A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

One evening in early May, as the Count sat in the high-back chair between the potted palms, over the top of his newspaper he spied the young Italian couple exiting the elevator. She was a long, dark beauty in a long, dark dress, and he a shorter man in slacks and jacket. The Count wasn't certain what had brought the couple to Moscow, but they reliably left the hotel every evening at seven o'clock, presumably to avail themselves of the city's nightlife. Case in point, when they stepped off the elevator at 6: 55 they walked straight to the concierge's desk, where Vasily was ready with two tickets for Boris Godunov and a reservation for a late supper. Then the couple swung by the front desk in order to drop off their key, which Arkady stowed in the twenty-eighth slot of the fourth row.

Laying his newspaper on the table, the Count rose, yawned, and stretched. He strolled toward the revolving door as one who wishes to gauge the weather. Outside on the steps, Rodion exchanged greetings with the young couple, signaled a taxi, and held the back door open for them. When they drove off, the Count spun on his heels and crossed the lobby to the stairs. Taking the steps one at a time (as had been his habit since 1952), he ascended to the fourth floor, traversed the hallway, and stopped before the twenty-eighth door. Easing two fingers into the ticket pocket of his vest, he extracted Nina's key. Then with a look left and a look right, he let himself inside.