In Death 14 - Reunion in Death

the curb, held up a hand to hold off the uniformed doorman who hustled over. "Take your time," he told Eve. "Take whatever time you need."
    The building was a simple block with a rippled tile roof. But it was painted a pleasant stucco pink now, and rather than the lurid sign, there was a shady portico and a couple of big concrete tubs filled with a rainbow of flowers.
    "Are you sure this is right?" She felt his hand close gently over hers. "Yeah, of course you're sure. It didn't look like this."
    "It was rehabbed in the late forties. From the looks of it, I'd say most of this area got the same treatment."
    "It won't be the same inside either. This is probably a waste of time, and I should be talking to the locals about Dunne."
    He said nothing, just waited her out.
    "I'm so scared. I'm so fucking scared. I can't even work up any spit in my mouth. If this was the job, I'd just do it. You just go through the door."
    "I'm going through the door with you." He kissed her hand again, because he needed it. "We've been through others. We can go through this one."
    "Okay." She sucked in a breath. "Okay." And got out of the car.
    She didn't know what Roarke said to the doorman, or how much money changed hands, but the car remained parked where it was.
    There was a roaring in her head she knew was fear, adrenaline, and dread. It remained there, dimming her hearing so that it was like walking through water as they entered the lobby.
    The floors were a sea of blues, and added to the sensation of passing through some thin liquid. There were pleasant seating areas arranged, and a bank of elevators with silver doors to one side, a long check-in counter on the other where two bright-faced young clerks worked.
    There were white carnations in the buttonholes of their snappy red jackets, and a generous bowl of hard candy on the counter.
    "He had funny eyes." She stared at the tidy check-in area and remembered the grubby rat hole where a single droid had worked. "One wandered everywhere and the other stared right at you. He smelled, like burning. Fucking droid's blown some circuits. That's what he said. You just stay there, little girl. Stay there with the bags and keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you. And he went up to the counter and got a room."
    "What room?"
    "Nine-one-one. Emergency. Better not call 911 or he'll beat the shit out of you. Oh God."
    "Look at me. Eve, look at me."
    She did, and saw so much in his face. Concern, fury, and hints of grief. "I can do it. I can do this." She took a step toward check-in, then his hand took hers again.
    "Good afternoon." The female clerk spilled welcome all over them. "Will you be checking in today?"
    "We need room 911," Roarke told her.
    "And do you have a reservation?"
    "Nine-one-one," Roarke repeated.
    Her smile faltered a little, but she began to work with her screen. "That room is blocked for a guest arriving this evening. If you'd like another room with a kitchenette, perhaps-"
    He felt Eve reach down, knew she was going for her badge. He gave her hand a warning squeeze. "It's 911 we need." He'd already measured her. Some you bribed, some you intimidated, some you flattered. And others you simply rolled over. "The name's Roarke, and my wife and I will be needing that particular room for a bit. If there's a problem with that, you should speak to your supervisor."
    "Just one moment, sir." Her face wasn't so friendly now, and her voice had cooled to that "You're a troublemaker" tone. She slipped through a door behind the counter. It took only twenty seconds or so before a man came rushing out ahead of her.
    "I apologize for the wait, Mr. Roarke. I'm afraid my clerk didn't understand. We weren't expecting-"
    "We need the room. Room 911. I take it you understand?"
    "Of course, of course." He tapped nervous fingers over the screen. "Whatever we can do for you. Welcome to The Traveler's Inn. Angelina, get Mr. Roarke's keycode and guest packet. We have two restaurants," he continued. "Marc's for fine dining, and The Corral for casual. May I make any reservations for you?"
    "That won't be necessary."
    "The Sunset Lounge is open from eleven a.m. to two a.m., and our gift shop carries souvenirs, apparel, snacks, and various sundries" The words tumbled out of his lips and he looked slightly terrified. "May I ask how long you and your wife plan to stay with us?"
    "Not long." Roarke handed over a debit card.
    "Ah, yes, thank you. I'll just scan this. We'll be happy to assist you with