Отель / Hotel
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He was glad he did.
As usually happened when they had been in use for any length of time, the Bibles’ front pages were dotted with call girls’ phone numbers, since a Gideon Bible – as experienced travelers knew – was the first place to seek that kind of information. Peter showed the books silently to Mrs. du Quesnay. “I’ll have new ones sent up. I suppose what Mr. O’Keefe likes or doesn’t is going to make a difference to people keeping their jobs around here.”
He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, Mrs. Q. Your guess is as good as mine.”
Peter supposed that most of the younger and brighter staff members would have an opportunity to stay on. Older employees though had a good deal more to worry about.
As Peter McDermott approached the executive suite, the chief engineer, Doc Vickery, was leaving it. Stopping, Peter said, “Number four elevator was giving some trouble last night, chief. Is it really that bad?”
“If you mean shall we have a big accident, the answer’s no. But we’ve had small breakdowns and sometime there’ll be a bigger one.”
Peter inquired, “What is it you need?”
“A hundred thousand dollars to start. Good machinery’s a lovely thing. Most times it’ll do more work than you think it could, and after that you can patch it and coax it, and it’ll work for you some more. But somewhere along there’s a death point you’ll never get by, no matter how much you want to.”
Peter was still thinking about the chief’s words when he entered his own office. What was the death point, he wondered, for an entire hotel?
The telephone bell rang. It was Reception. “Mr. McDermott, Mr. Curtis O’Keefe has just checked in.”
5
Curtis O’Keefe marched into the busy lobby like an arrow piercing an apple’s core. And a slightly decayed apple, he thought critically. He headed for Reception not without grace. His athlete’s body had been his pride through most of the fifty-six years, in which he had manipulated himself upward from a lower-middleclass nonentity to become one of the nation’s richest men.
“My name is O’Keefe and I have reserved two suites, one for myself, the other in the name of Miss Dorothy Lash.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sure your suites are ready, sir. One moment, please.”
O’Keefe stepped back a pace from the counter, allowing other arrivals to move in. Outside, in bright, warm sunshine, airport limousines and taxis were discharging passengers. He noticed a convention was assembling. A banner proclaimed ‘CONGRESS OF AMERICAN DENTISTRY’.
He could now see Dodo entering the lobby: all legs and breasts radiating sex. He had left her at the car to supervise the baggage. She enjoyed doing things like that occasionally. Anything requiring more cerebral strain was too difficult to her.
She joined him. Under the big hat, which failed to conceal the ash-blond hair, her baby blue eyes were wide as ever in the flawless childlike face.
“Curtie, they say there are a lot of dentists staying here.”
“I’m glad you told me. Otherwise I might never have known.”
“Geez, well maybe I should get that filling done.”
“They’re here to open their own mouths, not other people’s.”
Dodo looked puzzled, as she did so often. Some of O’Keefe’s acquaintances, he knew, wondered about his choice of Dodo as a traveling companion when, with his wealth and influence, he could have anyone he chose. But then, of course, they could only guess the savage sensuality, which Dodo could turn on, according to his own mood. Her stupidities, which seemed to bother others, he thought of as amusing. He supposed, though, he would part with Dodo soon. He would, of course, take care of her and arrange a supporting role or two in Hollywood. She had the body and the face. Others had risen high on those commodities alone. She could do it, too.
The room clerk returned to the front counter. “Everything is ready, sir.”
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