Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(18)

“Mhmmm… no, no one does.”

Juliette cast Roma a glance. Roma lifted his brow, returning her suspicion.

“You didn’t check your books.”

“No need, I already know.” The receptionist took a sip of tea, then looked up at them as if to ask why they were still standing there. “The name holds no familiarity.”

Juliette leaned over the desk. “Give me the guest book then. I will check myself.”

“Absolutely not,” the young man replied. The first signs of ill-tempered fire entered his eye. Juliette had mentioned on the car ride over that this place was also a political hideout, which meant the people behind the desk would be well suited to that work. Somehow, Roma doubted that the information would be handed over easily.

“I’m going to grab it,” Juliette said to Roma, making no effort to whisper or even lower her voice.

“Excuse me?” The receptionist started to reach under his desk.

“Xiǎo huǒzi,” Roma warned him, his eyes tracking the motion. He knew exactly what Juliette was planning and what she wanted him to do in the seconds following, but if the receptionist wanted to avoid a traumatizing experience, he could simply put his hands in the air. “You really don’t want to do that.”

He did it anyway: the receptionist pulled a gun out. Pointed it.

And quicker than the eye could follow, Juliette had him disarmed, whacking down hard on the barrel and spinning the weapon around so that it was in her palm instead, pointed at the man.

In the aftermath, while the man spluttered in shock, hands held up to prevent being shot, Roma reached forward, plucking the guest book up and bringing it near.

“The telephone call was made two weeks ago,” Juliette said.

“Yes, I remember,” Roma replied lightly, acting as if they were merely discussing the rice needing to be lifted off the stove. He flipped the pages, looking over the names. It was very likely that Mr. Pyotr would be using an alias, but he had faith that there would be some kind of giveaway.

“Find anything?”

Roma blinked at the page. “Actually… yes.” He turned the guest book around, pointing to the column for two weeks ago. There was no Pyotr, but…

“Why are there so many Russian names here? Did you get a whole group in?”

“For heaven’s sake, what’s it to you?” the man answered. He heaved a defeated sigh. “Yes, there was a whole group. They left earlier today.”

With her weapon still pointed, Juliette scrunched her brow. They could try to weigh whether the man was telling the truth, but the information was fairly benign. He wasn’t really giving up much by revealing it.

“You really could have opened with that.” She looked over at Roma again while he set down the guest book. The two of them had a silent exchange, questions passing in the most minute changes of their expressions.

Was it that Mr. Pyotr had brought a whole squadron of people and logged himself here with an alias? Or had Mr. Pyotr hired them, and he himself was located in Vladivostok, hence the phone call there? There were too many possibilities and not enough information. The people in this guest book could be a dead end at worst and multiple vague leads at best.

Roma reached out to tap Juliette’s elbow.

“Keep him here,” he said lowly. “I’m going to look around.”

“No!” the receptionist protested immediately. “You cannot look around. Our guests need privacy—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Juliette waved the gun, gesturing for him to lean back from the step he had been about to take around the desk. “Stay still.”

“I am not scared of—”

Juliette fired at his feet, craning her arm over the desk to aim. The man yelped. One bullet embedded a hairsbreadth beside his shoe, charring a hole into the carpet.

“That was the first warning.” She huffed. “Do we want to test how many warnings I have in me?”

“This is absurd—”

Roma hurried off, knowing Juliette had the mild threats handled. As he walked farther into the inn, he glided his fingers along the wall, picking up dust from the wallpaper. It was only a thin smattering, but it meant the inn received infrequent cleanings, which probably didn’t matter much to the patrons here if they didn’t have a host of other options nearby. On his way up the road, Roma thought the building hadn’t looked very large either, situated beside a small creek that ran along its right side.

He tried some of the doors into the rooms. Found most to either be locked from the inside, with snores echoing along the loose flooring, or opening only to a tiny empty space with a broom inside. Back at the reception area, he could hear Juliette talking loudly, adopting that theatric tone she used when she was yammering merely to wind someone up.

One of the doors finally opened under his palm. He stepped in, examining the moonlit interior. The bedsheets were stripped, but they had been left in a pile on the floor, as if a maid had come by to do the brunt of the work but a launderer had yet to finish the second half of the job. Other than that, the room was vacant. When Roma ran his finger along the bare wooden table, there was no dust at all.

Someone had recently finished their stay here. It had been cleaned no less than a few hours ago.

“Hmmm…”

He backed out of the room and tried the one next to it. Juliette’s voice wafted over again, having moved on to the topic of… childbirth? What on earth was she talking to the receptionist about?