“Have you met the new guy yet?”

“What new guy?”

“He may tell you his name is Rick, but he also says it’s Barry. Horowitz. He came in the middle of the night two nights ago. He’s the grandson of one of the residents.”

“And he’s staying?” She was still waiting for the pertinence of the new guy to manifest itself.

“For a while, at least,” Manfred said. “He’s unusual, Fiji. Even for here.”

Diederik came in, looking hopeful. Fiji immediately put a plate up on the counter, piled with homemade biscuits covered with plastic wrap. “Oh, thank you,” the boy said. He was even more appreciative when Fiji put a knife, a dish of butter, and some jam beside the biscuits.

They were both giving him a careful once-over. “I don’t think you grew as much,” Manfred said. “It’s slowing down.”

“I did get some bigger clothes, just in case, but I believe you’re right,” Fiji said, pushing the plate closer to Diederik, who unwrapped the biscuits with speed. He remembered to offer them to Manfred, but when Manfred shook his head, the boy looked relieved and dug in. Fiji put a glass of juice beside the plate, and Diederik drained it at a gulp.

“What does the Rev feed you?” Manfred asked.

“Oatmeal every morning. But some bacon also, this morning.” Diederik’s answer was not very clear.

“I don’t know where you put it,” Manfred said.

Fiji looked a little forlorn, as if she well understood the compulsion to eat, but Diederik said, “I’m always hungry. Always. I hope it won’t be like this forever!”

“I’m just guessing, but I don’t think it will be,” Fiji said. “Do you expect your father will come back soon?” She glanced at the calendar on her desk anxiously.

“Yes, after he completes his job,” Diederik said. He pushed the plate away from him, abruptly uninterested. “My aunt couldn’t keep me anymore. My mother died.”

Manfred could tell Fiji was as unnerved as he was. He picked up a wisp of a picture from the boy’s head. “Did you have a brother or sister?” he asked.

“I had an older sister. But she died before she was born, my mother told me.” Diederik looked suddenly forlorn.

“I’m so sorry,” Manfred said. It was definitely time to change the subject. “Listen, Diederik, when you finish doing whatever Fiji has lined up for you to do, can you come over to my place? I have a computer game you might enjoy.”

“Oh, yes,” the boy said, his smile back in place.

Manfred gave a wave of his hand and turned to leave. As he went through the door, he saw Bobo walking across the street to Fiji’s. “Leaving the store without a master?” he called, thinking with pleasure of how glad Fiji would be to see Bobo.

“I got a sign on the door with my phone number on it,” Bobo said. “I’m going nuts waiting for Lemuel to come back and Teacher to be relieved from convenience store duty. I hope he’s making good money.”

“No one seems to know who actually owns the convenience store. Except Teacher.”

“I never asked,” Bobo said with a shrug.

Manfred sat down at his computer and got back to work. He thought about taking the time to research who owned the store. But he would miss a day of work, going to Bonnet Park on his mission. With a sigh, he returned to solving the problems of people he didn’t know and might never meet. His own concerns would have to wait.

21

When Olivia entered the hotel, all the inhabitants were arguing. She stood back and listened for a while, a little amused and a lot exasperated. One of the “temporary residents” who was doing some contract work for Magic Portal, the computer business located east of Davy and Midnight, had returned to the hotel to find that (apparently) Shorty Horowitz had picked the lock to his room and (this was definite) was asleep on his bed. Shorty Horowitz, a short and round man with more white hair bristling out of his ears and nostrils than on his head, was irate, the temporary resident was even more irate, and Barry Horowitz was trying to calm everyone down, including Lenore Whitefield, who looked completely rattled. Harvey Whitefield was not in evidence.

“My grandfather got confused and thought he was getting into his own room,” Barry was saying. Olivia was the only one who noticed he hadn’t consulted with the old man before he said this.

“And he picks the locks in his own place?” was the first thing that popped out of the other man’s mouth. A young man about Barry’s age, he was wearing a ratty T-shirt and jeans, but he was making some serious money if his accessories were any indication. The wallet in his back pocket was so thick with plastic that (if Olivia had been given to worrying about people) she would have had concerns for his spine. He had a very cool watch on his wrist. The sunglasses propped up on his head were high-end Oakleys.

“Nobody else is gonna do it!” Shorty bleated, and Olivia had to stifle a grin.

“Why don’t you have keycards like everyone else in this century?” Mr. Temporary snarled at Mrs. Whitefield.

Olivia thought it was interesting that the man’s rudeness stiffened Lenore Whitefield’s spine.

“It wouldn’t be in keeping with the age of the hotel,” she retorted. “Mr. Lattimore, nothing in your room was taken or harmed. Mr. Horowitz is obviously a senior citizen with some memory issues. I’m sure you got an unpleasant surprise, but the incident is over, with no one hurt. And no property damage.”