imagine celebrities and political dignitaries staying here.
Repetto glanced at his image in a gold-framed mirror across the room and saw that his hair was mussed from the breeze out on the roof. He smoothed it back so he didn’t look so much like a wild old cop. It stuck back out.
“Maybe the Night Sniper himself registered and stayed here,” he said, watching her in the mirror.
She looked surprised, then grinned. “That I kinda doubt.”
“Zoe would say he’d see it as a challenge, taunting us.”
“We’d have his fingerprints.”
“He’d be careful ahead of time, use only one or two rooms, then wipe them down carefully before going out on the roof to take his shot.”
“He does wear rubber gloves,” Meg said.
“Did the maid say the guest slept here?”
“We’re here,” Repetto said. “Let’s go find out.”
It didn’t take them long to locate the maid who’d cleaned the suite that morning. She was a heavyset Hispanic woman with strong, beautiful features and graying hair. Fifteen pounds and years beyond being a beauty queen. In an accent that was pure Brooklyn she told them the bed had been slept in, probably by two people.
“It was registered as a single,” Meg told her.
The maid stared at her as if she were unbelievably naive. “Uh-huh. Single male, what I was told. Sometimes they find company, y’know?”
“You clean the entire suite?” Repetto asked.
“Sure. Even though most of it didn’t need it. Did my usual thorough job. Only room that was really a mess was the large bedroom. Bedsheets all tangled like there’d been some heavy action there.”
“You sure he wasn’t alone?”
“Not ’less he tossed an’ turned all night an’ used two pillows. Sheets had a certain kinda stain and smell about ’em, too, if you know what I mean.”
“You change the sheets?” Meg asked.
“Now whaddya you think?”
“They been laundered yet?” Repetto asked.
“Long time ago. Just like them towels.”
“Towels?”
“There was a lotta damp towels piled in the bathtub. Like somebody took a bath or shower every couple hours.”
Repetto and Meg looked at each other. Both understood the towels might have been used to wipe the suite clean of prints.
“You happen to see the suite’s occupant at any time?” Repetto asked the maid.
“Never. He had the do-not-disturb sign out mosta the time. The kinda guests we get, we gotta pay attention to those signs.”
They thanked the maid and let her return to work. She pushed her linen cart along the hall, appearing to be leaning hard on it and deliberately making one of the wheels squeak.
“Woman’s got a burr up her ass,” Meg said.
“Some do,” Repetto said, giving her a look. “Let’s check at the desk and see if anyone remembers the suite’s occupant.”
Meg felt her heartbeat quicken. Repetto suddenly seemed to be taking seriously the possibility that the Sniper was a registered guest. He was making Meg a believer. She had to walk fast to keep up with him on the way to the elevator.
They got lucky. The same desk clerk was on duty who’d checked in the suite’s occupant.
“Here’s where he signed in,” the clerk said. He was a small man with dark hair combed straight back and shiny as patent leather, a narrow nose too long for his face. He swiveled a large black registration book for Repetto and Meg to read.
“Not many hotels still use those,” Meg said.
“We don’t usually, because most of our guests pay with plastic and that creates its own record. But some still use old-fashioned cash.”
Meg and Repetto glanced at each other. “He paid cash?”
“Certainly did.”
Repetto and Meg looked at the registration book as the clerk touched a manicured finger to the correct line. The man’s name was neatly printed:
“Sounds foreign,” Meg said. “Maybe Ott’s a nickname for Otto. Maybe he’s from one of those Balkan countries that’re so hard to pronounce.”
“Or his German mother married an Italian,” Repetto said. To the desk clerk: “Do you recall what he looked like?”
“Vaguely. About average size. Dark hair. Well groomed and very fashionably dressed in suit and tie. He was rich, I’d say. Not to be crass, but we develop a feel for that here, being able to guess at net worth. We can come pretty close.”
“I’ll bet. Anything unusual about his appearance other than his wealth?”
“Wealth isn’t unusual here at the Marimont. He was a handsome man, women would say. Had a bold bearing about him. Something else about him that isn’t that unusual here. He was wearing a topper.”
“Topper?”
“A toupee. I can spot them easily because I used to wear one myself, before I got my hair transplant.” He absently touched his luxurious dark hair.
“That’s really something,” Meg said, genuinely impressed.
“Science,” said the desk clerk.
“Did you happen to see him with a woman?” Repetto asked.
The desk clerk stroked the bridge of his narrow nose, giving that one some thought. “No. I only noticed him once or twice more after he checked in, going or coming. He didn’t check out. Not that it was necessary, since we use electronic card keys and he paid in advance and with cash. But usually our guests stop by the desk.”
“You’re sure he didn’t?”
“Oh yes. I was on duty that morning from early morning until past checkout time.”
A man and woman arrived at the desk with a flurry of luggage wielded by an eagerly helpful bellhop. Repetto nodded to the clerk so he could move to the opposite end of the desk and check them in.
“Doesn’t feel right,” Meg said.
Repetto got out his wallet and removed one of his cards. “I wanna write down this guy’s name before I forget it.”
He leaned over the open registration book and used one of the hotel’s ballpoint pens to copy the guest’s name on the back of the card, then suddenly stopped writing, staring at what he’d done.
“Get some uniforms and freeze that suite,” he said. His features had become hard.
Meg was too surprised to move right away.
“Asshole and his games,” Repetto muttered. He finished writing on the card and looked up at her. “Zoe was right about this guy.” He handed her the card.
Meg stared at it and felt a chill ripple up her back. Beneath his first writing of Ott Eperrepinsi’s name, Repetto had written it again, only backward, adding comas:
52
“My professional opinion,” Meg said to Amelia, “is that you should get out of the city until we catch this
