The Chosen

from the weekly stock inventories spread across her desk. A man stood there—not a man, she realized at once, but the man she’d seen checking in last night.

The thug, she thought.

“Ms. Abbot?”

“Yes, come in. Can I help you?”

“I’m Terrence Taylor, and I represent an accounting firm,” the man said. He entered casually and sat down. “We’re called Morton-Gibson Ltd.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Taylor,” Vera said, slightly off guard. An accounting firm? This didn’t sound right, not from a man whom just hours ago she suspected of being a Mafioso lieutenant.

Taylor was ruggedly handsome, with dark hair combed straight back. He wore an elegant dark suit, a rich steel-blue, and he seemed fit, like a city yuppie. “Your facility is very nice,” he went on, “very well appointed. And my suite on the second floor was charming.”

Second floor! Vera thought. That’s not one of Kyle’s suites, that’s one of mine! He checked someone in and didn’t even tell me! But before Vera’s mental rage could go on, Taylor added, “A bit noisy, if you don’t mind an objective grievance, but still, a very nice accommodation. Anyway, we heard about your recent opening, so my bosses sent me up here to have a look around and to see if you’d be interested in our services.”

Vera let her previous anger tick down. “Well, uh,” she stammered, “we’re not having any accounting problems to my knowledge, and even if we were, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be the person to talk to about that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was told you were the manager.”

“The restaurant manager,” Vera corrected. “You’d want to talk to Mr. Feldspar.” She immediately regretted saying this; Feldspar obviously wasn’t interested in contracting an accounting firm. “But I’m afraid he’s just left for a business convention, and he won’t be in for several days.”

“He’s in,” Kyle announced, appearing at once in her doorway. The little creep, Vera thought. I’ll bet he’s been standing out there the whole time, eavesdropping. Her phony smile fluttered. “Oh, well in that case, would you please take this gentleman to Mr. Feldspar’s office. He’s an accounting contractor.”

“Sure,” Kyle said. “Right this way, sir.”

“Nice meeting you, Ms. Abbot,” Taylor bid and got up. “Before I leave, I’ll be sure to have dinner at your restaurant.”

“Please do,” Vera said. “Oh, and Kyle? When you’re done showing Mr. Taylor to Mr. Feldspar’s office, could I have a word with you, please?”

“Sure, Ver.”

Sure, Ver, she mimicked. Kyle showed Taylor out, and Vera’s irritation trickled further. The little prick! And what of this Taylor fellow? A mafia thug? He was obviously just an errand boy for an accounting firm, looking for business. Some thug, she thought. Some mob boss.

“What’s up, Ver?” Kyle had returned, loping back into her office. Vera immediately got up, closed the door, and yelled, “Who the hell do you think you are checking a guest into one of my suites without even telling me!”

Kyle stepped back, sporting an amused grin. “Simmer down, will ya? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that guy was one of my customers, and