The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [49]
“Of course, Miss Reese,” the desk clerk said smoothly. “There is a message waiting for you.”
“Oh, but no one knew—” she exclaimed, surprised, taking the envelope from him. “Hi, Genie,” she read. “Sorry I missed you this morning. I’m just down the hall in 516. Why don’t you join me for tea? Cal.”
“Dammit.” She groaned. Was he clairvoyant, or what? How the hell had he known she would be here? It wasn’t going to be as easy to lose him as she had thought. In her room, she tossed the note onto the table and placed a call to her office in Washington, asking them to trace a private number for her. Then she hung her clothes in the closet, took a shower, and felt about 100 percent better. The call back from Washington came just as she was drying her hair, and she wrote the number down and dialed it immediately.
After her conversation, she fixed her face and walked down the hall to room 516. As she tapped on the door a waiter emerged from the elevator wheeling a cart set with silver teapots, two cups, saucers and plates, a platter of tiny crustless sandwiches, and a small mountain of traditional German cream cakes. She stared at him, astonished, as he stopped outside Cal’s room and the door was flung open.
“Great timing, Genie.” Cal beamed at her. “You must have learned it from doing so much television.”
“I want to know where you keep your crystal ball,” she retorted, stalking into the room. “How the hell did you know I was here? And how did you get here before me? And how the hell did you know exactly when to order tea?”
He shrugged. “I’m the seventh son of a seventh son,” he intoned menacingly, “and you know they always have secret powers.” He laughed as she glared at him. “Okay then, I’ll come clean—if you’ll pour the tea. I’m sure you need it after your hectic day.”
“How do you know how hectic my day was?” she demanded, blushing.
“I know how hectic,” he replied, munching on a smoked salmon sandwich, “but not why. When you didn’t show up at nine, I called your room. They told me you had already checked out. Now that wasn’t quite the way we left things last night. Remember? When I last saw you, you were about to join our friend Solovsky for a little chat. I was concerned; I felt it was my business to find out where you had gone.” He shrugged and took another sandwich. “It wasn’t difficult. The concierge had booked your flight and your hotel. If you want to be a spy, Genie, you’re going to have to polish up your act.”
“Oh, dammit, dammit!” she exclaimed, slamming down the teapot, exasperated.
“Tut, tut … such violent language,” he mocked.
“That still doesn’t explain how you got here first, or the tea,” she said with a sigh.
He smiled winningly at her. “Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you are angry? Blue eyes flashing, cheeks pink and rosy … okay, okay …” he added hastily. “I flew here by air force jet. I asked the hall porter to tell me when you arrived, allowed an hour for you to shower and freshen up—et voild!”
“You’re in the wrong business,” she said icily. “You must come from a long line of private detectives.”
“Nothing so grand,” he said, grinning. “But now, let’s get down to business.”
She glanced at him over the rim of her teacup. His eyes had lost their laughter and no longer reminded her of a beautiful red setter. They were implacable as he asked for an explanation.
“I don’t have to tell you everything,” she replied defensively.
“Everything connected with last night you do,” he said with a steely edge to his voice. “Remember? We made a deal. I want to know what happened with Solovsky and why you ran off to Germany without telling me. Anything could have happened to you. Besides, I thought we were in this together!”
“We are.” She avoided his eyes, pretending to eat an enormous cream cake.
“You shouldn