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Six Geese A-Slaying(76)

By:Donna Andrews


“Doleson was always snooping, right?”

Rob nodded.

“What if Doleson found the body and didn’t report it?”

“Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he wanted to loot the dead guy’s luggage before calling the police. Or dump the hassle of dealing with the cops on his poor night clerk. Or maybe he was on the way back to his office to report it. Whatever it was, before he could do it, Werzel drives up. What does Doleson do?”

“Grabs his digital camera and starts snapping shots.”

“Bingo!” I said, so loudly that Spike woke up and growled at me. “Doleson gets some lovely shots of Werzel entering the room. Then Werzel fleeing the room. And then the dead body Werzel apparently left behind. Werzel’s the prime suspect if the police are thinking murder. And Doleson could have made it look even worse—like claiming he’d heard what sounded like a struggle. He’s got the perfect ammo for blackmailing Werzel.”

Rob whistled.

“Sounds plausible to me,” he said. “Why doesn’t the chief call back?”

“It’s Christmas Eve, he’s got a big murder case, and he doesn’t know I’ve got a key piece of evidence.”

We both looked at the phone again. It stubbornly refused to ring.

“So are we just going to stay here till it rings?” Rob asked. “No offense to Michael, but it’s kind of creepy up here with no one else around.”

“Very creepy,” I said. “And no, we’re leaving. Minerva and the chief are coming to the show—she said so this morning. Let’s go downstairs and wait for them, and I can tell the chief in person.”

“What if he skips the show to keep working on the case?”

“Then we’ll tell Minerva, and she’ll help us reach him. Debbie Anne might not put me through to the chief, but she wouldn’t stonewall Minerva.”

“Great idea,” he said.

I shut down the browser and began turning Michael’s computer off. Rob went over, opened the door, and stood fidgeting in the doorway.

“The small evil one should go back in the crate,” I said, over my shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll—damn!”

I glanced up to see Rob clutching his hand, as the tip of Spike’s tail disappeared out the door.

“I think we’re going to have to start spelling in front of him,” I said, as I picked up my coat and purse.

“Won’t work,” Rob said, over his shoulder. “He’s psychic. I’ll get him.”

He took off down the corridor. I stuck the camera in my pocket and went over to prop the carrier door open. I heard a clatter outside in the corridor.

“Rob?” I called. I stepped out into the corridor and looked in both directions. Only a few scattered bulbs on the night system lit the corridor, but I could easily see that it was empty. No Rob. No Spike. Nothing at all, except for a cleaner’s mop and an overturned bucket at the far end of the corridor on the right, where it turned a corner. The noise had probably been Rob tripping over them.

I started down the corridor in that direction. Strange that I didn’t hear them, but maybe Spike was traveling even faster than usual. If he’d taken to a stairwell, they could be on another floor by now.

I rounded the corner and almost ran into a cleaner’s cart. Then I realized there was a shape lying on the floor beyond it.

“Rob! Are you all right?”

He didn’t answer. I knelt down beside him. He was breathing, but his eyes were closed. I reached to check his pulse.

“He’s not dead,” said a familiar voice.

I looked up to see Ainsley Werzel standing a few feet away. He was pointing a gun at me.

“Now give me the camera,” he said.





Chapter 30

“Mr. Werzel? Is that you?” I said. I pretended to be peering through the gloom as I said it, and I talked as loudly as I could, hoping that someone would hear and come to rescue me. Then I realized that no one but Rob and I knew that Werzel was the killer. If anyone else was close enough to hear Werzel’s name, they’d make tracks in the opposite direction.

“Shut up,” Werzel growled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Don’t pretend to be stupid,” he said. “I know you’re not stupid. Nosy, but not stupid. Give me the camera.”

“You don’t have to act as if I was stealing it.” I pulled the camera out of my pocket and held it out. “I was going to bring it back to you. My nephew thought it was mine and brought it to me—I have one just like it.”

I tried to sound matter-of-fact and calm, as if I hadn’t quite noticed he was pointing a gun at me. He didn’t seem to be buying it. He leaned forward carefully, snatched the camera out of my hand, and then retreated to a safe distance.