14
THE INN ON THE WHARF was a new boutique hotel for the very uppermost crust, which translated roughly into those who could afford it. It was on the waterfront, and all rooms had a view of the harbor. The top-floor suites, where Jumbo had been, probably had a view of Lisbon.
I was off the lobby, in a windowless little office, talking to the director of hotel security, a former FBI agent named Dean Delmar. Hotel counsel was also present.
'Nice view,' I said.
Delmar shrugged.
'Our job is not ostentatious,' he said.
'I can see that,' I said. 'What can you tell me about the night Dawn Lopata died?'
'I went over this with a couple of detectives already,' Delmar said. 'Can't you just access their notes?'
'I like to start from scratch,' I said. 'That way, my mind is uncluttered, so to speak.'
'We have no legal obligation to tell you anything,' Hotel Counsel said.
He looked like someone from casting had sent him over to play the corporate lawyer. He was youngish, and lean, with dark hair cut short and a pair of blue-framed half-glasses that he wore low on his nose, so he could look over them at you.
'Of course you don't,' I said. 'But I know that both of you, like good citizens everywhere, want this terrible incident resolved, and would prefer it be resolved with a minimum of media attention.'
'Are you threatening to involve the media if we don't talk with you?' Hotel Counsel said.
'Are you suggesting that I am the kind of sleazy gumshoe that would do such a thing?' I said.
We looked at each other.
'Let us agree,' Hotel Counsel said, 'that what is said here stays here.'
'Is there a big secret?' I said.
'No,' Hotel Counsel said. 'Of course not. But I don't want any loose talk besmirching the hotel.'
'No besmirching,' I said.
'It is not a frivolous request,' Hotel Counsel said. 'The public perception of this hotel can mean the difference between success and failure.'
'I am employed by Cone, Oakes, and Baldwin,' I said. 'I will share what I learn with them.'
'And no one else.'
'Within the guidelines of legality,' I said.
Hotel Counsel glanced at Delmar and shrugged and nodded.
'Whaddya need?' Delmar said to me.
'Run through it for me,' I said. 'When did you first learn that something was amiss in Jumbo Nelson's suite?'
'Call to the front desk, around eleven-thirty,' Delmar said.
'From?'
'Not entirely clear,' Delmar said. 'Best guess is the bodyguard.'
'Zebulon Sixkill,' I said.
'Yep.'
'Could it have been Jumbo?' I said.
'Clerk said she thought it was the Indian,' Delmar said. 'But it was sort of a crisis call, so she may be wrong.'
'In public,' Hotel Counsel said, 'you might not want to refer to him as 'the Indian.' The bodyguard is all right. Or Mr. Sixkill. But not 'the Indian.' '
'You bet,' Delmar said.
'What did the caller say?' I asked.
'Said there was a medical emergency and to call an ambulance,' Delmar said.
'Which you did.'
'Of course, and the desk clerk called me and I sent a couple of my people up; one had EMT training. The Indian . . . The bodyguard let them in. Found the girl lying on her back on the bed.'
'Clothed?' I said.
'Yes,' Delmar said. 'My guys couldn't get a pulse. They tried to resuscitate her, but . . .' He spread his hands. 'One of them called me, said he thought she was dead. I said, 'Of what?' He said he didn't know. I called the cops.'
'Where was Jumbo?' I said.
