Apprentice in Death (In Death 43)

The quick run she did, while hoofing it to the next building, showed he’d served as a supply officer—minimal weapons training—but she marked him down to be interviewed either when he was in residence or at his place of employment.

The ugly, incessant sleet began to thin, just a little, as she walked east from Third Avenue to Second.

She hit a flop, a struggling art studio, more offices.

Got no buzz at all.

The hotel, her next stop on Second, looked old but well kept. Low- to mid-range. “Family friendly,” according to its billing, with some rooms boasting a kitchenette.

The lobby, quiet and small, held a skinny cafe, a closet-sized gift shop, and a single clerk at the desk. He smiled broadly.

“Good morning. Such a dreary day to be out and about. How can I help you?”

He had such a pleasant face, all round and cheerful with a voice to match, Eve almost felt bad about pulling out her badge. He blinked at it.

“Oh my, is there something wrong, Officer—no, excuse me, I see it’s Lieutenant. Lieutenant!” he repeated before she could speak. “Of course, it’s Lieutenant. Dallas. I loved The Icove Agenda, book and vid. I hope I can help one of the most dedicated public servants in the city.”

“Me, too. I’m looking for someone who would have had a room yesterday, most likely on the ninth or tenth floor, facing west.”

“A check-in yesterday. Let me—”

“Not necessarily a check-in yesterday. Could’ve been prior, but they’d have been in-house yesterday. We’ll start with guests, but I may be looking for one of the staff, someone who could gain access to an empty room.”

“I see, I see. No, of course I don’t see at all, but let me check the rooms.”

“It’s likely a male, likely alone. But don’t rule out female or a companion.”

“Ninth floor, west . . . We have Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Hubble. They’re here for four days, with a checkout tomorrow.”

“You got a home address on them?”

“Oh, yes, Des Moines. They’re return guests, this is their third visit. They come for the inventory sales and a show.”

“Give me somebody who checked out this morning or late yesterday.”

“All right. This is rather exciting.” His pleasant face turned a little pink to prove it. “We have Mr. Reed Bennett, home address is Boulder, Colorado. I believe he’s a salesman, and here for meetings. He checked in two days ago, checked out this morning. Just about a half hour ago, actually.”

“Call off housekeeping. I’m going to want to see his room. Who else you got?”

“Ms. Emily Utts and Ms. Fry. Ladies of a certain age in from Pittsburgh. Here for a little reunion with some classmates—from college. Class of ’19.”

“Probably not. Any others?”

“Just one more. Mr. Philip Carson, from East Washington, accompanied by his teenage son, or daughter—I’m not sure, it’s so hard to tell at that age, isn’t it? Especially when they’re wearing one of those hoods and all bundled up. I see here they requested that specific room.”

A bell rang. “Specific room. Had they stayed here before?”

“I don’t have that name in our database, but I did think Mr. Carson looked familiar.”

“Do you remember their luggage?”

“I . . .” He closed his eyes, squeezed them, then popped them open. “I do! I do because I started to call for Gino to assist them, but Mr. Carson said they didn’t need a bellman. They had two rollies, one each, and the child had a backpack. Mr. Carson had a case—a large metal briefcase.”

“When did they check out?”

“Yesterday, though they were booked to stay through the night. They checked in about five the evening prior—I remember as I was about to go off my shift. I’m not sure I saw them at all until they check

ed out about three-thirty yesterday. Mr. Carson said they had a family emergency.”