Chapter 2: A Bomb in the Room

The Embassy Suites shuttle was just returning from the hotel when the girls wandered outside the airport terminal.  They stood under the awning and waited for the van to pull up to the curb.  Sarah kept a tight grip on her carry-on.

“Good thing I had some clothes in here!” she said.  “I guess I won’t see my other bag until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Tracy laughed.  “Sarah, you won’t see that bag for another week!  They’re bad enough with them when they don’t have delays.  Since there is one, it’ll probably wind up in Hong Kong!”

“At least I’ve got my piccolo,” Sarah patted her bag.  “O-L-O-C-C-I-P spelled backwards.”

This time, it was Tracy’s turn to look surprised.  “How on earth did you say it that fast?” she asked.

Sarah grinned.  “My dad.  He spells it that way all the time.  He always tells us he can’t play it, can’t read music, but he can at least spell it backwards.”

“That is impressive.  Hmm, I wonder if he can spell harpsichord backwards.  D-R-O-H-C-I-S-P-R-A-H.”

Sarah looked at her friend.  “Now how did you do that?”

Tracy grinned.  “The hand is quicker than the eye.”

“Your hand doesn’t have anything to do with that!”

Tracy just smiled.  “A good magician never reveals her secrets.”

The ride to the hotel was not long—it really was just five minutes away.  In fact, pulling up in the parking lot, the girls could still see the airport.  They got out, thanked the chauffeur, then headed inside, where Tracy made sure she was first in line.

“Looks like we beat the crowd,” she said triumphantly.  “No line!”

“Yes, may I help you?”  The clerk at the desk wore a black dress shirt, with pants to match.  His straight, black hair was neatly slicked to one side—light gleamed off of oil on it.  Whether it was some sort of hair tonic, or whether his hair was just oily, no one could tell.

“Hello, there!” Tracy strode confidently up to the desk.  “I’m from the airport—United should have made a reservation for me.  The name is Turner. Tracy Turner.”

“Tracy, don’t say it like that.  They’ll think you’re a spy.”

Tracy laughed.  “Me?  At my age?  Cymbals and catfish, what is this world coming to?”

Sarah rolled her eyes.  “Tracy, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“You don’t think so?  I’m smarter, faster, and five times as dangerous as when I met you last!  Oh, Sarah…you’re a trusting soul!”

Apparently, United had called—the clerk had Tracy checked in in just one minute.  Sarah took longer—three minutes in fact, but the clerk was soon handing her the room keys.  “You’re in 211.  Enjoy your stay, Miss Emery!”

“Thanks, I’m sure I will.”  Walking away from the desk, Sarah examined the thing the clerk had just given her.  “Hey, there’s two keys here!”

“Sure!” grinned Tracy.  “That’s so if you lock one in your room, you can still get back in!”

“Considering they’re in the same envelope, I don’t think that’ll help.”

“Who knows.  I’ve got two keys, too.”  The elevator arrived, and the girls got in.  Tracy punched the button for five and watched as Sarah pushed the button for two.  Then, Tracy’s face lit up.

“Say, I’ve got a great idea!  Why don’t you spend the night in my room?”

“Your room?”

“Sure, we can have a sleepover!  It’ll be just like old times—you know, back when I used to come over to your house in Minnesota?  Only this time, I’ll host you!”

Sarah thought about it.  “It sure would be boring, in a room by myself—that sounds like fun!  You’re sure you don’t mind?”

Tracy laughed, a long laugh that spanned the ding of the elevator arriving at floor 2 and the doors opening.  “Not the least bit, Sarah.  It’ll be fun!”

“Alright,” said Sarah.  She pushed the door closed button.  “I guess I won’t need my room, then.  Maybe I should go talk to the clerk—”

“No, keep it,” said Tracy.  “You’re not paying for it after all.”

“That’s right,” said Sarah.  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Tracy beamed.  “You don’t know the half of it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unsurprisingly, the friends stayed up way later than usual, watching movies and chatting about old times.  It was shortly after midnight when Sarah finally dropped off to sleep, but Sarah was a sound sleeper.  A very sound sleeper.  Such a sound sleeper, she didn’t notice the BOOM!!! at 2:31 in the morning.

Everyone else did.  At least, that’s how it seemed.  The sounds of nervous chatter came from the hall, and sirens joined the traffic noises of Philadelphia.  They grew louder and louder, until finally, two fire engines, an ambulance, and two police cars pulled into the hotel parking lot.  The engines drove straight around to a window which had billowing black smoke pouring out of it.

Water from the hoses went pouring in, though, and the fire was soon out.  Another fire engine showed up, followed by two more police cars.  They stayed for two hours, talking with the hotel manager and poking around the smoldering ruins.  Explosions don’t just happen, and the police tried their hardest to figure out what had caused it.

      But by the time the sun stretched its golden rays over the City of Brotherly Love, the Philadelphia Police still didn’t know who’d planted the bomb in Room 211.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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