In grey, cold, slushy New York, I went on a research trip - not for myself (though I spent a long time at the Weegee exhibition first), but to see the hotel where Alice's grandfather spent his last weeks. It's not my story to tell, but let's just say that the detective who recognized him from his photograph in True Detective Mysteries (a periodical not in NYPL, irritatingly) arrested him as he was going into or coming out of what was then the Gramercy Park Hotel. This was a newish building back in 1932 - it may have looked even bleaker and uglier than it does now (see below). What amused me hugely is that today, the image of the man - or rather, the image of the man playing the man - who was leading the FBI at the time is plastered over the side of a building just up the street.
And as for hotel views - this is what I saw from the Heldrich in New Brunswick this morning. It looked like they'd all been staying in the hotel; all had red ? carnations in their button holes. Where were they going at 8.40 a.m.?