Floors: (5 page)

Leo looked in every direction and realized he had only one choice if he wanted to keep the secret safe.

By the time Clarence Fillmore arrived at the small round opening that led to the duck elevator, his son was gone.

And so was the box.

Carrying a box down a ladder is easier said than done, and Leo nearly dropped it more than once as he descended from the fifth floor to the fourth. He wound
his way through the fourth floor tunnel lined with pipes, some of them shooting steam with a loud hissing sound as he passed by. Another hole with a ladder appeared, and down he went again, arriving in the maintenance tunnel on the third floor. Five minutes later, he arrived back in the basement boiler room, where he tucked the purple box under his cot for safekeeping. He was already out of breath, but he climbed all the way back up to six in order to set the AC that Ms. Sparks couldn’t figure out.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have a signal,” Ms. Sparks screamed when he finally returned to the lobby, her beehive cone of hair dancing back and forth over his head. “Remi nearly peed his pants!”

Leo couldn’t understand why she hadn’t let Remi leave for what would amount to a two-minute break, but he wasn’t about to ask her in the mood she was in.

“And you took forever fixing the air-conditioning on six,” Ms. Sparks continued as Remi hopped off in the direction of the bathroom. “What if the Yanceys decide they don’t want to stay here after all? What then? How do you think Mr. Whippet will feel about
that
when he gets back? Well? Say something!”

Leo cleared his throat. He hadn’t caught the name of the girl or her parents as he’d flipped the AC switch up, down, and up again, then turned the temperature
dial all the way to zero and back to sixty-six. Once it had turned on, the girl plunked down in front of the cold air and stared at Leo like he was a pile of stinky dirt.

“You know, Ms. Sparks, the AC unit in that room isn’t so complicated. Should I explain it to you one more time?”

Ms. Sparks’s face looked like she was trying to make fireworks shoot out of her ears. She hated it when she couldn’t figure out how the hotel worked, which was practically all the time.

“I’m writing you up, Leo Fillmore. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Being written up by Ms. Sparks had an uncertain meaning. Leo had been written up dozens of times, but where these write-ups went was a mystery. He had a feeling they went into her desk as evidence for a future trial of his skills and character at a time of her choosing.

When Remi zipped back through the lobby looking relieved, Ms. Sparks was on the phone having a long conversation with Ms. Pompadore about where to get the best hats in Manhattan.

“Thanks, Leo, I needed that.” Remi sighed. “Did you meet the zillionaire’s daughter? She’s a real charmer.”

“I fixed the air-conditioning, which seemed to make her happy.” Leo kept his voice to a whisper, and signaled Remi to do the same. The smaller boy adjusted the red pants and bow tie of his uniform and tried to play it cool. “But I think that little kid is going to give us some trouble. She’s a cranky six-year-old and she’s bored. Bad combo.”

“I hear you, man.” The zillionaire’s kid was named Jane Yancey, and Remi ticked off her attributes on his fingers. “Jane Yancey: six years old, bored, spoiled.
Super-size
bad combo.”

“Listen, Remi, I might need your help on a few things this week. Can I count on you?”

Remi’s face lit up. He was dying to escape the company of Ms. Sparks and explore the Whippet Hotel.

“Does it have anything to do with that box? The purple one?”

Remi was curious, but he was also new to the hotel. Leo could use this to his advantage.

“Nah, it’s just something I use to work with the ducks.”

“Ooooh, right. Like duck food and stuff.”

“Right, duck food.”

Remi was all smiles.

“
Anything
I can do that gets me away from this door, I’m in. Just say the word.”

Leo was starting to think this might work out okay. Having a go-to guy to cover for him in a pinch could really come in handy. He’d brought his knapsack full of hotel tools with him and opened it up just as Ms. Sparks covered the receiver and yelled across the lobby.

“Don’t you have some pipes to fix?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m on my way.”

“Good. Stop on floor three on the way. Hiney did a hoo-hoo.”

“Who calls a dog poop a
hoo-hoo
?” Remi whispered, shaking his head.

“Take this,” Leo said, handing Remi one of two small radios he’d picked up weeks ago from a street vendor. “I’ve got one, too, and both are set to frequency number four. If you hear a little beep, it’s me.”

Remi’s eyes grew big and he smiled at Leo.

“Partners?” he dared to ask.

“Partners,” said Leo.

I
t was a beautiful summer night on the grounds, where Mr. Phipps had surrounded the carved hedges and giant bushes around the pond with tiny lights that shone like stars. The ducks had been brought down and swam lazily in the water, quacking softly at the setting sun, although Betty was not among them.

“Dinner is served,” said Ms. Sparks, playing hostess to the guests who’d chosen to attend the party. This included a smattering of short-stays, including Jane Yancey, the ornery little daughter of the zillionaire, and her mother, Nancy Yancey. The father, presumably, had business to attend to on Wall Street. Ms. Pompadore was there with Hiney, who sat by the pond barking at the ducks.
Meanwhile, Captain Rickenbacker was deep in conversation with Mr. Phipps about the shapes of the bushes.

“I want a duck,” said little Jane Yancey, who wouldn’t leave the edge of the pond to come to the table.

“Ask your father,” replied her mother.

“Do you want to cook the duck or put it on a leash?” asked Ms. Pompadore, who had no patience whatsoever for spoiled children.

Jane ran to the table and sat by her mother, complaining about the rude woman and her barking dog, and dinner was served.

There was no main kitchen in the hotel, but it didn’t matter. Dinner, along with every other meal at the Whippet, was catered by one of the finest restaurants in New York, one block off the property. The restaurant was owned by the Whippet estate, and it only served the hotel. If you had a yellow or green key card, you could dine there any time of the day or night and never pay a dime. (Tips were also discouraged.) Or guests could ring the restaurant by inserting a key card into a dining slot in their rooms, and food would be delivered to their doors under silver domes on piping hot plates. The staff was not invited to dine with guests, unless you were Ms. Sparks.

And so it was that Leo had eaten dinner in the basement — a bowl of ramen noodles and a banana —
while he’d stared into the purple box. His father was off in the expanse of the maintenance tunnels, working on something or other, when Leo made the call.

“Remi, are you there?”

A split second later Remi answered, like he’d been holding the two-way radio next to his face, waiting for it to go off.

“I’m here! Where are you?”

“That’s not important now. Who’s in the lobby?”

“Me and my mom. Your dad came through on his way up a while ago, but otherwise, it’s been quiet.”

“Do you know where Captain Rickenbacker is?”

“I do. He’s at the dinner party by the pond on the grounds.”

“Good! He went as I’d hoped.”

There was a leather string tied to his belt notch, and Leo pulled it out, staring at a tiny watch that was attached to the end. Betty was busy gobbling up half of Leo’s dinner while he talked, a stray noodle hanging from her bill.

“I’ve got Betty with me, and I’ll need to return her and the rest of the ducks to the roof in just under an hour. In the meantime, I’ve got an errand to run. Call me if Captain Rickenbacker comes back, will you?”

“Sure I will!”

Remi had let himself grow too enthusiastic, and his mother looked up from behind the desk, where she was filing her nails.

“You must be hungry, no?” she asked.

She smiled and called Remi to the desk, where she gave him a cold tamale wrapped in wax paper.

“You make me proud, my little doorman. Keep working hard and you’ll make your way in the world.”

Remi went back to the door with one hand in his pocket, secretly holding the two-way radio in case Leo needed him. In his other hand he held his dinner, which was a repeat of what he’d had for lunch.

Hearing the distant sound of ducks quacking on the pond, he gazed out over the grounds and wondered what Leo and Betty were doing.

There were two ways into Captain Rickenbacker’s room on the third floor — one in the hallway and one in the maintenance tunnel. Not all the rooms were designed this way, but there had been some problems over the past two years in that room, so Mr. Whippet had shown Leo a secret way in. Captain Rickenbacker had a habit of pushing large pieces of furniture in front of the door and refusing to come out, which was usually because
his archnemesis, MR. M., had entered the hotel. MR. M. was, as far as the hotel staff could tell, a figment of Captain Rickenbacker’s imagination. It was usually Leo’s dad who was sent in to reassure the Captain and move the furniture away from the door so that Pilar could clean the room.

Leo looked down at Betty. “Be careful in here, okay? It’s really no place for a duck.”

Betty didn’t seem to be paying attention as Leo spun the combination lock on the secret door from the maintenance tunnel. On the room side, it looked as if part of the wall were swinging open, and when the door was closed again, it would look like there was no door at all. Betty waddled through the opening, and Leo, holding the purple box under one arm, followed her. He was careful not to let the door shut all the way, marveling at one of the most dangerous rooms in the hotel.

“It looks like fun, but really, it’s a duck killer. Be
super
careful, Betty.”