come down, I request you join him. And me, too. He says we all need to eat-it's going to be a long day.'
'Sounds like a plan.'
Soon they were entering the vast dining room where ten people, mostly couples, were seated centrally, having breakfast. Stares and whispers followed Sara.
'I guess word's out,' she said, as Cormier led her past gawking guests toward a table where Maher waited.
'Well, you know how it is-in an environment this small, news travels fast. Especially with the four of us running in and out every couple of hours.'
She nodded. 'In other words, you told your wife.'
He nodded. 'Told my wife.'
Maher stood as Sara approached and they exchanged good mornings. He'd been smoking a cigarette-this was the smoking section-but he stabbed it out as Sara neared. His eyes were as red-rimmed as hers, but he too seemed energized.
'I think you're going to enjoy today much more than yesterday, Ms. Sidle.'
'Call me Sara, please,' she said, sitting.
'All right,' Maher said, taking his seat, Cormier doing the same, 'if you'll call me Gordon…or even Gordy.'
'Gordon, if you can make that crime scene shake off the snow and talk to us, I'll call you a genius.'
The other diners were slowly returning to their food, if occasionally glancing over at the detectives in their midst.
The menu was a small single page, with only a handful of items-basically, a choice of ham, bacon, or sausage and various combinations of eggs and cakes-and she was still studying it, as if looking for hidden meaning, when a loud crash made her-and everyone else in the dining room-jump half out of their chairs. She whirled to see the waiter, Tony Dominguez, kneeling over a tray on the floor, half a dozen plates upended, food scattered.
'First time that ballet dancer ever got clumsy,' Cormier muttered, and hustled over to help the waiter clean up the mess.
The pair worked fast, starting with carefully piling the broken pieces of dishes and glasses onto the serving tray. Sara caught sight of a pink stain on the left arm of the waiter's white shirt-from juice maybe; the stain looked dry, so it hadn't come from nicking himself due to this spill. Cormier went off to the kitchen for more cleaning utensils.
Turning back to her table, Sara leaned forward resting an elbow, touching a hand to her face. So much for waking up refreshed-the crash and clatter of china and silverware had almost made her leap out of her skin, and she realized how frazzled she still felt. So much for a peaceful getaway with Gil Grissom….
'Brace up, eh?' Maher said. 'We'll be getting to work before you know it-and I have a hunch you're the kind who's never happier than at a crime scene.'
He seemed to be describing Grissom more than her, but Sara nonetheless brightened at the prospect. 'I guess you planned on having more than just two students.'
'With 'students' like you and Dr. Grissom, it's a master's thesis class. Limited enrollment.'
A haggard Amy Barlow trod up to their table, little of yesterday's spring in her step. Her hair, though tied back in a loose ponytail, looked haphazardly combed, dozens of stray strands seeking escape; and she wore no makeup. She had on the same black slacks and white shirt but no bow tie, the crisp pressed look of last night's uniform absent. The only thing she seemed to have changed was the bandage on her left hand.
'You're one of those crime lab people, aren't you?' Amy asked Sara. 'In for the conference that got canceled.'
'That's right,' Sara said, rather startled by the question.
'Then maybe you'll know-I asked Herm but he just said stay about your business.'
'Know what, Amy?'
'Is it true?' She glanced in the direction of the mountainside. 'That there's a body out there somewhere?'
Sara glanced at Maher, who nodded.
'I'm afraid so,' Sara said. 'The police can't make it up here in the snow, so we're doing what we can.'
'What can you do?' Amy frowned curiously. 'What happened?'
'A man was killed,' Sara said.
''Nother skiing accident? Exposure…?'
'No. It was intentional. Homicide.'
Amy frowned. '…Murder?'
'Yes.'
Somehow Sara had wound up on the wrong end of the Amy Barlow interrogation. Taking back the initiative, the CSI asked, 'Can you tell us anything about the cars you saw on the road yesterday?'
Amy frowned again, in thought this time. 'Would that have something to do with this?'
'Might. What did you see? What do you remember seeing, on your way in to work?'
The waitress shook her head, as if her response would be negative, then said, 'One was an SUV, that much I can tell you…a Bronco, or Blazer? They all kinda look alike to me.'
'That's a good start, Amy,' Maher said. 'What about color?'
Amy's eyes tightened as she searched her memory. 'Dark red, like a maroon?'
That had been more a question than an answer, but it was something, anyway. 'You're doing fine,' Sara said. 'What about a license plate? If not the number, were they New York State plates? Out of state…?'
Amy drew in a breath, exhaled through her nose, shook her head, ponytail flouncing. 'Didn't notice.'
'And there was another car?' Maher pressed.
That had been the waitress's implication.
'Yes,' she said. Then, proud of herself, she gave the following detailed description: 'Something big and black.'
Sara hid her frustration, while Maher kept at it, asking, 'New or old?'
'On the newer side,' Amy said. 'Like a Toyota or a Honda-I don't know cars very well. That's Jimmy's thing.'
'Jimmy?'
'My guy,' she said, with a shrug. 'Can I give you a piece of advice, hon?'
'Sure,' Sara said.
'Never date a guy younger than you. Young boyfriend, they'll drive you crazy. You feel like you're raisin' a kid, sometimes.'
Sara had been in that position once or twice, and smiled in recognition.
Back from mopping the floor, Cormier was sitting down with them again, and had caught the tail end of that. 'James Moss,' he said, filling in information. 'Jimmy. He's a waiter here too.' He looked up at Amy. 'Wasn't Jimmy supposed to work yesterday too?'
She nodded. 'Didn't make it in, in time. With the phones down, I ain't even talked to him.'
'You two usually ride in together,' Cormier said.
Another nod. 'Not yesterday-Jimmy said he had some errands to run. Somebody he had to see, he said.'
'That new restaurant in New Paltz is hiring,' Cormier said. 'Kid asked for a raise last week and I turned him down.'
Maher kept his attention on the hotel man. 'Did Jimmy call in?'
'I'd have to ask Pearl, but I don't believe so. But lots of the help didn't call in, and of course it wasn't long before the phones were down. Listen, in this part of the world, with this kind of weather, we're used to the help not calling when they can't make it in.'
Amy smirked. 'Probably holed up playing with his damned Game Cube, praying for snow all weekend…. Folks ready to order?'
They did, and Amy went away.
'Well, the snow has stopped,' Maher said. 'Any word from the outside?'
'Phones're still down,' said Cormier. 'I do have a ham radio, though.'
