I couldn’t resist. “Yankee Doodle.”
She typed some more. “Okay, I’ve got a mini suite under the name of Yankee Doodle.” She frowned and tilted her head. “If he’s ‘Yankee Doodle,’ then it’s probably not Bono, huh?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh! It’s Bruce Springsteen, isn’t it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“This is going to drive me crazy, you know that, right? How many nights do you need?”
“Two to start with. I hope it doesn’t take longer than that.”
“And how will you be paying?”
“Cash—so it can stay top-secret, you know.” I pulled out the wad of bills Owen gave me, angling my body so it wasn’t visible throughout the lobby when I took the cash out of my bra.
“Wow, this is really unusual,” she said as she took the money from me.
“You won’t get in trouble, will you?”
“Just as long as the bill is paid in full by checkout, the police don’t come looking for a list of registered guests, and your celebrity doesn’t trash the place, I should be fine. Now, do you have any special requests?”
“Special requests?”
“You know how celebrities are—stuff like white orchids, M and Ms—but only the green ones—bottled water at a particular temperature.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. He’s not picky.”
“Well, let us know if you need something.” She ran two plastic key cards through the machine, then stuck them in a folder and wrote the room number on it. “There you go. I hope Mr. Yankee Doodle enjoys his stay.”
“I’m sure he will. Now, I’ll go sneak Yankee Doodle in, and then I’ll be back down when your break starts for coffee.”
“Tell him I’m a huge fan!”
The mini suite was about the same size as the regular rooms in Nita’s family’s old roadside motel, but far plusher. There was a small living area with a sofa, television, and desk; a kitchenette with a mini fridge, coffeemaker, and microwave; a bedroom with a king-sized bed; and a decent-sized bathroom. The windows had a nice view of the midtown skyline, but I closed the drapes in case there was aerial surveillance.
Then I got out the receipt with Owen’s new cell phone number and called him from the room’s phone. “I’ve got the room,” I said. “Sorry it took me awhile. I was being followed, so I had to lose them.”
“Are you sure you lost them?”
“Even if I didn’t, I’m about to have coffee with Nita, which gives me an excuse to be here.”
“Okay, then, I’m on my way.” I was about to ask how long it would take when I heard a cracking sound, and there he was. He swayed, and I moved to steady him. He shook his head like he was trying to clear it, then said, “Oh boy, I’m out of practice.”
“You’re tired and you’ve been under a lot of stress.” I helped him over to the sofa, where he collapsed bonelessly against the cushions and dropped his bag on the floor. “Now, is there anything else you need?” I asked.
“A nap.”
“What about food?”
“If my stay here is top-secret, room service is probably out of the question.”
“I’ll see if Nita can do something. By the way, she said she’s a big fan.”
He looked confused. “What?”
“I may have given her the impression that you were Bruce Springsteen. When I gave you the code name Yankee Doodle, she drew her own conclusions.”
“You what? Are you going to tell everyone in the city about that?”
“Oops, I’ve got to go. Go take a nap. Close the bedroom door, and I’ll have them deliver something to the living room.” I tossed him the book I’d bought. “And here’s something in case you get bored.”
“We will discuss this further,” he warned as he dragged himself to his feet, picked up his bag, and headed for the bedroom. Then he turned back. “Oh, and would you mind looking after Loony?”
“Already covered.”
I got downstairs just as Nita was going on her break, and then we found seats by the window at the hotel’s coffee shop—in full view of a man wearing black who stood on the sidewalk outside. I may have overacted the “girlfriends getting together for gossip” role as we shared a giant slice of cake and had lattes, but Nita didn’t notice. That was the way she always acted.
When I headed to the subway station to go home after arranging for a meal to be delivered to the “celebrity,” I recognized my follower. “Hi, Mack,” I said cheerfully when I heard him fall into step behind me. “How’s it going?”
