Hotel Room - 319
Left Alone A Moment Too Long, The Wife Decided The Time Was Now.
Surely you've stayed in one of the many hotels that cluster along America's expressways. The brands are all familiar. Then you easily can imagine a long hotel hallway, a corridor, stretching from one end of the building to the other. Nineteen guest rooms on one side; 17 on the other, with a couple of storage closets, stairways, and a room that houses two vending machines and an ice dispenser.
In this hotel, at 9:17 pm, two people are standing in front of Room 319.
"Try the other key."
He did. "That's not working, either. That pisses me off. Look, you stay here with the bags. I'll go down to the front desk and get new swipe cards programmed."
With that the man, tall, wearing a sport coat but no tie, got onto the elevator, rode down to the first floor, and with some agitation asked the front desk clerk for a new set of cards to open the door to their room.
"I am so sorry, sir," the clerk said. "Once in a while this machine doesn't read the magnetic strip right, and we have to redo it. Here you are, sir, and again, sorry for the trouble."
The tall man turned, rode the elevator upstairs, then entered the hallway to his room. He stopped. He looked behind him, down the long hallway of guest rooms, then he looked back. The woman he was with, where did she go?"
He checked that little paper folder that holds the swipe cards, the one the desk clerk writes the number to your room on. It read 319. He went back to the elevator and checked the floor he was on. The third. She must have gone downstairs, he grumbled, then got back on the elevator and went down to the front desk.
"Did you see my wife walk past here?"
"No sir. Say, did that key work this time?"
"I don't know, not yet. I have to find my wife first. She was standing in front of the door."
Hurriedly he walked out the front doors, looked around, spotted their car and walked over to it. She was not inside. He walked back into the hotel, roamed through the lobby, went to the end of one wing, then the other. Then back to the front desk.
"Could you please check your security cameras, your monitor? Is it possible I could look at it?"
The clerk: "We show eight screens. I do not see her in any of them. Only the general manager can authorize a guest reviewing the tapes. I am sorry."
The tall man ran the palm of his hand across his face and through his hair.
He scanned the area around him, as if he expected his wife to magically appear.
"She would have had two bags," he turned and said to the desk clerk. Brown. Tan, actually, with straps and buckles."
"Sir, I am the only employee on duty. I cannot leave the desk to help you find her. Should I call the police?"
"No, no, no. It's nothing like that, just probably there is some simple explanation. I am going to check each floor. Are there three, or is it four?"
"There are just three, sir."
The tall man took the stairs to the second floor, looked down one corridor, then the other. Then he walked to the ends of each and back to the center. There he climbed the stairs to the third floor. He walked directly to Room 319, used his key and threw the door open hoping he would be surprised. There was no evidence that his wife had been inside the room.
Surely, he thought, someone has seen her. With that, he boldly knocked on the door to Room 317. He caught a glimpse inside when the woman opened the door. She said she did not see his wife.
Then he knocked on 316 and 318. He got the same response. He heard the phone ringing in 319, so he entered. It was the front desk clerk.
"Sir, your neighbors are complaining. It is almost ten o'clock. Our guests are going to bed."
"Yes, alright, yes, okay, thank you...and I am sorry for the disturbance."
The tall man sat on the bed. No luggage. No wife. No evidence. Calling the police was an option moving quickly up the ladder. But he felt it was a last resort. How foolish he would look, if his wife simply turned up somewhere else in the hotel.
The phone rang again.
"Sir, this is the front desk. Another guest reported a brown or tan suitcase sitting outside, behind the building, next to the dumpster."
"Thank you, thank you." The tall man ran out of the room, down two flights of stairs, out the front door and around to the back of the hotel. It was well lighted and he quickly spotted the suitcase next to the dumpster corral. It was his suitcase, the larger of the two. It had not been opened.
He searched the corral, behind the green dumpster, the grassy area behind the dumpster, between the cars and trucks parked in the back, and running madly back and forth calling out his wife's name. Where the hell is her suitcase? Where is she?
Emotionally exhausted, he dialed 911. A police officer arrived to take the report. He called it a missing person/runaway.
"You are mistaken," the tall man told the police officer. "The word runaway is not what happened here. She obviously has been abducted."
The police officer acted like he was studying his report. "Sir, will you be here in the morning?"
"I'm not leaving until I find her."
"A detective will call on you, probably after nine o'clock."
"Tell him, or her, this is not a runaway situation. It is an abduction. I am in fear for her life."
The police officer looked down, again acting like he was studying his report. Finally he said, "I will pass that on, sir. Good luck."
It was now one o'clock in the morning. The tall man appeared at the front desk. There was a new employee on duty.
"Do you know my story?"
"Yes, your wife is missing."
"Could we please check the rooms in this hotel, one by one?"
"Sir, are you asking if we can knock on the doors?"
"Look, my wife disappeared. She could have been abducted. She could be in any room in this hotel. Her life could be in danger!"
The night auditor stepped back and studied the monitor for the security cameras.
"There is nothing unusual on the security system. I just cannot do what you are asking. The general manager will be here at seven o'clock and she is the only one who can authorize that."
The tall man seemed stunned. He turned and sat on a couch in the lobby, looking at the television but not really comprehending what he was seeing. He poured himself a coffee. Twenty minutes later he was asleep, slouched over on the arm of the couch.
At seven o'clock the general manager arrived and was apprised of the situation. She let the tall man sleep but he woke up when guests started coming down for breakfast. He quickly zeroed in on the general manager.
"Look, I need to check every room, knock on every door. I've got to find her. She has to be in danger."
"We just are not allowed to invade the privacy of our guests that way, sir. Please...stay in the lobby. Maybe she will show up during breakfast. At nine o'clock I will ask my people to call each room. We will try to help you locate your wife."
Tired, hair a mess, a beard stubble appearing, the tall man went through the breakfast area asking every guest about his missing wife. Annoyed, the general manager finally escorted the tall man to Room 319.
"You're saying your wife never entered this room?"
"That is what I am saying."
The hotel manager studied the bathroom. She studied the bed linen.
"I don't see any evidence that she did."
At nine o'clock the head housekeeper called each occupied room. No one reported sighting his wife.
At a quarter to ten the police detective showed up, talked to the tall man in his room, then took him down to the front office where the detective asked to look at the security tapes starting at 9:17 the night before. The cameras are focused on the public spots - the elevators, the front desk, the front door and side doors, and sections of the parking lot.
"Is that her? the detective asked, pointing to the monitor screen."
A woman carrying a piece of luggage was seen hurrying across the parking lot to the east.
"That's her!" the tall man cried out.
"This camera doesn't show it, but she is running toward the 24-hour restaurant next door."
The tall man seemed puzzled.
"She's running on her own free will, sir," the detective said.
The tall man fell back in the chair. His eyes welled up; his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Is there more to this story, sir?" the detective asked.
"I think I know what happened now," the tall man said quietly.
The hotel manager and the police detective watched the tall man, waiting for more. But there was no more. The tall man simply got up and climbed the stairs to Room 319. There he put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, undressed, laid down in bed and pulled the covers over his head. When he awoke it was nine thirty at night. After he showered, he went to the 24-hour restaurant, had a coffee at the counter, and asked a few questions.
He checked out the next morning. When he entered the expressway, he was heading south. The home he had shared with his wife was north. He would never see it again.
In this hotel, at 9:17 pm, two people are standing in front of Room 319.
"Try the other key."
He did. "That's not working, either. That pisses me off. Look, you stay here with the bags. I'll go down to the front desk and get new swipe cards programmed."
With that the man, tall, wearing a sport coat but no tie, got onto the elevator, rode down to the first floor, and with some agitation asked the front desk clerk for a new set of cards to open the door to their room.
"I am so sorry, sir," the clerk said. "Once in a while this machine doesn't read the magnetic strip right, and we have to redo it. Here you are, sir, and again, sorry for the trouble."
The tall man turned, rode the elevator upstairs, then entered the hallway to his room. He stopped. He looked behind him, down the long hallway of guest rooms, then he looked back. The woman he was with, where did she go?"
He checked that little paper folder that holds the swipe cards, the one the desk clerk writes the number to your room on. It read 319. He went back to the elevator and checked the floor he was on. The third. She must have gone downstairs, he grumbled, then got back on the elevator and went down to the front desk.
"Did you see my wife walk past here?"
"No sir. Say, did that key work this time?"
"I don't know, not yet. I have to find my wife first. She was standing in front of the door."
Hurriedly he walked out the front doors, looked around, spotted their car and walked over to it. She was not inside. He walked back into the hotel, roamed through the lobby, went to the end of one wing, then the other. Then back to the front desk.
"Could you please check your security cameras, your monitor? Is it possible I could look at it?"
The clerk: "We show eight screens. I do not see her in any of them. Only the general manager can authorize a guest reviewing the tapes. I am sorry."
The tall man ran the palm of his hand across his face and through his hair.
He scanned the area around him, as if he expected his wife to magically appear.
"She would have had two bags," he turned and said to the desk clerk. Brown. Tan, actually, with straps and buckles."
"Sir, I am the only employee on duty. I cannot leave the desk to help you find her. Should I call the police?"
"No, no, no. It's nothing like that, just probably there is some simple explanation. I am going to check each floor. Are there three, or is it four?"
"There are just three, sir."
The tall man took the stairs to the second floor, looked down one corridor, then the other. Then he walked to the ends of each and back to the center. There he climbed the stairs to the third floor. He walked directly to Room 319, used his key and threw the door open hoping he would be surprised. There was no evidence that his wife had been inside the room.
Surely, he thought, someone has seen her. With that, he boldly knocked on the door to Room 317. He caught a glimpse inside when the woman opened the door. She said she did not see his wife.
Then he knocked on 316 and 318. He got the same response. He heard the phone ringing in 319, so he entered. It was the front desk clerk.
"Sir, your neighbors are complaining. It is almost ten o'clock. Our guests are going to bed."
"Yes, alright, yes, okay, thank you...and I am sorry for the disturbance."
The tall man sat on the bed. No luggage. No wife. No evidence. Calling the police was an option moving quickly up the ladder. But he felt it was a last resort. How foolish he would look, if his wife simply turned up somewhere else in the hotel.
The phone rang again.
"Sir, this is the front desk. Another guest reported a brown or tan suitcase sitting outside, behind the building, next to the dumpster."
"Thank you, thank you." The tall man ran out of the room, down two flights of stairs, out the front door and around to the back of the hotel. It was well lighted and he quickly spotted the suitcase next to the dumpster corral. It was his suitcase, the larger of the two. It had not been opened.
He searched the corral, behind the green dumpster, the grassy area behind the dumpster, between the cars and trucks parked in the back, and running madly back and forth calling out his wife's name. Where the hell is her suitcase? Where is she?
Emotionally exhausted, he dialed 911. A police officer arrived to take the report. He called it a missing person/runaway.
"You are mistaken," the tall man told the police officer. "The word runaway is not what happened here. She obviously has been abducted."
The police officer acted like he was studying his report. "Sir, will you be here in the morning?"
"I'm not leaving until I find her."
"A detective will call on you, probably after nine o'clock."
"Tell him, or her, this is not a runaway situation. It is an abduction. I am in fear for her life."
The police officer looked down, again acting like he was studying his report. Finally he said, "I will pass that on, sir. Good luck."
It was now one o'clock in the morning. The tall man appeared at the front desk. There was a new employee on duty.
"Do you know my story?"
"Yes, your wife is missing."
"Could we please check the rooms in this hotel, one by one?"
"Sir, are you asking if we can knock on the doors?"
"Look, my wife disappeared. She could have been abducted. She could be in any room in this hotel. Her life could be in danger!"
The night auditor stepped back and studied the monitor for the security cameras.
"There is nothing unusual on the security system. I just cannot do what you are asking. The general manager will be here at seven o'clock and she is the only one who can authorize that."
The tall man seemed stunned. He turned and sat on a couch in the lobby, looking at the television but not really comprehending what he was seeing. He poured himself a coffee. Twenty minutes later he was asleep, slouched over on the arm of the couch.
At seven o'clock the general manager arrived and was apprised of the situation. She let the tall man sleep but he woke up when guests started coming down for breakfast. He quickly zeroed in on the general manager.
"Look, I need to check every room, knock on every door. I've got to find her. She has to be in danger."
"We just are not allowed to invade the privacy of our guests that way, sir. Please...stay in the lobby. Maybe she will show up during breakfast. At nine o'clock I will ask my people to call each room. We will try to help you locate your wife."
Tired, hair a mess, a beard stubble appearing, the tall man went through the breakfast area asking every guest about his missing wife. Annoyed, the general manager finally escorted the tall man to Room 319.
"You're saying your wife never entered this room?"
"That is what I am saying."
The hotel manager studied the bathroom. She studied the bed linen.
"I don't see any evidence that she did."
At nine o'clock the head housekeeper called each occupied room. No one reported sighting his wife.
At a quarter to ten the police detective showed up, talked to the tall man in his room, then took him down to the front office where the detective asked to look at the security tapes starting at 9:17 the night before. The cameras are focused on the public spots - the elevators, the front desk, the front door and side doors, and sections of the parking lot.
"Is that her? the detective asked, pointing to the monitor screen."
A woman carrying a piece of luggage was seen hurrying across the parking lot to the east.
"That's her!" the tall man cried out.
"This camera doesn't show it, but she is running toward the 24-hour restaurant next door."
The tall man seemed puzzled.
"She's running on her own free will, sir," the detective said.
The tall man fell back in the chair. His eyes welled up; his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Is there more to this story, sir?" the detective asked.
"I think I know what happened now," the tall man said quietly.
The hotel manager and the police detective watched the tall man, waiting for more. But there was no more. The tall man simply got up and climbed the stairs to Room 319. There he put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, undressed, laid down in bed and pulled the covers over his head. When he awoke it was nine thirty at night. After he showered, he went to the 24-hour restaurant, had a coffee at the counter, and asked a few questions.
He checked out the next morning. When he entered the expressway, he was heading south. The home he had shared with his wife was north. He would never see it again.
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