The first thing I notice that’s wrong is the chain-link fence on the dirt road leading to the hotel is open. Wide open, not just unlocked.
I pull to a stop several yards away, staring at it. I’ve never seen it unlocked before. In fact, I lock it behind me every morning when I go to work.
I swallow, assuring myself it’s nothing. I drive past it, unsure whether to leave it open or lock it behind me, but there’s this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and I don’t want to dally, so I drive on. At the top of the hill when the hotel comes into view, I see the second wrong thing.
A car, parked next to the fountain in the driveway. It’s a beauty, too, a brand new Rolls-Royce Ghost, black on black, sleek and shiny. For a moment, I’m confused.
Did A.J.’s manager come here?
The strange fee
