“How could I do that?”
“Well, for starters you could tell us everything you know about Max’s plans, beginning with the `special guests’ that have been invited to the grand opening,” Phule said. “If nothing else, that should burn the bridge between you and your old cronies. By the way, you might as well tell us directly. We’ve pieced together enough on our own that I’m afraid Max will assume you’ve sold her out, whether you do or not. I suggest you use what information is left to bargain for some protection.”
“Here’s your key, Mr. Shuman-room 2339-and welcome to the Fat Chance Casino. Front!”
With the deftness born from many years’ practice, the clerk slapped the small bell on the registration desk, summoning a valet before the guests could stop him.
“Elevators are this way, sir,” the valet said, materializing between the elderly couple and their only piece of luggage.
Snatching up the bag with ease, he led the way, leaving the twosome to trail along behind him.
“Well, Mother, we’re here!” the portly gentleman declared, giving his wife a hug with one arm as they walked.
“Henry … how old would you say that young man at the front desk is?” the frumpy woman at his side inquired.
“Oh, I don’t know,” the man said, glancing back. “Late twenties, early thirties, I’d guess. It’s hard to tell with kids these days. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” his wife said with a shrug. “He struck me as being a bit young to be wearing a hearing aid.”
Shuman had also noticed the device in the desk clerk’s ear, although, at the time, he had tried to convince himself it was inconsequential.