Repairman Jack [09]-Infernal by F. Paul Wilson Page A

slip with a handwritten name and number was attached. He edged forward for a closer look.
    John L. Tyleski. … who was that? Jack would have had to give a credit card number to hold the room, but this obviously wasn’t his. The hotel must have screwed it up.
    Tom hid a smile. This presented an interesting opportunity. Could he pull it off?
    Well, never look a gift horse…
    The clerk looked up and smiled at him. “Which credit card will you be using, sir?”
    “Mr. Tyleski is covering the room.”
    “Really?” She studied the reservation card. “It doesn’t say so here.”
    Tom gave a perturbed sniff. “Well, he is. He always covers my accommodations when I’m in town. Whoever took the reservation must have forgotten to write it down.”
    She was shaking her head. “I don’t know…”
    Tom sighed. “This never happens at the Plaza. He always puts me up at the Plaza, but this consultation was a last-minute thing and they’re full. More the pity.”
    “I’m sorry, sir, but—”
    “On the other hand, the Plaza is used to our arrangement. I suppose John simply could have forgotten to mention it.” He waved his hand in bored annoyance. “Call him if you must.”
    He watched her hesitate, then pick up the phone.
    Oh, shit. His bluff hadn’t worked.
    Well, it had been fun while it lasted.
    He glanced over at his brother the wet blanket, still talking on the phone. Tom would have to come up with an explanation for the clerk as to why John Tyleski had never heard of him, and bring it off without Jack knowing. He didn’t need another of those appalled looks. What a ninny.
    “Mr. Tyleski, this is the Pennsylvania Hotel calling. We’d like to confirm the payment arrangement on the room you reserved today. Please call us back at…”
    She was leaving voice mail! Tom almost let out a whoop.
    Now, if this Tyleski character didn’t check his messages until tomorrow…
    The clerk hung up and turned to him.
    “We’ll leave it on Mr. Tyleski’s card for now. If you speak to him, please ask him to confirm with us.”
    “Of course. I’m scheduled for a dinner meeting with him tonight at the Plaza.”
    She gave him a card to fill out with his address and telephone number, both of which he fabricated out of thin air. The less the Pennsylvania Hotel knew, the better.
    Jack finished his call and walked over just as she handed him the key.
    “All set?”
    Tom nodded. “Room six-twenty-seven. Is there a restaurant here?”
    “Joe O’s. Never been but it’s supposed to be pretty good.”
    “Great. What time do you want to meet for dinner?”
    “Sorry. Can’t.”
    “Come on. We’ll eat at this Joe O’s—my treat.”
    Actually, John Tyleski’s treat. Tom would charge it to the room.
    Jack shook his head. “Got some loose ends I’ve got to tie up tonight.”
    “Okay.” He feigned a sad look. “I guess I’ll have to eat alone.”
    Jack appeared unmoved.
    Tom gave him a wink. “I suppose I could always rent some company.”
    “Jesus, Tom. Don’t get rolled. I need you in one piece tomorrow.”
    The implication was not lost on him: no concern for Tom himself, just his presence to claim Dad’s body. Talk about getting off on the wrong foot…
    He’d been kidding about the rented company. He’d seen plenty of hookers during his years at the bar and on the bench. Some were knockouts and some were harridans, and some weren’t even women. Trouble was, you never knew who their last John was or what you might catch.
    Not that he’d ever needed them—plenty of legal secretaries around the courthouse happy to give it up for a judge.
    “Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll be here, intact and ready to roll. And maybe on the way over to the morgue you can explain why you couldn’t take care of this yourself.”
    “Maybe,” Jack said. “And maybe not. Pick you up at nine thirty tomorrow morning.”
    He watched Jack exit through the glass doors. Just as well. The thought of spending a couple of hours over dinner with