Kazuo Ishiguro - Nocturnes - five stories of music and nightfall

“LAPD,” he said. “Name’s Morgan.”

“Good evening,” I said.

For a moment the cop and the security guard went on looking at us in silence. Then the cop asked:

“Guests of the hotel?”

“Yes, we are,” I said. “We’re guests.”

I felt the soft material of Lindy’s night-gown brush against my back. Then she’d taken my arm and we were standing side by side.

“Good evening, officer,” she said in a sleepy, honeydew voice quite unlike her usual one.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the cop said. “And are you folks up at this time for any special reason?”

We both started to answer at once, then laughed. But neither of the men laughed or smiled.

“We were having trouble sleeping,” Lindy said. “So we were just walking.”

“Just walking.” The cop looked around in the stark white light. “Maybe looking for something to eat.”

“That’s right, officer!” Lindy’s voice was still way over the top. “We got a little hungry, the way I’m sure you do too sometimes in the night.”

“I guess room service isn’t up to much,” the cop said.

“No, it’s not so good,” I said.

“Just the usual stuff,” the cop said. “Steaks, pizzas, hamburgers, triple-decker clubs. I know because I just ordered from all-night room service myself. But I guess you folks don’t like that kind of food.”

“Well, you know how it is, officer,” Lindy said. “It’s the fun . The fun of creeping down and taking a bite, you know, a little bit forbidden, the way you did when you were a kid?”

Neither man showed any sign of melting. But the cop said:

“Sorry to trouble you folks. But you understand this area isn’t open to guests. And one or two items have gone missing just lately.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You folks see anything odd or suspicious tonight?”

Lindy and I looked at each other, then she shook her head at me dramatically.

“No,” I said. “We haven’t seen anything odd.”

“Nothing at all?”

The security guard had been coming closer, and now he came past us, squeezing his bulk along the counter. I realised the plan was for him to check us over more closely, to see if maybe we were concealing anything on our persons, while his partner kept us talking.

“No, nothing,” I said. “What kind of thing did you have in mind?”

“Suspicious people. Unusual activity.”

“Do you mean, officer,” Lindy said with shocked horror, “that rooms have been broken into?”

“Not exactly, ma’am. But certain items of value have gone missing.”

I could sense the security guard shift behind us.

“So that’s why you’re here with us,” Lindy said. “To protect us and our belongings.”

“That’s right, ma’am.” The cop’s gaze moved fractionally, and I got the impression he’d exchanged a look with the man behind us. “So if you see anything odd, please call security right away.”

The interview seemed to be over and the cop moved aside to let us out. Relieved, I made a move to go, but Lindy said:

“I suppose it was kind of naughty of us, coming down here to eat. We thought about helping ourselves to some of that gateau over there, but then we thought it might be for a special occasion and it would be such a shame to spoil it.”

“This hotel has good room service,” the cop said. “Twenty-four hours.”

I tugged at Lindy, but she seemed now to be seized by the oft-cited mania of criminals to flirt with being caught.

“And you just ordered something up yourself, officer?”

“Sure.”

“And was it good?”

“It was pretty good. I recommend you folks do the same.”

“Let’s leave these gentlemen to get on with their investigations,” I said, tugging at her arm. But still she didn’t budge.

“Officer, may I ask you something?” she asked. “Do you mind?”

“Try me.”

“You were talking just now about seeing something odd. You see anything odd yourself? I mean, about us?”

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

“Like we both of us have our faces entirely wrapped in bandages? Did you notice that?”

The cop looked at us carefully, as though to verify this last statement. Then he said: “As a matter of fact, I did notice, ma’am, yes. But I didn’t wish to make personal remarks.”

“Oh, I see,” Lindy said. Then turning to me: “Wasn’t that considerate of him?”

“Come on,” I said, pulling her along now quite forcefully. I could feel both men staring at our backs all the way to the exit.

WE CROSSED THE BALLROOM with an outward show of calm. But once we were past the big swing doors, we gave in to panic and broke into a near-run. Our arms stayed linked, so we did a lot of stumbling and colliding as Lindy led me through the building. Then she pulled me into a service elevator, and only when the doors closed and we were climbing did she let go, lean back against the metal wall and start up a weird noise, which I realised was how hysterical laughter sounds coming through bandages.

When we stepped out of the elevator, she put her arm through mine again. “Okay, we’re safe,” she said. “Now I want to take you somewhere. This is really something. See this?” She was holding up a key card. “Let’s see what this can do for us.”

She used the card to get us through a door marked “Private,” then a door marked “Danger. Keep Out.” Then we were standing in a space smelling of paint and plaster. There were cables dangling from the walls and ceiling, and the cold floor was splashed and mottled. We could see fine because one side of the room was entirely glass-unadorned by curtains or blinds-and all the outdoor lighting was filling the place with yellowish patches. We were up even higher than on our floor: there was in front of us a helicopter-style view over the freeway and the surrounding territory.

“It’s going to be a new presidential suite,” Lindy said. “I love coming here. No light switches yet, no carpet. But it’s slowly coming together. When I first found it, it was much rougher. Now you can see how it’ll look. There’s even this couch now.”

In the centre of the room was a bulky shape with a sheet draped completely over it. Lindy went to it like it was an old friend and flopped down tiredly.

“It’s my fantasy,” she said, “but I kind of believe in it. They’re building this room just for me. That’s why I get to be in here. All of this. It’s because they’re helping me. Helping me build my future. This place used to be a real mess. But look at it now. It’s taking shape. It’s gonna be grand.” She patted the space next to her. “Come on, sweetie, have a rest. I’m feeling drained. You must be too.”

The couch-or whatever it was under the sheet-was surprisingly comfortable, and as soon as I’d sunk into it, I felt waves of tiredness coming over me.

“Boy, am I sleepy,” Lindy said, and her weight fell onto my shoulder. “Isn’t this a great place? I found the key in the slot, first time I came here.”

We were quiet for a while, and I felt myself falling asleep. But then I remembered something.

“Hey, Lindy.”

“Mmm?”

“Lindy. What happened to that award?”

“The award? Oh yeah. The award. I hid it. What else could I do? You know, sweetie, you really deserved that award. I hope it means something to you, my presenting it to you tonight, the way I did. It wasn’t just a whim. I thought about it. I thought about it really carefully. I don’t know if it means much to you. I don’t know if you’ll even remember it ten years, twenty years down the line.”

“I will for sure. And it does mean a lot to me. But Lindy, you say you hid it, but where? Where did you hide it?”