“My daughter noticed them once,” Lupita said. “She said they looked like flowers that refused to fall.”
Then she left quietly.
I stood alone in the suite, listening to the click of the door. In the bedroom, Lily slept with one hand tucked under her cheek. On the nightstand, the roses leaned toward the lamplight.
Flowers that refused to fall.
I took out my phone and called Daniel Park, my closest adviser and the only person in the company who knew about all my unannounced visits.
He answered on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re in Chicago and not calling because another elevator smells like cinnamon again.”
“I’m in Chicago.”
“That tone means the cinnamon would be easier.”
I walked into the sitting room and lowered my voice. “Pull everything on the Grand Regent Chicago. Guest complaints from the last twelve months. Staff turnover. Billing adjustments. Department schedules. Anything connected to Martin Caldwell.”
Daniel was quiet for half a beat.
“What happened?”
“I was turned away at the front desk while carrying Lily.”
His voice sharpened. “Is she okay?”
“She’s asleep.”
“And you?”
I looked at the city. “I’m awake.”
“That’s worse.”
“There may be more than bad manners. A housekeeper mentioned a fired night auditor and irregular charges.”
Daniel exhaled slowly. “I’ll start digging.”
“Quietly.”
“Always.”
“And Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“Find out why my welcome card says Evans.”
“That could be clerical.”
“It could.”
But neither of us believed in lonely mistakes.