Chapter Five
Entering the penthouse, this time knowing that Bea lives here, is a revelation. Minette greets us with a plaintive meow, winding around our ankles as if we both belong.
There is a coat rack beside the entrance, draped with a herringbone coat. A tightly wrapped umbrella sits in the base. I know without touching them that they won’t be damp, despite the weather, because Bea didn’t go outside today. She didn’t go outside yesterday. How long has it been since she stepped foot outside this hotel?
“Do you want some coffee?” she asks in that too-fast way. I’m not sure whether she’s asking as a kind of date etiquette or whether she wants a reprieve, but I say what I always tell my clients.
“Yes, please. I would love some.”
I follow her to the corner of the suite where a wet bar w
