Page 32 of Lorenzo

She will remember everything and volunteer nothing.

I move toward the bar instead.

It is open despite the hour, though only a few tables are occupied. I choose a stool with a view of both the lobby and the entrance to the elevators.

The bartender approaches.

“What can I get you?”

“Sparkling water with lime.”

“Of course.”

While he prepares it, I set my phone on the bar and look toward the lobby.

“Busy morning?” I ask with the air of someone just passing time briefly.

“It comes and goes. Are you meeting someone?”

I pick up my phone, as if checking the time.

“Yes, but I may be early.”

“Of course. Are they staying with us?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like someone to contact the room?”

I smile as though the offer is thoughtful rather than exactly what I hoped to avoid.

“Oh, that's all right. I don’t mind. She likes to take her time anyway. I'll just enjoy my drink.”

His expression warms with polite recognition. Everyone knows someone like that.

“You know I almost stayed here last night myself,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

That earns me a glance.

“Why is that?”

I add just enough discomfort to my voice to make it seem as though I dislike gossip but cannot resist it.

“There were quite a few police cars outside when I pulled up.”

His expression closes. Not enough that someone who wasn't looking for it would notice.

Interesting.

“I hope no one was hurt,” I say, concerned.

“Nothing like that, ma'am,” he assures me.

“Oh good. I’m glad,” I say, relieved.

I take a sip and let the silence stretch.

The mistake most people make when questioning someone is filling every pause. Silence makes people uncomfortable. They often rush to correct whatever impression they think you have formed.