Chapter 40 DAVID
DAVID
Sure enough, I was offered the promotion on Monday, and I gladly accepted.
I was going to be rich. Shit, I was already rich, but now I was going to be wealthy. Yes, there is a difference. A big, big difference.
When I got home that night, I said nothing to April about it. I tried to act as normally as possible, knowing that the following morning would determine our lives going forward. Maybe, just maybe, there was some reason why she had started going to Hotel Pico every Tuesday.
But I didn’t think so.
I woke up on Tuesday morning and found April already gone, having to open her eponymous coffee shop at five.
I headed toward Pico Avenue around seven a.m. It was only going to take me thirty minutes, but I wanted to be there a half-hour before eight. Maybe April would decide to come early on this Tuesday.
I parked about a hundred feet down from Hotel Pico and had a good view of the front entrance. I was close enough that if my wife walked in, I would see her.
And I was far enough away, sitting behind the windshield of my car, that there was virtually no chance she’d see me. Sure, she’d know my vehicle if it was right in front of her, but I was parked between two other cars, and she’d have to really be looking for me to see me.
Not one person entered or exited Hotel Pico between 7:30 and 8:00. This wasn’t exactly the most bustling hotel around. If I had to guess, they probably only had about twenty or thirty rooms.
And if I were being judgmental, the people staying at Hotel Pico weren’t exactly the type of people who needed to wake up at eight a.m. to seize the day. Most go-getters would be staying somewhere else. Anywhere else.
At ten after eight, a woman finally entered the hotel, but it wasn’t April. This woman looked like she was in last night’s clothes and probably hadn’t slept.
You couldn’t have at least done this in a classy hotel, April? Hotel Pico is fucking gross. Yuck.
No one else walked in for the next half hour.
I was pretty sure that April wasn’t going to show today, but I wanted to wait until after nine, just in case it had been pushed back an hour.
I’d told work I was going to be slightly late, so I wasn’t worried about that. All of my worries were directed at my wife and the sleazy Hotel Pico.
I looked down at my watch again. It was 9:15.
While April may not have shown, that didn’t mean my fact-finding mission was over.
I locked my car and headed toward the lobby of Hotel Pico. The man at the front desk looked like a rat.
A one-hundred and thirty-pound rat, but a rat, nonetheless.
He had this tiny, scrunched face, and even his thin goatee looked like little whiskers.
The guy couldn’t have been more than 5’5” and was skinny as a rail. In fact, I’m guessing he’d done a few rails over the years. He looked like a reformed junkie, if he was even reformed.
“Can I help you?” he asked, in a nasally voice.
“Yeah, I hope so.”
“Okay, did you want a room for the day?”
“No, not exactly.”
“What did you want?”
I had about four hundred dollars in my wallet, and I was ready to use it if necessary.
“I want to show you a picture of a woman.”
“Okay, that’s weird.”
“And I want to know if she’s been staying here.”
His lips and nose snarled at me.
“This sounds shady.”
“I’m sorry, I realize nothing shady has ever happened at Hotel Pico.”
“I don’t think I like your tone.”
I’d talked myself into a corner, and now, if I were going to get any help from this guy, money would have to be exchanged.
I took out my wallet and ruffled a few of the hundred-dollar bills so he could see.
“Let me see the picture of the woman,” he said.
The guy had stuck to his morals for all of two seconds.
I took out my phone and scrolled to the first picture of my wife, and showed it to the man.
“She’s been here the last several Tuesdays at eight a.m.,” I said. “Do you work every Tuesday morning?”
“I do.”
“And have you seen her?”
“I can’t be sure,” he said, and his tone of voice only meant one thing. If I gave him a little money, he would be sure.
I took out a hundred and set it in front of him.
“I’m still not positive.”
I set another hundred on the table.
“I’m getting closer. One more hundred should do it.”
What was the point in arguing? Three hundred dollars was a drop in the bucket compared to the money I would save by divorcing April. I set another hundred down.
“Yes, I’ve seen her.”
“On Tuesday morning?”
“Yes.”
“Does she book a room?”
“No.”
“Then what room does she go to?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to have to give me more than that for three hundred dollars,” I said.
“I’ve seen her about three or four times, and she walks by me quickly.
She then wraps around this little corner right here and goes up those stairs.
Same thing when she leaves. Comes down those stairs and scurries out real quick.
A couple of times she tried to block her face, but I’m 99% sure that’s her. ”
I didn’t know what to think. I should have been shocked, but I wasn’t. From the time I’d received the letter, I’d suspected this would be the result. When Tuff Richardson told me her phone had pinged to Hotel Pico, I’d expected this. Still, it wasn’t easy to hear.
“And you have no idea where she goes?”
“I can’t be sure,” he said, and I knew what he meant.
I looked in my wallet, and there was one hundred left. I set it on the table in front of him.
“There’s a guy who has rented a room for the last several Tuesdays.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, can you look at your files?”
“It won’t help.”
“Why’s that?”
“He pays cash.”
“In the year 2026, you can get a hotel room without putting down a credit card?”
“Not most places, but as you may have guessed, Hotel Pico isn’t most places.”
I managed to laugh. “No, it’s not. Can you describe the guy?”
“Probably mid to late thirties. Handsome. White.”
“Anything else?”
“Seems like he’d probably be charming even though he’s always in a rush with me.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“He’s only come on Tuesdays.”
“And let me guess, he’s not here today?”
“Nope. Not today.”
“Do you guys have security cameras?”
“Not inside the hotel. There’s one that looks at the front and one that faces the parking lot. But I’m sorry, there’s no chance I’m going to let you look at that. What kind of man do you think I am?”
I could have excoriated the rat in front of me, but what was the point? He’d given me all the information I could ask for.
“Take your money,” I said, and he quickly snatched it up.
“I may be back with more questions.”
“Good, I can’t wait.”
I was over the guy in front of me and Hotel Pico itself.
And most of all, I was over April Leach.