We both wanted to work on the contract documents on the spot, but one look at our tiny marble-topped table, and another at the long line of customers waiting for their turn at overdosing on chocolate, and we knew that was a bad idea.
“What about the hotel lobby?” I said. “You don’t have to be staying there to walk in and use the coffee tables and chairs. It will be as if we’re still registered,” I said.
Maddie gave me a sideways look. “You’re not going to dump me in the pool, are you?”
Between bouts of laughter, I made a promise to keep Maddie dry, and she accepted.
I couldn’t remember ever being so full as I was driving back toward downtown San Francisco.
“I’ll never eat again,” Maddie said, both hands on her fat-free belly, though we both knew that sentiment would barely last till dinnertime.
While I drove around the ramps of the Duns Scotus parking garage, I organized my goals for the trip.
I needed to establish the chain of custody for Rosie’s locker room scene, tracking its journey from the crafts room in my home to the hands of my LPPD nephew. If I believed Rosie, I could account for the scene up to its fate in room five sixty-eight of the Duns Scotus on Saturday morning, when Rosie unleashed thirty years of anger on it, then dumped it in the trash. The big question: who took the scene from there to the woods of Lincoln Point and then called it in?
I also wanted to study the documents provided by Maddie’s Internet search. This task didn’t seem as important now that Barry Cannon had all but confessed the business fraud to me, and was in police custody, but I liked to be thorough.
What to do first? I wasn’t eager to take Maddie with me on my mission to talk to housekeeping personnel about the locker scene. She had no idea what had happened to the cute room box she liked so much and I’d hoped to keep it that way. Since we were no longer registered at the hotel, we didn’t have access to any of the amenities (that is, I couldn’t dump her at the pool even if I’d wanted to).
“How shall we do this?” I asked Maddie. We had the elevator to ourselves as we rode from the parking garage to the lobby floor.
“Just take me with you everywhere and I’ll be very quiet, okay?”
A promise was a promise.
“Then, let’s say the first stop is the front desk.”
Maddie uttered a loud “Whew,” which, I guessed, expressed her relief that I had no plans to toss her in the water.
I had to find Aaron. I was prepared to wait a long time if necessary, but good fortune smiled on us, and he was on duty.
Maddie and I joined a short line waiting to check in or out, though I assumed that unlike me, most people checked out through their television sets. I didn’t think I’d ever have the confidence in technology that it took to trust a remote control with my credit card.
“Hi, Aaron,” I said. “It’s Mrs. Porter, remember?”
Aaron’s eyes widened, as if he expected an emergency. “Mrs. Porter, I thought you checked out.”
Impressive that Aaron would have that data at his fingertips. But then, I knew I’d been a memorable guest, what with maintenance problems and attracting petty crime in the lobby.
“I did check out, Aaron, and it was a wonderful stay,” I said.
From a spot down and to my left came another voice, that I didn’t expect. “I hope you got our evaluation card,” Maddie said. “We wrote nice things about everyone.”
I uttered a quick prayer that Aaron’s department was completely separate from the evaluation department and that he would have no idea whether we’d filled out the card (I hadn’t) or not.
Aaron gave Maddie a big smile. “Thanks, honey.” He might have been the only person of his generation to call anyone “honey.”
I cleared my throat, preparing for the big push. “Aaron, you’ve done so much for us already, and now I need just one more little favor. I need to find the person who cleaned room five sixty-eight on Saturday.”
“Did you leave something behind? I can call lost and found.”
Aaron was ever the optimist, trying to shunt me off to another department. When would the young man realize that I was a special case? Even when I’d needed an electrician and a plumber it was for a different reason than most hotel guests had.
“I didn’t exactly leave anything behind. See, my granddaughter and I left the hotel on Saturday morning for a while, then our other roommate, Rosie Norman, checked out of the room sometime later.” I used my fingers to tick off the timeline. “Then, my granddaughter and I came back in the afternoon, and in between the room was cleaned.”
“It was very neat when we got back,” Maddie said. Was this what she’d meant by being “very quiet”? We’d have to talk.
“I need to speak to that person,” I told Aaron.
“Was there a problem?” he asked.
Was that the only question Duns Scotus employees were taught? And Maddie had already answered it.
“Everything was fine, as my granddaughter said. I just need to see her.” I leaned farther over the counter. Aaron stepped back slightly. “Actually, I have a present for her. She did such a good job. I was a little embarrassed to tell you, because I don’t have something for everyone.”
Fortunately, I’d picked up a couple of attractive chocolate gifts at the Ghirardelli shop, meaning to give them to Linda and Beverly for taking care of Maddie, but this use would be even better. I could make it up to my babysitters some other way.
I heard a small gasp from Maddie. I leaned down. “We’ll still have the one you picked out for Taylor,” I whispered.
“You can leave it here for your maid. I’ll make sure she gets it,” Aaron said.
I hated to do it, but it was time to bring out my school-teacher voice. It seemed I’d used it more in the last few days than in all the intervening years since Rosie and her classmates graduated.
“Aaron, I need to see the housekeeper who cleaned room five sixty-eight last Saturday.”
His Adam’s apple made a complete trip up and down his windpipe. “Okay, let me call down. You can wait-”
I nodded, gave Aaron a big smile, and Maddie and I headed for the couch.
I’d been avoiding looking at the tile bridge and the jungle it ran through. The setting, meant to be inviting, began a few yards from the front desk. I took a seat on the couch facing Maddie, with my back to the dark trees and bushes. Even so, the green paisley print of the U-shaped sectional took on the look of the jungle.
“That was a good idea, mentioning the evaluation card,” I said to Maddie. “I hope he doesn’t go looking for it.”
Maddie gave me a quizzical look. “But I did fill it out,” she said. “I wouldn’t lie.”
I patted her knee. “Of course you wouldn’t, sweetheart. I meant it might be hard for him to trace it to our room.”
“I wrote the room number on the card.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You know, I’m a little tense and not thinking straight.”
She smiled, then returned the favor and patted my knee.
I wasn’t lying about being tense, but the reason was the close call in leading Maddie to believe I would have approved of a lie.
I had a lot to learn before I could be proud of myself as a grandmother.
I’d put the talk with Maddie off long enough. Our cleaning person might show up any minute. We’d made an emergency trip to my car to pick up the Ghirardelli present when I realized I’d better produce it in case Aaron was keeping watch. The candy was allegedly my reason for wanting to meet our housekeeper.
We were now settled back on the waiting couch, as I thought of what to say.
“Maddie, do you know why I need to talk to the woman from housekeeping?” I asked.
“Not really. I just figured it must be about a clue.”