Identity Crisis (Sam McRae Mystery 1)

“That’s more like it.” I retrieved my pen and notebook from my purse. “Be right back.”

I stepped into the warm night, walked to Duvall’s room, and knocked on the door. The window curtain moved, and a few seconds later, he opened the door.

“How’s my guardian angel?” I asked.

“Doing fine. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“It’s more business than pleasure.”

He gave me a mock look of disappointment. “Well, come in.”

Since this wasn’t the Hilton or even Motel 6, the rooms were sparsely furnished. Duvall sat on the edge of the only bed. I opted for leaning against the dresser.

“You never told us how you knew where we were,” I said.

“It’s called surveillance. I knew you were looking for Melanie, so I kept tabs on you.”

“How did you know I was looking for Melanie?”

“Connections.”

“If you had me under surveillance, where were you last week when Stavos and his guys decided to beat the crap out of me?”

“I had to get client approval for the surveillance since it was going to require so much time.” He looked at me with regret. “By the time I started, you’d landed in the hospital. You look like you’re in pretty good shape now, considering.”

“I’m all right. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot. Can’t guarantee you I’ll answer.”

“Fair enough. Can you tell me whether you’ve served the other defendants?”

“Sure. Your client was the last one. It’s tough to serve someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

I nodded. So Donna knew about the case when I spoke to her.

“Are you still working on this?” I said. “Or is your job pretty much done?”

“I was hired to investigate who was responsible for the client’s debt,” Duvall said. “Based on what I found, Ms. Williams drew up the complaint and had me serve the defendants. Whether she’ll have more work for me after this, I don’t know.”

“That connection who told you I was looking for Melanie. Someone with the police?”

Duvall looked at me.

“OK,” I said. “I figured I’d ask.”

“We all have to do our jobs.”

“Yes, you certainly did yours, Mr. Drake.”

He gave me his white, even-toothed smile. “It was creative, you must admit.”

“Do you always go around pretending to be someone else?”

“Only if I think someone might recognize me. I mentioned to Ms. Williams that I was going to see you, and she said my name had come up in a recent conversation.”

“You could have been straight with me.”

“How could I know you would cooperate?”