Tony was also thankful that he’d gone with a Marriott. The room was quiet and clean, the bed pillow-laden and freshly made. Tony double-locked the door, undressed and lay down under the covers. He expected his troubled thoughts – poor Amy, the raincoat runner, that phantom – to keep him up til sunrise, but he was out like a light within 15 minutes.
A knock woke him the next morning. He stared over at the alarm clock. It was 9:30. He had slept after all, even if it didn’t feel like it. But who could be knocking for him at this hour? That patrolman said someone would check on him, but couldn’t they just call.
“Just a minute,” Tony bellowed. He threw on a shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and slipped into the previous day’s pants.