It’s a familiar joke by now, spawned by the fact that my father owns so many different businesses. There are few industries that he doesn’t have some interests in and as someone who grew up owning jack shit, the concept is fascinating to me.
“Not yet. There’s always tomorrow.” His familiar reply comes in a voice that sounds raspier than usual. He’s sitting in a chair by the window but his wheelchair is in the corner. I wonder how hard he had to fight to be allowed to sit unaided.
Zack takes a seat on the couch, looking uncomfortable. It’s been a long time since he’s done this and that’s why I only tapped him for an easy role today. Manipulating doesn’t come easily to Zack and he’s only doing this because we both agreed that it’s time for us to find out what our father is up to. Zack never enjoyed these games the way I did. But then I’ve always known that my little brother is a much better person than I am.
“Here you go. A Coke for you and a glass of water.” Carol brings the drinks in on a tray, the same way she always does. Somehow she manages to keep straight all of our usual drink orders, something Zack and I realized during our planning.
He looks up at me and nods slightly. Then he reaches forward and knocks the glass of Coke over, the dark liquid immediately spreading across the coffee table. Carol gasps and jumps back.
That’s my cue.
“Here, use my handkerchief.” I step closer, much closer, into her personal space.
She looks up at me, her pupils dilating slightly. When she realizes how close I am, she sucks in a breath and her cheeks flush red. I’m using the fact that she likes m
e to my advantage, something I should feel terrible about. Instead, I raise the white handkerchief I brought for this purpose in front of her face.
As soon as her eyes latch onto it, I move a little closer, bumping into her. My right hand simultaneously unclips the security card on her waistband.
“Oh thank you,” she whispers. She takes the small square of fabric and blots at the drops on her sleeve.
“I’ll grab some towels from the bathroom.”
Before Carol can respond, I duck into the hallway. The suite has three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. I can never poke around because Carol is always there but I’ve observed her entering and exiting my father’s private area before. That's how I know she needs an access card. Paranoid bastard. How many people have this level of security on their bedroom? But his security just increases my belief that he's hiding something. Innocent people are rarely this careful. Hopefully Zack can keep them distracted for a few minutes so I can get into my father’s room.
I glance behind me but the hall is empty so I hold the card up to the door on the last room. The electronic keypad flashes green and I enter. The curtains are drawn slightly but it doesn’t matter. The only thing I want to do is check out what’s next to my father’s bed.
We spent the last few weeks planning this and the one thing that Zack and I agreed on was that whatever Max is up to, it’s personal. He’s spent a lot of time and money ensuring that his children have to talk to him. But what we can’t figure out is why now? Since his stroke, my father hasn’t been able to get around as easily so we theorized that he’d keep his most important possessions near his bed. Where he can reach them.
I pull out my cell phone and start snapping pictures of everything around me. A spill won’t distract Carol for long. After snapping everything near the bed and everything visible when I pull open the nightstand drawer, I leave the room.
A few seconds later, Carol enters the hallway from the living area. Her eyes narrow when she sees me standing in the hall.
“Did you get a towel?”
I run a hand through my hair and feign confusion. “Uh no, actually. I was looking for a linen closet and then realized that this isn’t actually an apartment. It’s easy to forget this is a hotel suite.”
Her pinched look dissolves into a smile. “Yeah, it is. But you can just take one from any of the bathrooms. It’s fine.”
I duck into the guest room I’m standing next to and walk past the perfectly made up bed to the bathroom. It’s fully stocked and ready for guests, so I grab two towels from the stack above the toilet.
When I come back out, I hand one to Carol. “Sorry about that again. My brother can be a little clumsy.”
“Oh it’s fine. He was so apologetic about it that I actually feel bad. He got more of it on himself than me. He said one of his tattoos wasn’t fully healed and it was burning him. I had to help him get it off. Poor guy.”
My mouth twitches. Zack is not a fan of being touched by people he doesn’t know so if he had to let her play nursemaid, I’m sure I’m going to get an earful about it later.
When we enter the living room, Max looks over from his seat by the window. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, found ‘em.” I hold up the towels. His eyes follow me as I walk over to the table and make a big production about cleaning it up. I nod at Zack, letting him know that I got what I needed. He stands and walks over to Max, positioning his body between us. I pull the keycard from my pocket and tuck it under the towel.
"You don't have to do that. I can clean it up." Carol appears at my side with the other towel.
"I don't mind." I bend back to the liquid dripping onto the carpet before she can protest again.
Carol wipes the tray she brought the drinks on. As I’m mopping up the puddle on the carpet, I casually toss the keycard over to the side of the table where she's standing. When she wipes the side of the table, she stops when she spots it.
Her hand immediately flies to her waistband. “Oh I must have dropped it.” Her soft mumble is barely audible over Zack’s loud voice. I glance over my shoulder.