Okay. Shit. Okay. I’m doing this. I really am. A day ago, the worst thing I’ve ever done was—well, it was probably breaking up with Nathan. And now, I’ve （1） accidentally killed someone, （2） hidden the dead body, and （3） carried around over two million dollars’ worth of stolen goods.
Maureen must be with Jacqueline, so the room should be empty, but just in case, I knock on the door. “Hello?” I call out. “Room service.” Wait two seconds. Knock again. Check the hallway once more. No one about. I slide the master key card out of my pocket and tap it against the door lock. A little green light blinks, and the lock opens with a whirr. Here goes nothing. I grab the door handle and go inside Maureen’s room.
Maureen’s room is a junior suite, with a living room and a separate bedroom. Okay, if I were a dirty, traitorous thief of a maid of honor, where would I hide a bag full of stolen goods that my dirty, traitorous, thieving hands grabbed from my best friend?
Bedroom for sure.
I hurry inside the bedroom and look around. Under the very tall four poster bed? Too obvious. Inside the closet? I open the closet and study it. The shelves go all the way up to the ceiling, which is stupid because no one could reach all the way up there. I can’t even see what’s on the top shelf—
Which makes it the perfect hiding spot. I grab a chair from the writing desk, drag it across the room, and climb up on top of it. As I straighten up, I wobble and for a terrifying second, almost fall off the chair with the heavy duffel bag, but I manage to grab one of the shelves for balance. I hoist the duffel bag over my head and push it as deep as I can, then hop off the chair. I look up, and with satisfaction, confirm that I can’t see the duffel bag from my vantage point. Not even when I go on my tiptoes. The top shelf is way too high.
Just as I finish putting the chair back at the desk, I hear the worst sound in the world. The front-door lock whirring open. A split second later, the door clicks open, and someone bustles in. My mind short-circuits, and for a precious moment, I just stand there, frozen, like a hamster who knows it’s about to get spotted by the hawk. Then my instincts kick in and I hurry—but where to? I look around me frantically. The closet I just hid the bag in? No, it’s filled with shimmery dresses and it’s likely that Maureen might need something from it. The bathroom? The—
The bed!
I leap onto the floor on the far side of the room just as the bedroom door is flung open. I lie down on the carpeted floor and as the person walks in, I roll under the bed. Luckily, Maureen is apparently too distraught to hear any small noises I make as I slither under the bed. She’s sniffling loudly, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The bed creaks and sags slightly as she sits down and sobs. What the hell is going on? If I didn’t know Maureen was a dirty thieving liar, I would be feeling really bad for her right now. In fact, I am feeling bad for her. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to listen to those sobs and not feel the tiniest bit bad.
As silently as I can, I pull Ah Guan’s phone out of my pocket and switch it to Silent mode. Just in case she—
And just as I think that, she does call him. Thank god for prescience. I clasp the phone to my chest, unable to bear watching her face coming up on the screen. When it goes to voicemail, Maureen utters a little cry and flings her phone across the room, where it hits the wall and thunks onto the floor. Uh-oh.
This is where she goes to pick it up and notices a whole other human in the room with her.
But she doesn’t. She just stays there, crying for what feels like an entire hour but is in fact only two minutes. I know, because I stare at Ah Guan’s phone the whole time. Then she goes to the bathroom, probably to wash her face. Should I take this chance to leave? But even as I think that, Maureen comes out of the bathroom and swipes her phone from the floor. I freeze, but she doesn’t spot me. Her feet remain there for a while, unmoving, and I’m wondering what the heck she’s doing when I realize she’s either making a call or typing a text message. Sure enough, when I check Ah Guan’s phone, there’s a new text.
Maureen [2:15PM]: Don’t know y ur not picking up the phone, but everything better be ready. I’m gonna ask them to check the photographer’s room.
Check the photographer’s room. The photographer’s room. THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S ROOM WHERE AH GUAN’S CORPSE IS. Every single cell in my body shatters into panicky shrieks, and it takes all of my will to stop myself from leaping out from under the bed and choking her. Somehow, I manage to stay still until she leaves the bedroom. Moments later, I hear the front door slam shut. I slide out from under the bed immediately and call Ma. One ring. Two rings. Come on, Ma.