Page 13 of Lucky Puck

The only thing I know right now is that we need to find the mystery girl before she does any more unexpected crazy shit. After I’ve paced my small room enough times that I can see my circular path in the carpet, I stop and start checking my watch every thirty seconds. In fact, I’m impressed with my ability to time my intervals so precisely.

“This is enough,” I say to the empty room and reach for the phone to prod Bigelow.

But before I have a chance to dial, there’s a knock on my door. My heart lurches because I’m in a skittish mood, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Darting to the door, I look through the peephole.

Instant relief settles me, and I unlatch the door and fling it open. Bigelow is hunched and glancing furtively up and down the hall like he’s expecting trouble.

Great. I’ve infected the young concierge with my Nancy Drew paranoia.

“Do you have the number for a detective?”

He steps inside my room, out of breath like he’s been chased by men in dark cloaks wielding daggers. “I got here as soon as I could. I thought it would be best if I gave you the information in person since there are so many ears at the concierge desk at this time of morning.”

He hands me a slip of paper in a way that makes me feel like I should commit the information to memory then eat the paper.

“Thanks, Bigelow.” I glance at the name and number and take out my phone to make the call.

Bigelow stands there awkwardly, and I wonder if he’s waiting for his promised reward or for new instructions. I put up a finger signaling that he should wait.

After several rings, a man answers the phone, and with Bigelow listening in, I proceed to tell him I need to find a young lady. He’s all ears until I tell him I don’t know her name and I don’t have her picture. He hangs up shortly after that.

“Shit.” I toss my phone back in my bag.

Bigelow clears his throat. “I can help you.”

“You can?” I don’t bother hiding my skepticism.

He nods. “I have access to security camera footage. We can get a photo of her from there. All you need to tell me is where she was in the hotel and when.”

“Bigelow, I could kiss you—but don’t worry, I won’t. The young lady in question was standing outside suite 1580 last night at about eleven p.m.” I gave him Brody’s room number, but I’m hoping Bigelow doesn’t realize that.

“Got it. I’ll get the security footage.” He turns to go and then says, “If we’re lucky, I might even recognize her. I know many of the young ladies who frequent the hotel.”

“You might. She looked like a showgirl to my untrained eye, definitely a local who might come here often.”

We each nod, coming to an unspoken understanding about this situation. Bigelow isn’t stupid. He must know whose room 1580 is and that this morning’s rushed need for clothing has something to do with the missing showgirl.

“Did you find me a discreet jeweler?”

“Yes. A very reputable establishment right here in the hotel’s lobby.”

I nod.

I might need to share the problem about the wedding band with him at some point, and I’m okay with that. I trust his ability to keep a secret.

On the other hand, I’m going to owe him a good amount of money because I don’t want to give him a reason to rethink his loyalty. And there’s no way I have the kind of money I’ll need available in my account.

I need to call Jett and let him know about this situation. Soon. But before I tell him how much money it’s going to cost, I want to have the solution to the problem all ironed out.

And that means I need to wait until after we talk to the showgirl and find out what the story is about the wedding band.

“I’m in a hurry, Bigelow. I need to make the game’s face-off. Can you check the security videos now?”

“I’ll get right on it.” He disappears down the hall and I check my watch. I only have an hour before I need to get to the game to catch the introductions. Maybe an hour and a half for the opening face-off. What are my chances of finding and talking to the showgirl by then?

I don’t know, but I’m not waiting in my hotel room wearing a hole in the carpet from pacing in circles. Leaving the room, I head straight for the elevator and push the down arrow. I need some air. And some coffee.

Almost immediately, the door opens and I jump back, stunned.