Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“No worries. I know things sometimes fall through the cracks.”
She goes back into a room behind the front desk. She didn’t seem alarmed when I told her my fake name, so she might not be aware of what went down with Mr. Rose this morning. She seems a little vapid, so I might get away with this.
She comes back a few moments later, wheeling two suitcases behind her. “Are these them?”
My heart leaps. “They are. Thank you so much!” I take mine, open it, and grab my wallet and phone. I don’t need the keys since I have my spare on me, but I pocket those as well just to be safe. I open Harrison’s bag, grab his essentials, and put them in my purse. Once I get to the Caterpillar Hotel, I’ll make sure he gets them in case we get separated.
I also grab a scarf and a large pair of sunglasses from the bag.
“Enjoy the rest of your stay,” the clerk says.
I nod. I’ll never set foot in the Gilded Rose again, but I can be polite. I wrap the scarf around my hair and put on the sunglasses. It’s the dead of night, but if this look kept Jackie Kennedy from the press, it’ll keep me incognito as well. I head toward the elevator that leads to the parking garage when I stop in my tracks.
Three police officers stand in the elevator lobby.
They’re not the reason I stop. I’m in disguise. They won’t recognize me from the security tapes.
The reason I stop is the woman they’re talking to.
It’s Rouge.
26
HARRISON
When we bring Rouge to justice, we’ll get immunity for everything else.
That’s what I keep telling myself as the bus pulls off the highway.
It’s not as if Mr. Rose is innocent, anyway. We have a first-hand witness in Jack. He watched as he sawed the head off the Two of Hearts. One of countless victims who suffered the same fate, probably after being strangled to death.
Of course, he was under the influence of mind-altering drugs at the time, but we’ll find other people with similar stories to corroborate. We have the drumsticks made out of Pierce’s bones. We’ll get a warrant to have the police search Aces, especially Rouge’s office…and the little safe where she keeps her red diamonds received in payment for the organs. Maddox mentioned a little ledger in there with all the names of Rouge’s victims. That alone might be enough to put her behind bars for life.
That’s too good a fate for her, but it’s better than her roaming free.
What an evil bitch.
We’re going to see that she, Mr. Rose, and anyone else who had a hand in this gets put away for good.
The bus jerks to a stop at the Caterpillar Hotel. My heart starts pounding in my ears.
Time to face the music.
The Aces servers stand and file out of the bus in an orderly fashion. The King sits in the corner, his face still completely obscured by shadow. I keep my head low as I pass him. He’s probably been working at the club for years and might recognize me from the times I came there as Maddox’s guest. He doesn’t react as I pass him, thank God. In fact, he barely seems to be paying attention at all.
Good. I need him off guard.
Since we lined up for the bus as we were dismissed, Jack ended up in the front while the Clubs servers and I were in the back. Once I’m off, I speedwalk up to him and pat him gently on the shoulder.
He presses forward, and I follow him to his room on the seventh floor of the hotel, room 7B.
I make sure no one has eyes on me before I slip into Jack’s room behind him.
I close the door behind us and turn to Jack. The color has drained from his face.
“What is it?”
He raises a trembling finger and points. A delicious-looking cherry tart sits on an elegant china plate on his bed, along with a handwritten note.
I pick up the note. It’s written in calligraphy—because of course it is—in blood-red ink.
My Dearest Jack,
Congratulations on completing your five-year journey with us here at Aces. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your service and wish you the best of luck as you move on and pursue the “American Dream!” Please enjoy this token of my affection—my specialty, cherry tart!—to commemorate your final evening under our employ. It is a recipe that has been handed down from Montrose to Montrose for generations, and I hope you’ll enjoy a sweet treat on your final night.
With utmost cordiality,
Rouge
I read it twice, turn it over to see if anything is on the back. I face Jack. “I think it’s clear that under no circumstances should you consume that cherry tart. It’s probably poisoned.” I point to the note. “See. It says this is your ‘final night.’ She doesn’t mean your final night in this hotel.”