In the suite next door, she heard Monica leave. That’s my chance, she told herself, and went to work picking the lock on the interior door. It yielded easily, as did the other one at the far end of the narrow space between the rooms. She pulled on latex gloves and moved forward quietly, hearing and awareness heightened. Turning the corner, she saw that Monica’s evening attire had already been selected and pulled into a starring position on the closet rack, matching shoes placed neatly below.
“Thank God,” she murmured. That was a stroke of luck. She really hadn’t wanted to replicate her activity on – quickly, she counted the contents of the closet floor – Jesus, who in the hell travels with seventeen pairs of shoes? she marveled, shaking her head. Wow. Yeah, she’d be in here all evening if
