CHAPTER 4
Miriam disappeared through a set of double doors behind the front desk.
I looked over at Luther. He was still slumped against the post but now asleep and snoring quietly.
A short, plump, elderly woman in a housedress and slippers emerged through the double doors and took up position behind the front desk. “Good evening,” she said pleasantly. “I’m Vivian Eldridge. My husband Harold and I are the caretakers here. Mr. Hooper, is it?”
“Yes.”
She brought a pair of eyeglasses, which hung from her neck by a chain up to her face with a liver-spotted and arthritically-damaged hand. “What a pleasant surprise. We weren’t expecting anyone tonight, with the storm and all.” She opened a large and battered leather-bound register that looked older than she was, then handed me a pen. “How lo
