we skip dinner and go back to the room for the main event."
Instantly, the tears in her eyes were gone and she looked shocked. "Are you kidding me? We've got to find out what the hell's going on here." She slapped a twenty on the table, stood up, and practically yanked him out of the booth by the hand. They ran to the pub entrance and peered carefully around the corner. They got a glimpse of the backsides of Ewen and Carney just before the men reached the end of a hall and turned right.
Tugging Murrow along, Stupenagel crept down the hall. He wondered if someone might cue the music for Mission Impossible. They went around the corner where the others had disappeared just in time to see a large man closing the door of the Algonquin meeting room and positioning himself in front of it. He looked up and saw them.
At the same time, Ariadne pinned Murrow against the wall and began kissing him passionately as she fumbled at his trousers.
"Hey, hey, you two, go find a room why don't ya," said the man, who looked as if he were made of rectangular parts-a rectangular, crew cut head sat on top of a rectangular torso that was supported by two rectangular legs.
"Up yours," Stupenagel snarled. "It's a free country."
Rectangle Man reached inside his coat and pulled out a wallet, which he flipped open to reveal the gold shield of a New York City police detective. "Beat it," he ordered.
"All right, all right," Stupenagel said. "Aren't you a little out of your jurisdiction? I swear, you can't get away from the pigs anymore."
"Oink. Oink," the detective said. "Take your midget boyfriend and go for a hike."
"He's more man than you'll ever be," Ariadne replied. "Especially now that the steroids have shrunk your balls into peanuts."
Rectangle Man furrowed his Cro-Magnon brow. How'd she know I'm juicing, he wondered. But before he could think of a snappy comeback, the couple beat a hasty retreat.
Stupenagel and Murrow scampered to the front desk, where they summoned a bored clerk. "Hi, we're trying to find out if some friends of ours have checked in yet," Stupenagel said. "Hugh Louis and Olav Radinskaya and Shakira Zulu?"
The clerk looked at them, wondering if they were teasing her with the odd names. But when they didn't crack up, she looked at the guest registry. "No, no one with those names is registered, and they'd be pretty hard to miss." She flipped forward in the book. "I don't see any reservations under those names in the next few days either. You sure they're supposed to be here?"
"How about Tim Carney or Ed Ewen?" Murrow asked.
The clerk brightened. "I just saw Mr. Ewen and he was with another man. Mr. Ewen doesn't stay here-he's got that nice house over in Bolton Landing at The Landings-but he and his…I think she's his wife, although she looks more like his daughter…sometimes come in for a drink or dinner. He's with another man tonight." The clerk picked up the telephone. "Shall I try to page him for you?"
"No!" Stupenagel and Murrow said at the same time.
"They don't know that we decided to make the drive from Manhattan," Stupenagel explained. "And we'd just as soon spend the night together, alone, if you catch my drift." She winked at the clerk, who giggled and nodded. "We'll surprise him at his home tomorrow, so just keep it a secret, okay?"
"My lips are sealed," the clerk said, making the appropriate motion across her mouth. "You two lovebirds go enjoy yourselves."
Murrow was perfectly willing to do as the clerk suggested, but Ariadne led him through the hotel to a back exit and was soon tugging him across the snowy landscape in the direction of the Algonquin Room.