told him the lobby was for the use of guests only and if he’d like to leave a message for Ms. McNabb he could-”
“Wait a minute. Did you say McNabb?”
“That’s her name. The bookkeeper.”
“Tally McNabb?”
“That’s right.”
Russ glanced at Lyle, who pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What does this man look like?”
Barbara LeBlanc paused. “He’s, um, maybe five ten, very muscular, um, in his late twenties or early thirties…”
Russ sighed. He knew when someone was tiptoeing around. “Is he black?”
“Yes!” she whispered. “How did you know?”
“I’ve met him before. Go on, what happened?”
“When I told him the lobby was for guests only, he insisted on renting a room! He said he’d stay here until Ms. McNabb showed up, even though I gave him my word we didn’t expect her until Monday.” She dropped her voice again. “We’re a public accommodation, Chief Van Alstyne. We have to have an iron-clad reason to refuse someone’s trade. This whole waiting-around-for-a-woman-to-show thing makes me very nervous, but I was afraid turning him away would just open us up to a potential lawsuit.”
“So you rented him a room.”
“Yes.”
Russ pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “Where is he now?” Rousting Quentan Nichols out of a room at the hush-and-plush Algonquin Waters was going to be problematical.
“He’s still sitting in the lobby.”
Okay. One thing going right today. “You did the right thing by calling me, Ms. LeBlanc. I’m heading over now. I’ll talk with him.”
“He is a stalker?”
“He was here looking for Tally McNabb two months ago. There was some trouble. I don’t have any reason to think she wants to see him now any more than she did then.”
“You’ll be discreet?”
“I’ll keep things as low-key as possible.”
She sighed. “Thank you so much, Chief. I’ll see you in about half an hour.” A dial tone replaced her voice.
Lyle looked at him. “This that guy who got up that fight at the Dew Drop?”
“One of ’em.” Russ shook his head. “God knows what he’s doing here now. I can’t believe he got leave again so soon.”
“That’s right. He’s military police, isn’t he? Like you and Eric.” Lyle pushed at the arms of his chair and stood. “Well. Let’s get going.”
“Who said you’re going along?”
“It took Hadley and Kevin both to stop him last time, didn’t it?”
“I’m just going to talk with the guy.”
“Yeah? That’s your intention. You don’t know his.” MacAuley let his half-smile drop. “Seriously. The only young MP I know is Eric McCrea, and I’ll tell you, if I had to go pick him up for something, I sure wouldn’t do it without backup.”
Russ nodded. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right.”
“I usually am. It’d save us a lot of time if you’d just start from that premise.”
They took separate cruisers to the resort. If everything went according to plan, they’d split up afterward, Lyle heading back to Fort Henry, Russ taking the Cossayuharie loop. Of course, not much had gone according to plan today.
They parked in the wide drive curving through the portico. As Russ stepped out into the shade and the mountain scent of balsam and juniper, his stomach turned. The world had been howling white with snow the last time he had been here. The polished oak-and-brass doors, open to the August air, had been draped in plastic sheeting. The oriental rugs and leather chairs of the gleaming pine lobby had been covered in paint-spattered tarps, and the people descending the stairs to the spa below had been electricians and carpenters, not tanned, toned matrons.
Linda had been alive.
Funny how he always thought of her by name these days, instead of as “my wife.”
“You okay?” Lyle’s voice was low in his ear.
Russ gestured toward the swags of lined and slashed fabric framing clerestory windows beneath the arching cathedral ceiling. “Linda made those.”
Lyle slapped his upper arm. Gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“I’m all right.” Russ coughed to get the thickness out of his throat. “I’m fine,” he said in a more normal tone of voice. He brought his attention back to the lobby. There was a pair of white-haired gents in candy-colored pants swapping newspaper sections with each other, and a mother and daughter reading the daily activity board, their identical golden blond heads close together, but no Quentan Nichols. “He’s not here.”
Lyle nudged him. A slim brunette emerged from a door behind the granite reception counter. She had a flat walkie-talkie clipped to the waist of her short skirt, and a name badge pinned to her expensive-looking silk blouse. She crossed toward them, her heels clicking on the pine floorboards. “Chief Van Alstyne.” She held out her hand. “Good to see you again.”
“Ms. LeBlanc.” He shook her hand. “This is Deputy Chief Lyle MacAuley.”
Lyle straightened his spine and expanded his chest. He held LeBlanc’s hand a second longer than necessary.
“The chief and deputy chief. I’m honored.” Her wide mouth stretched into a smile that didn’t quite make her eyes. “Or should I be worried?”
“Don’t you worry about a thing.” Lyle radiated confidence, with just a hint of amusement that anyone might think he couldn’t handle a heavily muscled thirty-year-old MP. Russ had to admit, he was good. “Where is Mr. Nichols right now?” Lyle asked.
LeBlanc gestured toward the almost empty lobby. “He went up to his room about fifteen minutes ago.” She held up a plastic card attached to a card- and key-heavy ring. “I put him on the top floor, as far away from anyone else as I could. Just in case.”
“Good thinking.” Russ glanced at Lyle. “See if we can get him back down here?”
Lyle nodded. “Be a lot less messy, if he doesn’t want to come with us.”
“Oh.” LeBlanc lowered the card. “I’m sorry. I should have tried to keep him in the lobby.”
“No,” Russ said. “You did exactly the right thing.”
“We’re the ones with the law enforcement experience,” Lyle reassured her. “Not you.”
“Years of experience,” Russ said. “Years and years.”
Lyle shot him a look.
“Could you get him on the phone?” Russ said. “Tell him there’s been some difficulty with his credit card and that you’ve got to swipe it again.” He thumbed toward the far wall. “We’ll wait between the elevators and the stairs. Whichever way he comes down, we’ll have him surrounded before he has a chance to kick up a fuss.”
LeBlanc nodded. She headed back to her office, giving them a chance to appreciate the view as she walked away. “Mm-mm,” Lyle said. “That woman could rent me a room anytime.”
“She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?”
“Oh, I dunno.” Lyle slanted him a look. “I figure her to be about Clare’s age.”
Russ shut up. They crossed the lobby, Lyle gawking at the antler chandeliers and the stone fireplace, big enough to roast an entire cow in. He gestured toward the wide, carpeted stairs.
“It only goes as far as the second floor,” Russ said. “Then it’s your standard interior staircase up to the fifth.”
Lyle craned his neck to see to where the lobby angled into a hallway past the bar. “What about that side?”
“The offices. There’s a fire door, but it’s alarmed. No exterior fire escape. The night of the fire, all the guests exited out the lobby or the alarmed door.”
“Sounds easy. Just the way I like it.”
Russ positioned himself at the edge of the elevator bank, where, if he leaned forward, he could see all four
