Read Winter at Death's Hotel for Free Online

his head thrown back and his large but soft chest thrown out. “I don’t think…” The expander twanged as his hands almost hit each other in front of him. “…that we should risk doing the wrong thing until we know the local mores. ‘When in Rome…’”
    â€œI’ve brought you a newspaper.”
    He threw the expander in a tangle on the bed. “Why is it pink?” He took the newspaper from her.
    â€œI’ve no idea.” She kissed his cheek. “I think it means to be rather daring.”
    Arthur was frowning at the Police Gazette and trying to get his wind back. “Where did you get such a thing?”
    She knew that tone, so she lied. “I found it in the lobby.”
    He stared at the front page, opened it to the second, stared at page two, then started to stare at page three and quickly closed it. “I’m shocked that they would allow such a thing in a hotel of this reputation. I shall have a word with Carver.” He balled the Gazette in both fists and rather ostentatiously pushed it into a wastebasket.
    â€œWho is Carver?”
    â€œThe manager. His father built this place. It’s all in the brochure.”
    â€œOh, please don’t say anything to him, Arthur.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œWell—suppose it had been left by one of the boys. Or that house detective. We might get someone into trouble.”
    â€œServe them right.” He thrust his arms over his head and bent down to touch his toes, or almost so.
    She sat on the bed and watched him. “Arthur.”
    â€œYes, my dove?”
    â€œWhat does it mean when they say a woman has been ‘mutilated’? I know what the word means, of course, but only in a general way. This sounds to me like some sort of secret code—the kind of thing men say to each other when they don’t want the rest of us to understand.”
    â€œWhere did you hear such a thing?”
    â€œIn that perfectly inoffensive paper you threw away. There’s been a murder.”
    â€œSo I saw! Louisa, I forbid you to read such trash!”
    â€œIt was the only thing to read.”
    â€œWe have a perfectly good newspaper in the sitting room! The New York Times , quite a good newspaper, I believe.”
    â€œBut I wasn’t in the sitting room.”
    He stopped trying to touch his toes. “Louisa, you’re being obdurate.”
    â€œAnd you’re making mountains out of molehills! All I asked was, what does ‘mutilated’ mean!”
    They looked at each other. Like any couple who mean to make it work, they feared each other’s anger, she his more than the other way around—until, that is, she got really angry. He looked into her eyes, she into his. He broke the contact. “I suppose it means that some atrocity was committed on the victim’s body. Such things can’t be talked about in detail, dear.”
    â€œYour Sherlock Holmes would talk about them.”
    â€œOnly with Watson, because he’s a doctor, and a fictional invention shouldn’t be taken as an example of how we’re meant to behave. Please do let’s drop the subject.”
    He was standing now with his back to her, ready to start jumping up and down or something of the sort, but they could see each other’s eyes in a mirror. She went to him and put her arms around him from behind. “I miss the children,” she said.
    He put his hands over hers on his satisfyingly large abdomen. “So do I. But we’re here, and we knew there’d be a separation, and we shall see them again in six weeks. Eh?”
    â€œI know.” She kissed the back of his shirt. “I shall leave you to your muscles.”
    â€œDon’t be ironical, Louisa.”
    She repaired her costume—meaning mostly that she struggled into a corset without anybody’s help, felt quite righteous for having done so—and selected a hat.
    â€œI’m going to