“I’m more of a delivery guy at this place. Nothing special. My real work’s back at the hotel. But hey, everyone can use a little extra income, right?” He chuckles. “My grandkids call it a side hustle.”
The zipper on the sack he’s carrying is open a bit, and I catch a glimpse of its contents.
“Montey?” I ask, indicating a box inside. “I keep seeing that name, like on those crates at the hotel. What are they like?”
He hesitates. Why does he seem tense? Am I imagining things? “Uh, good enough, I guess. Nails, screws, basic hardware. You know.”
“Good quality?”
I may be reading into this, but Paul appears dubious. “I mean, it’s from China. Good enough.”
There’s no need to push him on this and wreck his day. “Ah, okay. Well, I’m on my way out,” I say with a smile, and his tension drops. “All done here. I’ll see you later.”
“Everything good in here?” he asks.
“Most things. I left my questions for the crew on the counter. Nothing major.”
He’s still standing in the same position, clearly uncomfortable. I feel him watching my back as I walk past, toward the door. I get the impression he wants to say something, but he won’t. Now it’s me who’s uncomfortable.
I take the elevator down and step out of the hotel, where I text Claudia.
BK: Ever heard of Montey Series Industries?
CV:…
While I wait for her response, I stop in at a crowded Starbucks. I order an Americano, then I realize I’m starving and add a slice of lemon poppy-seed bread. All the tables are taken, so I order it to go.
CV: Hey doll. Montey’s a new supplier. Seems legit. Gotta go. Byeeeee
Claudia’s the first person I’ve spoken to who recognizes the name. Strange how their materials are at two of her sites. I wonder what she’s up to. Is she dabbling insupplyingmaterials now, on top of just inspecting them? I’ve half a mind to call up another construction company, like GroundUp or maybe Apex, and ask if they’d ever done business with Montey. Then again, I don’t want to get her in trouble if I don’t have to. Instead, I search Montey, using a different search engine, but I still come up empty. Picturing that secret door I’d discovered in the hotel as well as Paul’s tongue-in-cheek suggestion about the haunted pipes, I google “Dominion Hotel ghost” and read a few reviews. A quick scan reveals that quite a few guests had their sleep disturbed by disembodied voices travelling up the ancient pipes.
On a whim, I google “Dominion Hotel smuggling” and “Dominion Hotel tunnel” but come up empty. So I go to my contacts and text Jack Samson.
BK: Question about plumbing and ghosts?
JS:…
My name is called by a barista, so I grab my food, then sit back down, watching my screen.
JS: lol Oh yes. Our haunted pipes.
BK: What do I need to know?
JS: Nothing. It’s been happening forever. No worries. Plumbing investigated many times. Personally stayed up all night and heard nothing. People have wild imaginations in an old place like this.
BK: Found a door in the basement that’s not on the prints. Any ideas?
JS: Ghosts probably hang out there. Haha
I pause. Shouldn’t he be a little more interested in the conversation? After all, it affects his hotel and the comfort of his guests. He must notice my hesitation, because he starts typing again.
JS: Drinks? Early dinner?
I pop a soft piece of lemon bread in my mouth.
BK: Just ate. Another question: Is there an archivist or librarian available to speak with me about the history of the hotel? Personal interest.
JS: Matthew Buchanan at the City of Toronto Archives. I’ll give him your number?
