Swan Dive

You see, I come on at three usually. I like my days off, go for walks, especially this time of year. So there could be a lot of guys—some women too, if you can believe it—who coulda been regulars and I’d never see ‘em, or just see ‘em coming or leaving and never with any particular girl.”
    ”See any other regulars that night?”
    ”Of hers, you mean?”
    ”Yes.”
    ”Nope.”
    ”But you knew Marsh was one of hers for sure.”
    ”Yeah. Well, I didn’t know his name till the cops told me. It ain’t exactly the sort of thing we wanta keep track of, get me?”
    ”You saw her with him?”
    ”Once. And I’d see him sometimes on days I knew she was entertaining.”
    ”You the one who saw him with the suitcase?”
    ”Right. Both times.”
    ”Both times?”
    ”Yeah. I saw him with it maybe six, eight months ago, then again on Monday night.”
    ”Eight months ago?”
    ”Give or take.”
    That was way before any of the divorce stuff.
    ”Any idea what was in the suitcase?”
    Patch smiled knowingly. ”Nope. And around here, you don’t ask.”
    ”What are my chances of seeing the room?”
    Patch crossed his arms, doing a slow-motion dance with his feet. ”No chance at all. The cops are pretty good about not bothering us here. So when something happens, we cooperate like goddamn boy scouts. They say nobody goes in the room, nobody gets in.”
    ”What does a room rent for here?”
    ”Ten bucks.”
    ”An hour.”
    ”Uh-huh.”
    ”There another room like the one she died in?”
    ”Sure. Any of the oh-twos.”
    ”The what?”
    ”The oh-twos. Like nine-oh-two, ten-oh-two, get it? She was killed in twelve-oh-two, and all of them are like identical above and below.”
    ”How about I reserve eleven-oh-two upfront for a coupla hours, but use it only for about twenty minutes?”
    ”Alone?”
    ”No. You as my tour guide.”
    He smiled and said, ”Elevator on the right. Watch your step, please.”

    ”Anything different?”
    Patch looked around 1102. Swaybacked double bed, bureau that looked like the backstop at an archery range, a couple of faded prints on the wall, one in a frame with cracked glass. ”Can’t swear about the prints, but the furniture is all like twelve-oh-two’s.”
    ”In the same relative position in the room?”
    ”Yup.”
    I walked to the window. The sill was old-fashioned, beginning just above my knee, the glass rising nearly six feet high. Patch said, ”That’s where he went out. Up a floor, of course.”
    The view was the South Station coupling yards, two locomotives desultorily warming up or cooling down. Must have been a damned impressive sight in the forties, though I doubted Marsh appreciated the historical perspective.
    In addition to the entrance, there were two big doors off the room, one next to the bed, the other past the footboard. Each looked to be of solid wood with glass knobs.
    I looked into the one at the footboard first. Just a hopper and a sink within the loosely tiled walls. ”Only a half bath?”
    ”The oh-twos used to be suites. Then they broke ‘em up. Didn’t put showers and all in most of them.” I moved to the other door. Patch whisked it open for me. ”The spacious walk-in closet.”
    Four feet by five. A horizontal bar at eye level, some wire hangers on it. An old baggage holder with two of three straps broken. I said, ”This where they found Marsh’s wallet?”
    ”So they tell me. After he hit the ground, some guy off the street comes running in, saying there was somebody splattered all over the goddamn pavement. I run out after him. There’s a body all right. Kind of. Haven’t seen such a mess since the war. It looks to me like her regular ‘cause of the short hair, but Karl— he’s the guy with the thick cheaters—he goes all to pieces, so he’s no good, and I gotta call the cops, then go out and make sure nobody fools around with what’s left of this guy Marsh until they get here.”
    ”So you weren’t in a position to see who was leaving the hotel?”
    ”Son, like I told the cops, with the commotion from the sirens and all, you gotta understand, a lot of people in beds in this place ain’t planning to sleep over. The joint cleared out like one of them old-time cartoons of the rats leaving the ship, you know? Like in speeded-up motion?”
    ”Did you see the actual scene in twelve-oh-two?” Patch sighed. ”Yeah. After the cops got here and secured things in the street, I pointed up to the window. You could see it