I suggest you consult your computer again.’’ He shoved a piece of paper across the desk at her. ‘‘Here’s my confirmation. Are you trying to tell me that this is a fake?’’
Veronica slapped her hand down on the paper and pulled it toward her. As we watched in complete fascination, she scanned the document. Surely she would have to admit defeat now.
But I had underestimated her.
She looked up at the man with triumph written all over her face. ‘‘You didn’t guarantee this with a credit card. That’s why you don’t have a reservation. It was your stupid mistake, not ours.’’ She thrust the paper back at him. ‘‘I suggest you find a room somewhere else.’’
‘‘Do you know who I am?’’ the man demanded.
‘‘No, and I don’t give a hoot either,’’ Veronica said. She turned her back on him.
‘‘My name is Haskell Crenshaw,’’ he said. ‘‘I am Avery Trowbridge’s agent and business manager. Avery will not be pleased to know that I wasn’t accommodated here.’’
Upon hearing Avery’s name, Veronica whirled around. Her face quickly suffused with red. She grabbed the confirmation notice back, stuck it on the counter by her computer, and began tapping furiously at the keys.
Crenshaw watched her, a sardonic smile on his face.
Veronica looked up from the computer. Her tone devoid of inflection, she said, ‘‘It appears we do have a room for you after all.’’ She held out her hand.
Crenshaw, now openly smirking, reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a wallet. Opening it, he pulled out a credit card and slapped it on the counter. Veronica picked it up and swiped it before handing it back to him.
Moments later she placed a piece of paper on the counter and handed Crenshaw a pen. He signed the paper, and Veronica gave him a key when he pushed the paper off the counter toward her.
‘‘I’d like someone to help me with my bags,’’ Crenshaw said, in the mildest tone we had yet heard from him.
Veronica tapped the bell. Leonard appeared a few moments later. ‘‘Please escort this person to room three-nineteen, Leonard,’’ she said.
Leonard gave her a funny look but otherwise made no comment. He scooped up Crenshaw’s two bags and said, ‘‘If you’ll come with me, sir.’’ He and Crenshaw headed for the elevator.
Veronica turned and saw us before we could move away. A very unpleasant expression flitted across her face. Judging by that look, I figured we’d be lucky not to find scorpions in our beds before long. Without a word, she turned away and disappeared through the door behind the counter.
‘‘Curiouser and curiouser,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘The staff in this place are really something, aren’t they? With charmers like her at the front desk, it’s a wonder they have any people staying here at all.’’
‘‘She is very unpleasant, isn’t she?’’ Marylou said, leading the way toward the elevator.
‘‘She’s obviously a deeply unhappy person,’’ I said. ‘‘Either that, or she was just born nasty.’’
‘‘I expect she crawled from under the rock that way,’’ Sophie said as the elevator door opened.
‘‘Talking about Veronica, I’ll bet,’’ Leonard said while stepping out of the elevator. His attractive face split in a large grin, he stood beside the door and extended his arm against it to keep it open for us.
‘‘Pretend you didn’t hear that,’’ Sophie said in a playful tone as she walked into the elevator. Marylou and I stepped in quickly behind her.
‘‘Your wish is my command, dear lady.’’ Leonard bowed deeply, and the elevator door closed as he withdrew his arm.
Sophie giggled. ‘‘He’s so cute,’’ she said.
‘‘Yes, he is,’’ I said, raising an eyebrow at her. ‘‘But don’t forget you have someone waiting for you back in Houston.’’
She stuck out her tongue at me as Marylou laughed.
‘‘Just because I’ve been dating Nate doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the scenery,’’ Sophie said, in a faux-haughty tone.
‘‘I suppose not,’’ I said, trying not to smile. Telling Sophie not to flirt with an attractive man was like telling Niagara Falls to flow backward.
The elevator door opened on the third floor, and the three of us moved back a bit to make room for Haskell Crenshaw.
‘‘Afternoon, ladies,’’ he said.
He was so tall his head almost brushed the ceiling of the elevator, and the space seemed too cramped for the four of us. He really was a big man.
‘‘Good afternoon,’’ Marylou said politely as the doors closed.
Crenshaw glanced at the panel of buttons and nodded. Apparently his destination was also the fourth floor.
When the elevator halted and the doors opened,