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Central International Airport This choice: Justin insists on going to his hotel and getting some sleep. • Go Back... Justin shook his head, slowly and carefully so as not to start it aching. "Thad, do you really mind if I take a rain check on that? I mean, look at me, I've been traveling all day and I'm falling asleep on my feet. I need a hot bath, a hot meal and a warm bed before I can even think of anything else."
"Okay," conceded Thad, a little too quickly and completely for Justin's comfort. "Sorry, man, guess I wasn't thinking about it from your side. So - where were you staying, anyway?"
"Place called the Kapalama Star. You know it?"
"By name. That's some place. You need to be making 200 large a year just to get in to take a whiz. Someone's looking after you okay..."
Traffic was light at this time of the evening, and even Thad's elderly Chevrolet made good time into the city center. The Kapalama Star looked everything that its website had suggested, and then some. The brothers entered the lobby - having left the car in the hands of a valet parking attendant who looked astonished at the thought of something so manifestly below the salt alongside the Rolls, the Bentleys and the Lamborghinis - and Justin felt humbled and just a bit uncomfortable in the midst of its opulence.
"You're in room 407, Dr. Avery," said the desk clerk, handing him a room key attached to what looked like a dollar-bill sized chunk of marble. "And there's a message for you." Justin pocketed the key, took the proferred envelope with a murmur of thanks. Thad, glaring at the porter who was eyeing his brother's suitcase with a view to a substantial tip, was already halfway to the elevators as Justin slipped the envelope into his jacket pocket.
The room was on the fourth floor, practically opposite the elevators across a wide corridor. Justin quickly opened the door and stepped inside. "Wow," he almost whispered.
"Wow is right," said Thad. "You could play football in a room this big."
"No, not football. Basketball, yeah, that I give you."
Justin hadn't established to what standard Ararat were accommodating him; but this was a mid-level room, so it probably wasn't top of the line in terms of accoutrements. It still looked a street - no, a freeway above anywhere he'd ever stayed at any time in his life. Cobalt-blue carpets of a dense pile, heavy furniture in what looked like mahogany and leather to match the floors; cream-painted walls and lighting in sconces set into them. Behind the three-seater sofa in the center of the room, Justin could see a balcony; he strolled over towards it while Thad headed for the bedroom and somewhere where he could set the suitcase down properly.
The view would be superb come morning, he considered; even now, with the sun gone and only the street lighting to go by, he could see the dark rolling breakers of the Pacific beyond the beach. This would be an experience to savor, Justin thought. Betty would love it. And she should be here to share it; she'd worked hard enough for it, heaven knew.
The thought reminded him; he'd intended to try to call her again once he'd arrived - but it'd be the middle of the night in Minnesota by now. He'd have to make that call tomorrow, once his business at Ararat's HQ was done.
Patting his pockets looking for something on which to make that note - he always felt better with things written down - he felt the envelope that he'd been given at reception; withdrawing it, he slit it open with a thumb and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.
"Dear Dr. Avery," Justin read aloud. "Imperative I see you as soon as possible re your appointment tomorrow. A crucial development of which you need to be apprised." A phone number - a cell phone, at a guess - followed, as well as a signature. "Signed, B. Brand," he closed, with a slight chuckle.
Thad emerged from the bedroom. "That's funny?" he asked.
"Just the name. Only 'B. Brand' I know of is Boston Brand, otherwise Deadman." Thad looked blank. "Character out of comic books," Justin explained.
Thad nodded. The ebullience that had been in his voice all the way from the airport had vanished. "Well, that makes sense. Given that there's a dead man in your bedroom, and all."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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