Serious Moonlight(44)

Ivanov nodded. “Both here and in San Francisco—that’s where I’m headed tonight. I’ve been in the States for a month. I’m homesick for my wife’s cooking.”

“Being away from home is hard,” the clerk said.

“Yes. I’m ready to return, but I’ve got a couple things to tie up before I go. San Francisco this week, then back here to Seattle, then home, finally.”

The clerk talked about jet lag and how that kind of traveling was tough on a body.

Ivanov studied the shrunken heads more closely and said, “The next time I come through Seattle, I won’t be in this area—it will be more of a quick jaunt uptown for a show before I fly home to Kiev in July. Because I’m downtown today, an associate of mine suggested I stop here while I wait for a rideshare to the airport.”

“Nothing says Seattle like a shrunken head,” the clerk agreed with a smile.

Ivanov was buying up several of them, and then he got a text and informed the clerk that his rideshare car was pulling up, so he needed to hurry. We watched him pay for his heads and rush out, shoving his purchase under his coat to shield it from the rain as he entered a car. Then he was gone, and we stood outside, unsure what to do next.

I flipped up the hood of my jacket. “He’s Ukrainian.”

“And he’s been here for a month—also in San Francisco. That may explain the address he used to check in, and it definitely matches up with all of Darke’s visits to the hotel. They started about a month ago.”

“I wonder if Darke was the ‘associate’ who suggested he come to buy shrunken-head souvenirs.”

“Maybe. I mean, this is more information than we’ve discovered so far, but . . .”

“It still doesn’t tell us much,” I said.

“He said he wouldn’t be coming through Seattle again until July and not in this area.”

“Uptown for a show. We have an uptown?”

“He probably means Lower Queen Anne. Seattle Center, all that,” Daniel said, dismissive. “I’m more concerned that he won’t be coming to the hotel again. I mean, is that what he’s saying? Whatever was happening in the hotel is finished? Darke won’t be coming back? This is over?”

Exactly what I was wondering, only he sounded more upset about it. “Don’t be discouraged,” I said. “Mysteries aren’t solved overnight. We can stake out the hotel for Darke again next Tuesday. Maybe this is just one piece of it. Maybe Ivanov is just one player.”

We flattened ourselves against the wall of the building, standing under an overhang. Then Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and said, “You know what we should do? Get back to the hotel before room 514 is cleaned. Snoop around. See if any clues were left behind.”

“Isn’t that against company rules?”

Daniel’s smile was mischievous. “Not if we don’t get caught.”

It took us a few minutes to hike it back up to the hotel. And after checking where the manager on duty was (in the back offices), we made another trip to the fifth floor—this time with someone from housekeeping named Beth. She was a little too friendly with Daniel, all smiles and coy jokes. But then she used her master key card to let us into the room and assured us no one had been inside to clean. Then she closed the door and promised to keep an eye out for management while we looked around.

“Let’s see what we can find,” Daniel said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll search on that side, and you search here.”

“All right.” I glanced at the bed. Made, of course, the foot draped with a Pendleton wool Nez Percé–tribe woven blanket. My side of the room looked utterly untouched. Room service menu propped on a console table. Curtains opened to a rain-speckled view of Puget Sound and the sprawling waterfront docks we’d just left.

I checked the bathroom. All the toiletries were in their places except the hand soap, which someone had used to wash their hands. Toilet paper was still folded into the silly triangular point that’s supposed to be a sign to guests that the room’s been cleaned . . . but really just lets you know the housekeeper’s fingers have been there, possibly right after they were wiping down the germy toilet.

“You and Beth known each other a long time?” I called out from the bathroom as I checked inside the jetted tub.

“Huh? Oh, I used to sometimes work in the day when I started. So, about a year, I guess.”

“She likes you.”

“She’s just friendly. We dated once. Sort of a bomb.”

That bothered me more than it should have. “Isn’t that against hotel policy—fraternizing with other employees? How many coworkers have you dated?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding irritated. “Much like what we’re doing now, it’s against the rules. But it depends on what you consider a date.”

“Hooking up in the back seat of your car?” I said, unable to control the annoyance in my voice.

He was quiet for a long moment. “That wasn’t a date. And you’re the only one, if that matters.”

“Why would it matter?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. You tell me. You’re the one who brought it up.”

I didn’t respond to that. He was right. I was being petty. And we were having such a nice day together, so why was I trying to sabotage it? I glanced though a stack of bath towels and called out, “I’m not finding anything in the bathroom.”