In the staff corridor, kitchen workers had been instructed to pause deliveries during the arrival. Whitley did not want carts, dirty aprons, or ordinary maintenance tasks passing within sight of the chairwoman. Marcus would have recognized the mistake immediately. A hotel prepared for inspection by hiding its actual work was not presenting excellence; it was presenting a stage set.
Whitley walked to Brett and lowered his voice. "Those two from yesterday. The old woman and the former doorman. I don't want them inside. If they come anywhere near the door, remove them quietly."
Brett looked at the entrance. "They haven't threatened anybody, sir."
"They've disrupted my lobby twice. We're not having a third performance while the chairwoman is here."
Brett said nothing. His corrected report had been received by corporate compliance the night before, and he knew an investigator might ask about this instruction as well. He had spent much of the week learning that the difficulty of telling the truth increased each time he delayed. He resolved not to add another false incident to the file.
At nine twenty, Celeste Monroe arrived in a company sedan with Miriam Sloane, Javier Reed, and Nisha Patel. Whitley hurried across the red carpet with his hand extended, greeting them as though they were a delegation assembled to praise him. Celeste shook his hand, asked whether the employee line had been arranged, and accepted his offer to show them the new flower display without revealing her thoughts. Miriam carried a portfolio of documents. Nisha held a tablet with the completed reconciliation of the top-floor suite accounts.
"The chairwoman will be here at ten sharp," Whitley assured them. "We've prepared an inspection that reflects the standards our organization deserves."
"Good," Celeste said. "Please make sure the staff remain available. We'll need to speak with several of them."
He mistook the instruction for a compliment. "Absolutely. Every department head has been briefed."
Celeste walked to the front desk and asked Paige to confirm the number of occupied rooms, the number available, and the status of guest requests left over from the previous night. Paige answered accurately, resisting the temptation to mention anything about the investigation. When Celeste finally asked whether she was prepared to discuss Tuesday's incident if required, Paige felt every muscle in her shoulders tighten.
"Yes, Ms. Monroe," she said. "I am."
"Thank you. Then please continue your work until we need you. The guests still deserve a functioning desk while we investigate."
Those words steadied Paige more than any promise could have. The lobby was not a courtroom, and the situation would not become fair simply because a person with authority arrived. People still needed rooms, luggage still had to reach elevators, and tired travelers still wanted directions. The hotel had work to do even on the morning its manager might lose his job.