He ran a hand over his chin. “First off, it’s illegal to lock exterior doors when the inn is occupied. If there was a fire, locked doors are a serious hazard. But the point of my statement wasn’t about the doors. It was to ask why we have a wallaby here.”
A faint flush colored her cheeks. “Since the carpet in room ten is already stained, I decided to throw down a rug and allow pets in that room until we put new carpet in. It’s a win-win. At least until the wallaby escapes. Tippyroo can jump right over the pet gate in the doorway.”
Yeah, which was why housing a wallaby was a bad idea. He rubbed his jaw again. “Does the owner have an exotic animal permit?”
Riley’s hand hovered over the printer, and she blinked her dark eyes at him. “I don’t know. We don’t usually ask to see people’s permits when they check in.”
Maybe Lucas was too used to thinking like a policeman. He would let the permit issue drop for the moment. “Second thing,” he cocked his head, “is there a homeless man staying here?”
Riley continued adding pages to her stack. “Three, actually. Pastor Curtis paid for their room through the first week of January because the homeless shelter is full.”
“Is that something the inn normally does—act as an overflow for the homeless shelter?”
She shifted uncomfortably and hesitated before meeting his eyes. “No, but the pastor guilted me into taking them. It’sChristmas time. I couldn’t tell him there was no room at the inn, especially since there are non-discrimination laws.”
Lucas put his fingers to his temples, his mind immediately going to every issue he’d run across as a policeman dealing with the homeless. “Okay, religious analogies aside, I’ll need to run a background check on them. We can’t have anyone dangerous staying here.”
Riley looked up from the printer. “Is running background checks on guests legal?”
“Maybe not, but you’ve already set a precedent of illegal activity by locking the doors. I won’t write you up for that this time, so we’ll be even.”
She pursed her pink lips. “Would you actually write me up for locking the doors for an hour? What are the chances of a fire breaking out today?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Probably greater than having a wallaby bounding around the place. I’m not sure we should tempt fate.” He moved behind the desk so he could see the computer. “How do I access the men’s personal information?” Somehow, he’d already forgotten this detail. Thoughts of loose kangaroos, locked doors, and homeless men with grudges against police officers had wiped his memory clean.
Riley kept adding papers to her stack, her perfume stirring up all sorts of memories that it shouldn’t. “As soon as I’m done with the printer,” she said, “I’ll bring up the reservation.”
Lucas clicked on a tab that turned out to be the wrong one. “Shouldn’t the papers just stack on the printer without your help?”
“Ideally, yes, but the little plastic thing that does that job broke off last week, and Mr. Ross refused to purchase a new printer when this one works just fine. Honestly, since Carson agreed to purchase the place, Mr. Ross hasn’t spent a dime that he didn’t need to.”
Lucas’s attention was drawn away from her by a group of men congregating at the front door. Although it was coat weather outside, they wore towels around their waist, water shoes, and nothing else. The scene was a little surreal, like the inn was being visited by a bunch of middle-aged men who’d gotten lost on their way to a sauna.
They rang the doorbell and waited, half jogging in place to keep warm while their breath clouded around them.
Riley gestured to the keys on the desk. “Can you let the polar club men inside?”
“Are they guests or just passing streakers looking to get out of the cold?”
“Guests.”
Of course they were. Apparently, Carson had bought an inn that doubled as the island of misfit toys.
Lucas strode over to the door, opened it, and smiled in what he hoped was a managerial way. “My apologies for the inconvenience. We have a lost animal somewhere in the inn.”
“We know,” one of the men said. “We saw the sign on the back door. If we find the wallaby, do we get to keep it?”
They all laughed uproariously at this suggestion.
Lucas figured they were joking but had to say, “If you see the animal, please let one of the staff know.”
“Sorry for dripping in the lobby,” another of the men said in passing, and they all shuffled off toward the stairs.
Lucas returned to Riley. He tapped his fingers against the countertop waiting for an explanation. She didn’t offer one. Of course she didn’t. Her brown eyes were focused solely on the printer.
“So what’s the deal with the men in towels?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Some health thing. They take a plunge into the river twice a day, then stop by the front desk to try and convince me of the benefits of nearly freezing to death. So far,I’ve remained unconvinced and happily surprised that I haven’t had to call paramedics to revive them. It’s become our daily ritual.”