party.' She grabbed Quill with a giggle. 'Think I'm gonna get lucky tonight. That ol' boy Keith may be baldin' on top, but there's fire in that oven, or I'm Mary Poppins.' Her grip tightened and her eyes narrowed. 'So I'll be in the Lounge for a while, if you want to have a little more innocent girl talk.' Her long fingernails dug painfully into Quill's wrist. 'After that, I'll have a sign out-readin' 'Do Not Disturb.' ' She released Quill's wrist. Bosom outthrust, she sailed out the door.
'Huh!' sniffed Doreen, skipping aside as the door swung closed. 'That's one of them wimmen that needs her devils cast out for sure.'
'What women?'
Doreen dug into her capacious apron pocket and thrust a fistful of pamphlets at Quill. THE LORD DESPISES THE SINNER WITH LUST IN HIS HEART! the first one thundered in scarlet ink. HE SHALL CAST OUT THE DEMON OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS screamed the next. And third, YE SHALL EXERCISE THE DEVlLS OF HOT DESIRE. The line art featured large men with beards shaking impressively large forefingers at big-breasted women.
Lightning featured prominently in the background. 'Oh, my,' said Quill.
'We exercised a right number of devils at the meetings in Boca Raton,' Doreen said in satisfaction. 'Bit noisy, but those devils skedaddled out of the sinners like you wouldn't believe.'
'It's exorcise, Doreen, not exercise.'
'We got right sweaty doin' it,' said Doreen indignantly. 'I mean to show these to the Reverend Shuttleworth. He ain't got enough fizz in his preaching. I'll bet the Reverend would fill the pews right up if he had a bit of exercising in his sermons. Stop puttin' people to sleep. There's this 1-800 number he can call any time of the day or night to get the lowdown on this stuff.' Quill opened her mouth to lodge a protest, and Doreen swerved into an abrupt change of topic. 'You're wanted at the reception. What're you standing around here for?'
Quill gave up. 'What's the problem?'
'Somebody's here to check in.'
'I think we're full.'
'Hey, do I run this joint or do you?'
A strong impression of smug hilarity hung around Doreen. Quill's misgivings strengthened to dismay when she arrived at the reception desk, Doreen at her heels. The woman who stood at the front desk was both sophisticated and annoyed, a combination that guaranteed trouble. Dressed in a short tight skirt, platform shoes, and a well-cut jacket, she had the smooth, expensive hair and skin that meant money with access to Manhattan.
'Are you the manager here?' she said crossly.
Quill cocked an eyebrow at Doreen; there'd been a lot of women like this at the gallery when she was painting, and if Doreen thought she'd see her boss discomposed, she had another think coming. 'I'm Sarah Quilliam,' she said, extending her hand. 'And excuse me for saying so, but that's the most marvelous jacket I've ever seen. It simply screams Donna Karan. Not everyone can wear her as well as you do.'
The fashion plate relaxed a little. 'Darling, the cut hides the most awful flaws. She's easier than you think. Can you help me out here? I'm trying to check in, and this little person behind the desk keeps saying she has to ask the manager. Nobody seems to be able to find the manager, for God's sake.'
Quill winked comfortingly at the young Cornell student behind the counter. 'He's on an errand for me,' said Quill. 'I'm the owner. What can I do for you? I'm afraid we're booked solid at the moment.'
'But I've got a room.' Quill moved behind the front desk to check the bookings. The missing ledger had reappeared as mysteriously as it had gone. 'And your name?'
'Celeste Baumer. Mrs. Keith Baumer.' If that was a snigger from Doreen, Quill thought furiously, she was going to do some 'exercising' of her Inn's own devils: the housekeeping kind.
'She's got ill,' said the Cornell student apologetically. 'But I called Mr. Baumer's room, and he doesn't answer. Mr. Baumer's booked a single for the week, not a double, and John always told us to check with the customer when something like this happens.'
'And he was right,' said Quill. 'Was your husband expecting you, Mrs. Baumer?'
'Oh, no.' She exposed a bright row of teeth in what Quill took to be a smile. 'I wanted it to be a.surprise.'
'Why don't you sit and have a glass of wine in the bar, Mrs. Baumer? On the house, of course. We'll see if we can find Mr. Baumer.'
'Are you going up to his room?'
'Um,' said Quill, 'actually I think he's out on... on... a sales call or something.'
'I've been on that damn train for hours. I want a bath and then I'll take you up on that free drink. But first I want to check in.'
Maybe, Quill thought as she, Celeste Baumer, Doreen, and the Cornell student (who was carrying the suitcases) trooped up the stairs to the second floor, Keith Baumer left Mavis at the bar and was freshening up. Maybe he was making phone calls to his neglected customers. Maybe he'd fallen asleep dead-drunk. And alone.
Quill knocked on the door to 221.
'I don't think he's here,' she said after a few moments. 'Open it up, darling,' Celeste Baumer demanded. 'You wouldn't believe how I have to pee.'
Quill unlocked the door. Mrs. Baumer pushed past her and switched on the lights. Two twenty-one was decorated in Waverly chintz with scarlet poppies against a cream background.
The poppies on the tailored bedspread moved up and down with the briskness of waves on a breezy sea.
'Oops,' said the Cornell student. 'Dang!' said Quill.
