Motor Mouth - Janet Evanovich [42]
A half hour later, Hooker and I were on a couch, our noses buried in a paper, our eyes trained on the elevator. We watched a lot of people go up and come down, but none of them was the Beans-napper. And then, there he was, stepping out of the elevator. He punched a number into his cell phone, talking as he walked to the door. He exited the hotel and got into a car that had just come up from valet parking.
“Do you know him?” I asked Hooker.
“Roger Estero. He works for Huevo. His official position is public relations, but he’s really a babysitter for Spanky. He tries to keep Spanky from punching out photographers, and he makes late-night pizza and Pepto-Bismol runs. I think he’s related to Huevo. A nephew or something. Not real bright. If you were even a little smart, you wouldn’t take a job babysitting Spanky.”
We waited until Estero drove away, and then we hustled up to the seventh floor. I found Beans’s room and removed the DO NOT DISTURB sign.
“Okay,” I said to Hooker. “You call room ser vice and tell them you want the room made up. Then as soon as the maid appears and puts the key in the door, you distract her and I’ll sneak in.”
Hooker made the call, and we positioned ourselves at opposite ends of the hall. The door leading to the ser vice elevator opened, and I hid around the corner. Hooker was down the hall fumbling with his key card. I heard the maid’s cart roll out. I heard her at Estero’s door. I heard Hooker approach her.
“Hey there, darlin’,” he said. And much as I hate to admit it, if I’d been the maid, I would have given him my full attention.
Hooker handed the maid a line about not being able to get his door open. He switched to speaking Spanish and I was lost. I peeked around the corner and saw that the door was ajar and the maid was down the hall with her back to me, giggling at something Hooker had said.
I pushed open Estero’s door and slipped inside. Beans was on the bed, ready to pounce, giving me his devil dog look. It was the look he always got just before he knocked me to the ground. I jumped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Moments later, the maid returned. I heard her open the door, heard Beans leap off the bed and gallop across the room. There was an audible gasp and the door to the room slammed shut.
Hooker knocked three times and then two. Our signal. I opened the bathroom doors and looked out at Beans. He was standing, nose pressed to the bottom of the entrance door, sniffing for Hooker. He was drooling and whining. I left the bathroom, opened the door to Hooker, Hooker stepped into the room and Beans knocked him to the ground and sat on him. Happy dog. Happy Hooker.
“Guess the maid decided Estero’s room didn’t need cleaning,” I said to Hooker.
“I’d tell you what she said, going down the hall, but it was in Spanish, and I’m not sure of the translation. I think it had to do with private parts and ravenous rodents.”
We called down to have the car brought around, clipped the leash onto Beans’s collar and walked him straight out the door of Loews Hotel and into the waiting SUV.
“I’ll find a place to hide,” Hooker said. “You get everything from the room and check us out, and I’ll meet you here in thirty minutes.”
The SUV pulled away and a black stretch limo pulled in. The bellman snapped to attention and Suzanne Huevo swung her ass out of the hotel. She was wearing a black suit and black stiletto heels. Her skirt hem came to just above her knees and the front slit went a lot higher. She had a leopard Itsy Poo bag on her shoulder and a no-shit diamond pin on her lapel.
“Omigod,” she said when she saw me. “You’re what’s-her-name!”
“Barney.”
“Yeah, Barney. Last time I was with you, I was facedown in my macaroni and cheese. How did you get me to my room?”
“Wheelchair.”
“Clever. Was I a spectacle?”
“My friend rescued us. The wheelchair was his idea. And I took an entire table down with me when I stood up. No one noticed you in the wheelchair.”
“Very nice. If you’re here around six o’clock, we can get shit-faced again. As you can see, I’m the grieving widow today. Got a lawyer