her iPad on the desk. “Is this the man?”
Shannon studied it for a moment and then sighed. “I think I remember him. But you have to understand that we have so many people coming through here. It’s hard to remember anyone specifically.”
“Maybe you could check with the convention people,”Kent offered. “The organizers are still here. They’re packing things up. In fact, the guy in charge is standing over there by that table.” He gestured toward a man in jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Thank you.” J.J. smiled. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“But before we go, we’re also going to need to check Mr. Wilderman’s room,” Simon said. “Which means we’ll need a key.”
Shannon shot a look at her boss, who was already shaking his head. “I’m afraid that’s simply not possible. We take our guests’ security very seriously.”
“Even after they’re dead?” J.J. asked, her tone brooking no argument.
“Oh, dear. You’re saying that Mr. Wilderman is… well, that does change things, I suppose,” Kent said, swallowing uncomfortably.
“If there’s a problem with your superiors, they can take it up with mine.” J.J. leaned forward, tilting her head provocatively as she held Kent’s gaze. “I promise I’ll make sure they know you considered every option.” She smiled at him then, her blue eyes conspiratorial. “I can’t tell you how much your help means to me.”
There was a beat, and Kent swallowed again. J.J.’s smile widened, and, having been on the receiving end of her beguiling entreaties many times, Simon knew that the manager was a goner.
Kent sighed and then nodded at Shannon, his gaze still locked on J.J. The other woman slid a card through the machine and handed it to him. He in turn handed it over to J.J., his fingers lingering over the transfer. Simon bit back a smile as the two of them headed over to the table where the insurance guy was packing boxes.
“I should have known you’d pull out the big guns,” he said when they were out of earshot.
“What can I say? It was for a good cause.” She grinned, and for a moment, it actually seemed like old times.
“No kidding.”
J.J. shrugged, her smile fading as they approached the man at the table, and the sense of camaraderie vanished. They quickly introduced themselves. The man identified himself as Brian Childs, the executive director for the insurance organization sponsoring the convention.
“We already know that Mr. Wilderman was registered for the convention,” J.J. said. “What we need now is verification that this is him.” She held out the photo on her iPad. “We figured you might be able to ID him for us.”
“Sure,” Childs said. “That’s definitely Eric. We’ve know each other for years.”
“And you saw him here at the convention?” Simon asked.
“Absolutely. I had drinks with him on the first night.” The man frowned, his expression confused. “Is Eric in some kind of trouble?”
“We’re just looking into some anomalies. Nothing for you to be concerned about,” J.J. responded, her tone dismissive. “Did you spend any more time with Mr. Wilderman?”
“No.” Childs shook his head. “I’ve been running like crazy all week. I saw him across the room a couple of times. But I’m afraid that’s it.” A woman walked up with a teetering stack of boxes. “If that’s all?” he asked, his attention already turning to his colleague.
J.J. nodded, and they walked toward the elevator bank. “So at least we know that the real Wilderman was at the hotel,” she said as they stepped into an open car.
“But if he was here, who the hell was at the heliport? And where is Mr. Wilderman now?”
“With any luck,” J.J. said, “in his room. Although if he was involved in all of this, I figure that’s pretty unlikely.”
“Agreed.” Simon frowned as the two of them stared at the changing numbers over the door. The smell of J.J’s perfume filled the elevator, the sharp, sweet scent taking
Shannon studied it for a moment and then sighed. “I think I remember him. But you have to understand that we have so many people coming through here. It’s hard to remember anyone specifically.”
“Maybe you could check with the convention people,”Kent offered. “The organizers are still here. They’re packing things up. In fact, the guy in charge is standing over there by that table.” He gestured toward a man in jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Thank you.” J.J. smiled. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“But before we go, we’re also going to need to check Mr. Wilderman’s room,” Simon said. “Which means we’ll need a key.”
Shannon shot a look at her boss, who was already shaking his head. “I’m afraid that’s simply not possible. We take our guests’ security very seriously.”
“Even after they’re dead?” J.J. asked, her tone brooking no argument.
“Oh, dear. You’re saying that Mr. Wilderman is… well, that does change things, I suppose,” Kent said, swallowing uncomfortably.
“If there’s a problem with your superiors, they can take it up with mine.” J.J. leaned forward, tilting her head provocatively as she held Kent’s gaze. “I promise I’ll make sure they know you considered every option.” She smiled at him then, her blue eyes conspiratorial. “I can’t tell you how much your help means to me.”
There was a beat, and Kent swallowed again. J.J.’s smile widened, and, having been on the receiving end of her beguiling entreaties many times, Simon knew that the manager was a goner.
Kent sighed and then nodded at Shannon, his gaze still locked on J.J. The other woman slid a card through the machine and handed it to him. He in turn handed it over to J.J., his fingers lingering over the transfer. Simon bit back a smile as the two of them headed over to the table where the insurance guy was packing boxes.
“I should have known you’d pull out the big guns,” he said when they were out of earshot.
“What can I say? It was for a good cause.” She grinned, and for a moment, it actually seemed like old times.
“No kidding.”
J.J. shrugged, her smile fading as they approached the man at the table, and the sense of camaraderie vanished. They quickly introduced themselves. The man identified himself as Brian Childs, the executive director for the insurance organization sponsoring the convention.
“We already know that Mr. Wilderman was registered for the convention,” J.J. said. “What we need now is verification that this is him.” She held out the photo on her iPad. “We figured you might be able to ID him for us.”
“Sure,” Childs said. “That’s definitely Eric. We’ve know each other for years.”
“And you saw him here at the convention?” Simon asked.
“Absolutely. I had drinks with him on the first night.” The man frowned, his expression confused. “Is Eric in some kind of trouble?”
“We’re just looking into some anomalies. Nothing for you to be concerned about,” J.J. responded, her tone dismissive. “Did you spend any more time with Mr. Wilderman?”
“No.” Childs shook his head. “I’ve been running like crazy all week. I saw him across the room a couple of times. But I’m afraid that’s it.” A woman walked up with a teetering stack of boxes. “If that’s all?” he asked, his attention already turning to his colleague.
J.J. nodded, and they walked toward the elevator bank. “So at least we know that the real Wilderman was at the hotel,” she said as they stepped into an open car.
“But if he was here, who the hell was at the heliport? And where is Mr. Wilderman now?”
“With any luck,” J.J. said, “in his room. Although if he was involved in all of this, I figure that’s pretty unlikely.”
“Agreed.” Simon frowned as the two of them stared at the changing numbers over the door. The smell of J.J’s perfume filled the elevator, the sharp, sweet scent taking
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