Tristan studied the concierge’s face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, but why don’t I leave this twenty here in case you remember. We’ll be here for a few days.”

The concierge looked down at the twenty-dollar bill with disgust. It was hardly enough to justify the risk. As far as tips and squeeze were concerned, the Australians were the worst. They truly were barbarians.

The concierge raised his eyes and watched the man cross the lobby and meet with a dark-haired Caucasian woman, then head up to the bar. As soon as they were out of sight, he reached down and picked up the receiver on one of his many telephones. He’d had a lot of strange requests since he’d worked at the Peninsula, but this was one of the strangest.

Marissa swirled the ice cubes in her glass of mineral water and listened to Tristan reminisce about his childhood in a suburb of Melbourne. It sounded idyllic. He’d commuted each day to an English-style public school in the city via a green tram and a red train. He’d had a stamp collection and went to church on Sunday. His father was a schoolteacher.

“It was a sheltered life,” he admitted. “But very pleasant. To this day, I have a definite nostalgia for its simplicity.

“Unfortunately my father died,” Tristan said. “He’d never been the picture of health. All the sudden he wilted and died. Wasn’t even sick that long. After that, we moved from Melbourne to Brisbane where my mother’s family was involved in the restaurant business on the Gold Coast. That’s how I happened to go to the University of Queensland.”

Marissa was exhausted. The traveling was taking its toll. She enjoyed listening to Tristan, but was eager to turn in. She was also thinking about phoning Robert. “Maybe we should call it a day,” she said when there was a lull in the conversation. “I think I’d better give my husband a ring to let him know I’m here.”

Marissa had told Tristan about her childhood in Virginia and about her surgeon father and how she’d ended up in medical school. She’d also been careful to tell him about Robert, purposefully avoiding mention of their current marital problems.

“Yes, of course, call him!” Tristan said, standing up for Marissa. “Why don’t you go on up? I’ll be along soon. I thought perhaps I might quiz some of the taxi drivers about the Wing Sin.”

Marissa took the elevator to the sixth floor. She had her key in hand, but the moment the elevator door parted, the hall porter appeared from nowhere and opened her door for her. She tried to thank the man but he bowed and wouldn’t even look her in the eye.