The crime writer was in. Shocked. So was the Verizon guy. And the Hispanic housekeeper, the one who was knitting for her granddaughter.
But the biggest surprise was the actress.She was in, too! I never saw anyone so stunned. I think everyone in the courtroom was holding back a smile.
"Ms. DeGrasse, Juror Number Eleven, you can take a seat in the jury box," the judge told her, amused herself."You got the part, dear."
Chapter 5
THE GLASS ELEVATOR of the Marriott Marquis rose higher and higher above Times Square. Richard Nordeshenko watched the glittery bustle of the street grow distant and small below.Good riddance.
"First time to the Marriott, Mr. Kaminsky?" a chatty, red-capped bellhop asked as the elevator rushed them to the forty-second floor.
"Yes," Nordeshenko lied.
Truth was, he had made the rounds of all the fancy hotels near Times Square. The area held a particular attraction for him. Not the lights or the nocturnal amusements, in which he took no part.It was the crowds. In the event something went wrong, all he had to do was duck into the throng any time of day or night.
" Kiev, right?" The bellhop grinned at him. It wasn't a question, more like a statement of fact."You're from the Ukraine, right? Your accent. It's sort of a game with me. Twenty floors, that's usually all I need."
"Sorry." Nordeshenko shook his head."Czech." Inside, he was angry with himself. The chatty bellhop had nailed him. Maybe it was just the jet lag, but he had let down his guard.
The elevator opened, and the bellhop motioned Nordeshenko down the hall."Close." He smiled, with a shrug of apology."But-what is it you say here?-no cigar."
He'd been traveling for eighteen hours straight, stopping in Amsterdam on a Dutch passport, then in Miami on a business visa to the States. On the flight, he had put on Chopin and Thelonious Monk to relax, and had beaten a chess program on his computer on level eight. That made the voyage bearable.