Chicago: December 10“Just go.”
She was right. It was an easy thousand. Thirty, maybe forty minutes earlier she saw him sitting alone at the hotel bar. He had a half-empty (not half-full from how he looked) glass of scotch that he was shuffling slightly from side to side on the bar itself. Mid- to late-fifties in a very expensive suit. White shirt. Subtle but noticeable cuff links.
Lawyer or banker for sure. She could not dawdle. While the bartender would get his 10%, she could not afford to have the concierge walk in. That would be an extra 10%, which she did not like to pay unless he steered a guest to her.
It was easy enough. He had a wedding band on and he was sitting alone at a hotel bar on a Tuesday night a couple of weeks before Christmas.
After a few words of sympathy—generic wo
