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Authors: Marta Chausée
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was a dangerous neighborhood; I should not go there alone. Could I help it that all my synapses and dendrites were well-oiled and ready to pounce on interesting bits of stimulus?
"Oh pshaw! Maybe my manufacturing plant will observe and process something that saves the day," I told French mentally, as I walked down the hall.
I turned the corner which lead to Vacaar and Mona’s seventeenth floor suite with its unobstructed view of our property, the pine forest beyond it and Epcot’s silver geodesic dome, sparkling in the sun, beyond that. David Enderly stood outside the door, almost vibrating.
Enderly. Why is he such a train wreck? What, really, does he have to be nervous about? Vacaar wields no power over him. Even if Vacaar were to criticize the hotel or last night’s event in French’s absence, what difference would it make?
“Hi, Maya!” Enderly said, his face relieved to see me.
“Why so nervous, Dave?”
He answered in a hurried stage whisper, his words tumbling out. “Gosh, Maya, wouldn’t you be nervous, too? There’s a murderer on the loose somewhere. My boss is gone and for the first time ever, I’m in charge of this whole enchilada. If that weren’t bad enough, all the big shots from the corporate office and the Weinsteins are here, not to mention the Norwegian owners. I’m on the hot seat. I want to look my best for everyone.” He adjusted his tie and gave me a look that said, “You may be the boss’s wife but you’re a bit dim.”
“Okay, I get it,” I said. “Take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Let’s knock on this door and see what Luzi wants.”
He knocked. We stood there and waited. He knocked again. We waited some more.
“Dave, I don’t think he’s in his suite. Should we just come back in a few minutes?” I suggested.
“Let me call him on the house phone.” Enderly said, trotting down the hall toward the elevators. I saw him dial and wait for several rings. He came back, walking slowly.
“This is odd,” he said. “There’s no answer and Mr. Vacaar was so insistent that I be here at 3:00 p.m. He even left me a voice mail while having lunch at the club house. That was at 1:00 p.m. I’m sure he must be back by now.”
“Well then, I authorize you to put your staff key into the door and open it. Pop your head into the entry and call his name,” I said.
David followed my direction and waved me in behind him when there was no answer.
“You call out to him, Maya. Go ahead. I think I hear a TV upstairs in the bedroom. Maybe he’s in the shower.”
“Vaca-a-a-r,” I called. No answer. “Mona-a-a.” No answer.
“Anybody home?” I shouted, a little louder.
Dave and I looked at each other. I took a few steps into the living room and he followed me. All was in apple pie order. The rooms had been cleaned and the amenities refreshed. A Murano glass platter of sliced exotic fruits sat on the dining room table with a note from the food and beverage department. A bottle of Dom was chilling in a silver ice bucket. The ice was fresh. Room service had been here only a short while ago.
“Go upstairs, Dave. See what’s up,” I instructed. “Why is that TV on, anyway?”
He did as I asked, then called to me to come up.
“Is it creepy?” I asked before I was halfway up the stairs.
“No. There’s nothing creepy,” he said.
I walked into the neat bedroom. Housekeeping had made the bed and plumped the pillows. I walked past the closet and into the bathroom.
“ This is a little creepy.” David said. “Look around. The TV is on a golf tournament. The shower door is open. The inside of the shower is wet. The bath mat has footprints on it. There’s a wet towel on the floor in front of the sink.” He pointed things out as he named them. “Someone showered here just now, most likely Mr. Luzi. You can still feel the humidity in the air—”
“But no one is here.” I finished his thought. “Where is he?”
I had the urge to call Luzi like I might call a cat,
"Oh pshaw! Maybe my manufacturing plant will observe and process something that saves the day," I told French mentally, as I walked down the hall.
I turned the corner which lead to Vacaar and Mona’s seventeenth floor suite with its unobstructed view of our property, the pine forest beyond it and Epcot’s silver geodesic dome, sparkling in the sun, beyond that. David Enderly stood outside the door, almost vibrating.
Enderly. Why is he such a train wreck? What, really, does he have to be nervous about? Vacaar wields no power over him. Even if Vacaar were to criticize the hotel or last night’s event in French’s absence, what difference would it make?
“Hi, Maya!” Enderly said, his face relieved to see me.
“Why so nervous, Dave?”
He answered in a hurried stage whisper, his words tumbling out. “Gosh, Maya, wouldn’t you be nervous, too? There’s a murderer on the loose somewhere. My boss is gone and for the first time ever, I’m in charge of this whole enchilada. If that weren’t bad enough, all the big shots from the corporate office and the Weinsteins are here, not to mention the Norwegian owners. I’m on the hot seat. I want to look my best for everyone.” He adjusted his tie and gave me a look that said, “You may be the boss’s wife but you’re a bit dim.”
“Okay, I get it,” I said. “Take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Let’s knock on this door and see what Luzi wants.”
He knocked. We stood there and waited. He knocked again. We waited some more.
“Dave, I don’t think he’s in his suite. Should we just come back in a few minutes?” I suggested.
“Let me call him on the house phone.” Enderly said, trotting down the hall toward the elevators. I saw him dial and wait for several rings. He came back, walking slowly.
“This is odd,” he said. “There’s no answer and Mr. Vacaar was so insistent that I be here at 3:00 p.m. He even left me a voice mail while having lunch at the club house. That was at 1:00 p.m. I’m sure he must be back by now.”
“Well then, I authorize you to put your staff key into the door and open it. Pop your head into the entry and call his name,” I said.
David followed my direction and waved me in behind him when there was no answer.
“You call out to him, Maya. Go ahead. I think I hear a TV upstairs in the bedroom. Maybe he’s in the shower.”
“Vaca-a-a-r,” I called. No answer. “Mona-a-a.” No answer.
“Anybody home?” I shouted, a little louder.
Dave and I looked at each other. I took a few steps into the living room and he followed me. All was in apple pie order. The rooms had been cleaned and the amenities refreshed. A Murano glass platter of sliced exotic fruits sat on the dining room table with a note from the food and beverage department. A bottle of Dom was chilling in a silver ice bucket. The ice was fresh. Room service had been here only a short while ago.
“Go upstairs, Dave. See what’s up,” I instructed. “Why is that TV on, anyway?”
He did as I asked, then called to me to come up.
“Is it creepy?” I asked before I was halfway up the stairs.
“No. There’s nothing creepy,” he said.
I walked into the neat bedroom. Housekeeping had made the bed and plumped the pillows. I walked past the closet and into the bathroom.
“ This is a little creepy.” David said. “Look around. The TV is on a golf tournament. The shower door is open. The inside of the shower is wet. The bath mat has footprints on it. There’s a wet towel on the floor in front of the sink.” He pointed things out as he named them. “Someone showered here just now, most likely Mr. Luzi. You can still feel the humidity in the air—”
“But no one is here.” I finished his thought. “Where is he?”
I had the urge to call Luzi like I might call a cat,
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