An Unconventional Murder (18 page)

Tuck was nowhere to be seen.

Cameron said, "Let's find out what room he's in. As that woman upstairs pointed out, he
certainly didn't leave the hotel and go for a walk outside."

They stopped at the front desk. Neither of them had seen the woman on duty before.
Cameron flashed his badge. "I'm Mitch Cameron, Lakewood Police Department. Can you tell us
what room Zachary Tuck is occupying?"

She hesitated, obviously debating whether to ask why a policeman wanted to know
about one of the guests. "Let me check." She typed into the computer. "Five sixty-two. It's at the
end of the hallway. According to the computer, the guest wasn't very happy about that."

"This guest isn't very happy about anything," Upton said.

They headed for the elevators. On the fifth floor, a sign indicated that room 562 was off
to the right, at the end of the hallway. Cameron rapped on the door. No response. He waited
thirty seconds and banged louder. Nothing. He listened for any sound of movement inside. None.
After another minute, he pounded on the door. Still no answer.

"Let's head back downstairs to the reception," Upton said. "It would be just like him to
stiff all of the writers and still show up for a free dinner."

"We might as well," Cameron agreed.

On the convention level, the crowd had grown larger as people waited for the banquet
room doors to open. He said, " I think we should split up. Why don't we make the rounds and
meet up in, say fifteen minutes?"
Upton consulted his wrist watch. "Right. I'll meet you back
here. If I find Tuck, I'll bring him with me. Dead or alive."

He spent the next quarter hour circulating among the hundreds of people in the reception
area. Now and then, he would spot someone he knew and stop to chat, but he never quit looking
for Zachary Tuck. Finally, he returned to the area in front of the elevators.

Cameron was already waiting. "Any luck?"

"Nothing," Upton said. "No Tuck. Same with you?"

"No sign of him."

"What about your son? Did you happen to see him anywhere?"

"No," Cameron said curtly. "I wasn't looking."

Upton let the subject drop. "You know, I hate to admit this, but I'm actually getting
concerned about Tuck."

"I am, too. But unless we're willing to search the entire hotel, inch by inch, I don't see
that there's much we can do."

"We could always ask the hotel manager to let us into his room," Upton said.

"You're not serious, are you? We don't have probable cause."

"Wow, I forgot about that. That's pretty basic stuff, isn't it? "

Cameron didn't answer. The doors to the dining room were suddenly thrown open and
Rena announced, "Come on in, everybody. The buffet is open."

"Would you care to join us?" Upton invited as he and Cameron reached the end of the
buffet line. "We're sitting at the head table."

"Is there room for me?"

"Sure. Madeline Brogner was supposed to sit at our table. She sent Zachary Tuck in her
place. He didn't see fit to join us, and I much prefer your company, anyway."

"Thanks," Cameron said. "I won't stay long. I should be trying to find out who killed
Robert Johnson, not enjoying a banquet."

"You've done everything a solo officer can be expected to do. Go off duty for an hour.
Besides, this isn't the kind of case you solve by using standard police procedures."

"Thanks. You've been a big help today."

"Me? Hell, all I've done is give you moral support. You've been the one carrying the
ball."

They carried their plates over to the head table. Suzanne GP was already seated, wearing
a slinky low-cut dress. Rena had changed clothes, as well, and was wearing makeup. For a
moment, Upton didn't recognize her. She patted the vacant seat cushion next to hers, inviting him
to join her.

Cameron took the seat on the other side, next to Randy Callahan. Ashley Wade joined
the group, setting his plate on the white tablecloth.

Cameron felt self-conscious. He was the only man at the table not wearing a coat and tie.
But, then, he hadn't expected to still be at the Marquis Hotel this late. And he certainly hadn't
expected to be sitting at the head table with the Executive Board.

"I don't see Royce anywhere. Has anyone--" Upton said.

"I saw him in line," Ashley said. " He was-- Oh, here he is."

Fontaine crossed the room, nearly dropping his tray when a woman abruptly took a step
backwards and bumped into him. As he reached the table, he said, "People need to be more
careful." He set his tray down. "I was just upstairs, listening to the six o'clock news. The hostage
situation at the Heritage Center is still at a standstill."

"Is it still snowing?" GP wanted to know.

"Over thirty inches. But hope is in sight. They predicting it will start tapering off around
midnight."

Everyone at the table fell silent and began eating. Cameron noticed that no one
mentioned murder or arson fires or stolen romance plots. In fact, no one mentioned anything.
Each board member seemed lost in thought.

It had been a long day.

Cameron had finished his salad and was just swallowing his third bite of prime rib when
he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Jimmy, the facilities manager.

"Could I talk to you for a minute?" His voice was trembling, just above a whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"There's been another murder. A dead man in the swimming pool downstairs."

Cameron stared. "No shit?"

"I'm afraid not. We called 911. They said they can't get anyone out here tonight. The
dispatcher asked if you were still here."

"I'm still here. Damn it!" He pushed back his chair. "Let's go."

Upton set his napkin on the table next to his plate. He had obviously picked up the gist
of their hushed conversation. "I'm going with you."

"You don't need to--"

"I'm going with you."

"What is all this commotion?" Royce Fontaine complained. "I'm trying to eat my
dinner."

Upton answered, just loud enough for the board members to hear, "There's been another
murder."

Rena set down her napkin and pushed back her chair.

He shook his head. "No, the rest of you stay here. We can't all go running out of the
room. It would cause a panic."

"Who got killed?" Randy Callahan wanted to know.

"We don't know," Upton said. "But I can make an educated guess. That damn Zachary
Tuck has been missing since four o'clock this afternoon."

"No!" exclaimed Ashley Wade, his face turning ashen. "Not Tuck! He's getting my first
book published."

Callahan turned to comfort his friend. "Hang on, Ash. Odds are, it's someone else."

* * * *

Cameron and Upton hurried along the hallway, letting Jimmy tag along behind
them.

"What happened, Jimmy?" Cameron said.

"A hotel guest came running up to the front desk, screaming hysterically that there was a
dead man in the swimming pool."

They paused in front of the door to the pool area, across the hall from the bathroom
where the fire had occurred hours earlier. Cameron noticed half a dozen reddish-black stains on
the blue and gray rug.

"I've got a key," Jimmy said, stepping forward.

Cameron took the key. "I need to do this." When the latch clicked, he pulled the door
open with his index finger, taking care not to disturb any possible fingerprints. He stepped across
the threshold. "Wait here."

As he approached the pool, he saw a body floating face down in the blue water. The face
wasn't visible, but from the clothing and the general shape of the body, there was no doubt.

It was Zachary Tuck.

The body lay in the middle of the pool, gently bobbing up and down. The water nearby
had a pink tinge.

Upton and Jimmy were still waiting out in the hallway. He crossed to the door. "It's
Tuck," he told them. "He's dead."

"How did he--" Upton began.

"I don't know yet." He sighed. "I'm going to need the evidence kit again. It's locked in
the Aspen Room." He herded Jimmy and Upton out his way and let the door slam shut behind
him. "Nobody goes in there. And nobody touches anything out here."

"I'll make sure of that," Upton assured him.

"Thanks."

He headed down the corridor.

Another murder?

What the hell is going on?

He obviously couldn't perform the work of the entire crime lab. How much should he
do?

He shrugged. He would figure it out.

He entered the Aspen Room, using the hotel manager's key, and took a moment to stare
at the body of Robert Johnson. Nothing had been disturbed. Somehow, that was reassuring. He
grabbed the camera and crime lab kit and headed back.

Upton and Jimmy were still standing in the hallway. He gestured for them to step aside,
and began snapping pictures down the hallway in both directions, focusing particularly upon the
blood-stained carpet. Blood was splattered on the wall, and he shot half a dozen photographs of
the stains. Setting the camera aside, he stooped and took scrapings from the carpet, depositing
them into little vials from the briefcase. Then he took a box cutter out of the crime lab kit and
sliced away a large section of the rug.

Jimmy uttered a horrified noise.

"Sorry," Cameron said as he inserted the carpet segment into one of his largest evidence
bags. "I had to do that." He turned his attention to the glass-and-metal door that led to the pool
area. "Let's see what kind of fingerprints may have been left behind." He looked at the row of
vials lined up in the kit and told Upton, "I'm not sure what type of power to use. Or what
color."

"I'm afraid I can't help you with that one."

Cameron frowned. "I'm more likely to contaminate any evidence than preserve it."

"Then I have a suggestion. Why don't we just take the whole door? We can pull the pins
and take it off the hinges. If we put it in the Aspen Room, it should be safe until the techs can get
here."

"That's not a bad idea," Cameron agreed.

"You'll need a hammer and screwdriver," Jimmy said. He took off down the hall. Soon
he returned with the tools. Cameron had no trouble removing the pins. Disconnecting the closer
took more effort, but he finally got it done.

"Stay here and stand guard," he told Upton. "Jimmy, you can help me with the door.
Grab the bottom edges and I'll take the top. Got it?"

"Got it."

Cameron slid the door off its hinges, lowering it so that he could catch the top edge.
Jimmy bent over and lifted the bottom. They lugged the door down the hall and around the corner
to the Aspen Room.

"Let's lean it over there against the wall," Cameron said. That done, Cameron dismissed
Jimmy and returned to the swimming pool area.

Upton was waiting in the hallway. "Shall we get him out of the water?"

Cameron thought it over. The less he did, the less he would contaminate the scene. But if
there was any evidence on the body, the water--especially chlorinated water--could destroy it. "I
think we'd better."

He led the way inside. The body was still floating like a half-submerged raft in the
middle of the pool. Cameron considered jumping in and swimming over to it, but rejected the
idea. The blood in the pool was a biohazard. Immersing himself in it would be foolhardy.
Looking around the room, he spotted a Shepherd's Hook hanging on the wall. He removed it
from the brackets and lowered the hook end into the water. It took him three tries to pull the body
to the edge of the pool. Then he grabbed Tuck's collar and hoisted the body out of the water. The
body lay on its back on the concrete floor.

"See that?" Cameron said, gesturing toward Tuck's abdomen. "He was stabbed."

"Repeatedly, it looks like," Upton said. His face had turned deathly pale.

"Are you okay?"

Upton nodded weakly. "Johnson didn't particularly bother me. But this is someone I
knew. Even if I couldn't stand him."

"Well don't go getting sick on me," Cameron told him. "If you foul up my crime scene,
we're both in deep shit."

"I won't. I promise." He took a series of deep breaths. "I'll be okay. Really." He gestured
toward Tuck. "I don't see a murder weapon. What do you think? The stiletto?"

"As much as I'd like to say otherwise, that would be my guess," Cameron said. He
searched Tuck's clothing. In a side pocket of the blue blazer was a key ring, containing half a
dozen metal keys. He found a well-worn brown leather wallet in the breast pocket, together with
two Marquis Hotel ballpoint pens. Tuck's gray slacks contained nothing.

Cameron opened the wallet and thumbed through it. Three soggy twenties and a ten, two
credit cards, a New York State driver's license, library card, and a membership card for the
Museum of Modern Art.

Frowning, he searched all of Tuck's pockets again, slowly and carefully.

"Is something missing?"

"I'm not sure," Cameron said. "He was
staying at the hotel, wasn't he?"

"He was. CWFA pays for accommodations for all of its out-of-town speakers. Even the
ones we can't stand."

Cameron frowned. "Then why isn't he carrying a key to his own room?"

* * * *

"So who would have a strong enough reason to kill Mr. Tuck?" Cameron said, as he and
Upton walked down the corridor, away from the swimming pool.

"Pretty much everybody."

"Was he really that bad an agent?"

"Let me put it this way: Tuck is--was--a lot of hot air, although he did occasionally get
something placed with a decent publisher. I'll give him that much. But after that, when you
needed him to help you with contract negotiations or issues regarding advances or royalties, he
was useless. He'd cave in and give the publisher anything they wanted. He couldn't seem to
remember which side he represented."

Cameron said, "Let's go somewhere where we can talk."

"How about the honeymoon suite? That's become my home away from home."

They rode the elevator to the top floor. Upton used his key to admit them and headed
straight toward the green captain's chair. Cameron took up a position on the couch, placing a
legal pad on the glass-topped coffee table.