weâd go fishing, and I aim to do that. Iâll get to the autopsy on Monday.â He hefted his medical bag, descended stairs to the ground, and walked to a convertible in the driveway. He got inside, waved to the sheriff, and drove away.
âWeâll catch up on whatâs been going on when the sheriff reports to the captain,â Sam said. âI want to find Alex and see how heâs doing.â
âWhat guns?â Lori asked. âWhat does that mean?â
âThey do skeet shooting, target practice, hunt in season. Itâs a regular arsenal. Letâs go find Alex.â
They passed through the glass door to the lobby, a mammoth space with an oversized fireplace on one wall that was faced with multicolored granite stones. A uniformed deputy stood at a corridor entrance, another at the front entrance to the lobby.
âRegistration book,â Lori said, spotting it on a counter. She hurried over to it. âMalcolm and Marilyn Vicente, room 101,â she called to Sam. âAlex is in 213. Heâs probably with his mother, donât you think?â
âThis way,â Sam said, heading toward the corridor being guarded by a deputy.
Room 101 was the first suite in the corridor. When they entered, Marilyn Vicente was sitting bolt upright on a sofa staring into space. She was a round little woman with blonde hair streaked with reddish brown. That morning she had no makeup on except for poorly applied lipstick that looked garish on her white face.
âHarmon will know,â she was saying in a low monotone. âHe always knows what to do.â
âMother, snap out of it. Please, look at me.â A younger woman was kneeling before Marilyn, waving her hand before her face.
âDaughter,â Sam said. âLouise. Alex called her Cruella.â He nodded toward the sliding door where a man was standing, leaning against the frame, with his head pressed on the glass, his back to the room. âAlex.â
âAnd that one?â Lori asked, pointing to a second man seated at a table glowering at Louise and Marilyn.
âMust be Royce Stossel,â Sam said. âLouiseâs husband. I never met him.â
âMother, pay attention to me,â Louise said. She had a high pitched voice. âTheyâll come to ask questions any minute. All you have to do is tell them you came to your room and took a sleeping pill and went to bed. Thatâs all you have to say. Are you listening to me?â
âI told you. I looked for him,â Marilyn said. âWhen I went to get a glass of milk, but he wasnât there. I told you.â
âGood God!â Royce Stossel said and jumped to his feet. âMarilyn! You came to your room and went to bed! Period!â He pulled Louise away and took Marilynâs arm, shook her slightly.
âHe wasnât where he said he would be. He does that, you know. Thatâs why I always call Harmon. He knows what itâs like. Heâll take care of it.â
âFor Godâs sake, Marilyn! Do you have anything you can take, a tranquilizer?â
Alex spun around to face the room. âBack off, Royce. Leave her alone. Sheâs in shock.â
âShe doesnât have a clue about whatâs going on,â Louise said angrily. âShe has to snap out of it before they come.â
âWhen did you look for him?â Royce demanded.
âI said to back off!â Alex took a step into the room with his fists clenched.
âYouâd better be thinking about what youâre going to tell them! I heard you walking around all night!â
âYou going to tell them you were up listening to footsteps all night?â
âWe canât let her tell them she was wandering around looking for him!â Louise cried over the two men yelling over each other.
Lori was watching them all, Alex advancing toward Royce, Marilyn sitting like a statue, Louise scowling at her mother, her
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