The first thing I noticed as I entered the stylish modern hotel off the 67th Street sidewalk were the two people talking by the front desk.
One was a twenty-something white guy wearing an Arab keffiyeh scarf with his blue blazer. The other was an elegant middle-aged black woman in a plum-colored dress and pearls. They seemed to be arguing quietly, and the guy in the scarf was holding up his phone between them, right in the lady’s face.
“Hi. I’m Detective Bennett. Are you the hotel manager?” I said to the woman.
“Yes. I’m Amanda Milton,” she said pleasantly. I stepped between them, almost knocking the phone out of the guy’s hand.
“And who are you?” I said to the guy curtly. As if I didn’t know.
“Luke Messerly. From the New York Times,” he said.
“Could I talk to you for a sec, Luke?” I said. I steered him toward the front revolving door. “I just got here, buddy,” I said in a low tone. “I need to get a handle on this investigation. Give me your card, and as soon as I have something, I’ll get back to you. I promise.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t give me the runaround, Detective. I know who you are. You’re Mike Bennett, the NYPD’s go-to Major Case problem solver. Or is it fixer? I also know that the owner of this hotel is very good friends with the governor. Coincidence? I think not.”
I smiled as I put an arm over Luke’s shoulder.
“Luke, you’re quick. I like that. But listen. Your boss told you to drop everything and rush the hell down here, am I right?” I asked.
“Of course. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Luke, we’re in the same boat, buddy. My boss did the same exact thing to me.”
“Which means?”
“Which means we’re in this together. But if you start stepping on my toes, then how can I be nice to you and help you keep your new job? See, I know you’re young and impatient, Luke. I was the same way myself once upon a time. But if you continue to push, I will ‘no comment’ you straight back to the real estate or Queens section you just came from. You don’t want that, do you? Of course not. You’re in the bigs now, Luke. The last thing you want is to get sent back down, right?”
“I guess,” he said. I slapped my card into his hand and nudged him into the exit.
“Let’s cooperate, buddy, and truly, we’ll all get through this just fine,” I said with a smile, as I helped the doorman push the reporter out the door.