"Esther M. Friesner - At These Prices" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

claim that after the price I’ve paid to lease this dump, I can’t have this?” She waved
the bottle at Bixby.
“Ms. Franklin,” he said, attempting to pour laudanum on troubled waters.
“Ms. Franklin, ma’am, I believe we are both the victims of an innocent
misunderstanding as to, er, boundaries. Small items that are not reusable, such as
soaps and such, are yours to keep with our compliments, although we do prefer you
take only the ones left in your room.” He eyed the strewn trove of mouthwash, bath
gel, body lotion, and hair conditioner and murmured, “So that’s why we found the
maid’s cart stripped bare.” Then, aloud: “As for larger things such as this....
“Holding the hair dryer with one hand, he plucked a plush hotel bathrobe from the
wreckage with the other. “They’re not yours for the taking.”
With a sound midway between a growl and a whimper, Bella flung herself at
the bathrobe and tore it from Bixby’s grasp. “That’s mine,” she said. “I brought it
with me.”
Bixby took a deep, centering breath. “Ma’am, perhaps you’ve confused this
robe with your own. Look here.” He reclaimed one corner of the disputed garment
so that Bella had no choice but to see the hotel’s embroidered logo.
“I bought this robe the last time I stayed here!” Bella maintained. “I’ve never
been so insulted in all my life. Get out of my room this instant, before I call the
police!”
“By all means, ma’am,” Bixby replied. His voice had lost its softness. “I
have—” a garden of perspiration blossomed all over his face “—other obligations at
this hour. Pressing ones. It is almost ten o’clock. That hour is sacrosanct to me, and
I will settle this business with you by then, one way or another. Call the police. And
the sooner, the better.”
“You’ve got your nerve,” Bella said, but made no move toward the phone.
Bixby permitted himself a brief smile. “Ma’am, I am not your enemy. I agree
that hotel prices in New York City are rather high, that frugality is a virtue, and that
your blind determination to get full value for money spent is admirable, in its own
way. However, when misguided frugality oversteps the bounds—”
Bella laid one hand to her bosom. “Oh my God, you’re calling me a thief!
You’re saying I stole from this glorified flop-house when all I did was take a few
teensy little legal freebies.” She pointed at her ruptured luggage. The tray that had
once reposed under the ice bucket peeked out from beneath the purloined duvet. A
matched set of four drinking glasses glinted from their towel-swathed safety inside
the ice bucket (tongs included) formerly located atop the mini-bar.
“No decent hotel would think twice about something this trivial,” she went on.
“At these prices you should be giving me free spa treatments, not false accusations.
It’s slander! Libel! I’ll sue you until you’re blue in the face! I’ll—” She paused
abruptly and gave Bixby a look of deep puzzlement. Her wrath dropped away,
replaced by genuine concern as she asked: “Pardon me, but did you know that you
are blue in the face? Blue-gray, actually, but—”
An alarm went off in Bixby’s pants. It was his cell phone, chiming the hour of
ten. “Curse you, you froth-mouthed wench!” he roared. His abrupt transformation
from hotel hireling to slate-faced madman made Bella yelp. “Your endless babblings
have undone me! By the blesséd Mill, the Holy Hour is upon me, and no hope at all
of succor unless I find—”
He paused in midrant. His nostrils twitched. His frantic eyes swept the room,
alighting once more on the little coffee maker. He took one unsteady step toward it,
reaching out like Galahad vouchsafed a vision of the Grail.