Jane Pilsudski stood on the roof of the Grand hotel and looked down toward the street below. From what she had been told, this must be just where her father stood before he fell or jumped to his death two days before.
It was difficult accepting the fact that he was dead. He had always been so strong and vital. At fifty-eight, he had been proud of his great strength, the strong muscles of arms and chest and the flat stomach.
Jane remembered how she used to tease him about having muscles in his voice too when his happy laughter boomed through the whole building. That was just one of his trademarks, especially when he gathered with a few of his fellow countrymen to talk in Polish about the old days in the old country. He would laugh even more loudly then. His eyes would crinkle around the edges and his head would fall back as his powerful lungs expelled great quantities of sausage scented air to sustain the roars of laughter.
Her mother, his wife Eva, was always annoyed at his raucous laughter just as much as she was annoyed at his continued friendship with people from the old country.
"You are an American now," she would scold, "and you can speak English. Why don't you do it instead of talking that crazy language and laughing like a fool?"
"What's the matter?" he would invariably reply, "because I am an American I'm not supposed to laugh? This is not a sad country, it is a big happy country like I am big and happy."
There had been less of those arguments lately though because her father had not laughed as much as usual. Jane had noticed it the last few times she came home from college to spend time with her parents at their hotel.
She had tried asking him what was bothering him, but never did get a satisfactory answer.
"I am old man now," he would answer casually. "Just old Polack with not too much to laugh about. You are beautiful young woman, Jane, I leave the laughing to you. It is good to laugh when you are young and pretty."
Jane couldn't really accept his evasive answers, but she couldn't get the truth out of him either. Something was bothering him, but whatever it was, he was determined to carry it alone without letting his daughter share it.
With her mother though, there was no danger of that. Eva was a big league complainer and always had been. She was always glad to tell Jane about her problems and she seemed to have so many of them.
She had met Tad Pilsudski during the thirties. He had come out of the bootlegging era with enough money to buy a hotel and enough desire to become a law abiding citizen to want to do it.
Eva had been playing piano in the hotel dining room for about eight months when she married the owner. The way she told it, she had deserted the field of music to marry an old man and become a drudge. Jane could never find out just why her mother had made the sacrifice, but she often felt that her father's money had a lot to do with it.
Eva was forty-three now and still showed some of the beauty that had once been her pride and joy. Too much food and booze had taken much from the beauty, but enough remained to show that she had indeed been a beauty at one time.
Calling on the psychology in which she was majoring at the university, Jane understood how important that fading beauty was to her mother and saw why the woman had become more difficult in recent years as time caught up with both face and figure.
It had been one thing back in the thirties to marry a seemingly rich hotel owner. It gave her all the security she needed and she could still play the piano and glow as men looked at her saying wild, exciting things with their eyes.
All that had paled in later years though. They didn't look at her so much now and the comfortable living had been something taken for granted. Her chance to be a great pianist was gone just as her beauty was going and there was nothing to take its place, no compensation for all the things that had passed her by.
And although her father would never admit it, Jane suspected that even the financial security wasn't what it had been in the good old days. The hotel was going to seed and business was on the downgrade. From time to time when Jane questioned him, Tad would show her the registrations and point out that the hotel had been filled right up.
Jane didn't have the heart to point out that this happened only when a big convention or other special event had filled up every other hotel in the city and they picked up the overflow because people would rather sleep in a third rate hotel than take their chances on a park bench.
When she suggested quitting college and coming to work in the hotel, her father got angrier than she had ever seen him. He made it very clear that she was to finish her education. The hotel, he pointed out, didn't need her as much as all those people out there who would benefit from the help a good psychologist could give them.
Against her better judgment, Jane had stayed in college and went on with her studies. It meant so much to him, it was the least she could do to show her appreciation of all he had done for her.
And then in one terrible moment, her world had crashed. The college chaplain broke the news to her at the sorority house that night. Her dad and the night manager had been working on the roof repairing a guy wire on the television antenna.
Her father had taken a step backward and fallen off the edge of the roof. His body crashed to the street five floors below. He was dead when the first person on the scene reached him. At least, Jane thought, there had been no suffering except for the agony of the terrible fall knowing death waited to catch him on the sidewalk below.
Jane recalled hearing that during such a fall, a person becomes unconscious almost immediately. She wished now she could believe that, but she couldn't. In those few seconds of uncontrolled flight, he must have known he was falling to his death.
A witness who saw the fall from the street below reported that he had screamed just as he toppled from the roof. She said it had sounded almost like a roar of anger.
For a while, that aspect of it had bothered Jane. A cry of pain or of terror she could have understood, but the suggestion of anger didn't seem right. Eventually, she dismissed the lingering doubt after a policeman explained to her that a woman seeing a person fall from a roof is not likely to be a reliable witness as regards the quality of a scream.
When the policeman asked whether she had any reason to believe the accident was anything but an accident, Jane felt an overpowering sense of shame. To say that would be to suggest that Bart Parker, the night manager had pushed him off. That would be murder. She couldn't permit herself to go that far, not even in her own mind.
Jane had always disliked the night manager. At forty-four, if he had any ability at all, he wouldn't have settled for being night man at a third rate hotel like the Grand.
Although he had never said so, Jane long suspected that her father shared her dislike for Bart. Only her mother seemed to like the man at all and Jane had long ago concluded that it was Eva's influence that kept the man on at the hotel.
It was largely her dislike for Bart Parker that kept Jane from considering the possibility that he had played some ominous role in her father's death plunge. Her sense of fair play told her that it would be impossible to make a purely objective decision regarding a person she disliked so intensely. That being the case, she had no choice but to accept the fatal plunge as an accident.
Jane had cried when she heard the news. The chaplain, a rather soft, ineffectual man in his early fifties, tried to reason with her by telling her that her father was an older man and that death must be expected to come to all.
It didn't help, because he had always been so strong, that she had not been prepared for his death. It didn't help either when the chaplain spoke of the life after death and how her father had gone to his reward.
Neither Jane or her father held that belief. To both of them, death was the end of everything.
Although her mother didn't cry when Jane saw her the next morning when she arrived home, she did express the words of shock and grief. And yet, Jane couldn't help wondering how sincere her mother was being about it all. There seemed to be a certain lack of depth in her words and expression.
Again, Jane scolded herself for judging. I feel and express regret in my own way and she has the same right, she told herself. It would be wrong of me to condemn her for not feeling or acting as I do.
Telling herself it was morbid to stand on the roof thinking as she was, Jane went downstairs to look for her mother. There were so many things to be discussed. For one, Jane was going to insist that she drop her studies for the time being and stay to do her share at the hotel. It was too much to expect her mother to handle alone.
Then too, there was the matter of long range plans for the hotel. Either they should plan to bring the place up to date, even though it meant going further into debt, or it should be sold.
Because the place had been the realization of her father's dream, Jane hesitated to sell it. Still, she was astute enough to know that the place was going downhill at a great rate. Unless they did something to repair both the physical state of the building and its image, then before long, there would be no chance of selling it at all. It would just die of dry rot and there would be nothing.
Jane found her mother in their suite. Bart Parker sat with her. On the table in front of them was a half filled bottle of whiskey. Without waiting to be asked, Jane poured herself a drink. She often shared a drink or two with her father in the past and saw nothing wrong with having one now just because he was dead.
"I'm glad to see you having one, Jane," her mother looked nervous as she spoke. "I was afraid you'd disapprove of our drinking right at this time."
"Of course not, Mom," Jane replied coolly. "I'm sure Dad wouldn't approve of our just sitting around suffering in silence. Don't you agree?"
"You're right, Janie," Bart answered for her. "Tad always liked his drink and I know this is how he'd want it." He raised his glass in a salute to his dead employer.
Ignoring the gesture, Jane raised her glass to her lips and sipped at it. Somehow, she didn't want to share any toasts with Bart Parker or, for that matter, with her mother.
Feeling a little ashamed of her attitude toward her own mother, Jane finished her drink quickly, excused herself and walked into the other room.
As the door closed behind Jane, Eva Pilsudski raised her hips from the chair and reached under her dress to pull her panties up. They had been resting just above her knees and it had been difficult to sit so that Jane wouldn't see them.
Her daughter had entered the room at the wrong time for both Eva and her lover.
CHAPTER TWO
The funeral wasn't as bad as Jane had feared it would be. A few tears escaped her as she saw the coffin being lowered into the ground, but that was all. There was a numbness in her heart that the shedding of tears wouldn't help, so they stopped.
The toughest part was riding back to the hotel in the same car as her mother and Bart. Jane would have preferred staying in the quiet of the cemetery, but she knew her mother would be concerned about how that would look to others.
There was little conversation on the drive back and that suited her just fine. More and more, Jane was convinced that neither her mother or Bart Parker felt at all sorry about her father's death. She refused to let her mind move beyond that point to consider the possibility that they were actually happy about it.
Back in the suite, Jane had one drink with the couple and this time she had to go along with it when Bart proposed a toast to Tad. She felt it was particularly revolting as he went on and on about how they were going to carry on her father's dream and make the Grand a hotel of which he would be truly proud.
After that, Jane excused herself and said she was going to see her father's lawyer. She noticed her mother and Bart both looked puzzled at that. For a moment, she was tempted to let them stew, but decided against doing that.
"He spoke to me during the funeral," she pointed out, "and told me Dad had left a letter for me with him. I want to get it."
As she walked out of the suite, Jane could see that the two were not looking at each other, but she also sensed that it was requiring a great effort. Are they afraid, she wondered, that I'm trying to grab more of the estate than I'm entitled to?
Alone in the room, Eva and Bart remained silent as they heard the sound of Jane walking along the hall outside. Eva hurried over to the window. When she saw Jane walking down the block, she turned back to face the man.
"It's okay, she's really gone," she said.
"What did you think she was going to do, stand outside the door and eavesdrop on us?" Bart asked with more than a touch of sarcasm.
"I don't know what I thought, darling," Eva answered. "All I know is, she frightens me. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking she's dumb. Jane sees a lot more than she lets on."
"Come off it, Eva baby. It's just your imagination acting up. There isn't a chance that she doesn't believe Tad's death was an accident."
"I hope you're right, Bart, but I'm still scared. I'd hate to think of spending the rest of my life rotting away in some stinking jail."
The man got up and took her into his arms. As they kissed, his right hand moved down until it rubbed the swell of buttocks through the thin black silk dress.
"I know what you need to cheer you up, baby," he whispered. "Some of your favorite kind of kissing would make you feel like a new woman right now."
"Oh yes, darling. Please do it and make me feel better. I've been going crazy with wanting it since Jane busted in and almost caught us just when I was getting set to explode."
"Sure thing, baby. You want it in your special chair?"
"Yes," she answered. "You do it so good there. I like to see you kneeling in front of me with your black hair against my skin. It makes me go crazy."
They walked to the big leather arm chair. As they reached it, she pulled up her dress and slip and held them above her waist.
"How about that," he laughed. "You even wore black panties like a grieving widow should."
Eva couldn't share the laugh because her body was screaming for an exciting relief of built up passion. As his hands drew the nylon panties down over her smooth thighs, her body twisted and contorted in erotic anticipation of what was to come.
He knelt before her and she raised one leg at a time to step out of the tiny garment. Bart's eyes looked straight up between her thighs as she did.
Holding her dress and slip above her waist, Eva sat on the edge of the chair and leaned back. The leather was cool and invigorating as it kissed her naked skin. Looking down, she admired her body as it waited for her lover to make it feel good again. Except for the garter belt and nylons, she was nude from the waist down. In just a few seconds, she thought, there will be a beautiful black head there doing wild things to me.
As Bart knelt between her widely parted legs, his hands slipped over the still firm thighs. He smiled up into her face as his tongue licked out between his lips. His face was lost from sight then and she felt a warm breath just before his lips found her and began the special kind of kiss she had to have if she was to avoid going out of her mind.
"Oooh, you're good, darling," she gasped. "You do it better than anybody I ever knew ... that's it, darling ... like that ... more, darling, more like that...."
His hands moved along the outside of her thighs, pressed along her hips and reached under to clutch at the softer skin of her buttocks. She raised up a little to permit him a better grip on her.
When the storm promised to break at any second, her body began to raise even higher and her head fell back over the back of the chair. Sensing what was about to happen, Bart worked even more furiously on the heaving body.
Her scream seemed to fill the room. It held for a moment like a high pitched jungle call then wavered and broke into something almost like a series of sobs. After a little while, her eyes opened again and she looked down to smile her thanks at the face that smiled up at her.
"How about you, darling?" she asked. "Are you in the mood for equal time?"
"You can say that again, baby," he answered with obvious enthusiasm as he hurried to his feet.
His hand tugged his trousers down impatiently as he sat on the arm of the chair.
"Umm, you look real good to me, darling," she whispered.
"Then go, baby, don't just talk about it," he answered in a tone of impatience.
Her full red lips parted, her tongue licked over them. As her face moved toward him, she wore the expression of an operatic soprano reaching for a very big note.
The note came from the man though as he breathed a long sigh of absolute satisfaction. His right hand reached to squeeze the bulge at the front of her dress.
In a little while, his body tensed, held rigid for just a moment, then shuddered. Looking down at the scene of his great delight, he could see her eyes smiling.
It was always good this way, Eva told herself, but this had been the best ever. She sensed that having shared in the murder of her husband, they had provided a keener edge to something that had always been good for both of them. She wondered if it would always be this good or if, after a little while, the novelty would wear off.
* * *
Jane Pilsudski sat across the desk from the lawyer and tried to put him at ease. It was clear to her that he was searching for something to say that would convey his sympathy without sounding too trite.
"It's all right, Mr. Kitely," she assured him in a firm tone. "The shock hit me pretty hard at first, but it's over now. I've accepted the fact that Dad's dead and that it's something that isn't going to change. I know how much you and Dad liked each other and I know you'll miss him as much as I will."
"You're right, Jane," the lawyer answered with a look of admiration, "and I'm pleased to see that you can accept it in this way."
"I have a letter here that your father left with me just a couple of weeks ago. He wanted me to give it to you after the funeral and before his will is read to the family."
He handed the letter to her as if it were a priceless document. She took it from him nervously as if afraid to read it. Jane had accepted her father's death, but this letter from him would be like a voice speaking to her from the grave.
"Would you like to take it with you, Jane, or would you prefer to read it here?" he asked considerately.
"I think I'd rather read it here if I won't be in the way," Jane answered.
"Of course you won't be in the way." He pressed a buzzer on his desk and a secretary hurried into the office. He ordered coffee for Jane in a tone that urged the young woman to hurry with it.
"I'll leave you alone now, Jane," he spoke softly. "I'll be in the office next door. If you want me, just press this buzzer," he indicated one of the four buzzers on his desk.
Alone in the office and, seemingly, in the world, Jane used his letter opener to slit the envelope carefully. Somehow, it would have seemed wrong to just tear it open as if it were just an ordinary letter. She began reading:
Dear Daughter Jane:
I hope you will not have to read this letter for a very long time. I write it now because it is something I must do.
I hear that some animals know in advance when they are going to die. Maybe that is so with people too because even though I feel very strong and healthy, I feel that my life is almost over.
Your mother will be well cared for out of insurance and other arrangements I have made for her. To you, I will give the Grand Hotel.
From the day you were born it was my hope that I would be able to leave something grand in life for you. I worked hard to make the hotel that gift.
At one time, it looked like maybe I could do that. The Grand Hotel was a good one and was going to be even better. And then, no matter how hard I worked, it just seemed to go bad.
It was my dream that you, and some day your husband, would run the Grand Hotel and make of it the good place I wanted it to be. Now, I am not so sure this can ever be so. It will be best that you sell it for it has gone too far down and will be too much work for a young woman alone.
In this matter, you should trust my lawyer, Mister Donald Kitely. Do not trust or take the advice of other people no matter how close to you they may be or no matter how much they may seem to know about running hotels. All people are not what they pretend to be.
Until you can sell it, follow your own mind about the hotel.
This and all my love is all I have to leave to my good daughter. I feel I have failed you, but you did not fail me. I am very proud of what you are and at the moment of my death I'll still be proud of you.
Please do not weep because I am dead now. All people must die. Make a good life and have beautiful children and try to be happy.
Your Loving Father
Dropping the letter to the desk, Jane just sat there and watched as the tears rolled down her face and fell to the desk. Many of them fell on the letter so that it soon became dotted with wet patches. She pushed it aside to protect it from her tears.
Although she cried, Jane's heart was not breaking. The tears, in fact, were close to being happy ones. The letter had been filled with the man's love for her. It was the same kind of love he had given her from the time she could first recall and now he had found a way to do it even after his death.
In time, the tears stopped and she dried her eyes. Only then did she remember the coffee that had been placed on the desk beside her. She picked it up and sipped, surprised to find it still hot enough to drink. It helped settle her.
Confident that she was finished crying, she pressed the buzzer the lawyer had indicated. Seconds later, the door opened and he walked into the office.
Wordlessly, Jane shoved the letter toward him. She saw the tear stains on the page and hoped he would be able to read it.
"Are you sure you want me to read this, Jane?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered simply as she picked up her cup of coffee again and held it in both hands.
He picked up the letter and Jane sat back thinking again about what her father had written. There was something frightening about how right he had been in predicting his death. But how, she wondered, could a man predict accidental death?
She knew she would return to that question many times in the future, but for the time being, she let her thoughts move on to the warning that had been contained in the letter, the warning which indicated she should not trust either her mother or Bart Parker. There could be no mistake, Jane told herself that they were the ones her father was warning her against.
But why? Tad had always been considerate toward Eva, had seemed to love and respect her. Why would he suddenly turn this way? Had the man discovered something startling at the time of writing the letter? Could it have been so bad that his fatal plunge from the roof had been suicide instead of accident or worse?
There were so many things to think about, but Jane saw that the man across the desk had finished reading the letter and was looking at her.
"For a man without much formal education, he expressed his love for you very touchingly, Jane," he commented.
"That's the way Dad was," she replied. "Expressing love was always very easy for him because he loved so well."
"I guess you'll need some time to think over what you'll do about the hotel."
"Not much, really," Jane answered. "I'm almost sure I'll try to keep it going. At least, that's what I thought of instinctively and I usually go along with my instinct. It's a feminine weakness, I guess."
"It may not be a weakness at that, but offhand, I'd suggest you give a lot of thought to your father's advice about selling."
"Thanks, Mr. Kitely, I appreciate your advice and I'm going to need a lot of it, but something tells me I should go on and do what Dad wanted to do with the place. You know, a sort of a memorial."
"I understand how you feel, Jane," the man cautioned, "but memorials can be dangerous things to build. Sometimes they deprive us of the ability to think clearly."
"I really think I can handle it. Perhaps in trying to put the hotel back on its feet I'll find a lot of answers that seem to be eluding me so far. Will you help me, on a professional basis of course?"
"I'll be pleased to help, Jane. Not just as a lawyer, but also as a friend. Where and when would you like to start?"
"As soon as the will is probated, I'd like you to find a good firm of accountants to really study the financial structure of the Grand and tell me where it stands."
"I know just the firm. They're thorough and absolutely dependable. As for probate, I think I can speed that up."
"Will you require some kind of an advance retainer?" Jane asked. "I believe that is usual."
"Not in this case. Don't worry, I'll make sure I get my proper fees, but let's get things squared away first."
"Thanks, Mr. Kitely, and speaking of getting things squared away, I think I've taken up enough of your time." She got up to leave and picked up the precious letter.
"I'm in no hurry, Jane," he answered as he stood with her, "but if you want to be alone with your thoughts for a while, I'll understand."
Nodding, she left the office and walked outside. It was late afternoon and the streets were filling with the jumble of people rushing away from the jobs they disliked to homes they probably disliked even more, she thought.
It seemed obscene that there should be so much life around when life had been taken away from so good a man.
CHAPTER THREE
Jane didn't feel like eating in the hotel dining room, but it seemed the logical thing to do. If I'm going to run this place, she reasoned, then I'd better start finding out all about it.
She thought of phoning the room to find out if her mother had eaten yet, but decided against it. As much as possible, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
Jane didn't know the waitress who hovered near the window doing a very effective job of ignoring her. It struck her that the woman didn't know who she was or the service would have been a lot better.
When the waitress broke down and decided to notice her, Jane ordered a very dry martini as a starter. When it came, in a warm glass, she held the comment she had been tempted to make and ordered French onion soup and a chefs salad with Caesar dressing.
Not only did the waitress indicate that they didn't have Caesar dressing, but she made it clear that she had never heard of it and didn't really care. Jane decided to settle for oil and vinegar dressing and went on to look over the menu.
"Would you recommend anything in particular?" Jane asked.
"Naw," the waitress answered as if she resented having been asked, "it's all about the same."
Shuddering at the woman's attitude, Jane ordered lamb chops and found herself not really thinking of food at all. Instead, she was wondering how soon she would be able to fire the waitress.
Except that it hadn't been sufficiently chilled, the martini wasn't bad. She continued to sip at it and decided that since she was going to stay around for a while, she would have to stock a bar in her room. Although she rarely drank to excess, Jane liked a few drinks every night and the odd one during the day.
The soup was a total loss. It was served without cheese or even croutons. It was watery and what flavor it did have was less than pleasant. Jane left most of it.
The waitress took the rest of the soup away without comment and pushed the plate of lamb chops in front of her. The two chops didn't look bad, but the peas and mashed potatoes on the plate didn't measure up as her taste confirmed a minute later. She ate the meat but left most of the vegetables.
Jane looked around at the almost deserted dining room. Even though it was prime dining time, she saw only about eight or ten disinterested men in the room. There were no women at all. It didn't surprise her that the public failed to flock to the Grand Hotel to sample its cuisine. Until things improved, she told herself, she too would eat elsewhere.
When she left without leaving a tip, Jane didn't feel at all embarrassed about it. She was saving all her embarrassment for the hotel and the memory of her father who had let it slip so badly.
As she passed through the lobby, she saw Bart Parker behind the desk. The suit he wore was just seedy enough to match the decor of the place, she decided. He also needed a haircut. I'm going to have to do a lot of hiring before very long, Jane thought as she walked to the elevator.
Upstairs, she found her mother alone in the suite. With the glass in her hand, Eva signaled toward the bottle of Scotch on the coffee table in front of her.
"Help yourself, dear," she said with no great show of emotion. "I don't usually drink alone, but I guess with the funeral and all it was just too much for me today."
Jane poured herself a drink. "That's all right, I often drink alone. I don't see anything wrong with it." She noticed that her mother smiled a bit then and guessed she had wanted approval. She also guessed that Eva did a fair amount of drinking whether alone or not.
"What did that shyster have to say?" Eva asked.
"I wouldn't call Mr. Kitely a shyster, Mom," she answered. "He gave me a letter Dad left for me and offered to help in any way he could."
"Sure he'll help," the older woman almost growled. "All the shysters are ready to help for a big fee."
Jane decided not to make an issue of it. She felt confident that Mr. Kitely didn't need a defense against her mother.
"What was in the letter?" she asked. "Are you going to show it to me?"
"It was kind of personal, Mom. I hope you won't mind, but right now, I'd rather not show it to anyone. It was just a personal thing between Dad and me."
"Hell, I don't mind." In spite of her words, it was obvious that Eva minded very much.
"What do you plan on doing now?" Eva asked. "I mean now that it's all over. I guess you'll have some catching up to do at school."
"No, I don't think I'll go back to school. I think I could do more good by staying here and helping around the hotel." Jane was sure she saw a flash of alarm on her mother's face but it was brought under control quickly.
"You don't have to do that, Jane," the woman's tone became much warmer all of a sudden. "You know how much your dad wanted you to graduate and go to work helping people. We can run the place all right. You know, Bart is a big help and he knows a lot about hotel work."
Jane made a pretense at swallowing that one. He may know a lot about hotel work, she thought, but he sure as hell isn't doing much around this place.
"I don't know for sure what I'll do," Jane hedged. "Was Dad really running the hotel, Mom? I mean lately."
"Not really," the woman answered. "I don't know how he spent his time. He spent a lot of it in here just staring out the window and doing nothing. Bart and I did most of the work. Understand," she added quickly, "I'm not talking against your dad, it was just that he was different the last couple of years, like he had something heavy on his mind all the time."
Jane accepted the truth of that statement and realized that most of the deterioration in the Grand had come about during the past two or three years. She wondered what that something was and couldn't help asking herself what role Eva played in it.
She felt a temptation then to tell her mother that the hotel had been left to her and that she would take over active management of it. A voice within told her to keep that bit of information to herself for the time being. Without understanding why, she decided to go along with it. It was just another case where she decided to trust her instincts.
"How about the dining room?" Jane asked. "Who looks after that?"
"I do," Eva answered. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason, really," Jane replied. "I was just thinking you must have quite a lot to do."
"Well, I don't like to complain," Eva complained, "but it has been a pretty big load. I don't know what I'd have done without all the help I got from Bart. Your dad used to be a real hard worker, but something went wrong with him the last few years."
There were more questions Jane wanted to ask, but she decided to hold them for a while. She felt a danger that if Eva criticized her dead father much more, she would be unable to hold her temper in check. This just wasn't the time for a blow up, she told herself.
"I think I'll go for a walk, Mom," Jane announced as she put the empty glass back on the table.
"Take the car if you like," her mother answered, "I won't be needing it. I'm not going anywhere. Bart and I have to go over the books tonight to see what bills we can stall long enough to pay the staff tomorrow."
"May I help?" Jane offered quickly.
"No, don't worry. It's an old story to us. We go through it every week. I think when this is over, I may sell the old dump and try to live a nice quiet life like other people."
For just a moment, Jane felt a twinge of sympathy as she realized her mother expected to get the hotel. It was going to be quite a blow when she found out it had been left to Jane. Without understanding why, Jane was able to turn off the sympathy without effort.
The fact that she was able to do so bothered her a little. Although her father had always been her favorite, she had never disliked her mother, she had just never been able to feel any real bond between them. Now, she sensed, that lack of warmth was turning into a more active mistrust bordering on actual dislike.
Picking up her purse, she went out into the hall and punched the elevator button. While she waited for it, she looked along the hall with a critical eye. If the place wasn't actually dirty, she thought, it wasn't really clean either. Like everything else about the place, it just scraped by.
Paint was going to be needed everywhere and she made a mental note of that as an early project if the funds could be found. The single elevator wasn't going to be good enough either. If business could be revived, they were going to need one more at least.
The lobby showed almost the same lack of care and attention. True it had been maintained a bit better than the rest of the building, but a lot more work was needed and in this case, it involved replacing the broken down furniture.
For a long time, Jane walked around the downtown area while her mind kept working on the challenge of putting the Grand Hotel back into a state of respectability. The more she thought about it, the more she became confident that it could be done. It would be a true memorial to Tad and his dreams.
Jane had attributed the feeling in the stomach to excitement and tension, but now she recognized it as just plain hunger. She hadn't eaten much dinner and no lunch at all.
Hungry as she was, she still couldn't stand the thought of eating in the Grand dining room again. There hadn't been time enough yet for recovery from the experience earlier that evening.
The Windsor hotel was just across the street and Jane decided to eat there. It was no bigger than the Grand, probably even smaller by a shade, but it enjoyed a much better reputation. If the Windsor can make it, Jane said to herself, then we can do even better.
It required just one look as she walked into the lobby of the Windsor to assure Jane that she had cut out quite a job for herself in hoping to elevate the Grand to that status or better.
The dining room was even more impressive. The headwaiter ushered her to a small table against the far wall. Looking around, Jane found plenty of people there even though it was that part of the evening when it could be less than crowded.
A courteous waiter brought a martini in a glass so well chilled that she could almost see the frost on it. The menu offered a wide range of foods. When hers arrived, it was tasty, hot and efficiently served by an attractive young waitress who seemed to enjoy her work. What a difference, Jane thought. For the first time, she wondered whether she really could bring the Grand Hotel that far back from its present state.
Some of the doubt was still with her as she sat on the edge of her bed shortly after eleven and poured herself a nightcap from the bottle of Scotch she had procured from the bar stock. In spite of the bartender's protestations, she had insisted on replacing it the following day. Jane realized then that it was a common thing for the family to raid the bar without paying. That was just another thing that would change, she told herself.
Jane awoke in the morning fully rested and ready to face the world. The doubts of the previous evening were things of the past. Today, she decided, she would borrow the car to run up to the college and pick up the rest of her things from the sorority house. While she was at it, she would officially sign out of the course.
Having made the decision, she found it easier than she would have expected. Graduation had seemed so important to her a few days ago. Now it just didn't matter at all. Perhaps some day when the hotel is back on its feet, she told herself, I'll come back for the rest of my credits. It wasn't really a promise though, just a possibility.
Jane was back in the city shortly after four o'clock. One of the few bellboys on the staff helped her carry the bags to the apartment. His look of surprise when she handed him a dollar told her that he wasn't accustomed to being tipped by management for services rendered.
Like it or not, Jane decided she would have dinner in the hotel dining room. The decision was an obvious one when she realized that the handful of paying guests in the hotel had to be content with it so she could hardly do less herself. This time, her mother suggested they eat together.
There was a kind of tension between them during the meal that Jane just couldn't understand. It was as if Eva had somehow found out that Tad had willed the hotel to his daughter instead of his wife. But she can't know that, Jane told herself.
She was still telling herself the same thing when a random thought hit her. This morning when she was ready to leave, she reached into her purse for a comb and found the letter from her father. Jane recalled that at the time, she thought she had put it in the other side of her purse.
Was it possible, she thought, that her mother had sneaked into her room during the night to see the letter her father had left her? The more she thought of it, the more she became convinced that it really had happened that way.
A tremor of anger flashed through her then. For the first time, Jane realized how much she mistrusted her own mother. She didn't particularly enjoy the feeling.
The same waitress who had served her so badly the previous evening was on the scene the minute they sat. This time, she was much more polite as she spoke to Eva. Her smile for Jane was quite an improvement over what she had shown the previous evening, Jane noticed.
"Jane dear," her mother began tentatively after the waitress had served their drink, "I'm afraid you made quite a mistake last night."
"What do you mean?" Jane was puzzled at the unexpected approach.
Without speaking, Eva produced a folded newspaper page. One paragraph was circled in ink. Before reading it, Jane looked to see that it was the column entitled Around Town and written by Pat Howell. Her eyes moved down the column to the circled item. She read it.
... Far be it from me to waste space in this column on the sad state of the dining room at the Grand Hotel. Still, I just can't resist reporting that Jane Pilsudski, daughter of the owner of the Grand, enjoyed an excellent dinner last night at the Windsor Hotel.
There seemed to be nothing special about it since the lovely Jane dined alone, and come to think of it, everyone is entitled to a decent meal now and then, especially one who lives at the Grand Hotel.
Jane felt her stomach do a flip as she put the paper down. It was dirty pool and the man who wrote the column knew it when he did it. More than that though, she was angry because it made a fool of her in the eyes of her mother.
"In the hotel business, dear," her mother's voice was surprisingly gentle, "you can't relax even for a minute. I'm pleased that you want to work in the hotel with us, dear, but just remember that you have an awful lot to learn. I'll do everything I can to help you."
The words were just too sweet and Jane was positive at that moment that her mother had indeed seen the letter. She was equally positive that if she could get her hands around the throat of Pat Howell, she'd get a positive enjoyment out of strangling him.
When she looked up from the clipping, Jane saw that her mother had left the table. As she turned to look for her, she saw her at the cash desk picking up a package of cigarettes. She noticed too that she took them without paying.
As Eva started back, the waitress stopped her to talk to her. For a few minutes, they talked earnestly before her mother turned and walked back to the table.
"I hear Marie waited on you last evening at dinner," Eva commented as she slid back onto her chair.
"Yes," Jane answered, "she did if you could call it waiting on a table. It isn't hard to understand why we do so little food business."
"She admitted to me that she was upset and didn't do a very good job," Eva commented. "You'll hear more about this later. I've instructed her to come up to the suite later."
"Well, we all make mistakes, I guess," Jane answered as she held the clipping up. "May I keep this as a reminder to me to be careful in the future?"
"Of course you may, dear," her mother smiled, "but you don't really need to, you know. I'm sure you've already learned from it."
During the rest of the meal, there was somewhat less tension as they discussed the difficulties of running a small hotel and finding just the right kind of help to staff it. From time to time, Eva assured Jane that she was more than anxious to help her learn the business and capped it by pointing out how glad she was to have her daughter back even though she really wanted her to finish her education.
CHAPTER FOUR
After dinner, they went back up to the suite. On the way, Eva left Jane standing by the elevator while she went to the desk to talk to Bart Parker. It wasn't really a conversation at all since Eva did all of the talking while he kept nodding and seemed to say nothing but a series of affirmations.
Upstairs in the fifth floor suite, Eva poured drinks for the two of them and kept smiling as she did. If nothing else had made Jane suspicious, that would have. Her mother, she recalled, was something less than a permanent smiler. It was closer to her nature to be a complainer who could find fault with anything and everything.
As they chatted and drank, the older woman kept looking at her watch as if waiting for someone.
"Are you supposed to be somewhere?" Jane asked finally as the constant watch checking got on her nerves.
"Of course not, dear," Eva answered. "As a matter-of-fact, someone is supposed to be here."
Before Jane could ask what she meant, there was a knock on the door and her mother hurried to answer it. When Jane turned, she saw the same waitress she had seen in the dining room as she walked into the room.
"Jane dear," her mother spoke, "you remember Marie, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Jane answered almost disinterestedly.
"Well," Eva went on, "I understand Marie has been careless about her manners and attitude lately. That's why I've summoned her here this evening to discuss it."
Jane couldn't understand why such a discussion had to be carried out in their private suite, but she didn't intend to make an issue of it just now. It would be simpler, she realized, to wait quietly and see what was going to happen.
It didn't require much waiting at that. Eva began to berate the girl for her attitude toward guests in the dining room. It was a vicious, bitter dressing down that went on for a long time. So long, in fact, that Jane found herself wondering why the young woman tolerated it. Surely, she thought, being a waitress at the Grand Hotel really isn't so important a job. There were dozens of better restaurants in the city where she could get a job by improving her manners a bit.
But there was more shock to come yet. As the scolding wore on toward its conclusion, Eva left the room. When she returned in just a few seconds, she carried a hair brush in her right hand. Jane noticed it was one of the old fashioned kind with a smooth wooden back.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, the woman motioned the waitress to come to her. It could only mean one thing, Jane thought, but she refused to believe it. It just isn't possible, she kept telling herself, that in this era a waitress will placidly accept a spanking from her employer for not doing her job properly.
While she was still wrestling with the thought, Jane was amazed to see the young woman walk toward her mother. When she stood before her, her hands reached down to catch the hem of her uniform skirt and begin to pull it up.
As it rose over her thighs, the slip went with it so that Jane saw the full expanse of nylon sheathed thighs and the naked skin above the tops of the nylons.
It just isn't possible, Jane kept telling herself, but there was no denying the fact that already the skirt and slip had been pulled above her waist so that the white nylon panties were fully exposed. Jane caught herself noticing that the young woman had a stunning figure.
Her belly was just slightly rounded and her buttocks were firm and beautifully curved. Wearing a girdle over such a figure would have been a waste of time and effort. Her thighs tapered beautifully and were just nicely fleshed, full without even a trace of fat.
It was just as well she didn't have to say anything, Jane thought, because she knew she wouldn't have been able to find her voice anyway as the beautiful young woman began to lower her body over the waiting lap. More than anything though, the look on the face of the waitress bothered Jane.
Although she made a big fuss about begging the woman not to spank her, there was a look on her face that was positively erotic. No matter how she pleaded, Jane realized that she was enjoying a sensation of arousal as she presented her posterior over the spanking lap. With an almost audible gasp of shock, Jane saw a look on her mother's face that registered the same degree of passion. Her mother, she knew in that moment, wasn't spanking the waitress as punishment for her faults, but rather because she was going to get her kicks out of it.
It was too much to absorb all at once, but Jane had no choice. To get up now and leave the room would make her look like a fool. No matter how embarrassing it became, she resolved, she would stay right to the bitter end.
She even found an element of humor in the thought that if Eva wielded the brush with any force at all, then Marie's end would be bitter indeed before it was over. Remembering the attitude of the girl on the previous evening, Jane felt no sympathy for her at all. She did though, feel a sense of revulsion at what was about to happen.
Jane looked at the full buttocks straining at the filmy nylon panties. Through the material, she could see the shadowy valley between the plump hemispheres and knew that the nylon would provide little protection against the sting of the heavy brush.
A moment later, she realized that there would be no protection at all as her mother's hands grasped the waistband of the little panties and tugged them down. It happened slowly so that the white mounds of solid flesh were unveiled slowly, with a dramatic touch.
Eva's hands didn't let go of the panties until they rested just above the bent knees of the young woman who pleaded in a tearful voice not to be spanked.
Marie was still making promises of better conduct in future when there was a sound like an explosion as the back of the brush slapped down hard on the apex of the nicely curved right cheek. The girl emitted a yelp of pain and as the brush raised again, Jane saw a bright pink mark where it had hit.
Again and again the brush slapped at the silken hills. Almost from the start, Marie cried and begged for the spanking to stop. Eva was adamant though and her right arm rose and fell time after time. With each descent, the back of the brush made a ringing sound as it met the tender flesh and the lush hills jiggled under the stinging spanks.
Long before the spanking ended, Marie was twisting and writhing over the punishing lap but Eva's hand held her naked waist so that there was no escape.
Jane saw that the arched buttocks which had been a startling white at the outset had completed their transition through various shades of pink and now glowed blazing red as they heaved and danced under the sting of the slapping brush.
Between spanks, the scolding progressed. In a firm voice, Eva made it very clear that spanking was nothing new to Marie and that it would happen again at any time her conduct fell below the desired standard as established by her employer.
Her cries filled the room so that Jane began to wonder how other guests in the hotel would react if they heard them. She guessed though that since this seemed to be a familiar method of discipline, the rooms near the suite had not been rented so that they were quite alone.
During her initiation at the sorority, Jane had felt the sting of a spanking paddle. It was then too that she realized that many women used spanking as an erotic release. It was a shock to realize that her mother was such a woman. The look on Eva's face as she spanked the dancing globes made it very clear that discipline had long since been forgotten and the spanking had become an erotic thing.
To her dismay, Jane found herself trembling and realized that the tremors had nothing to do with fear or nervousness or embarrassment at all. Somehow, she realized, the two women had transmitted their arousal to her so that she too was finding an erotic thrill in watching and listening to the spanking.
When Eva finally dropped the brush, her left arm wrapped tightly around the nude waist and drew the young woman closer to her. Her eyes closed and her head fell back. Her mouth opened wide but no sound came out.
Jane was woman enough and experienced enough to realize what was happening to Eva. The spanking had ended only when her passions had reached the stage where they had exploded with that surge of delight that causes the body to shudder with delicious tremors.
Something in Jane's mind snapped then as she realized what her mother had done. It was equally obvious that the victim of the spanking had gotten an enjoyment that was almost equal in intensity. Something told Jane that she should leave the two women alone. There would be more, she sensed, but she didn't want to be around when it happened if, indeed, it could happen with her there.
During her first year at college, Jane had been introduced to some of the games the girls played in the sorority house. At first, she had been shocked and remembered the name reserved for women who did that sort of thing.
Later, after the shock had passed, she had discovered that there was a peculiar enjoyment to be found in the forbidden rites. When the time came that they became too enjoyable, she resolved never to become involved in them again. She had kept that pledge to herself.
Now, looking at her mother's face, she knew without a doubt what would happen when she left the room. It was more than she could cope with. Jane picked up her purse and told her mother she was going for a walk. She made a point of saying she would be back in about an hour. That, she knew, gave them all the time they would need to finish what had been started by the spanking.
Outside the hotel, Jane stood silently gasping as she pumped fresh, clean air into her lungs. She felt dirty somehow and the clean air was a help. Later, she knew, she would have a bath and that would help too, but for now, the fresh air was enough.
For a long time, Jane walked without really knowing where she was or where she was going. It was enough that she was walking and that the air was clean and clear. She felt a great need for a drink, but she refused to succumb to the temptation. Pat Howell had caught her off base once, she told herself, she wasn't about to give him what he needed to do it again.
The next time she looked at her watch, she saw that much more than an hour had elapsed since she left the hotel. She began walking back toward the center of the city. She hoped that her mother would be in bed and asleep and she wouldn't have to face her that night.
When she reached the hotel, she started to cross the lobby, then turned and headed toward the bar instead. The drink she needed wouldn't be quite right either with her mother or in the solitude of her room.
There were about thirty people in the bar. Jane looked around and guessed that at least five of them were prostitutes on the prowl. That they were prostitutes didn't bother her, but the fact that the Grand Hotel had become their hunting grounds did.
She was aware that this was a fact of life and that prostitution had become an almost respected profession on the better scale, but the dogs who were prowling there were something less than first class.
Ordering a double Scotch on the rocks, Jane opened her mind to a new series of doubts about her chances of rehabilitating the Grand Hotel. It was going to be a frighteningly big job, she knew.
The bartender tried refusing her money when she offered it, but Jane insisted he take it. When she finished her drink, some of the tension had melted. Leaving a fifty cent tip, she walked out of the bar and across the lobby. She had almost reached the elevator when she heard Bart Parker calling her from the front desk. She walked over to talk to him hoping that she could make the conversation a brief one
"Hello, Ban.," she greeted him with considerably more enthusiasm than she felt.
"A friend of yours has been ringing you all evening," he smirked. "He sounds real anxious to talk to you."
At best, Bart was coarse, but right now, Jane felt, he was reaching for a new low. Some thing in his tone of voice assured her that he was playing games with her and trying to make her feel as dirty as she was convinced her mother was.
"Did he leave a name?" she asked coldly.
"Why sure he did, Janie," he smirked annoyingly, "let's see now," he reached for a note behind the desk. "Oh yes, it was a chap named Howell, Pat Howell. He left this number and asked you to call."
Jane hated herself for letting her anger show, but it was too much to be contained in her present state. First, there had been that scary scene in the suite when her mother spanked the beautiful young waitress. Now, the very man who had shamed and angered her with the vicious item in his column was phoning her. The fact that Bart could see how it was affecting her just made it more unpleasant.
"Thank you very much, Bart," she managed to answer as she took the note from him. "Perhaps he wants more material for his column tomorrow."
"Are you going to call him back?" Bart asked with a crude smirk.
"Suppose you let me decide that, Mr. Parker," she snapped. "Your job is to take messages, not ask questions."
Jane knew she had stung him, but she found no pleasure in it. In doing so, she had lowered herself to his level, she felt, and that didn't please her at all. She didn't care much for the level where Bart Parker lived. It was too close to the one her mother occupied and too far from what she wanted for herself and the Grand Hotel.
Again she started toward the elevator but again she stopped short of it. She realized that her call to Pat Howell would go through the switchboard if she made it from her room. She knew with equal certainty that Bart would listen in on it.
Just when she had decided to go outside to make the call, Jane turned around and walked to the elevator. To blazes with Bart Parker, she thought, there's no reason I should be afraid to make a phone call from my own hotel.
Then too, Jane realized, in view of how she felt toward the columnist, their conversation was not likely to be a romantic one anyway. Whatever she chose to say to Pat Howell, the whole world could listen to for all she cared.
In her room, she picked up the phone and dialed the number. Pat Howell identified himself as he answered the phone.
"This is Jane Pilsudski. I understand you were calling. Are you looking for material for tomorrow's garbage column?"
"No, Miss Pilsudski, I'm not. There was some rather odious garbage in today's column and I'm calling to apologize for that. Believe me, Miss Pilsudski, no matter what you may think of me right now, my opinion is even lower."
His surprise approach took the wind out of her sails. Jane could find nothing to say now.
"The formal apology will appear in today's column, Miss Pilsudski," he went on. "Thank you for speaking to me."
With that, he said a courteous good night and was gone. Jane held the dead phone in her hand for a minute as she tried to compose herself.
The man had sounded genuinely sincere in saying he was sorry for what he had done, but it didn't make sense. A columnist who throws that kind of low blow isn't the type to make apologies later, she reasoned. What caused him to do it?
His column the next day provided part of the answer. In bold type at the top of the column he issued an abject apology to Jane and the Grand Hotel. He went on then to mention that the hotel's founder, Tad Pilsudski, had been buried the same day his column appeared. There was more in the same vein and the item ended with a repeat of his apology to Jane.
By the time she finished reading it, Jane had long since stopped being angry at the columnist. There could be no denying that his first column had been a low blow, but the apology more than compensated for it.
Less than an hour later, Pat Howell's stock took another climb in her estimation when a package arrived from a downtown florist. It contained a dozen long stemmed red roses and a plain white card.
The message was simple and sincere: "I've really tried, but I still am not able to forgive myself. Pat Howell."
On an impulse, Jane sat down and wrote a quick note on the hotel stationery she found in her dresser drawer. It too was simple: "Thank you for the lovely roses. Consider yourself forgiven. Jane Pilsudski."
Because the newspaper was less than three blocks away, Jane decided to deliver the note to the office. Leaving it at the front desk, she hurried back to the hotel.
Although Jane felt better that the brief war with Pat Howell was over, she found herself still wondering how it had happened. From that point, she went on to wonder what kind of person he really was. As she told herself that only a kind and sensitive man could make such an apology in public, she was forced to realize that a man who could have written the original column was hardly either kind or sensitive.
Because it was too difficult a problem to work out, she dismissed it from her mind. At any rate, she tried.
CHAPTER FIVE
Only Jane, Eva and Bart Parker gathered in the lawyer's office for the reading of the will. Bart was along, Eva explained to Jane, in his role of friend of the family during this trying time for all of them.
Jane accepted the explanation with no show of doubt. She managed to keep that hidden. Still, she spoke to him only when it couldn't be avoided without rudeness. What talking she did do, she did with her mother.
The will contained some shocks for all concerned. The first item read was a recent codicil dated just a couple of weeks before Tad died. Jane recalled that it was the same as the date on his letter to her in which he told of leaving the hotel to her.
It was mainly a message to Eva and spoke of how he realized that in the event of his death, she would be able to take care of herself through her careful planning over the past couple of years to provide for herself. It mentioned too that certain friends would obviously be anxious to care for her since they had done that so well recently.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw that Bart was unable to keep from shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Her father's barb had stung him and he wasn't able to hide it.
The first item in the will left the hotel to Jane. It also included a wish that it would bring her some measure of happiness and a recommendation that she sell it for what she could get.
In the matter of money, it was clear that Tad had been more prudent than any of them realized. His insurance and paid up annuities totaled just over eighteen thousand dollars. Of this, he left five thousand dollars to Eva on condition that she assist his lawyer in winding up the estate by signing any and all papers he may request as promptly as his lawyer deemed appropriate. The rest of his money went to Jane.
When the reading was completed, the lawyer handed three sheets of paper to Eva for her signature. For just a moment, it appeared she would refuse. She read them carefully and made a gesture as if to throw them back at him. Remembering though that the five thousand dollars was hers only if she gave Mr. Kitely full cooperation, she took a pen from his hand roughly and scrawled her signature.
Eva would have left then, but he asked her to stay a moment while his secretary witnessed the signatures. When Jane also got up, Mr. Kitely asked her if she could stay behind to discuss a few additional matters which would require her attention.
Looking toward her mother, Jane was prepared to see hostility on the woman's face. Instead, she saw only a look of stunned disbelief.
"Do you mind, Mom?" she asked. "I suppose Bart can see you home."
"Sure, Jane," the woman answered, "don't worry about me. I'll be all right."
Jane continued standing until the two left the office and pulled the door closed behind them.
"I'm afraid that was kind of rough on her," Jane commented.
"I suppose it was, Jane, but I wouldn't concern myself too much about it. I believe your father knew what he was doing. You just trust him now as you always did. I think you'll understand."
Jane smiled by way of answer and sat again. From the other side of his desk, the lawyer picked up another file.
"This," he began, "is the report of the auditors who went over the books of the hotel very carefully." He handed the paper to her.
Jane began reading it, but within a couple of minutes she knew it was going to be too much for her to comprehend. Too much had happened lately to permit her mind to function the way it should. She handed it back to him.
"Later, Mr. Kitely, I'll be able to read this carefully and should be able to understand it. Right now, I'm afraid I can't. Would you please give me a digest of it?"
"Of course, dear," he answered with understanding. "The tone of the whole report is that the hotel began to slip into serious difficulty four years ago.
"At first, it wasn't too bad, but in the past two years it became much more serious. Right now, it is in trouble but not necessarily washed up. With careful management, it could be saved. The question remains whether or not it is worth the investment."
"How did it get that way?" Jane asked. "For a lot of years, it was a good hotel and seemed to show a good profit."
"That's right," he answered as he reached for the second page of the report from the auditors.
"The kindest term our auditors can find to explain this change of situation is bad management. It seems that your mother and Bart Parker moved more into the forefront of management while your father was content to stay in the background and let them run it. As of then, the situation began moving downhill."
"You mentioned the kindest term, Mr. Kitely. What would a less kind term be?" Jane asked.
"It could include such terms as theft, fraud, conversion, things like that."
"Was Mother involved in this?"
"She seems to have been, but it would be difficult proving anything in a court of law."
"Oh no," Jane stopped him hurriedly. "I wouldn't even think of that."
"I didn't think you would, Jane," he smiled.
"Where," Jane asked, "does the picture stand right now as to assets as opposed to outstanding debts?"
Despite the fact that she had been unable to read the auditor's report, Jane was obviously asking the right questions. The lawyer's look of honest admiration confirmed that for her.
"It isn't good, Jane, but it's far from being fatal. Are you-still determined to re-establish the Grand as a decent hotel?"
"Yes, Mr. Kitely. Now more than ever I'm determined to do it. I don't know how Dad let it get away from him, but there must have been a reason for it. I'm going to bring it back up. After that, I don't know what I'll decide."
One look at the man's face told her she had said what he wanted to hear. It made her feel a little better, gave her the confirmation she needed that she was making the right decision.
For the next hour, the two of them went over the figures on the typed sheets and filled a few more with figures as they tried to establish a formula to restore the Grand Hotel to a status worthy of its name.
Jane surprised him by coming up with a number of ideas which not only indicated an instinctive knowledge of hotel business, but also demonstrated a keen business sense.
It seemed that Jane could have gone on forever, but the lawyer finally called a halt. Enough, obviously, was enough.
"Take it easy, Jane," he protested. "We can't do everything in one day and I don't want you to drive yourself to exhaustion."
"But I'm not really tired," she protested.
"Maybe not, young lady, but I'm a lot older than you and I can't take the pace. I'll set up an appointment for you to talk with the auditor in the morning if he can arrange his time. At this stage, he can do a lot more for you than I can."
Thanking him again, Jane left his office and breathed deeply of the crisp April air. It felt so good that she decided to walk back to the hotel. More than just feeling good, it also gave her time and privacy to apply even more thought to the problem of rescuing the Grand Hotel, of building the monument she wanted to build to the memory of her dad and his love.
Jane was tired when she returned to the hotel. Tired and thirsty. She turned toward the bar instead of the elevator. Inside, there were only a few patrons. Although it was something she rarely did, she sat on a stool at the bar rather than at a table. It seemed like such a nuisance to have the one bartender come all the way over to a table to take her order.
"Congratulations, Miss Pilsudski," he greeted Jane before she could give him her order.
"Thank you, Hap," she replied in surprise, "but congratulations on what?"
"Well, the way I hear it, you're the new owner of the Grand Hotel. Come to think of it, maybe congratulations wasn't the right word at that."
"I know what you mean. Hap," Jane smiled. "If you'll add good luck to that, I'll be delighted to accept it."
Jane had always liked Hap Hunter. Now, as she looked at the honest smile on his wrinkled face, she could understand why. If, in her effort to revitalize the sinking hotel she needed one trusted person on the staff, then Hap was that man.
How unlikely, she thought. Where others maintained a facade of respectability, Hap was a free wheeling horse player who lived from payday to payday and lost every nickel he made on the ponies. It wasn't just a habit, with Hap it was a disease but he endured it with an almost permanent smile and never complained about his losses.
"It's amazing how fast news travels around here," Jane commented.
"This place is no different," he answered. "All hotels are the same. News always travels faster than room service. Now can I get you a drink?"
"Please, Hap. I think a nice big Scotch and soda should do the trick nicely."
He was back with it in a minute and Jane saw that it really was a big one. Opening her purse, she dropped a five dollar bill on the bar. The man looked at it for a moment, then picked it up.
"New policy, Miss Pilsudski?"
"New policy, Hap."
"Any exceptions?"
"None except those you choose to make from the point of view of business development or public relations."
He smiled and it appeared for a moment that he wanted to say something. Instead, he walked away and rang up the sale. He was back with her change in a few seconds.
"Hap," Jane began, "there are a lot of things about running a hotel I don't know. I'm going to need a lot of advice in the months ahead. Please don't hesitate to give me any when you think it's called for."
"In that case, I'll give you one little item right now. You seem to be a very bright young lady. Trust your own decisions and don't take too much advice."
"Thanks, Hap."
As the bartender walked to the other end of the bar to take an order, Jane recognized his message as having been pretty much the one her father had given her in his letter.
When he finished serving the customer, Hap just stood beside the cash register with his arms folded. It wasn't that he was avoiding talking to her, Jane sensed, but rather, a realization that if she wanted to talk to him she would call him. She did.
"Do you have any objections to working for a woman, Hap?" she asked frankly.
"Not if you're the woman," he answered with equal frankness.
"Thanks, Hap. Then I want to ask you to do something for me. Will you give some thought to what can be done in this department in the way of improvement?"
"Sure thing, Miss Pilsudski." His expression didn't change at all, but Jane knew he was pleased at her confidence in him. She knew too that he would come up with some interesting suggestions for the improvement of the place.
She realized that she should be doing much the same thing in other departments but, she realized, other departments didn't have a Hap Hunter in them. Later, she would think more about that but for now she was tired and wanted sleep more than anything else. Checking her watch, Jane saw that she could steal an hour for a nap and still be ready for dinner in time. It would be a good idea, she sensed, to eat with her mother that evening.
Tired as she was, Jane changed her mind about the elevator and decided to make an inspection tour of the hotel on her way to the fifth floor suite. In the second floor hallway, she decided that new lighting was going to be a definite need. The place was reasonably clean, but could use some sharpening up.
The same thing applied on the third floor. Looking ahead, she saw a door open. Just as she reached it, her mother stepped out of the room. Eva was still talking to someone in the room and did not see her daughter in the hall.
Passing the partially opened door, Jane couldn't resist looking in. Her quick glance was enough to show her that Bart Parker was in the room and that he was stark naked. It was obvious that the room had been used for more than just discussing business.
Yesterday, Jane had been hit with the shock of seeing the expression on her mother's face as she spanked the attractive young waitress. It had told her that the woman found an erotic thrill in spanking women and suggested a lot more.
Now, what she saw confirmed that there had been an illicit relationship between her mother and the night manager as she had suspected. In a burning flash of clarity, it told Jane a lot about why her father had seemed to lose interest in the hotel and permit it to slip so far down hill.
"Oh, hi, dear," her mother greeted her nervously as she pulled the door closed behind her.
"Hello, Mother," Jane answered coolly.
Some instinct told her to control her feelings for the time being. She could learn a lot more, she sensed, by playing it cool than by making issues and tipping her own hand.
As they walked toward the elevator, Jane suggested that they have dinner together. Her mother accepted the invitation eagerly. Back in the suite, Eva told her that Pat Howell had called and asked her to return the call when she could.
Jane decided she wanted a little more time to compose herself before talking to the columnist, so she tucked the note into her purse and went down to the dining room with her mother.
"What are your plans, for the hotel I mean?" Eva asked as they sipped a pre-dinner martini.
"I'm going to operate it and see if I can make it the kind of place Dad wanted it to be," she answered levelly.
"I think you'll find a lot of people here anx ious to help you, dear," her mother suggested.
"I'm sure I will, Mom. It's just up to me to decide which ones to listen to and which to replace."
"Of course, dear, you're right. Take that bartender for instance," Eva darted a quick glance toward Hap who stood behind the bar, "I understand he spends all his money and most of his time playing the horses. I guess your father kept him on out of charity."
Her mother's not so subtle suggestion that she get rid of Hap pleased Jane. If she and Bart didn't trust him, then it was the best possible recommendation he could have. In that moment, Jane knew she would go on playing it innocent and learning all she could. Her chat with the auditor in the morning would tell her even more of the story of the failure of the hotel, but there were things she could learn here by doing a lot more listening than talking.
During the meal, Jane put her plan into action and encouraged her mother to talk on endlessly about the hotel and its staff. One thing was very clear. Eva almost insisted that Jane should lean on her and on Bart for advice and counsel in the trying times ahead.
CHAPTER SIX
After a slightly shaky start, conversation was going better now as Jane and Pat Howell worked on their second drink in an intimate little bar a few miles outside the city. The place had been a compromise.
When Jane agreed to meet him for a chat and a drink, he had insisted it be at the Grand. Pleading she wanted a change of pace, Jane held out for someplace else. The original invitation was meant to be for dinner, but it was too late when Jane called back.
At first, she was reluctant to tell him too much about her plans for refurbishing the Grand Hotel. In time though, he convinced her that their date was strictly social and that nothing they talked about would find its way into his column unless she wanted it to.
As her reservations about the man melted, Jane permitted him to see more and more of her enthusiasm and it seemed to be contagious as he too began to be enthusiastic about the possibilities of making the Grand a real hotel again.
Their chat could have gone on and on, but it was Pat who called a halt when he saw that she definitely looked tired. Before they left the table though, he extracted a promise that she would have dinner with him soon.
"I think you're trying to carry too much of this load yourself, Jane," he charged her. "Can't you find anyone else there to share it with you?"
"I suppose I could," she answered as she stifled a yawn that almost escaped, "but this has become something of a crusade with me and I can't bear to let any of it slip out of my control."
"I suppose I can understand that in a way," he conceded, "but you're too young and beautiful to drive yourself this hard."
Jane thanked him lightly, but something in the way he said it got through to her and left a nice, comforting feeling.
As they drove without haste back into the city, they talked about a lot of little things. In the course of the conversation, it emerged that Pat had graduated from high school a year before Jane enrolled in the same one.
"I didn't realize you were such an old man," she quipped.
"Well," he retaliated, "I suppose to a child of twenty-two, twenty-eight is pretty ancient. What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"I think I'll be a vampire and get even with you for making cracks like that," she laughed.
"Hmmmm," his eyes rolled in delight, "what a lovely way to go. Want me to stop the car right now? I could even unfasten my collar to make it easier for you."
Their friendly banter was still going on when Pat's car pulled up in front of the Grand Hotel. He hurried around to hold her door open as she stepped out. Jane caught him sneaking a quick peek at the flash of nylon sheathed thigh she exposed as she slipped out, but it didn't bother her at all.
Some men, she mused, could do the same thing and make it look dirty and evil, but he did it differently somehow. Jane wasn't disappointed when he didn't kiss her good night, but realized that she wouldn't have minded at all if he had done so.
Considering the way in which they had come to know each other, Jane was delighted at how quickly she had come to like and respect the man.
Careful, girl, she warned herself as she went up on the elevator, you have enough on your mind right now without letting romance complicate your life. Keep smiling and chatting, the warning continued, but don't let it get serious.
In the suite, she found she was alone. Jane recalled that Bart had not been at the desk when she came through the lobby. It wasn't too difficult that the two had sneaked off for another tryst.
As she undressed for bed, Jane couldn't help wondering how her father had discovered what was going on and why he hadn't thrown them both out. Instead, he had let it prey on his mind and destroy him to the point where he even gave up control of his dream and let it tarnish and crumble.
Well, she told herself, all that has changed now. The only way for the Grand is up, all the way up.
As she tossed her panties in the general direction of the laundry hamper, Jane caught a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror above the vanity table.
When she congratulated herself on having a pretty nice figure, she was really understating the case. Her lush breasts swung as she turned and their firmness was a thing of stunning beauty.
The lines down to her compact waist and then out to the well flared hips betrayed not an ounce of excess fat and yet were well fleshed. The few men who had seen and held that lush body had been lavish in their praise of it.
When Jane caught herself wondering how Pat Howell would react to it, she knew it was time to change the direction of her thoughts. Pat Howell she told herself, is a very fine young man, but thoughts of that kind can only complicate my life right now. As she turned out the light, opened the drapes and slipped into her bed, she discovered that the thoughts were not that easy to turn off.
It had been more than two months since a man had made love to her and the hungers were beginning to get strong. At the moment, sleep offered the only escape from the craving, but it was slow in coming. Cruelly slow, she discovered as she turned from side to side in an effort to get comfortable in what really should have been a comfortable bed.
* * *
Downstairs in room 308, Eva and Bart were quite comfortable indeed. The things on their mind were very much erotic, but they made no effort to turn them off.
Instead, they sat nude together on the bed. Each held a drink and although their hands toyed with each other, their eyes were on the mirror on the wall a few feet from them.
At least, the occupants of room 309 thought it was a mirror but that only applied to their side of it. From the other room it served as a magnificent picture window, a window with a view.
On the other wall, another window offered an equally good view of room 307 but since it was unoccupied at the moment, the panel which covered it had not been removed. Neither had they rolled back the rug and opened the viewing device which provided a startling view of room 208 directly below.
Still, what 309 had to offer promised to be more than adequate for the moment.
The tall, black -haired woman still wore a black bra and black nylon half slip over black panties, garter belt and nylons. She appeared to be in her late thirties or perhaps even her early forties, but what could be seen of her body looked stunningly firm and well shaped. Her legs were long and sleek looking through the misty covering of the slip.
The other was even more beautiful perhaps and obviously much younger. She couldn't, the two viewers agreed, have been more than nineteen years old, if that. Because the young blonde had worn no slip, when she eased out of her two piece suit, she wore nothing but bra and panties.
The red nylon lingerie clung to every exciting curve of her young body like a second skin.
Where the taut tops of her nylons caressed the firm young thighs, the flesh refused to permit an indentation.
The swell at the back of the brief panties was a thing of pure delight as the nylon clung tightly without a wrinkle. Above, her bra threatened to explode at any moment as it fought to contain the luscious globes which showed white and silken smooth above the low cut bra.
While the two viewers waited for more clothes to be removed, they both cast themselves in the role of the dark -haired woman who shared the room with the young blonde and would soon share much more than that.
Bart made sure that the remote control button for the movie camera was close at hand. He had shot some footage as they began undressing, but now he was saving the rest of the film for the main event that he was sure would get underway very soon.
Although they could not hear the conversation the two women were carrying on, the slowly turning reels of the tape recorder against the wall told Eva and Bart that it was all being recorded through the hidden microphone in the other room.
The two women were talking earnestly and Bart knew it would produce a thrilling tape when he saw the older woman take two steps and cup the full swells of the girl's bra in her hands. He guessed she was telling what she was going to do next. Her young companion didn't seem to mind the threat at all, if indeed it was a threat.
When the dark -haired woman began to unfasten the straps of the bra, he snapped the camera to life. It whirred quietly against the glass as the girl held her arms away from her body to permit the woman to strip the bra away.
As the filmy garment fluttered to the floor, the two spectators caught their breath. The dark -haired woman stood back for a better view and as she did, she also ensured a clear view to the two in the other room.
"What a pair of beauts," Bart gasped as his eyes popped.
"Man," Eva agreed, "they're even better than I expected. That little chickie is really built."
In the other room, the black -haired woman was still talking as her hands caught the waistband of the little red panties. Slowly, she drew them down. When they fell all the way, she bent to help the girl step out of them. The camera continued to whir. Eva looked to see that the show was doing its work. Her lover was already in condition to make love to her again. It would get even better, she sensed.
The improvement started almost immediately as the blonde turned and began undressing the other woman. The half slip came away immediately. A few seconds later, the bra was gone. Her breasts were surprisingly small, but still they had a firm beauty of their own.
A little later, they looked bigger and fuller as she bent to step out of her brief panties while the young blonde helped her.
It was clear then that they intended leaving the garter belts and nylons on for the time being. Bart was pleased by that but Eva would have preferred that they be completely nude. Still, she wasn't going to complain. It had been a long time since they caught a pair of females in one of the viewing rooms and this one promised to be really sensational.
And the sensation was about to begin. The black -haired woman guided the younger one to the bed and adjusted her carefully into position. Her hands parted the firm young thighs wide with the knees bent high.
Experienced at this sort of thing herself, Eva would have expected a lot more playing first, but it seemed the older woman was going to get right down to business. She did.
Kneeling beside the bed, her eager face buried itself as the lovely young thighs on the bed trembled at what was happening. Bart saw the beautiful mouth opening wide and knew the tape recorder would pick up some lovely sounds. Beside him, Eva breathed heavily and he knew he would be called on for a real performance in a little while. He didn't mind a bit. He liked Eva better when she was really out of her skull after a good show like this.
All too soon, the young body on the bed tensed, heaved, then rolled away. When the other woman stood, she hurried to the dresser and opened her purse. What she carried away from it seemed to Bart to be just a collection of leather straps. He wondered if he was going to see a bondage scene. The smile on his companion's face told him that she knew exactly what was going to happen.
A little later, he knew too as the woman began fastening the straps around her hips. Long before she finished, he saw that they were more than just straps. The small busted woman had become a very devastating looking man as she stood looking down at the blonde on the bed.
With a sweet smile, the younger one rolled along the bed and opened her body wide in the classic pose of the woman who awaits her man. Her man came to her then, eagerly.
The dark -haired woman's hips and buttocks were slim and almost boyish. They drew tight as she adjusted into position above and between the parted thighs. When she lowered herself, she did it slowly in the way of a tender, considerate man.
Again the girl's mouth opened wide and Bart knew the tape had picked up another exciting sound. He knew too that the artificial man was taking his reward. Sleek hips moved up and down with a quick, hard driving motion as the slim body battered the eager, expectant one under it.
It went on for a long time. When it finally ended, the black -haired one drew all the way back and knelt looking down at the spent young form. Slowly, she unfastened the straps and tossed the apparatus aside.
Getting up from the bed, she walked over and turned off the one light that had been burning on the dresser and the big overhead light. With the drapes drawn, the room was plunged into absolute darkness.
Quickly then, Bart cut both the camera and the tape recorder. When he returned to the bed, Eva was waiting for him. Her thighs were parted in an invitation that could not be ignored. He didn't ignore it.
Later, after he had closed the viewing area, they talked about their collection of films and whether they would be able to continue their exciting activities after Jane really took over the hotel.
"Don't worry, baby," Eva consoled him, "we'll find a way. I'm going to be so nice to the kid that she won't be able to kick us out."
"Maybe you, Eva, but I know my time around here is running out. She hates me and I can see it every time I look at her face."
"Give me time, Bart, I'll work it out. It's more than just the fun, you know, we need the dough those films bring in."
"You can say that again, Eva baby, but I still say with things moving as they are, we have to stop throwing away a fortune by just selling these things for entertainment. There's bigger money than that to be had with this kind of stuff."
"Sure there is, Bart, but that's called blackmail and I understand they throw away the key when they lock you up for that. Let's not push our luck. We've taken a lot of bucks out of this fire trap, let's live to enjoy it."
"You're too chicken, baby," he protested. "Sure we got a great collection of movies, but we can't spend the rest of our lives just looking at them and eating bread and cheese. A couple of big hits with these things and we could live it up in Rio for the rest of our lives. Come on, baby," he urged, "let's make the big grab before that kid boots us out of here."
"You're being grabby as usual, Bart baby," she scolded him lightly. "You just keep on letting me run this show. You haven't done badly up to now and you won't in the future. Leave Jane to me. One way or another, I can handle her."
Holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, Bart walked over to the dresser to pour drinks for them. He was still determined to push their peeping activities into the big money field of blackmail, but this, he knew wasn't the time to do it. He was going to have to go along with Eva for a little while yet.
After that, either she went along with him or it was bye-bye baby. Anyway, he thought as he looked at her slumped on the bed, she's getting a bit old. It's time to start looking around for something younger with nice firm flesh.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jane's first application for a major line of credit at the bank where her father had done his business for years was met with utter consternation.
Not only did the manager refuse the loan, but it was clear that he couldn't even understand how she would dare ask for it. The Grand Hotel was not the sort of venture in which his firm was prepared to invest the funds entrusted to it by depositors.
He didn't quite call it a dump and didn't quite call Jane a fool for sinking her own money into it, but he came very close on both counts. It was obvious that the manager hoped his stern attitude would be enough to show the girl the error of her ways.
As she walked out of his office, he considered that he had actually been kind to her.
With what she could get by selling the mess the hotel had become, she could build up a nice little portfolio of blue chip stocks.
Adding her inheritance to that and taking a job with a good income, she could be set for life. He wondered at the philosophy of young people who couldn't recognize security when it was handed to them and instead sought to achieve the impossible. Even worse, he shuddered, they actually expect a bank to lend them the money to finance their improbable dreams.
Thirty minutes later, Jane was finding a much more encouraging reception in the office of Donald Kitely.
"Don't let it get you down, Jane," he consoled. "What you have to remember is that with some bankers, you have to prove you don't need money before they'll lend it to you."
"But will anyone have enough faith in my plans for the hotel to advance money?" she asked in a voice of desperation.
"Well, Jane, you know lawyers never make definite promises of results. Also, we tend to be a little more optimistic than bankers."
"Thanks, Mr. Kitely. I can sure use a shot of optimism right now," Jane replied wearily.
"It's an essential trait in life, Jane," the lawyer leaned back in his chair as he talked. "I remember the first time I ever defended a client on a murder charge.
"The state had built up an airtight case. They had eye witnesses, the murder weapon, motive, the whole thing. I don't think anyone connected with the case give him a chance to beat the chair."
"Anyone except you, you mean?" Jane asked with obvious interest.
"That's right, I never gave up hope."
"What happened?" Jane moved forward to the edge of her chair as she waited for the line that would be the moral of the story.
"As a matter-of-fact, they toasted him to a crisp," he smiled broadly as he dropped the punch line.
"Darn you, Mr. Kitely, you're teasing me. That was all I needed to hear," Jane protested more in disappointment than in anger.
"Not really teasing for the fun of teasing, Jane," his voice softened. "I just felt you needed a little cheering up. I make a point of not doing business with sad clients. The money may be good, but it can be terribly depressing."
"Did you ever treat Dad this way, you bully?" Jane made a pout that contained a bit of smile in it.
"Frequently, and he reacted just about the way you did with one exception."
"What was that?"
"He used to say things in Polish that sounded pretty terrible to me," the lawyer answered with a smile.
"Then you'd better be careful," Jane shot back. "I know a few choice words in Polish myself. Keep this up and I'm going to start using them."
After that, the conversation drifted back in the general direction of business but Jane was not nearly as depressed as she had been when they began talking.
Don Kitely promised to talk to the auditors and to a few friends in the financial business. He promised nothing except that he would explore every possible avenue.
"Are you prepared to move your bank account as a part of a package deal?" he asked.
"You have to be kidding. I'm going to do that anyway whether I get the money or not."
"That's the spirit I wanted to see. Don't do anything drastic yet though. Just sit tight for the time being. I'll tell you when."
When she left his office, Jane walked over to the Sun Building. There, leaning on the counter and chewing at the end of the pencil from time to time, she composed an ad for the position of assistant manager of a relatively small hotel with big potential.
From there, she walked to the employment office to discuss the availability of good waitresses. On the basis of what she had seen around the Grand dining room, replacing the whole staff seemed like the only answer.
A nagging little thought told her that if the lawyer couldn't find the money she needed, all this would be wasted, but that didn't deter her.
Whether it was his light hearted teasing or the warmth of his friendship, Jane was confident he would come up with the money she needed. She thought of the client who had fried in the electric chair, but her optimism stayed with her.
Back in the hotel, she decided to maintain the momentum she had built up during the day. Walking through the dining room she went into the kitchen and found the chef sitting at the end of the table drinking what she hoped was straight coffee.
"Hello, Mr. Downey," she greeted him, "may I have a few words with you?"
"But of course," he affected a French accent with a blithe disregard for the fact that he had been born in the east end of London. "Would you like something special for dinner, Mademoiselle Pilsudski?"
She resisted the urge to tell him what to do with his French accent as she drew up a chair to the table and sat beside the man who had remained seated.
"I'm not terribly concerned about this evening's dinner," she was careful to control the tone of her voice. "I'm taking the longer view. I want to know whether you can come up with a completely different and better standard of meals for the dining room."
For a moment, the man only blinked. It seemed to be the last thing he had expected to hear.
"Why sure, Miss. You have to understand though that it involves a change of policy in budgeting. If you're ready to pay the cost, I'll be delighted to work out some better menus. Who knows, I may even start feeling like a chef again instead of a short order cook in the local hamburger joint."
"If that's the way you feel about it," Jane countered, "why didn't you do something about it before now?"
"As a matter-of-fact, I tried a couple of times. When I found out I was wasting my time, I just stopped fighting it. I'm too old to start looking for another job. Besides, admitting I worked at the Grand Hotel wouldn't exactly be the perfect reference in this business."
"I'll tell you something, Horace," she switched to the first name approach. "If you can produce the kind of thing I want, you won't have to worry about looking for another job." Jane hoped he would understand the not very subtle ultimatum.
"You just tell me what you need in the way of equipment, staff and supplies and I'll see that you get it."
"I'll do that, Miss Pilsudski," he answered with a whole new tone of respect. "It won't require any new equipment to speak of because your father was a hotelman. I will need one more cook and some waitresses who can keep their grubby thumbs out of the soup."
"Prepare your list and let me have it. Do you think any of those waitresses are worth keeping?"
"Not for any talent they have for serving food to the public. I haven't checked anything else about them, the cost of penicillin is too high."
"You'll get a new dining room staff. Keep thinking positive and you may even be here to enjoy it."
Without waiting for a reply, Jane walked out of the kitchen and headed for the bar. Not only did she want a drink, she also wanted to see what Hap Hunter had come up with in the way of plans for improving his operation.
As he served her a double Scotch and soda without her even asking for it, he handed her a sheaf of folded papers. Jane knew they contained his comments as requested. She also hoped he had gone a bit beyond the liquor operation and into other facets of the hotel picture. She tucked them into her purse as she pulled out the money to pay for the drink.
"I want to ask you a question, Hap. If you don't want to answer it you don't have to. How good a chef can Horace be?"
"Just as good as you insist he be," Hap answered without even hesitating.
"Thanks," she replied simply. "I guess that's what I was hoping you'd say."
"Don't expect that ail the time, Miss Pilsudski. I'm not noted for being any great diplomat. From time to time I may say the things you don't want to hear."
"Is that a promise?"
"Darned if you don't sound just like your old man. It's a promise all right."
Jane had just picked up her drink and Hap was walking to the cash register with her money when she called him back. It was an impulsive gesture and he seemed to recognize it as he walked back with the same pleasant look on his face.
"Hap, how would you feel about being assistant manager of the hotel?" she asked searchingly.
"Completely lost," he answered without changing expression. "Take me away from booze and horses and I don't know which end is up. You're on the right track looking for one though."
Her smile told him how much she appreciated what he had just said. She didn't really need confirmation that she was right in planning to dump Bart Parker, but it was nice to get it anyway.
"Hap, I don't know how this is going to sound," she spoke with a clear trace of nervousness, "but when we chat like this I wish you'd call me Jane."
"I'd be very pleased to do that, Jane." As he finished saying it, he turned and walked quickly away from her. Opening the till, he made a production of checking the contents of it.
Sensing that he didn't want her to see his eyes, Jane took another big sip of her drink and spun off the stool. As she left the bar, she saw that he was still looking into the till.
The lump she found in her throat was one of the nicest feelings she had experienced in a long time. So far, trying to salvage the hotel had been a series of hurts and worries, but this one moment, she felt, was enough to pay for all of them and leave a comfortable balance against the future heartaches.
In her room, Jane poured another drink for herself and reached into her purse for the papers Hap had given her. He was even more thorough than she had expected.
The new setup he proposed would involve closing the bar operation for a couple of weeks but it would be worth it. Not only had he designed a whole new layout for the bar, but he had even designed a new lighting system and, to her delight, uniforms for the waitresses he proposed hiring. Jane was quick to see that the staff alone would attract a lot of male patrons to the new bar. She found herself wishing Hap had gone along with her suggestion that he take the job of assistant manager.
Even as the thought occurred though, it passed. He had told the truth when he said he would be lost in the job. She decided to be thankful for an excellent bartender who would also be bar manager, friend and confidant.
When a nagging thought in the back of her mind told her that she was looking for a substitute father in Hap Hunter, Jane didn't even argue with it. If I am, she thought, I can't think of a better man to play the role.
She heard someone come into the room next door and guessed it was her mother. Jane decided to do the polite thing and go see. It was her mother all right and she had another waitress with her.
Jane felt her stomach protest at the sight. It was obvious Eva hand picked girls for the job of waitress, but it had nothing to do with their ability to serve food to the public. She wondered whether there was going to be another spanking scene.
Somehow, she couldn't stand finding out. Making a quick excuse about things she had to do, Jane went back into her room, picked up her purse and left the suite.
She wished Pat Howell had phoned her. An evening of drinking and chatting with him would be just the tonic she needed after a trying day. Watch it, girl, she told herself. You don't have any claims on that man and if you know what's good for you, you'll keep it that way for a while.
Now after the hotel gets nicely organized, she told herself, that's a different matter. Pat Howell suddenly loomed large as a very enjoyable part of a long, lovely future for her. She wondered whether there was a chance that he was thinking in the same direction.
As she walked along the sidewalk, her thoughts stayed close to the columnist she had started out by hating. The feeling was quite different now though and the feeling wasn't just in her heart. Somewhere in the warm confines of her white nylon panties she was experiencing the same kind of thrill at thinking of him.
With a smile, she wondered what he would think if he could read her mind right now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Well now, Miss Pilsudski, I'll put it this way. I'm forty-one years old and still on my way up in the hotel business. I know I'm running behind schedule, but the way you talk I get the impression that you just could make the Grand Hotel the place it could be. If I make it with you, then I'm on my way. If it doesn't work out, then I've had it."
"That sounds like a very realistic evaluation of the situation, Mr. Marks," Jane agreed as she looked at the man across the desk of what was now her main floor office.
"The fact that you are on your way up appeals to me. So is the Grand Hotel. I don't say this in the spirit of the carrot and the donkey, I mean it. I don't want to be a hotel manager. The man who takes this job has to be ready and able to be manager within a year or two."
"I like the way you talk business," the man replied with a smile. "I'll hand in my notice at the Inn today. When do you want me to start?"
"Hold it a minute," Jane stopped him. "I can't let you do that. In order to do the things I want to do, I'm going to need financing. Until I get it, you'd better hang onto your job."
"What happens if you don't get the financing?" he asked.
"Then the whole dream goes down the drain," Jane answered without any attempt at sounding dramatic.
"What do you think of your chances?" the man asked seriously.
"One way or another, I'll get the money," Jane answered with almost fiery determination.
"Then that's good enough for me, my resignation goes in today. I'll be ready when you need me. In the meantime, if there are any things I can discuss that may be helpful to you in your planning, just let me know."
"Thank you, Joe," Jane stood and offered her hand in a gesture of appreciation of his faith in her.
They shook on it and the man walked out of the office. Jane knew instinctively that she had made a wise choice. Until then, she had been confident that she could put the hotel back on its feet but that, she realized, had been optimism.
Now, with a bright young professional on the team sharing her determination, there was no limit to what could be done to make the Grand Hotel worthy of its ambitious name.
She carried the same air of supreme confidence when she went into the new bank to keep the appointment that had been set up for her by her auditor and her lawyer.
At the outset, the manager was cautious as he probed carefully into Jane's plans and needs for the hotel. Before long, he began to warm up and Jane knew she was home free.
The Grand Hotel got the full line of credit necessary to carry out all the improvements that had been planned for it. When Jane mentioned that she was going to throw all the money her father had left her into the venture, the banker surprised her by suggesting she keep a couple of thousand out as a sort of personal contingency fund.
It was not, Jane realized, the sort of recommendation she had come to expect from bankers.
Leaving the bank, it dawned on Jane that perhaps her lawyer friend had done more than just talk on her behalf. A hunch told her that he had underwritten part of the credit line personally.
Following another hunch, she walked to his office. When the secretary announced her, Don Kitely came out to meet her. He didn't seem at all surprised at her news.
"Just how much did you have to do with the granting of that credit, Mr. Kitely?" she asked with a small smile.
"Not all that much," he shrugged. "I've known Peterson for some time and I've done business with him. I suppose he respects my evaluation of a credit risk."
"I have the darndest feeling that you're making this sound much simpler than it really is," she replied. "Thank you, for everything. You won't regret it. And on that note," she continued, "I'm going to get out of here and put that money to work."
"Good idea," the lawyer agreed as he held the door open for her.
Without even waiting to get back to the hotel, Jane stopped at the first pay phone she found and called her new assistant manager. While the call went through, she hoped he would be on duty and free to take the call. She could hardly, she realized, leave her name for him to call back. His employers would probably be less than happy about that. He took the call.
"Joe," she spoke with unconcealed enthusiasm, "I got the money. I'm ready to start moving right away."
"Great," he replied with equal enthusiasm, "I'll be off duty in just over an hour. May I meet you at your office?"
"Are you sure it's all right?"
"Put it this way," he explained. "Hotels don't like keeping people who are on their way to work for the competition. They'll be delighted if I move out today."
"That's wonderful. I'll be in my office within an hour. I'll be looking forward to seeing you."
This time, Jane was too impatient to walk. She flagged a cab and was back at the hotel within five minutes. Using a lobby phone, she called the housekeeper and ordered an immediate cleaning of her dad's old office. It was going to be a very busy place from now on and she wanted a clean start.
She asked the desk man if he knew where Bart Parker was and received a very nervous sounding, "I don't really know, Miss Pilsudski." That was answer enough for Jane. She walked quickly to the elevator. Looking over her shoulder as she stepped into it, she saw the desk man reaching for the phone.
Instead of being annoyed that he was obviously phoning to tip off Bart and/or her mother that she was on her way to the suite, Jane was pleased. It would have been embarrassing to walk in on them during one of their erotic romps.
What a life, Jane thought as the elevator moved up, not knowing whether your mother is playing skin games with a male or a female. The thought didn't really bother her though. Nothing could at the moment.
Jane knocked on the door of the suite and her mother opened it. She saw Bart sitting inside and was relieved that both were dressed although he wasn't wearing a jacket.
"Come in, dear," her mother greeted her with exaggerated warmth. "How are things?"
"Things are hectic but wonderful," she answered as she dropped into a comfortable chair and ignored the fact that Bart was staring at her legs where her skirt rode up a little.
"You really do sound excited," her mother observed. "Are you going to let us in on the secret?"
"There are so many things. In the first place, the bank has given me the full line of credit I needed to completely remake the hotel."
"You're kidding," the woman answered. Both she and Bart looked stunned. "They'd lend that kind of money on a dump like this?"
"It won't be a dump much longer, Mom, and they seem to think its a good risk. Also," she added, "I've hired a new assistant manager who will be here in a few minutes to work on the plans with me."
As she said it, Jane saw Bart's jaw tighten as he fought to control his feelings. Eva was far less successful in controlling hers. Her face fell, her mouth opened.
"But Jane," she gasped, "I don't understand. You never mentioned anything about a new assistant manager."
"Didn't I? I guess I just never got around to it. I only hired him a couple of days ago."
"But I don't understand why you think you need one," the woman persisted. "After all, both Bart and I are not just willing to help you, we're anxious. You must know that."
"That won't be necessary, Mom. I do appreciate how you feel, but I want a fresh management approach to go with everything else that's going to be new around here."
"This just isn't like you, Jane. After all Bart has done for us. That's no way to repay him."
"I think you may be missing a point, Mom, and I'm sure Bart is aware of it. From what I've seen and from what the auditors found in the books, I'd suggest that Bart has been amply rewarded for all his efforts."
Jane was prepared to be more explicit in her explanation if they called for it, but when she saw them looking at each other, she knew it wouldn't be necessary. They looked like a pair of kids who had been caught in the candy jar and knew it.
"There's no point in arguing with her," Bart spoke up. "Lady Jane seems to have made up her mind. She got her hooks on the old man's property and she wants us out."
"You do put things rather crudely, Bart," she answered coolly, "but I can't fault your accuracy."
"It sounds as though you want us out immediately," her mother commented with a desperate look.
"Come, Mother, I'd hardly throw you out on the street. I would like Bart to clear out his desk as soon as possible though."
"Jane, I just can't believe it," Eva looked close to tears. "I never thought you could be so heartless toward your own mother. I'm glad your father didn't live to see it."
"As for being heartless, Mother, I'm being anything but. I've decided not to lay charges. As for what my father saw before he died, I'd give anything to know that."
Eva's face went pale at that. Jane guessed the woman knew she was bluffing about having considered laying charges, but it was the rest of what she had said that seemed to hit home.
Turning toward Bart, Jane saw his face go black with anger. He opened his mouth as if to say something then quickly closed it. She saw that he had made a quick decision against venting his anger and wondered why. Surely he had nothing to gain now, she thought.
"Okay, Jane," he almost smiled, "no hard feelings. The hotel is yours and you have the right to do what you want with it. I'll go clean out my desk now."
He started from the room, then stopped and turned toward her again.
"By the way, Jane, would you rent me a room for a couple of days until I get organized?" It was the charming Bart Parker smile of old and it assured Jane that he had something up his sleeve. She didn't like it, but she could hardly refuse.
"Of course you may have a room," she answered. "Needless to say, there will be no charge. Lady Jane, as you choose to refer to her, is not really that heartless."
He left the room then and Jane was left alone with her mother. She wondered whether the woman would make another try at holding on to her old status.
"Would you like a drink, dear?" Eva asked as she poured a large one for herself.
"Sure thing," Jane answered as she walked into the kitchen for the soda.
Filling both glasses, she picked one up and sipped at it. As she did, she was throwing her mind into neutral to cope with whatever plan her mother was about to launch.
"You said some rather terrible things, Jane," the woman frowned in an expression of pain. "I hope you didn't really mean them all."
"Let's not fight, Mother. This was an issue that really had to be faced. Let's just get it over as quickly as possible. The details can only add to the unpleasantness of it all."
They sipped their drinks in silence that grew more uncomfortable by the minute until the ringing of the phone saved them both from it. Jane hurried over to answer it and heard Pat Howell's voice.
"How nice to hear from you, Pat"
"It will be nice if you'll agree to have dinner with me this evening," he said cheerily.
"I'd really love to, Pat, but I'm not sure I can."
"What do you mean you're not sure? You're the boss there aren't you?" he protested.
"That's the trouble. So many things are happening all of a sudden that I just feel I can't stop working for a minute."
"Then that settles it, young lady. You're going out for the evening with me. It's the only way I can save you from working yourself to death."
"Darn it all, Pat, I do...." He cut her off firmly at that point.
"I'll call for you around seven. Be ready or I'll carry you off just as you are and that's not a threat, it's a promise."
"All right, you bully," she laughed, "I'll be ready. Because you are such a bully though, I may not tell you all the exciting news I have about the hotel."
"If you tell any other newspaperman before me, I'll not only feed you, I'll spank you as well."
On that note, the conversation ended. Jane finished her drink and went into her room to change. Joe Marks would be here soon, she realized, and she wanted to be there to meet him.
As she fastened up the neat black dress she wore, she hoped Bart had finished cleaning out his desk. Again she thought of how pleasant he had been when he asked for a room. It still bothered her. There had to be more to it than that.
CHAPTER NINE
The rest of the afternoon flashed by seemingly with the speed of light. It was six o'clock when she realized the time. There was apology in her voice when she told the new assistant manager about the date she had made for the evening.
"Don't let that bother you, Jane. You may be a hotel owner, but you're also an attractive young woman. Forgive me for stepping out of line, but I think you should find time for both."
"Forgive nothing," she answered. "Thanks for saying it so nicely. Anyway, I think we've both had enough for today. Why don't you shove off too?"
"Did you forget you fired our only night manager?" he smiled. When he saw the look of hurt on her face, he too became serious.
"Please don't take that seriously, it was just a bad attempt at fun. As a matter-of-fact, I plan to run the night operation for a few days anyway. It will help give me a better picture of the whole thing and that's important."
"Thank you, Joe. The more I see of you in action, the more I'm sure I made a very wise choice."
"I intend to keep you thinking that way too. It will help when I start looking for more money."
Jane was laughing as she hurried across the lobby. Laughter came easily after the hectic pace of the day with all its tension, but it was aided by the thought that she was going to spend the evening with Pat Howell.
Tonight, she thought, he will surely kiss me. As she rode up on the elevator, Jane wondered how it would feel to be held in Pat's strong arms and feel his lips crushing hers, their bodies pressing together in full embrace.
Easy girl, she warned herself as she unlocked the door to her room, you'd better have a nice cold shower and get yourself under control or you're going to rape the poor guy and scare him off.
As she showered, she wondered how often a man has a woman ready to give her all and fails to see it. If only men realized, she mused, that normal women have nice healthy urges just as they do, there would be a lot more loving in this world.
Drying herself, Jane became aware of her body again. She was pleased that it was beautiful. She remembered Joe Marks' suggestion that although she was a hotel owner she was still an attractive woman. Jane found there was nothing difficult about agreeing with that.
Selecting her best lingerie, she began dressing. There was no danger that she would be showing it to anyone this evening, she knew, but it felt good to be really dressed at her best and somehow that seemed important to her right now.
Fastening the suspenders to the nylons which clung nicely to her firm white thighs, Jane wasted a few precious seconds admiring her long, lovely legs. Not bad at all, for an old hotel owner, she conceded. Pulling pale blue nylon panties up over the clinging garter belt, Jane was thankful she didn't need to wear a girdle.
Her hands were gentle as she fitted the lush globes into the blue bra and reached behind to fasten it. She realized how sensitive her skin felt tonight and knew how easy it would be to imagine a man's hands holding the firm mounds.
The figured dress she pulled over her head looked as young and vital as Jane felt at the moment. She knew as she patted it into place that it had been just the right choice. It would be ideal for dancing too, if he took her to a place where they could dance.
She was almost dancing as she walked out of the elevator and walked across the lobby just as she saw Pat coming through the front door.
"Good heavens," he feigned surprise. "A woman who is actually ready on time? You may get kicked out of the union for that."
"Well after all," she smiled as she took the proffered arm, "as I recall, there were some dire threats made about what would happen if I were late."
"Good. Now I know how to handle you. That can be very important in the future."
Jane laughed, but as she did, it was nice to think of the possible significance of what he had said about the future. Right at that mo merit, she could think of a lot of things that didn't seem nearly as appealing as a future with the handsome young man with the easy disposition and pleasant sense of humor.
"I hate to use old lines," Pat said after he had let her into the car and hurried around to get behind the wheel, "but you really do look good enough to eat."
"Wonderful," Jane replied, "in that case, I'll eat. I also feel good enough to dance and if you consider that a hint, I won't argue with you."
Pat suggested a place on the lake a few miles farther than they had gone on their previous date. He assured her that the food was as good as the orchestra and that the scenery was even better than both. He had no trouble selling her on it.
Because they chatted easily, the long drive seemed to take no time at all. As he wheeled the car into the parking lot beside the building, they saw the beginning of the sunset over the lake. For a little while, they just sat and drank the beauty of it without speaking. When they did talk again, their voices were softer.
"It almost seems a shame to go inside, doesn't it?" Jane commented finally.
"It does, really," Pat agreed, "but we can have the best of two worlds here. Wait till we get inside and I'll show you."
Hurrying around the car, Pat held the door open for her. As she swung her legs out, Jane felt bathed by the clean warmth of the fresh air and the more comforting warmth of the man's expression as he looked at her.
"I know you caught me peeking that time, lady," his voice was low and controlled, "and all I can say in my defense is that any man who could resist looking at such beautiful legs would be a fool."
"Thank you," Jane answered not as lightly as she had intended, "I'm glad you're not a fool." When she thought she sounded too serious, Jane went on, "I'm glad you like them. Actually, they're a matched set."
"I can't just take your word for that, lady," he quipped, "I'll have to remember to examine them more closely."
A uniformed doorman held the door open for them and they walked inside. Pat spoke briefly to the headwaiter and they were ushered to a window table.
Even before she sat, Jane saw that the view across the lake was nothing short of spectacular. She wondered if she would be able to take her eyes off the view long enough to eat.
"I'm glad you like it, Jane," Pat spoke lowly after the headwaiter left them. "I just looked at it all in your eyes and I never knew anything could be so beautiful."
"Thank you, Pat," Jane answered. "I must warn you though that if you keep talking like that, these eyes will get so full of water you won't be able to see anything in them."
The wine steward came then to take their order and Jane felt a sense of relief. The conversation had been thrilling, but it was getting too serious to be continued across a table in a restaurant.
Jane wanted a martini while Pat decided on a Manhattan. He told the steward to make them both doubles.
"Are you trying to get me looped?" Jane asked when the man left the table.
"I wouldn't think of it," Pat defended himself. "I just want to keep him from bugging us too much replacing single drinks."
"You're so practical," Jane smiled.
As they picked up their drinks and toasted each other, a six piece band began to play at the far end of the room. The music was just loud enough to be perfect.
Jane and Pat divided their attention between the panoramic view of the lake and their drinks as the music formed an ideal backdrop to it all. The warm glow that spread through her body told Jane it had nothing to do with the Manhattan she was drinking. There was a wonderful danger of intoxication, but it was a delightful threat and one she had no intention of resisting.
When the drinks were finished, Pat wanted to order another pair but suggested they switch to something less lethal. Expressing complete agreement, Jane voted for a small Scotch with a lot of soda. Pat went along but substituted water for the soda.
Before the drinks arrived, they walked hand in hand onto the small dance floor. Because it was still early in the evening, there were only a few other couples dancing. As if the spell of the view outside had cast its spell over everyone in the room, all the dancing couples looked like people in love.
Jane saw it quickly and the way Pat held her told her that perhaps he felt it too. Although he apologized for being a poor dancer, Jane refused to accept his evaluation. It required only a few steps before she adjusted to his style. After that, they almost floated across the floor.
Without knowing whether they had danced for minutes or hours, Jane felt her whole body floating as they walked back to the table.
"You must be a wonderful dancer, Jane," he commented, "you're so good that I didn't feel the least bit clumsy out there."
"Clumsy nothing, mister. You danced like a master. I just floated around the floor."
Seated at the table again, they drank to the two best dancers in the world. While they ate, Pat told about how the place was even more beautiful in the summer when they moved both dining and dancing out to the terrace.
After dessert, they relaxed with coffee and brandy while the music continued to bathe the room in its magic spell. Jane's mind moved back to other dates with other men but she found nothing to compare with what she was enjoying at the moment. The place was special, but more than that was involved. Pat too was becoming very special to her. She tried to remember the promise she had made herself about not complicating her already busy schedule with affairs of the heart, but there was the darnedest feeling that that promise had gone out the window.
"Would you like to take a walk on the terrace?" Pat asked.
The words seemed to catch Jane by surprise. She snapped out of her thoughtful mood.
"Yes, oh yes," she said a little more loudly than she had intended. "I'm sorry, Pat," she added then, "I guess my mind was drifting a bit just then."
"Not too far away from me, I hope."
"No, Pat," she answered honestly. "Not far away from you at all." As she said the words, her eyes spoke even more convincingly and the man got and enjoyed the message.
Hand in hand, they walked across the floor to the wide French doors that opened on the terrace. A few people watched the good looking couple, but they didn't even notice that they were being looked at. They couldn't have, since at that moment there were no other people in the world.
The air was cool above the lake, but not cool enough to spoil the warm glow in which they had been enveloped. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world that when they stopped at the far end of the terrace, he took her into his arms and their mouths met with a frank eagerness.
Whatever it was meant to be, it became a very long and very passionate kiss that left them both breathless.
"Should I say I'm sorry?" he asked in a whisper with his lips close to her ear.
"Are you?" she whispered in reply.
"No."
"Neither am I, Pat. More than anything in the world I wanted you to kiss me then."
"I don't want to sound corny, Jane. I've done a reasonable amount of kissing in my time, but I've never felt anything quite like that. I mean it."
"I'm glad it was that way for you too," Jane answered with a plain honesty. "I'm still floating miles up in space somewhere and I don't ever want to stop."
"Then I'll have to make sure you don't float away from me," Pat whispered huskily as his arms closed tightly around her again.
This time, before their lips met, their faces stopped just inches apart. Their eyes said all the things neither was prepared to say out loud considering that it was only their second date.
The space between their faces melted slowly then and their mouths came together again. Jane felt her body melting in his embrace, felt her breasts crushed between them and pressed even harder to his strong body. It was the most delicious torture she had ever endured and she searched for some way to make it last forever without even having to stop for breath.
She was surprised when he took her hand as the kiss ended and almost rushed her back into the restaurant. As they walked back to their table, Jane wondered whether every person in the room could read on her face a full report of what had happened outside. On second thought, she didn't care.
At first, she had been hurt at his anxiousness to come back inside. Now, as she looked into his face, she understood and her heart went out to him. In the heat of her own passion, she had overlooked the fact that it could have the same effect on him.
"Thank you, Pat," she spoke softly across the small table.
"For what, Jane?" he asked.
"For everything that happened out there and for feeling the way you did and for taking me back inside."
"That was a case of necessity, lady," he smiled ruefully but without a hint of shame.
"You haven't cornered the market on that emotion, mister," she smiled back at him. "If you hadn't rescued us, I'm afraid we'd have shocked everyone in the place."
"Hey you," he looked shocked, "are you trying to tell me I was a fool to rescue you?"
"Oh no, dear, please don't think that," she protested earnestly. "I guess what I meant to say is that we felt pretty much the same out there. Next time, I won't want you to rescue me, but I'm glad you did this time. Thanks."
"What say I take you home now, Jane?"
"Yes, I think that's the thing to do. It's been such a wonderful evening, Pat. I've nev er been so happy in my life. I want to rush to sleep and dream about it all night."
During the drive home, Jane told him about developments at the hotel and he became as excited as she. The subject kept them fully occupied until the car rolled to a stop in front of the hotel.
When he kissed her good night, it was a warm kiss but without the intensity of the kisses they had shared earlier.
Inside the hotel, she waved across the lobby to the new assistant manager. He was talking to someone and that gave her the excuse she needed to get to her room without talking to anyone.
Stripping off her clothes, she dropped naked onto the bed and closed her eyes. She was in his arms again and it was wonderful.
CHAPTER TEN
"My, you look rested for a man who's been working for so long," Jane greeted Joe Marks when she arrived at the desk a little before seven the next morning.
"Don't let that fool you. During the night I had Charlie take over for me a couple of times while I grabbed a fast nap. I'm an old pro at the game, remember."
"Good for you. What say you have him fill in again while you and I steal a bit of breakfast?"
"Fine by me." Joe signaled to the bellhop who leaned against the wall near the door. The boy hurried over.
"Good morning, Miss Pilsudski," he greeted her cheerily.
"Good morning, Charlie," she replied. "I hear you've been doing some filling in on the night desk."
"That's right," the cheerful grin stayed on. "Mr. Marks doesn't know it yet but I'm getting ready to steal his job."
"In that case," Joe spoke, "you'd better check the board for wake up calls. Miss one of those and you'll be emptying garbage cans."
The dining room was deserted, but a waitress came out of the kitchen and sleepily acknowledged them. Jane called for two coffees to work on while they decided what to eat. They both decided to settle for scrambled eggs, toast and more coffee.
"Well how was the first night on the new ship, Joe?" Jane asked as she stirred her coffee.
"Quiet enough to let me do a lot of digging around."
"Find anything interesting?"
"Interesting, yes, but I'm not sure how important. Do you have any sacred cows around here?" he asked seriously.
"Not a one. Why?"
"I mean are there any people or any rooms I'm not supposed to ask questions about?"
"I'll put it this way, Joe. I just fired my own mother and Bart Parker. My father is dead. Who would I be concerned about? If you found anything of interest, I'd like to hear about it."
"Okay, let's start with room 308." Joe looked straight at her as he said it. "Do you know it hasn't been rented in almost two years?"
One look at Jane's face told him she didn't know. It also told him she didn't know why it hadn't.
"To make it more interesting," he went on, "I find that the few times you've been sold out and turned patrons away, it still wasn't rented. Don't you find a strange odor about that?"
"I sure do, Joe, but I must confess I don't get the significance of it."
"Neither did I at the start, but some more room information came up that began to shed light on it."
"Keep going," Jane invited, "I could use some light on the whole thing right now."
"Well 307 and 309 get more traffic than any other room in the hotel. Next on the list is 208." He saw that she hadn't made any connection so he kept going.
"307 and 309 are on either side of 308. As for 208, it's directly below."
"That does make it seem strange that they should get so much traffic while 308 gets none at all. I have a feeling you know more about this than I do though, so keep going," Jane said as she ignored her food as her interest mounted.
"It really isn't strange at all when you start putting the pieces together. It isn't very pleasant either."
"It's okay, Joe. I can see you're trying to break something to me gently, but I'd rather you get right into it. You needn't worry about me, I can take anything you have to tell."
"All right, Jane," he answered. "If you'll get at that food of yours I'll talk while we eat."
Obediently, Jane picked up her fork and began to eat the eggs which were already little more than warm.
"There's an old game that used to be carried on in shadier hotels. One room serves as an observation point for two or three others. With carefully planned viewers, you could see and even photograph occupants of the other rooms."
"That sounds sick, Joe," Jane put her fork down just before it fell from her hand.
"It's more than just sick. In some cases it was done for the amusement of the operator and his friends. Mostly though, the reason was a cute little game known as blackmail."
Blackmail! The word hit Jane with the force of a bullet in the pit of her stomach. Just as quickly as she heard it, she realized that Bart would be capable of it. Even more terrifying was the thought that her mother could have been a part of it too. The relationship between her and Bart was too close to avoid that conclusion.
"You think that's what's been going on from 308? I swear my father couldn't have known anything about it."
"I'd bet next year's wages on it, Jane, and I believe what you say about your father. Maybe the reputation of the Grand Hotel has fallen off in the past couple of years, but your father's name stayed good all the way."
"How can we find out for sure that there really is something going on?" Jane asked.
"First, we'll have to get Bart Parker out of there. He told me he had your approval to take a room and asked for that one."
"Then it is true."
"It's true all right and if it ever leaks out, you may as well tear the place down and use it as a parking lot."
"I know you're right, Joe, but what can we do about it now?"
"I wish I knew the answer to that one. First, we can make sure I'm right. After that, we can try to find out if it was being used for photography or just kicks. Beyond that, I'm not sure."
"Do you know what to look for?"
"I have quite a few ideas," Joe answered. "I worked in a place in Chicago that had a setup like that. As far as I know though, it was only used for kicks. The desk men would book lesbians into the right rooms and all his friends would watch from the control room. I've heard about a few other places too so I know most of the logical things to look for. How soon can you get him out of there?"
"Right now," Jane started to get up as she said it.
"Take it easy," he caught her arm and eased her back into the chair. "Since you've fired him, he will probably dismantle as much of his setup as he can. Let's not panic him into doing it too fast. Besides, you haven't eaten your breakfast yet."
"I'm not sure I can, Joe. I'm afraid this has been a bit too much for me."
"I'm betting that you're tough enough to take it in stride after you get over the initial shock, Jane. Try to eat, it will help you to think and we can use all the thought we can muster."
Surprised at how easily she could follow the new manager's advice, Jane picked up her fork and made a valiant effort to push more food into her mouth. All of a sudden, it tasted like cold sawdust and she gave it up as an impossibility.
"Can you think of some excuse to get him away from the hotel for a couple of hours? Out of town if possible," Joe's tone was urgent enough to snap her out of it.
"I don't seem to be thinking very well at the moment," Jane answered as she fought to control her mind. "Wait a minute, I've got an idea."
Digging in her purse, she came up with Pat Howell's home number. There was a pretty good chance that he would still be sleeping, she thought, but she also knew he would help her and wouldn't mind being wakened at this hour.
"Just sit tight, Joe," she felt her mind really functioning now, "I've got an idea that could keep him out of the way for quite a while. I'll make a call from the office."
Jane got up and hurried out of the dining room. When she left, Joe ordered two more cups of coffee and a tray. When his order arrived, he carried the tray back to Jane's office. He knocked and walked in. Setting the tray down on her desk, he started to leave but she signaled him to stay.
In about a minute, she hung up the phone and looked at him with a smile.
"I've got a deal worked out for him to go see about a big hotel job that will involve a drive of about two hundred miles. One condition is that he must be there before two o'clock this afternoon."
"I knew you could do it, Jane," he congratulated her. "Is it on the level?"
"About as much as he is. Thanks for the coffee," she picked up a cup.
"He could be pretty angry if he suspects you sent him on a wild goose chase," Joe warned.
"That's the beauty of it, he won't suspect a thing. He'll get an interested hearing and will be told to sit tight for a couple of days while the management decides. It will give us all the time we need."
After a sip of coffee, Jane called the suite. Her mother answered sleepily on the fourth ring.
"Hi, Mom," Jane said sweetly, "sorry to wake you so early, but this may be important."
She went on to tell about a vacancy in hotel management she had heard about that looked just right for Bart. She made it very clear that he would have to be there before two o'clock for the interview.
The enthusiastic reception her message got was enough to convince her the plan would work. Just before the conversation ended though, Eva sounded the first suspicious note.
"Why are you so interested in Bart all of a sudden, Jane? I didn't think you liked him very much."
"You're right about how much I like him, Mom," Jane answered quickly. "Let's say I'm doing this for your sake or maybe just to get him out of the way. At any rate, I'll have to give an answer so will you call me back after you've talked to Bart?"
Eva assured her she would and the call ended there. Ten minutes later, the office phone rang again. Jane heard Eva's voice on the line. The message was that Bart was getting ready now and would leave in a few minutes. Eva went on to report that since she had nothing special to do, she would make the trip with him.
Joe's face lit up in a wide grin when she told him the result of her plan. While they sipped their coffee, they kept an eye on the parking lot out back.
In even less time than they expected, Bart and Eva walked into the lot and got into Bart's car. It pulled out of the driveway and squealed into a fast turn as it hit the street.
Jane would have started for the third floor immediately, but the man stopped her.
"Never underestimate the enemy, Jane," he cautioned. "They could suspect something and be back here in ten minutes to find out what we're up to. Let's give them a nice start of a half hour or so."
Because she knew he was right, Jane didn't argue. Still, she knew, the waiting was going to be tough on both of them. Her desk was piled high with files and loose papers they were going to have to go over during the day, but she knew they would do nothing until they had checked the room.
When Joe finally pushed his chair back and indicated with a look that it was time to get started, Jane's knees began to tremble until she wasn't sure she would be able to walk. She walked quite well.
They took the elevator to the third floor but said nothing to each other during the short trip. Before they reached the door of 308, Joe held a key at the ready. It turned easily in the lock and the door swung open.
The first impression Jane got was of a messy room. The bed was unmade and clothes were scattered around. Among them was a pair of panties and a bra. She was able to make an educated guess as to the identity of the owner of the lingerie.
Joe had ignored that aspect of the room though and was walking along one side of the room staring intently at the floor. When his gaze caught something, he hunched down and looked at it more closely. When he stood, there was a look of triumph on his face. He had obviously found what he wanted.
"What is it, Joe?" Jane asked tensely.
"I've found one of their watching points. See these three wear spots in the rug?" He pointed to them.
"What do they mean?" Jane asked.
"They mean a tripod has been used here quite often, often enough to have made wear spots in the fabric. All that remains now is to find the moveable panel. It has to be here."
Confidently, he removed a large picture from the hanger and placed it carefully on the bed. While his eyes scanned the wall, he reached into his pocket and drew out a pen knife.
"Really sloppy," he observed as he slid the blade of the knife into the crack between two panels. He exerted just a slight pressure and the entire panel came loose. There was nothing to be seen but insulation and still more wall.
Undisturbed, Joe picked up the corner of a strip of insulation and pulled it away. Jane gasped.
In the next room, a maid was bending over as she made up the bed. They could see her as clearly as if they were in the room with her.
"The mirror?" Jane gasped the question.
"Always the mirror," he answered calmly. "In that room, it's a nice, innocent looking mirror. From here, it makes quite a picture window, doesn't it?"
"And they've been using a camera?"
"There's no doubt about it. The only question is why. Let's hope it was just for kicks or we may be up to our ears in something that could get real rough."
As he talked, Joe was replacing the camouflage carefully over the window. When he finished, he hung the picture again, stepped back to make sure it was straight, then walked to the other side of the room., It required even less time to find the window there. In that room, a young man and woman lay sleeping nude on the bed. Seeing them that way under-lined for Jane the things Bart and, obviously, Eva had seen and photographed.
Again, Joe replaced the covering over the window and put the knife back in his pocket.
"If we wanted to take the trouble," he commented in a matter-of-fact tone, "we could move the bed, raise a portion of the rug, move a couple of pieces of wood and have a look into 208. We needn't bother though, I think we've seen enough."
"But you don't even look surprised or horrified or anything," Jane remarked as Joe began checking bureau drawers and closets.
"No, I'm neither surprised or horrified because I knew what I'd find here. I don't like it a bit, but it isn't the first time I've seen this sort of dirty thing. Ah, here we are."
In a carton on the top shelf of the closet, he found the movie camera and tripod. There was nothing else around.
"What do we do now, Joe?" Jane was plainly stunned by the events of the past few minutes.
"What say we do some more searching just on the off chance that we can find the films. There may be quite a collection. Any idea where it could be?"
"I don't know, Joe. I can't see them being in our suite, they would have been afraid of Dad finding them there."
"Then how about the basement?"
"It's the only place I can think of," Jane agreed.
"Then let's get going," he looked around the room giving it one final check.
"How about the camera?" Jane asked. "Shouldn't we take it out of here?"
"I guess we should at that," Joe agreed. "It's going to make him plenty angry though."
"That doesn't seem to bother me too much right now," she replied coolly. "I don't think either he or Eva could get nearly as angry as I am right now."
"You're that convinced she's involved with him?" Joe asked in a quiet voice.
Jane just nodded her head. Walking into the closet, Joe picked up the carton. They walked out of the room and closed the door behind them.
In the lobby, they returned to Jane's office and deposited the carton there.
"Will it be safe here?" Joe asked as she locked the door behind them after leaving.
"I've already had the lock changed," she replied. "There are no keys lying around. That reminds me, there's a man coming today to change the combination of the safe as well."
"Good thinking," he commented.
"Considering the kind of people we're dealing with, it strikes me as being funda mental."
They walked down the back stairs to the basement. After a quick look around the basement, Jane pointed to the wired off section used to store excess and abandoned baggage.
Checking his key ring, Joe found one tagged to indicate it was the one he wanted. The big padlock opened easily and they walked into the enclosure.
Joe walked straight to a metal trunk in the corner. With a nod to her, he indicated that they had found what they were looking for. A painted label on the lid identified it as belonging to Bart Parker.
"I don't think I'm likely to have a key for that lock," he observed wryly.
"Do you need a key?" Jane asked.
"No, I can get it open easily enough but the trunk will never look the same again."
"If the films are in there, we don't care what it looks like," she answered. "Let's chance it. I'll take the responsibility for it."
Without answering, Joe left the enclosure and began walking around the basement looking for something. When he returned, he carried a pry bar and wore a look of confidence.
"Best little old key in the world," he observed, "as long as you don't need to use the lock again or, for that matter, the trunk either. I think the hasp will give before the lock does."
"Just so it opens," Jane reassured him. "I don't think it really matters how or how much damage we do to it. I suspect what we'll find in there may have damaged a lot of people."
Joe inserted the end of the bar into the handle of the lock and rested the middle of the bar on the reinforced edge of the trunk. It provided the perfect fulcrum for the lever he wanted to establish with the bar.
He pushed down hard and there was the sound of straining metal but the lock held tight. Jane looked concerned, but Joe still wore his expression of confidence.
Taking a better grip right at the end of the bar, he pressed down hard again. There was a moment of strain, then the hasp flew off and the man lost his balance and fell forward over the trunk.
"Are you all right?" Jane asked with obvious concern.
"Sure, I'm fine," he reassured her. "I'm just in lousy shape. I should have made it on the first try."
Tossing the bar aside, he threw the lid of the trunk open. Jane had never seen so many reels of movie film. A projector was wedged into one end of the trunk. The rest of the space was taken up by the film reels.
"Quite a collection," Joe mused as he picked up one of the cans and examined it.
The label showed the name of a man, an address and a date. It gave to listing as to the contents of the film, but both knew roughly what it would involve.
"We've got to get them out of here, Joe. Where can we store them?"
"Well, there is that new lock on your door. I suppose we can leave them there for the time being while we find a safer place," Joe suggested.
"I guess that's the best we can do for now," she agreed.
Joe left her then and returned a minute later with a hand truck. Refusing her offer of help, he wrestled the trunk onto it and they wheeled it out of the cage. He stopped to relock the enclosure before pushing the truck to the elevator.
In the lobby, they got a few strange looks as Joe trundled the wagon toward the manager's office. Jane quickly unlocked the door and they pushed it in.
Jane's nervousness was obvious as she locked the door behind them. It was as if she expected Bart and Eva to come charging into the office demanding the return of their property.
"Should we go to the police with this, Joe?" she asked in a hushed voice.
"You can hardly do that, Jane."
"But what are we going to do with all this.
I don't know whether the lives of these people have already been ruined as a result of this film, but I don't want to take any chances of letting it get back into their hands anyway."
"You're right, of course, Jane, but you can't just destroy it," he pointed out.
"Why not? What purpose can be served by keeping it around? It only gives them a chance to get them back."
"I know, Jane, but there are things you have to find out for your own peace of mind. This isn't going to appeal to you, but you're going to have to look through every one of those films."
"But what will I find except a record of a lot of things that were meant to be private. I'd feel like the dirtiest kind of peeping Tom if I looked at those films."
"I'd be pleased to do it for you, Jane," he explained, "but it's a job you're going to have to do all by yourself. There could be things on those films that would mean nothing to me but could provide vital information to you."
"I suppose you're right," she admitted with a shrug of defeat, "but it's going to take all day."
"It will take time all right," he admitted. "While you're doing that though, I can go ahead with getting estimates on all those jobs we've listed. There isn't much more you can do until we get them in anyway."
"I guess you're right again, Joe. Okay. Besides, I've never been to a smoker so I guess I owe it to myself as an educational thing," she tried to play it lightly.
"You have my word for it, Jane," he smiled with her, "they will be an education."
For a minute, Jane thought he was going to add to that comment but he didn't. She guessed that whatever he was going to say had been held back as being too personal a comment for him to make to his female boss. She admired him for his restraint.
"Do you know how to operate this projector?" he asked in a tone that was strictly business.
He had already set it up on the desk. Jane looked it over and assured him she would have no trouble.
"Then all I can do for you," he concluded, "is get you a thermos of coffee and leave you to your education."
Without waiting for a reply, Joe walked out of the office and closed the door behind him. While she waited, Jane opened the first can of film and began threading it into the projector. She was surprised that there was no difficulty involved. It had been a long time since she had handled a projector.
She flicked the machine on, focused it on the wall across the office and shut it off to wait for Joe's return. He arrived with a tray within a few minutes.
Assuring her that he would be in his office if she wanted anything, he left her alone. Jane decided she wanted a cup of coffee before her stint as a film critic got underway. Her hands shook just a little as she poured and stirred it.
When she had done that, Jane realized she was staffing. With a little sound of determination, she flicked the switch and sat beside the projector as a picture of a woman flashed on the pale yellow wall that had become a makeshift screen.
She had a lush body barely contained in very brief bra and panties. Jane gasped as she recognized Marie, the waitress her mother had spanked in the suite.
Seated on the bed behind her was a middle aged man who wore the dignified air of a businessman. He watched avidly as she removed her bra and cupped the well formed contents with her hands as she held them out for inspection. He obviously liked them.
While she stepped out of her panties, the man began undressing in a great rush. When he was naked, he fell back onto the bed lying on his back waiting for Marie to come to him.
She did it with a rushing gesture. Kneeling astride him, she looked like a well built wrestler as she grabbed his wrists and held them pressed down on the bed. Her mouth moved rapidly and her face looked angry as if she were threatening or insulting him. On his face, there was a look of ecstasy.
Facing the camera, her massive buttocks writhed and twisted as Marie lowered them toward him. With releasing his hands, she adjusted until she found just the position she wanted. Her buttocks stopped their motion for a few seconds then she slowly pressed herself down onto him.
She was all man then as she rode her helpless victim with a vicious, pounding rhythm. It went on until the film flopped loose in the projector. Jane hit the switch, rewound the film and replaced it in the can.
The next one showed a young couple obviously in love. They undressed nervously and sat on the bed together. Although the young man was as nervous as his partner, he began to fondle and kiss her lovely young body. Everything about them indicated it was the first time this had ever happened to her.
As the film progressed, she became more confident so that her hands too became busy as she explored the strong young body beside her. They fell back on the bed then and her innocent young body opened nervously for him.
Their act of love was without the sophistication of a more knowing couple, but it contained a delicate haunting quality. When the film was finished, Jane felt guilty at having peeked into the beauty of their private life.
The next few films showed a variety of erotic acts between couples of varying ages. Jane recognized none of them.
In the next one, she did see someone familiar. A middle aged woman was seated on the bed. To her horror, Jane saw Eva and Marie walk into the room. Almost immediately, Eva seated herself on an armless chair and the waitress walked to her pulling her dress up to her waist so that only a pair of nylon panties covered her below the waist.
Marie draped herself over the waiting lap and Eva commenced a brisk spanking. On and on her palm bounced off the writhing cheeks and it was clear that Marie was crying and protesting loudly. It seemed to add to the enjoyment of the spectator.
When the spanking finally ended, Eva led the waitress to the bed and turned her over to the woman who waited for her with open arms. For just a little while, she comforted her and kissed away the tears that stained her face.
Her attention moved then to another area. Gently, she slid the nylon panties all the way down and pressed the girl down on the bed. Turning, she knelt over her and her face moved downward while her hands parted sleek, young thighs.
This time Eva was the spectator as the woman held Marie in erotic captivity there for a long time.
Walking over to the couple, Eva picked up the woman's dress and slip and pulled them over her back to expose taut nylon panties. Her hands became busy as she added to the woman's arousal. As the film ended, Eva was stripping the panties down the arched cheeks and moving closer, her tongue licking across her lips in obvious anticipation.
Jane threaded another film into the projector. She really wanted to stop, but she remembered Joe's warning and went on.
A cry escaped her lips when Jane watched her father walk guiltily into the room. It was like seeing him return from the dead to haunt her. She saw Marie sitting on the bed waiting for him with an eager smile. She wore only bra and panties.
Jane hit the shut-off switch so hard she almost knocked the machine off the desk. Hurrying to the door, she threw herself out of the office and slammed the door behind her. Not knowing where to run, she hurried into Joe's office where he looked up in alarm.
For a little while, he just let her sit there sobbing. When Jane gained control of herself, she told him what she had seen on the film. His eyes moistened with sympathy as he listened and watched.
"That film will probably answer most of the questions you've been asking yourself, Jane," he told her as gently as he could. "Give me the key and I'll go view it for you."
"But I can't do that, Joe. That's my father. I just can't let anyone see that."
"You can't do it yourself, Jane, and you have to have the answers."
He held out his hand and Jane dropped the key into it. Reaching into the lower drawer of his desk, Joe pulled out a bottle of brandy and a glass. He poured a big drink, set it on the desk in front of her and walked out closing the door behind him.
Jane still hadn't touched the glass when he returned a few minutes later. She seemed stunned at his return. It was as if he had just left the room.
"Your father was being blackmailed, Jane," he said in a flat voice.
To her surprise, Jane realized that her feeling was one of relief. It hurt to think that he could have been in the room with the waitress, but it confirmed that all that had happened was a result of her mother and Bart having blackmailed him.
Avoiding detail, Joe made it clear that the film contained a full record of the man making love with the waitress.
"But even at that, Joe," Jane blurted out, "the worst Eva could have done was divorce him. Why would he let them destroy him like that? He was a fighter, not a quitter."
"I thought of that too, Jane, and I think I have the answer. Your father loved you and knew you loved and respected him. What would happen if that film got into your hands?"
"It would have...." Jane stopped, her hands over her mouth, unable to go on.
"It would have destroyed you both," he finished for her. "I guess your father would rather see himself and his hotel destroyed before seeing you hurt that way."
"But his own wife," she protested, "my mother. How could she do a thing like that?"
"There's an answer I don't have, Jane." His hands held her shoulders comfortingly as Jane sat in what appeared to be a state of shock.
In a little while, he picked up the glass of brandy and handed it to her. She drank it in two gulps.
Later, when Jane had recovered sufficiently, Joe carried all the film out to his car. They drove out into the country and staged a bonfire.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"You have one hour to be out of this hotel permanently. If either of you ever sets foot inside the place again, I'll turn you over to the police."
As Jane's clipped words hit them, Eva and Bart stood at the other side of the desk, their faces a study of shock and resentment. It was obvious that they wanted to protest, but her assault had been too hard and too surprising to permit them to regain their balance.
"Your precious films are in a safe place where I can turn them over to the law at any time," she bluffed. "I know how you blackmailed my father, I have very strong suspicions of other things. If I never see either of you again, I may do nothing else about this."
The two looked from each other to the woman who sat confidently behind the desk. They were thoroughly beaten and they knew it. The time for fight had passed.
"Your hour began five minutes ago," Jane concluded her dismissal speech. "I would suggest you hurry. If I find any hotel property missing or damaged in any way, you will be charged."
Eva was the first to move. She tugged at Bart's arm and he turned to walk out of the office with her. As he reached the door, he found the strength to turn and glare back at Jane with a look of unadulterated hate such as she had never seen.
"I'll get you for this you bitch," he hissed, "if it's the last thing I ever do."
"Try and it will be," she snapped back without pause. "Now get out."
The door slammed behind them and Jane was alone in the office. A few seconds later, Joe Marks walked in.
"How did it go?" he asked.
"They're licked and they know it," she answered. "They'll be out within the hour. Now shall we get on with the business of running a hotel?" A trace of a smile played around the edges of her mouth as she said it.
"Right, boss," Joe answered heartily. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand which he dropped to the desk as he drew up a chair.
An hour later, they had established the closing date for the Grand Hotel. For a couple of weeks, it would tremble under the assault of a legion of tradesmen and when it reopened, it would indeed be a grand hotel.
They had worked out a carefully drawn bat tie plan to ensure that the work would be completed as quickly and efficiently as possible. The staff who would not return would be given their notice just before the hotel closed. They would be given two weeks additional pay in lieu of notice.
During that period, a new staff would be recruited in keeping with the new policy of the hotel.
While Joe Marks played the role of slavemaster and supervising architect, Jane would be more than busy with recruiting staff, approving decor and looking after advertising and publicity.
But for now, there was something more important to be looked after, Jane smiled as she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. Pat Howell had been very insistent in demanding that she spend the evening with him.
What protest she had made on the grounds of work to be done at the hotel was purely token in nature. This time, he didn't even have to threaten her with a spanking if she weren't ready on time. Ten minutes before he was due, she was waiting for him in the lobby.
Looking across the lobby and into the bar, Jane could see Hap Hunter standing behind the bar looking at her expectantly. Although he didn't signal her, she could see that he was bursting to talk.
A quick glance toward the front door disclosed no sign of Pat, so she decided to hurry in to say hello to Hap.
"Hi, Hap," she greeted him, "how's business?"
"Terrible as usual," he answered, "but that's soon going to change for the better."
"I'm glad to hear that," Jane answered with a pleasant smile, "we can use the business."
"I arranged today to have a bunch of girls sent over tomorrow for an interview."
"Hap," she pretended horror, "just what kind of business do you have in mind? If it's what I think it is, I'm afraid it isn't legal in this state."
"Cut that out, Jane, I mean for waitresses. I made it clear that they have to be real beauties too, none of those skinny models for us."
"I trust you implicitly, Hap. I'm sure with your eye for women, we'll end up with the best looking staff in town."
"Well, we will if you approve the uniforms," he sounded just a bit doubtful.
"Have you figured something out?" Jane asked.
It seemed to be just the opening he was waiting for. Reaching under the bar, he produced a large brown envelope. Drawing out a big piece of white card stock, he handed it to her.
Jane could not resist emitting a low whistle as she turned it over to see what he had in mind.
"Pardon the whistle, Hap, but this comes as a bit of a surprise. Who did the drawing?"
"I did," he answered with pride. "The whole thing is my idea. Do you like it?"
"I like it just fine, Hap, it's even better than I'd hoped for. As for our male patrons, I know they're going to love it."
"Then it's okay by you?" He sounded like a small boy begging for praise.
"I think it's great, Hap. I'm also terribly impressed by your ability as an artist. I didn't know about that. What kind of material do you have in mind? It surely won't require much."
"Well, if you don't mind, I'd rather leave that up to you. I was thinking of something kind of black and silky, but I don't know what these things are called."
"I'll be delighted to look after that, Hap. As a matter-of-fact, I'll have someone come in with samples and we can decide together if you don't mind."
"Sure thing," he enthused.
Through the window, Jane saw Pat Howell's car pulling up in front. She handed the drawing back to the bartender.
"I have to run now, Hap, here comes my date. Will you hold on to this and I'll get it from you in the morning?"
He flashed her a smiling good-bye and Jane hurried out into the lobby. Pat saw her immediately and hurried over to meet her. As she looked into his face, Jane was thrilled to see that all the things she had seen there the previous evening were still there.
"Hi, Jane," his voice had the same warm vibrancy, "you're absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you, kind sir," she curtsied. "I like that kind of compliment from a handsome man."
They were about to leave when Jane saw Joe Marks behind the desk. On an impulse, she decided to introduce them.
The two men exchanged greetings and shook hands. Jane was pleased to see that they seemed to approve of each other. It was important to her somehow.
Just before they left, Joe asked Pat to make sure that Jane had plenty to eat and drink and lots of chance to relax. With a sober expression, Pat assured he would follow that kind of order with the greatest of pleasure.
She took his arm and they walked proudly across the lobby and out to the street. As he held the door of the car open for her, Jane was convinced he was the handsomest man in the world and she was the luckiest woman in the world to be with him. She was amazed at how quickly the tensions of the day had fled.
It didn't take them long to decide that they should eat at one of the quiet little places outside of town after he overcame her objection about the cost of such frequent dining out.
"Relax, Jane," he assured her. "With my column, you'd be surprised how many proprietors are delighted to pick up the tab for my meals."
"I didn't think newspapermen did that sort of thing anymore," she teased. "It seems I've heard something about a whole new standard of integrity."
"Don't you believe it," he laughed. "I never give a place a plug if it doesn't deserve it, but I can't very well refuse if the manager wants to say thank you with a couple of good meals or a few drinks. It wouldn't be polite."
"That's why I like you, Pat, you're so nice and polite."
"Watch yourself, Jane, it's only a ploy to relax you. As soon as you get over confident, I move in and take you by surprise."
They kidded for a while longer before Pat brought the conversation around to her plans for the hotel again. Long before they reached the restaurant, he had helped her plan a whole publicity campaign. He also had a friend who would help with the advertising for a very reasonable fee.
"And what about your fee, sir?" she asked with a grin.
"Let's see you really smile," he replied.
She smiled.
"I've been paid in full and owe you a couple of million dollars change," he said more seriously.
Their conversation never did manage to get any more serious than that. Before they knew it, Pat was wheeling the car into the parking lot of yet another restaurant. It didn't have quite the view of the other one on the lake, but it still looked very good.
They had drinks before ordering and Jane noticed that Pat strove to keep the conversation light. She hoped he hadn't changed his feeling for her and was simply saving the more serious things for later when it would be more appropriate.
When they ordered a second round of drinks, they also ordered dinner. Jane left the ordering strictly to him and liked the way he handled it. She liked the idea of a man who could order food as if he knew what he was doing.
They had just finished their second drink when the food arrived and it looked every bit as good as she had expected it to be.
The salad was crisp and the dressing just tangy enough to bring out all the flavor without overpowering it. The lobster was broiled to the point of perfection and the rich butter sauce was the best she had ever tasted.
By mutual agreement, they skipped dessert and moved right on to the coffee. It was good, the kind of coffee they would be serving at the hotel when it reopened, she decided.
When they finished their coffee, it was clear without comparing notes they both wanted to leave. There were things to be discussed, important things.
They didn't talk again until they were in the car. Pat, she saw, was strangely nervous as he turned to her. She had liked his confidence from the start, but now, she found herself warming to the almost boy-like quality of shyness.
"Jane, I want to talk to you about some very serious things. Do you understand that I couldn't do it in there?"
"Of course I do, Pat. Where can we go?"
"Well," he was still hesitant, "my dad has a cottage on the lake about eight miles up the road. Would you be offended if I asked you to go there with me?"
"I'll be offended if you don't," she answered warmly.
Immediately, his shyness vanished and he was the old confident Pat again as he wheeled the car out of the lot with a shower of gravel spewing from the tires.
"Is this cottage of yours on or near a road?" Jane asked with a serious expression.
"Sure," he answered, "there's a private road right into it from the highway."
"Good, then we don't really have to fly like this do we?" Her smile told him that she wasn't really intending to be sarcastic.
"I'm sorry, Jane," he eased his foot off the gas and the needle fell back to sixty. "I guess my anxiousness was showing. I'll be a little more cautious about my driving."
She sat close to him as he drove the rest of the distance at a sedate sixty. When he turned the car off into the private road, he cut his speed down to just over thirty.
"I'm sorry the road is so bumpy," he apologized as he wrestled with the wheel to avoid the biggest ruts and bumps.
"What bumpy?" she asked in her best pretended dialect. "I haven't felt a thing."
"Then you must be in...." he paused, "a state of suspended animation."
Jane knew he had started to say in love. If so, she knew what her answer would have been. Still, she was glad he hadn't said it. There would be a better time and place for such a statement. She hoped that both the time and the place were just ahead.
As Pat was forced to concentrate on his driving as the road became narrower and rougher, she drew away from him to leave him free to drive. She used the time to do some fast thinking.
There were a lot of things on her mind and in her heart. Is it, she asked, too early to say them out loud? This is really only the third time I've seen him. Am I being a fool? Am I confusing sexual desire with love?
Before she could answer her own questions, the car turned around a clump of brush and bumped to a stop in front of a small, stone faced cottage. Through one of the front windows, she saw a light.
"Is there someone there?" she asked in surprise.
"No," he answered frankly. "I hoped you'd agree to come here with me so I drove up here earlier today to make sure the place was in order. While I was at it, I left a light burning."
"Thanks, Pat," she answered quietly.
He was out of the car already and opening her door to help her out. This time, she noticed, he didn't look as she swung her legs out. His hand was strong and comforting on her arm as he guided her along the rough ground to the steps of the cottage. Instinctively, Jane knew she would like the place and knew that she was on the verge of some great, exciting event.
There was just a slight chill inside the cottage, but Jane knew it would soon pass as Pat knelt before the fireplace and touched a match to a fire that had already been laid.
"You were a very busy man this afternoon, Patrick," she teased with her eyes.
"I had very good reason to be," he turned to smile at her. "The best reason in the world."
He stood then and reached for her hand. It was strong and warm as it closed over hers. It made her feel like a very young child again to get such a thrill out of just holding hands.
"If you trust the host," he spoke gently, "I have some emergency provisions at the bar to keep the chill out of the blood."
"I trust the host implicitly, there's no chill in my blood, and I'd love a drink. You see, you're not the only honest one around here."
"I know that, Jane, and I like it. What will you have?"
The bar turned out to be very well stocked and she decided on Scotch and soda even after he pointed out that there was a bottle of very good Canadian rye.
He poured her drink and poured himself a large rye and water. As he handed Jane her glass, he saw her looking around the place.
"Like to make the three dollar tour of the castle?" he asked.
"Yes, Pat. I like what I've seen so far."
He led her into the kitchen and she marveled at the appliances she found there. Across a hall, he opened a door and showed her a small, neat bedroom. The next door he opened disclosed another bedroom of the same size.
At the end of the hall, Pat opened another door and Jane saw yet another bedroom, but with a difference. It was bigger than the other two combined.
But it was more than size that caught her attention. The room was dominated by a magnificent canopied bed that could have belonged to a princess.
"It's so beautiful, Pat," Jane whispered almost reverently, "is it your mother's?"
"It was meant to be," he explained as he closed the door and they walked back to the main room. "Dad furnished it as a gift for her when she was in the hospital last year. She died there."
"Oh, Pat, how terrible."
"Yes, it was, especially for Dad. He's never been up here since. The room hasn't been used."
"Are you sure my being here doesn't upset you, Pat?" Jane asked nervously.
"Of course not," he smiled suddenly. "I'm sorry if I made the place sound creepy. It's a beautiful place meant for happiness and love and I can't think of a better place for you and I to talk. Now let's have a drink and chase the blues out of here."
It seemed like a perfect suggestion so they went ahead with it. By now, the fire was blazing merrily in the massive stone fireplace and the whole room was bathed in a comfortable warmth.
"Do you mind if I turn the light off?" Pat asked. "The fireplace lights the room perfectly."
"I think it's a wonderful idea," Jane agreed, "and please stop thinking I suspect your every motive. I really don't, you know."
The light clicked off and as if by magic, the light from the fire transformed the room into something completely different. It had been beautiful before, but now, Jane thought, it had become something out of a fairy tale.
Through the big front window, the golden glow of the room was complimented by the mirrored surface of the lake which had been turned to silver by the half moon in the star filled sky above.
Jane put her glass down and walked to the window as if drawn there by a force so strong it could not be resisted. In a moment, Pat joined her there. He stood behind her, his hands around her waist lightly.
"I love you, Jane," his voice was husky and vibrant.
Jane turned quickly in his arms and her face came up to his. Just before they met, she had time to say, "I love you."
Their mouths crushed together for a long time then so that neither could say anything, but that wasn't important. Already they had spoken all the words that were needed for the time being.
"I have to sit down, darling," Jane's shaking voice whispered the plea as they drew slightly apart.
Pat led her gently back to the couch and they sat together. His arms were around her and their mouths met again in confirmation of the love they had just pledged in words.
This time, it was Pat who spoke first as the kiss reluctantly came to an end.
I'm sorry, Jane. I had planned a somewhat more orderly and coherent way of saying it. I'm afraid I got carried away."
"Don't you dare be sorry," she scolded lightly, her lips just a few warm inches from his. "Love should never be orderly. The words you said to me were the most beautiful I ever heard."
"I love you, darling," he repeated over and over again.
"They're still beautiful, darling," she told him with her eyes and her lips.
"But I still made one mistake, Jane," he stroked her cheek lightly as he spoke. "This wasn't the right place to tell you. Let's leave now please."
"Why, darling?" Jane asked in obvious hurt. "Are there ghosts here for you? Is that it?"
"Oh, no, darling," he protested quickly. "It's that you're here and I love you so much and want you so much. I'm afraid, darling, afraid I won't be able to stop."
"My wonderful darling," she held his face in her hands as she bent over him. "I hope this won't shock you, but if you stop, I think I'll cry. I want you to want me, Pat, just like I want you right at this moment."
For a moment, he just stared at her in disbelief and wonder. His face tried to smile in sheer joy, but it couldn't quite come through.
"Try to understand, darling," her voice was gentle yet supremely confident, "a woman can want a man in the same way a man wants a woman. You've told me you love me, I know I love you, Pat. I want to tell it to you with my body and I want to feel your body telling me the same thing."
"Jane," he started to say something but in stead he caught her in his arms and crushed her as they kissed again. After that, he tried again to tell her.
"I love you so much, dearest, I was afraid I'd spoil everything and lose you."
"You will, darling, if you don't help me out of these clothes and make love to me right now," she laughed lightly.
He helped her and his eyes shone as the lush body appeared in all its naked beauty.
His hands reached to cup the swelling, pink tipped globes which seemed to reach out to him, but she stopped him with a smile.
"You're terribly overdressed, darling," she spoke softly. "Are you afraid of catching cold?"
Laughing, he almost tore his clothes off until he was equally nude. He came back to her then and his hands did find the warm globes which he massaged gently.
"I'll show you who's afraid of catching cold, lady. This place is going to become very warm."
Picking her up then, he carried her with one hand under the silk of her thighs, the other around the firm back, out of the room and into the fairyland bedroom.
He laid her gently down on the wide bed and as he did, his mouth closed over hers. It was a long gentle kiss and when his lips moved away from hers, they traced loving lines of kisses along the length of her heaving, anxious body.
When Jane could wait no longer, she captured his strong body with her arms and legs and drew him to her. The invitation was as clear as it was beautiful. Probing gently, he found her.
Their love warmed bodies came together in the sweet ecstasy of perfect love. They moved together through the act as if they had done it a million times together. When it ended, they continued to hold each other while their lips, still untired, spoke all the secret, magic words of love that their bodies had already said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
With love to fill her heart and work to occupy her mind, the days flew by for Jane. The hotel had been closed for three days and ha taken on the appearance of a disorderly an hill as workmen swarmed over the place.
When she wondered whether they really knew what they were doing and not just get ting in each other's way, Joe Marks assured he everything was running either right on or ahead of schedule.
After another week, everything had take shape and Jane now became impatient at ho long it was taking to apply finishing touches She just couldn't wait to reopen the brand new Grand Hotel.
Day after day, she and Joe marked off an other item as completed and the new hot moved another step toward completion.
They were sitting in Jane's office where they had just finished going over work schedules for the new staff. At the beginning, they agreed, there would be more than enough staff to handle the patrons they could logically expect. Still, they agreed, in spite of the expense it was the only way they could do it.
The biggest rebuilding job of all was reforming the image of the place. People would come looking for the old familiar flaws of too little service, poorly trained staff. By fooling them and providing all the amenities of a first class hotel, Jane reasoned, there would soon be enough business to keep the place humming and the staff busy enough to more than earn their pay.
The night before the official opening, they threw a party for the press and others who could influence the success of the Grand Hotel.
Pat Howell, who was in a position to know, assured Jane and Joe that it was a first class freeload. The reporters and columnists were more than happy about it and he assured her it would be reflected in a wave of favorable publicity.
Hap Hunter's crew of scantily dressed waitresses kept hopping in a manner quite appropriate to their bunny-like uniforms. Jane feared the girls would work their legs right down to their tails, but Hap assured her that she needn't worry.
"I selected them real carefully," he assured her. "I made sure those legs didn't just look good but were strong as well."
"I'm not sure just how you went about selecting these gals," Jane smiled, "but I have the darnedest feeling that there were some offbeat tests involved."
"Do any of them look unhappy?" he asked with a secret smile.
"No," Jane answered, "and as a matter-of-fact, you look just a shade happier than I've ever seen you even though you do look more than a little tired."
"Then everybody's happy," he shrugged.
"True, Hap," Jane persisted, "but the only time I've ever seen you look like that was when you pulled off a daily double at the track. Is that it?"
"Track?" he echoed her word. "I haven't placed a bet in four days. I've been too busy for the ponies."
A laugh gurgled in Jane's throat as she realized that her hunch had been right. Hap had indeed put these young beauties through their paces. Comparing his age and apparent lack of stamina with the proud stepping lovelies who scooted around the bar with trays of drinks, Jane was impressed not only by the man's hidden qualities, but also by the lengths to which some women would use their basic abilities to get what they wanted.
If the basic talent happened to be a beautiful body, then they used it to the best advantage. While she didn't condemn them, Jane made a mental note to watch their conduct after the hotel got into operation.
She sensed though that while Hap may have collected his full share of fringe benefits, he would keep his female staff in line in their dealings with the customers.
From time to time, Jane noticed one of the male guests sneaking a quick pat of a satin clad derriere as a bunny bent over to serve a drink, but nothing was getting out of hand. Without exception, the girls made it clear that handling the waitress was not included in the service. They were going to work out all right, Jane decided with a sigh of relief.
The buffet dinner provided by Horace Downey and his kitchen staff was a masterpiece. Not anywhere in the city was better food available, Jane realized with something of a pleasant shock.
Pat, an expert in the field, pretty much confirmed her thinking on the subject after he had sampled the chef's wares.
Through it all though, Jane carried a small lump in her throat. It had started early in the evening when the mayor, while cutting a ribbon across the front entrance, spoke of the great respect the community held for Tad Pilsudski, the man who had started it all.
Ignoring Tad's activities during prohibition days when he had made his pile, the mayor spoke of the dedication of a simple man who came to the New World with a dream and who had built that dream to the benefit of the whole community.
He went on to say laudatory things about Jane who was refurbishing this monument to her father's memory, but Jane didn't really hear the words.
She was thinking instead of the unfairness of it all. Her father had devoted his whole life to the hotel and, because of the treachery of his own wife and her lover, had seen it crumble into a tawdry pile of nothingness at which people laughed.
Jane knew the feeling of being laughed at. Despite the fact that she had been born here, so many people refused to let her feel like a real American. They insisted on calling her a Pole, although it was rarely said that nicely.
But if it had been bad for her from time to time, it had been worse for her father. Through it all, he had been sustained by his dream of the Grand' Hotel as something great to leave for his daughter to prove to the world that a Pole could really make it.
And then it had been yanked out from under him by the woman he trusted, the woman who should have given him the love and the strength he needed. After that, all there was for Tad was death. The irony of falling to his death off the roof of his beloved hotel ... blackmailed ... shamed ... deprived ... death was all that was left to him.
As far as his fatal accident was concerned, Jane knew, there would always be that element of doubt in her mind. Would two people who had destroyed a man through blackmail hesitate at the thought of killing him if there was something to be gained by his death?
If so, she told herself, then they must now be suffering the torments of the damned. If they had killed him to get him out of the way so that they could have the hotel to themselves, then they had really failed. In death, he had foiled them as he couldn't do in life. By taking the hotel away from them and giving it to his daughter.
But even there he hadn't been permitted a moment of real triumph. The gift he had left to Jane was a tarnished one. He couldn't have known that she would rebuild it so quickly to this point.
Jane found herself wishing she could believe in the concept of a life after death as so many did. If so, she reasoned, then she could believe that he was looking down on all this and smiling at his final victory. It was no use though, Jane had never been able to accept an idea of life after death and she couldn't grasp it now just as a matter of convenience.
Pat Howell finally snapped her out of her mood when he moved close to her and slipped an arm around her waist.
"I wish these freeloaders would shove off so that I could get some time alone with the rich owner of this fabulous hotel," he whispered.
"Oh you're just looking for an item for your column," she teased. "You newspapermen are all alike."
"What I have in mind, lady, has nothing to do with a column for a newspaper."
"Oh you dirty old man," Jane pretended horror.
"Wait till I get you out of here and I'll show you who's old," he made his tone sound threatening.
Pat didn't get a chance to make good on his threat that night though because it was after two o'clock before the last guests left. By that time, both Pat and Jane were very old indeed and very, very tired.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I hate to break it to you this way, Joe," Jane sat on the corner of his desk as she talked, "but you're going to have to find me a new assistant manager."
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
Joe Marks was sure she was not telling him he was fired, and yet, he couldn't understand what she meant.
"I'm talking about the fact that as of right now, you're the manager of this hotel. You're going to need an assistant. You can't handle the whole thing by yourself."
"You're kidding," was the best comment he could come up with on such short notice.
"No, Joe, I'm not kidding at all. Our deal when you came here was that within a year or two, you would become manager. I've just decided to speed things up. It's still within a year or two, isn't it?"
"Yes, Jane, but it's too soon. I'm pleased to see your faith in me, but I've only done my job, nothing more."
"You say it's too soon, Joe. You feel confident you can handle the job of manager, don't you?"
"Sure I can, but that wasn't the deal. You've put a lot of work and sweat into this. I can wait for my reward," he protested.
"Maybe you can, Joe, but I can't. My reward is Pat Howell. Just as soon as we can arrange it, we're going to be married. I want to be his wife, not a hotel manager."
"I can't argue with that kind of thinking, Jane," he smiled up at her.
Their conversation was interrupted when the phone on the desk issued an urgent sounding buzz. He picked it up to hear the man on the front desk inform him that a man wanted to speak to the owner.
"He sure looks like a cop to me," the man concluded.
Joe relayed the message to Jane and she told him to have the man sent in. She hopped off the desk and moved around it to sit on a chair beside her new manager. The door opened almost immediately.
"I'm Sergeant Masters of the morality squad." He flashed a badge and stuffed the holder back into the pocket of his grey tweed jacket. "I'd like to talk to you, Miss Pilsudski."
"Go right ahead, sergeant," she invited him politely despite the fact that she had taken an instant dislike to him.
"I mean alone," he bit off the words and tossed them at her.
"I'm sorry," Jane answered curtly, "but that won't be possible. Mr. Marks is the manager of this hotel. I choose to have him stay."
Anger flared on the visitor's face as he stood glaring down at them.
"The first thing you have to learn, baby," he snarled, "is that you don't push me around. You may fool a lot of people with all the fancy front on this dump, but to me it's still the Grand Hotel and still just another cat house."
"You may leave now, sergeant," Jane rose from her chair and glared at him. She was pleased to see Joe standing beside her. Her anger was enough to sustain her, but she did appreciate the moral support Joe provided.
"No, baby, I decide when I leave and when I come back. Your momma paid her fee nice and regular and it's going to be the same thing with you. Give me any more back talk and the fee goes up to a hundred and a half a month."
"And if I tell you to go to hell?" Jane asked with a show of easy confidence.
"Then you got trouble. I'll hit this place night after night and you'll be right out of business. Your mother and her boy friend were smart, they paid and I left them alone. Give me any trouble and you're going to be real sorry."
"I'm sure you understood my mother and Bart Parker very well," she snapped off the words, "because you're obviously of their class. Right now I'm throwing you out of here. This has become a first class hotel and we don't cater to trash. Get out."
Moving from behind the desk, Jane walked past him and pulled the door open. As she did, Jane saw her new manager walk around the desk to stand beside her. Because it hadn't been his argument to begin with, Joe had permitted her to handle it. She was sure though that if she had run into trouble he would have been more than ready to take over.
"I'll be back, baby," the cop hissed as he passed her and walked out through the lobby.
Despite seeming to have won the battle though, Jane felt cold fingers of fear gnawing in her stomach. She was confident that he would, indeed, be back. What would she do then? she wondered.
"Do I have your permission to handle him from now on, Jane?" Joe asked as she closed the door.
"Do you want it?" she asked in reply.
"Yes, I do. I told you I've been around the hotel business for a while. I know for one thing that the city force is straight and so is the chief. He's just pulling his rotten little racket on the third rate hotels who have reason to be afraid of him."
"Can we handle him though if he really gets tough? I mean can he get at us?"
"Legally he can't. We could file an official complaint with the department, but I'm sure he's considered that. Let's just sit tight for now and see what he does."
"Could Pat help in any way?" Jane asked tentatively. "I mean, don't newspapermen have a sort of inside track at city hall?"
"Some do, Jane. I'm glad you thought of it. Talk to him if you wish and perhaps he'd call me and we can go over it. At any rate, this guy is not going to push us around. We're running a clean hotel now and we're going to keep it that way. As long as that's the case, we have the ammunition to fight him."
"Thanks, Joe," Jane smiled. "I'm awfully glad I was bright enough to get you as manager of this place."
"Careful, boss," he laughed back, "I may get swell headed and then you'll really have a problem."
Pat was supposed to pick Jane up at seven that evening. At a few minutes after six, he was sitting in Joe's office as the two of them went over the problem with the morality department cop.
For less than five minutes, they discussed the business at hand. By then, it had been established that Pat would use his knowledge of the man and his methods to keep him out of the Grand Hotel.
"If the dope had known about Jane and I," Pat explained, "he wouldn't have made such a dumb play. I can stop him with a phone call. You won't hear from him again."
Joe Marks was wise enough in the ways of the world not to ask about the details involved. It was obvious that Pat knew about Sergeant Masters and his methods to intimidate him.
They finished their conversation in the bar and Jane joined them there just before seven.
"I'm not leaving my husband-to-be exposed to all this undressed competition," she winked at Joe as she kissed Pat lightly on the cheek.
"Just in time too," Joe encouraged her. "I almost had to tie him to the stool to keep him away from the bunnies. He thinks he's a rabbit dog or something."
After a bit more banter, it was time for dinner. Although both Jane and Pat urged him, Joe refused to join them in the dining room.
"It's fine for absentee management to eat, drink and be merry," Joe protested, "but as the manager of this establishment, I have work to do. Don't forget to pay for your drinks on the way out."
Keeping a straight face, Joe walked out of the bar and back into the lobby. Finishing their drinks, Jane and Pat left the bar and went into the dining room.
Pausing for a moment in the doorway as they waited for the headwaiter, Jane felt a thrill of pride as she saw what had happened to the Grand. The dining room was almost filled to capacity, the staff, well trained and well groomed, husded about efficiently. There was a time when Jane was ashamed to have Pat even see the dining room let alone eat in it. This time she was proud.
The cocktails were chilled to perfection and the dinner was a resounding success. As they left the dining room, Jane felt a lot of eyes on them. She wondered whether it was perhaps because they recognized her as the owner of the hotel. She hoped not. It felt much better to think people were looking because they were such a striking looking couple.
"That's a very naughty grin you're wearing, lady," Pat whispered into her ear as they stepped into the lobby.
Jane couldn't quite stop the laugh that escaped her then. His timing had been perfect. Just at that moment, she had been thinking of how the dinner patrons would have looked if they could have known that she and her man were going up to her private suite to make love.
Alone in the elevator, she told him and he joined in the laugh she had been enjoying.
Her boast wasn't strictly true though. For a long time, they sat and chatted over their drinks. To both of them, it was enough to know that in a little while, they would make love. For now though, it was enough to per mit the knowledge to warm them while they talked of other things.
Their wedding was just two weeks away. After that, they had agreed, Jane would complete her training in psychology and prepare to work among the element of the city who could most use her understanding.
The one condition they established was that she would work only days. Pat would be moving back to the news side at the paper and would work a straight nine to four shift. They would have all the evenings together to enjoy all the wonderful warmth of marriage.
"But remember, woman," he turned on his most severe look, "as soon as we can arrange it, you're going to be busy at home looking after babies."
"I'm ready anytime you are, mister," she laughed. "Of course, unless you get in a little practice, I'm not sure we can achieve that end."
"I'll show you how to achieve an end," he scowled as he reached for her.
"Help," she laughed, "I'm being attacked by a mad dog."
Pat growled in character as he pushed her down on the bed. As he did, he tugged her dress and slip high over her waist. His mouth clamped first near the top of one nylon as he pretended to bite.
The attack moved higher until he felt body-warmed nylon and he bit much more gently. Handling her as if she were weightless, he raised her cooperative body and slid the brief panties down and off. The mad dog attacked again while she gurgled with delight.
"So it's a mad dog, is it?" he repeated her earlier words. "Well this doggie is going to show you something."
Again his strong hands lifted her easily until she found herself kneeling with her head down, her bared buttocks arched toward him as he knelt. She felt him pause to remove some of his clothes again and when he came back to her, she gave a small woof of approval as she realized what was going to happen.
Her body felt warm and filled and complete then. His arms wrapped around her bare stomach and drew her to meet him as he played the role about which she had kidded him. They acted out their parts beautifully.
Only when it was over did he strip her and remove his own clothes. She came into his arms in the bed and it was only a matter of time before arousal returned.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Jane! I'm so glad I found you. I called the hotel and they said you had gone out."
Bart Parker still sat in the car as he talked to her through the window. Jane had been on her way to the lawyer's office when the car had pulled up beside her and upset her calm, dreamy mood.
"What do you want, Bart?" she demanded. "We really don't have anything to talk about."
"Yes we do, Jane," he sounded more sincere than bitter as she would have expected. "This is no time for recriminations. Your mother is sick. I mean real sick. She wants to talk to you."
In spite of his apparent sincerity, Jane couldn't buy the line. It struck her that she didn't believe her mother could be sick or in trouble of any kind that wasn't of her own making.
"Give her my regards, Bart, and tell her I hope she gets well soon," Jane said as she started to walk away from the car.
A minute later, he was walking beside her. His face wore a serious expression.
"I meant what I said, Jane," he insisted. "Eva is really sick. I think she's going to die. There are some things she wants to tell you. You just can't refuse to talk to her. This may be your last chance."
She stopped walking then. Jane had never trusted Bart Parker, but this was different. Something in the way he had delivered the message convinced her that her mother really was dying. No matter what she did to Dad and me, Jane thought, I just can't refuse to see her.
"Where is she?" Jane asked coldly.
"We got a little cottage out near Elm Lake. I'll take you there. We have to hurry, Jane, this is really serious."
While one part of her mind told her not to do it, the other part took over. A minute later she was sitting in the front seat of the car as Bart wheeled away from the curb.
"Bart, I just don't trust either you or Eva. If this is some kind of a trick, I warn you, you'll be sorry before I'm finished with you."
"Come off it, Jane baby, fun's fun, but your mother is really in trouble and I mean it. She wants to see you real bad. If I was up to anything, I wouldn't pick you up off the street in daylight with all those people around."
It made just enough sense to Jane so that she could go along with it.
"What are you two doing out in the country?" she asked. "You both strike me as being city types."
"We just thought we needed time to get things straightened out, you know," the sincerity continued to come through.
"What's wrong with her?" Jane wondered why she hadn't asked it sooner.
"It's something with her liver. The doctor just goes on using his scientific terms and shaking his head. He told me there isn't anything they can do for her now. It's too late."
"Then why is she there instead of in a hospital?" Jane felt suspicion flare again.
"She was in for more than a week," he answered with a worried frown. "They gave her a lot of tests and even opened her up," he shook his head and blinked. "The doctor said she may as well come home to wait for it."
Jane still felt more than a little suspicion, but she couldn't bring herself to call him a bar. He looked so completely dejected, so without hope. She vowed that if she found it was an act, she would make him sorry for having carried it off.
As he drove too fast through the fairly heavy traffic, Jane fought the doubts that continued to assail her. Perhaps, she thought, this is the way they fooled Dad until they pushed him into a position where his defenses were completely down.
Perhaps Bart sounded just as convincing then as he does now. Jane felt a moment of panic at the thought. Right on the heels of it though came the thought that perhaps her mother really was dying. That turned out to be enough to tip the balance of doubt. First, she decided, I'll have to find out if she really is in trouble, after that will be time enough to think of getting even if this turns out to be just a trick.
Hating the woman for what she had done in the past was one thing, Jane realized, but if she was in trouble, then her first duty as her daughter was to do what she could. But there was even more. Bart said Eva wanted to tell her something. Jane knew she would never forgive herself if she didn't hear what it was.
Having convinced herself she was doing the right thing, Jane kept her resolve until the car turned off the main highway and began bumping down a narrow, rutted road into the woods.
Instinct told her then that she had made a mistake in leaving the city without telling anyone where she was going, but it was too late now, she knew. There was nothing to be gained now by letting Bart know that she suspected him. It could only make matters worse for her. As the car drove deeper and deeper into the woods, Jane called herself every kind of fool in the book, but names, she knew, would be of no help to her now. Whatever lay ahead, she cautioned herself, she was going to have to keep her wits about her to cope with it.
By the time the car turned into the opening in front of the shack in the small clearing, Jane knew she had made a mistake in coming here with Bart. All that remained to be learned was how serious that mistake had been.
Her worst fears were confirmed when Eva strolled out onto the porch to greet them. She carried a drink in her hand and looked a picture of health. The tight fitting two-piece bathing suit only served to make her look even healthier.
"So nice of you to come, Jane, baby," her mother called to her as she froze in the front seat of the car. "I'm sure we're going to have a lovely time just the three of us out here miles from civilization."
"Don't you think this sick joke has gone far enough?" Jane asked as she glared at the man who smiled at her in a frightening way.
"But the game hasn't even started yet, baby. This is going to be the game to end all games. It'll really kill you, baby."
The way he made that comment convinced Jane that she was really in serious trouble. She sensed that he was serious about killing her and there was nowhere she could turn for help.
Jane doubted that she could possibly escape now, but it offered her only hope. If she could get the door open and get enough of a start before Bart could get out of the car and scramble after her, perhaps she could hide in the woods.
Her hand moved idly behind her until it rested on the door handle.
Timing each move perfectly, she gave a quick jerk on the handle and threw herself against the door. She felt a sickness in her stomach as the handle turned loosely but the door remained tightly closed. It had been disconnected. The trap had been carefully planned and she was firmly caught in it.
Beside her, Bart Parker laughed as if her escape attempt had been the funniest thing he had ever seen.
"Come on, baby," he patted her thigh through the thin dress, "let's go inside and have a nice party. Slide out this way."
He opened the door and stepped out to wait for her. Jane remained sitting against the far door.
"That's okay with me, Lady Jane. I'd really enjoy pulling you out of there. I could do a little feeling while I'm at it. Maybe that's what you're waiting for."
He bent as if to come back into the car. Jane moved quickly along the seat then. One way or another she was going to have to get out, she reasoned, she may as well preserve what dignity she could by doing it herself rather than having him drag her out.
Although she tried to be careful, Jane couldn't keep the skirt of her dress from riding up as she slid across the seat. His eyes on her legs felt like hairy insects crawling over her skin.
As she stepped out, she saw that Eva had walked down to meet her. The woman's expression showed the same anticipation she had seen on Bart's face and Jane knew it would be foolish to hope for any chance of mercy.
"You must be tired after your long drive, Jane dear," the woman mocked her with a smile. "Come on inside and rest."
Jane found herself effectively surrounded as Eva and Bart each held an arm while they walked her to the cottage. Having caught her in one escape attempt, Bart obviously didn't intend giving her another chance to break away from them.
The sound of the door closing behind them was ominous to Jane. It seemed so final, as if she would never see it open again.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked her mother.
"Let's all have a nice drink, dear," the woman answered, "and I'll tell you all about it."
Jane accepted hers gratefully. Even if it were loaded or poisoned, she thought, it would make things easier. Beyond that though, she hoped it would give her strength for the ugly ordeal ahead.
"You want to know what it's all about, baby?" Eva asked as she sipped her drink. "Well it's like this. Bart and I had a good thing going at the hotel, especially after he pushed the old man off the roof."
Jane went pale at the admission that they had murdered her father. Having admitted it, she knew, they would never let her leave the cabin alive to tell of it.
"We got crossed up when he left the hotel to you. Even at that it wouldn't have been too bad if you'd left us alone, but you wouldn't. Then you got real smart and found our movies. That was the end of everything."
"If you're so concerned about your movies, I'll give them back to you," Jane answered.
"That wouldn't be very easy, would it dear?" Eva's tone was sharply sarcastic. "You see, knowing you as I do, I think you burned them for fear someone would see them."
"No, that's not the point now," she went on. "As I see it, you haven't made a will yet. On your death, your estate will have to go to me as your only surviving relative. That way, we get everything back. We'll have to start all over on our movie collection, but with the nice business the hotel will have thanks to all you've put into it, that shouldn't take long."
"Then you are going to kill me." Jane made the statement flatly. Although hearing it was something of a shock, it didn't surprise her.
"That's right, Lady Jane," Bart joined the conversation, "I'm going to have that pleasure."
"What makes you so sure you won't be suspected?" Jane asked her mother.
"Me? Suspected? Impossible. After all, dear, you're going to be raped and strangled and your body dumped on the side of the road where it won't be too hard to find. How could they possibly suspect a woman of doing that? They'll just look around for some sex maniac for a while then give up."
"Won't it bother you to know that Bart will enjoy raping me? Won't you be jealous?"
"You got to be kidding, baby. Remember the movies you saw? I get my kicks out of watching people do it. I never watched a rape before though. That should really be something. I hope you'll put up a real good fight and make plenty of noise."
"I won't give either of you that satisfaction," Jane snapped with determination.
"You will, baby, one way or another," Bart answered. "You keep an eye on her, Eva, I'm going outside to cut a nice switch. After I do it to her once, I'll make her dance a little and that should get me ready for an encore."
Bart pulled a knife from his pocket and hurried out. Eva stood close to the door as if inviting Jane to try getting past her. This isn't the time to try making a break for it, Jane told herself. The time may never come, for that matter, a nagging little voice inside told her.
It seemed like only seconds later when Bart walked into the cabin carrying a long maple switch. The gleam in his eyes told Jane how much he would enjoy using it on her.
The rape, she knew, would be an evil thing, difficult to tolerate, but she could force herself to endure it without giving them the thrill of hearing her protest. The switch was another matter. She suspected Bart would make her scream for a long time before he tired of the game.
"Are we about ready to get started?" Eva asked.
"I'm all set, baby," Bart answered. "I'll bet Lady Jane here is just panting to get going. She knows this is going to be better than any she ever got."
As he talked, he removed his jacket and shirt. He began fumbling with the buckle of his belt. Jane felt herself trembling and couldn't bring it under control.
"Eva," she spoke quickly. "It's really the hotel you want, you don't have to go through with this to get it. Come back to the city with me and I'll sign it over to you. I'll just go away quietly and never say a thing about this."
"Oh baby," the woman laughed. "The thought of all the fun you're going to have must have flipped your wig. Do you really think we'd be dumb enough to fall for that kind of a deal? You'd be screaming cop a second after we turned you loose."
Turning away from her mother, Jane saw Bart walking naked toward her. She knew it was going to be a terrible ordeal.
"Make it real rough, Bart," Eva cheered him on. "Let's hear lots of noise, I like it that way."
His hands closed on the front of Jane's dress then and he fondled her so roughly that she couldn't resist crying out in pain. His heavy breathing told Jane he was pleased by that. He squeezed hard again with both hands.
Looking past the man, Jane saw her mother. The woman leaned back in the chair, her eyes gleaming with passion, her mouth opened wide as if gasping for air. Jane recognized all the indications of uncontrolled passion.
There was a tearing sound then and Jane saw the front of her dress fall open. She saw the brutal hands closing over the mounds of her bra and again there was that cruel squeezing as her eyes filled with tears.
Bart tugged again and the front of her bra parted. The man pulled the wreckage of the bra away and stared at what had been revealed.
"Wow," he commented as his hands cupped them from below, "what a pair of beauts."
His head bent down over them and Jane gagged as she felt his wet, ugly mouth claim one pink tip. As his mouth continued the wet massage, his hands began tugging at her dress. In a moment, she knew, he would strip it down over her hips. There would only be her panties left and then her body would be completely exposed.
That seemed to bother her even more than the thought of rape and death to follow.
Suddenly, fear and revulsion were replaced by a flashing surge of soaring hope. Jane wondered why she hadn't seen the possibility before. It was the most obvious thing in the world and she had almost missed it. He was so wrapped up in what he was doing, that she was sure she could pull it off.
Tensing herself for a moment, she looked down to make sure her aim was right. It was. Jane brought her right knee up with blinding speed and felt it crash between his thighs. She knew she had hit perfectly.
Even before the gasp of air rushed out of his lungs, she was able to move the knee away and bring it back again with another shattering blow. The man crumpled to the floor in a heap. His mouth was open wide as he tried to scream in agony, but no sound came out. There was no breath there to support sound.
As he fell, Eva seemed petrified. At last, she snapped out of it with a mighty roar.
"You've ruined him!" she screamed. "You've ruined him!"
She lunged toward Jane then, her arms flailing, her eyes blazing maniacal hate. Just before the woman hit her, Jane twisted her still bent body. She felt the force as the weight of the rushing woman crashed into her and knocked her to the floor.
Through the fog of her dizziness, she heard a crashing sound and knew she had to regain her strength quickly before the woman could come back at her. The irony of losing now when victory had been so close was too much to be considered.
Weakly, she crawled to her knees, shaking her head to bring her eyes back into focus. She reached for the table, but it wasn't there where it should have been.
Looking quickly, Jane saw that the table had been tipped over, the things that had been on it were scattered over the floor. Looking in the other direction, Jane saw Eva lying motionless and realized what had happened.
The same crashing blow that had knocked her down had deflected her mother's charge so that she had hit the table. The force had been enough to knock the woman out and tip the table. Beyond Eva, Bart still writhed in agony.
Just as she moved groggily to her feet, Jane's attention was drawn to the other side of the room by a flash of light. Blue flames danced over the surface of a widening pool of liquid which spilled from the old fashioned naphtha stove that had been set up on the table.
With a shock, she saw the puddle moving toward the door that was the only exit from the cabin. She ran for it then and felt the heat of the blue flame as she tore the door open.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother just beginning to climb to her feet as the flames licked toward her. Jane froze there just outside the door. Unless she could get her mother out of there, the woman would die.
The flame had covered the floor almost completely now and was burning the old, dry wood as well as the liquid fuel. Eva saw the fire then and backed away from it. As she did, she tripped and fell again. A terrible scream was wrenched from deep inside her.
Inside the door, Jane saw the flame already licking deep into the wood. There was no chance in the world of going in there to try to drag the woman out.
The cabin had become a raging, flaming hell for the two occupants. They had made it that way and they would pay for it now.
Jane pulled the door closed behind her and hurried out to the car. She would drive until she found the nearest police station or highway patrol and then there would be all the reports to be made out and the stories to be repeated over and over again.
Just as the car pulled out of the clearing and found the ruts of the dirt road, Jane saw the whole place seem to explode into one big sheet of flame.
It had indeed become a hell for the occupants, and, she told herself, there is no escape from hell.
