"He's got a job," Frank informed her. "He's working as a maid at The Excelsior. I'm a bellboy there but I don't start until ten," he added then went on to tell her about how they had gotten the positions.

"Just great!" grumbled Callie. "I'm actually looking for work and jobs just fall into your lap."

"She's still looking for another maid and a cook," Frank said. "And Joe and I won't have these jobs for long. You should go talk to her," he encouraged.

"I will if I don't get the other job," Callie said. She giggled. "Tomorrow's a teacher's work day and Joe will be working too. I bet he just loves that."

Frank laughed. "I don't think that's occurred to him," he admitted. He held out his arm. "Shall we?" he asked. Callie took his arm and they went to get their tickets.

After the flick, Frank kissed Callie good night and walked her to her car. When he arrived home, he found his mother and Stan outside in the fading light talking about his mom's flower garden. Frank hopped out of the van and walked over to them. "Hi," he said, coming to a standstill beside his mother.

"Hi, honey," Laura greeted him, standing on tip-toe and brushing his chin with her lips.

Frank smiled down at her then turned to Stan and held out his hand. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of Joe earlier," he said.

Stan grasped Frank's hand briefly. "I'm glad I was there," he said. His eyes went to the van then back to Frank. "Where is he?"

"He's at The Excelsior," Frank said. "We think the guys who tried to nab him are staying there."

"Do you think that’s wise?" Stan demanded.

"He's wearing a disguise," Frank told him.

"I see," Stan said stiffly before turning back to Laura. "It was lovely chatting with you," he said, smiling.

"We'll have to do it more often," she agreed. As Stan went inside, Frank and Laura did likewise. "Do you have time for some dinner?" Laura asked Frank.

"A sandwich, maybe?" he asked.

"Sure," Laura agreed. "And thanks for coming home and leaving me the note before you went to the movies with Callie."

"You're welcome," he replied. "I better go and see what to wear and put my contacts back in."

"Will that be enough of a disguise?" Laura asked, looking at her son critically.

"Well, I had on a mustache with them earlier but to get the job I had to agree to get rid of it," Frank confessed. He gave her a hug. "Relax. I'll be fine."

***

"You should have been here hours ago!" stormed the irate guest, holding up a dirty towel and throwing it at Joe. "I go through all the trouble to leave here, have a long breakfast and a stroll through town just to return and find the bed unmade and the dirty towels on the floor where I left them. And look at the time! It's almost seven o'clock at night and you are just now getting here. For such a pricey joint, the service in this place is the pits!"

"Yes, Sir," agreed Joe, giving the man the brightest smile he could muster. "You are absolutely correct," he added, repeating in his head, the guest is always right, as he had been told to do by Shelia. "But the problem has been rectified and it won't happen again."

The man snorted and told him to hurry up and finish. Not wasting any time, Joe changed the sheets, made the beds, took the used towels and brought in fresh ones, cleaned the toilet, restocked all complimentary items and tissue then brought in a vacuum cleaner to finish up.

"You can skip that today," the man told Joe, ready for some privacy.

"As you wish," agreed Joe, pushing it back out of the room. "Have a nice day," he added, closing the door. He continued to the next room. Only three more to go and I can move up to the next floor, thought Joe. Would have been nice if I could have started with the Royal Suite instead of finishing with it.

An hour later, Joe knocked on the door of the Royal Suite. "Housekeeping," he announced. No answer. He pulled out his all entry card key, opened the door and went inside. He made a quick check to see if anyone were present, then started searching the main room. He had almost finished searching the last bedroom when he heard the door open. He quickly pulled the sheets from the bed and headed out of the room.

"Late, aren't you?" demanded the man in his early forties.

Joe looked at him; took in his dark wavy brown hair, keen green eyes and angular nose, and recognized him at once from the FBI files he had been looking through earlier. The man's name was Fred Orbison, a known terrorist and former partner of one Logan Dempsey. "Personnel problems," Joe mumbled, keeping his head down.

"Well, get on with it," Orbison ordered. Joe quickly deposited the dirty sheets in his cart and brought in enough fresh ones for both bedrooms. He made record time in cleaning the room and was on his way out when the door opened and Willis and Meecham entered.

Joe dropped his eyes and looked down at the trash bag he held. He had gotten to keep the hat with the fake hair but the sunglasses had had to go. He was sure these two would recognize him. Joe slid between the two men and headed for the door.

"Hey! Hold up," Meecham ordered. "You forgot a trash can."

"Sorry," Joe mumbled, going to the last can by the door and pulling the bag out. Giving it a twist, he tied it shut and put in a new bag under Willis' watchful eye. He picked up the full bag and headed for the door once more. He had almost reached it when Willis' hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, bringing him to a stop.