《FROM THE FOURTH FLOOR》


 ONE

    Perry Stone was on a smoke break. Sitting on an upside-down bucket in a back alley behind Earl & Sons Publishing, he watched the afternoon sun slowly push shadows from one side to the other. The air smelled of wet garbage from last night''s rainstorm and a nearby open dumpster. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and looked at the smoke as it lifted into the sky. He''d been close to quitting a few times but always felt like life''s stress was just barely too much to tackle on his own. He made enough money from two small books and a handful of articles with local celebs, but nothing close enough to retire on. He''d had a steady job with Earl & Sons for the last seven years but couldn''t help but wonder if he''d been in one place too long. It''d been nearly a year since he''d been on a project that seemed even remotely exciting. Perry scratched the dark stubble on his cheek and dipped the remainder of his cigarette in a small puddle between his feet. A tiny stream of grey smoke from the distinguished butt rose and danced in front of his face. He exhaled sharply and watched it fly away in a thousand directions as he rose to his feet and headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, the heavy, steel door shot open toward him and jammed his index finger.


    Reeling in pain, Perry jumped back. "Son of a bitch!" He grabbed at his hand and instinctively squeezed the injured digit.


    "Oh, shit. Sorry about that." Barb winced as she looked at him apologetically.


    Perry shook his hand at his side, trying to get some feeling back. "Goddamnit, Barb." He looked at her with sympathy, he knew it wasn''t her fault. He''d mentioned to his boss about replacing the windowless door a thousand times to prevent this sort of thing from happening. But those types of things never seem to be in the budget.


    "Well shit, Stone. I didn''t know you''d be there!" She scrunched up her nose and looked at his hand. "Is it broken?"


    Perry rolled his eyes. "No, I''m sure it''s fine. Hurts like hell but I''ll live."


    "Boss is looking for you." Barb nodded her head, motioning to the floors above. "Says he might have something for you."


    Perry followed Barb back inside, feeling his finger begin to swell and throb. Barb was the type of co-worker that no one hated, but no one really loved her either. They''d worked together for the last five years and had grown to enjoy each other''s company. She laughed at his dry humor and he admired how little she actually cared about what others thought. To Perry''s surprise, they never found each other sexually attractive. It was a nice relief to know he could be himself without the stress of trying to impress a member of the opposite sex. Not that Barb wasn''t pretty. He''d actually thought about her, on many occasions, and wondered why they''d never been intimate. She was in her late thirties, single, and had curves in the right places. She had short, curly, strawberry-blonde hair, and thick-rimmed glasses. They both paused at the elevator and waited for the doors to open. Without looking in his direction, Barb added, "I thought you quit."


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    Perry, also without looking in her direction, replied, "So did I." The elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open. As they stepped inside, Perry reached out with his middle finger to push floor 10. Looking again at his painful finger, he noted it was turning a tinge of blue.


    Once to their floor, Perry headed toward his office for a notepad and paper. He spoke over his shoulder to Barb, "Any idea what he''s got?"


    "Not sure, exactly. I overheard part of a phone call about a hotel, I think?" She sat back at her desk and nudged her glasses back up her nose. Her workspace was just outside of Perry''s small office. Where she sat, she could see and talk with Perry, his boss, and another writer that hardly came to work anymore. Perry''s real value was in his ability to not only write and ask investigative questions, but he doubled as a half-decent photographer. He insisted on doing all of his own photo work when writing for Earl & Sons. Barb had been the chief assistant for three and a half years and never got the coffee orders wrong. What they both knew, but never spoke about, was how either of them would leave the company the second the other did.


    Simon Earl''s door was open slightly while he thumbed through a proof about a local restaurant that was on the up. When Perry knocked, Simon muttered a noise that wasn''t an actual word but still implied it was okay to enter. His corner office had large windows but was cluttered with boxes, papers, and folders. He had shades drawn to keep out some of the afternoon sun. Regardless, his office was always fifteen degrees warmer than anywhere else in the building. Perry looked at a brown folder on his coffee table with paper clipped to the cover that read ''STONE''. "I take it this is for me?"


    Simon looked up and reached for his coffee cup. "Hey, Stone! I was just looking for you." He slurped his mug and gestured toward the folder. "I got a folder there for you." He leaned back in his office chair and took another drink. "How''d you like to get out of town for a couple days?"


    Perry opened the folder and flipped through some old, black-and-white photos. He was looking at a hotel that appeared to be in its prime. Celebrities shaking hands, waving at other guests, playing poker, lounging by a pool. A picture of Frank Sinatra holding a martini. The folder had a handful of newspaper articles that had clearly been placed in chronological order, telling a short story of a once-prominent hotel and a slow, sad fall from grace. "What am I looking at, exactly?"


    Simon tipped his mug back and gulped down the last of his lukewarm joe. "Ever heard of the Cayon Jewel Hotel?"

 TWO

    Perry dropped the Canyon Jewel''s folder onto his desk and watched some of the old photos come loose and slide toward his keyboard. He reached over a clicked on the computer monitor as he settled into his chair.


    "Well?" Barb leaned against the door frame inquisitively.


    "Not sure, exactly." Perry bounced his eyebrows looking toward Barb. "I might need to have a surgeon amputate this finger."


    Barb''s sarcastic reply illustrated their comfort level together, "Poor guy. Maybe he can write you a script for some Midol while he''s at it."


    "It is my time of the month." His comment made Barb snort from a short chuckle. He began an internet search of the hotel and fully realized just how much his injury might hinder him. Typing was more difficult than he''d thought. "But seriously, this thing hurts like hell."


    Barb stepped into his office and leaned over to look at Perry''s monitor. "What are we looking at?"


    "Well." Perry paused as he combed over some of the information he''d found. "Apparently this hotel, the Canyon Jewel, used to be a pretty big deal back in the day." He nudged some of the photos toward Barb.


    "Canyon Jewel? Why does that sound so familiar?" Barb studied the photos while Perry clicked through a few more pages on his computer. After a short minute, Barb''s eyes lit up. "That''s why!"


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    Perry looked at Barb, waiting for her explanation. She was looking at the pictures with an entirely new attitude now. The look on her face had become more about amazement and wonder. Perry interrupted her trance, "Well?"


    "My grandmother used to talk about this place all the time. When I was a kid, she loved going here and coming home with stories about Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando. She loved the Rat Pack and had a huge crush on Dean Martin." She handed Perry the picture of Frank Sinatra and pointed at a figure in the photo behind him. That''s Dean Martin right there. I''ve seen so many pictures of him from my grandmother''s house, I could pick him out anywhere." She passed him another picture of patrons at a small bartop, cheering and clinking glasses. "That''s their famous lounge. My grandmother brought me back a drink coaster from there once. She''d gone away for a weekend to try and meet Dean and convince him to marry her." Barb shook her head and chuckled again. "She came back empty-handed, obviously."


    Perry leaned back in his seat. "From what I gather, this place is on its last breath. Simon wants a piece about their good old days and preserving a national treasure. It looks like they got mired down in money troubles a decade or so ago and never really recovered." He glanced down at his throbbing finger which was now nearly purple. He held it up with a small frown to show Barb. "But first thing''s first. I should get this thing checked out."


    Barb looked at Perry with a straight face and sarcasm. "I said I was sorry."


    "I know, I know." Perry stood and shuffled around Barb toward the door. "Want to make it up to me? Start looking at some flights while I see about some xrays."


    "Only if you promise to bring me back a souvenir."


    Without looking in her direction, making his way to the elevator, Perry called back over his shoulder, "I''m sure they''ll have a coaster I can grab!"

 THREE

    "Anything to drink, sir?"


    Perry blinked his heavy eyes and looked up at a flight attendant. "Sorry?" He rubbed his eyes with a now bandaged and taped finger. The wrap and gauze nearly tripled its size and the doctor braced it against his middle digit to keep it from bending. On top of all of that, the pain medication made him drowsy.


    "Anything to drink with your in-flight snack?" The attendant was passing him a small package of pub peanuts.


    "Ah." Perry fought back a yawn and asked for a cup of coffee. Before she could ask, he answered her question. "Just black, please."


    His flight was a short three hours and his stay at the Canyon Jewel was scheduled for two nights. He was a light traveler and became efficient at packing on short notice from his years of experience. News and stories never slept, he knew he''d always need to be ready to drop anything and everything for his work. But lately, things felt bland. He''d been hoping for a little more excitement in his job. On the other hand, he began to wonder if this meant he was losing his edge. Was it the work that was lacking, or was it him?


    When his flight landed, Perry collected his carry-on bag and his camera case with his Nikon FM10. He loved the 35mm and the old-fashion photography process. He enjoyed developing his own film and seeing his shots come to life first-hand. He made his way to the public transport and carpool area and waited for a taxi. Now that he was outside and away from the doors, he reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. To his surprise, as well as disappointment, the bandaged fingers made it nearly impossible to smoke. The x-rays came back negative but the doctor gave him a small splint. To keep the finger from moving too much, the wrapped two of them together, which happened to be the two he held cigarettes with. His dominant hand had been reduced to a couple of useless digits and an extra five pounds of medical wrap. Perry was officially annoyed at how much it all got in the way. Doing anything felt awkward now, like throwing a ball with the opposite hand. Frustrated, he jammed the cigarette back into the pack and stuffed them into his pocket. The taxi screeched to a stop at the curb and a large man with a thick, black mustache and baseball cap reached back between the front seats and pulled the latch to open his door.


    "I appreciate it, thanks." Perry slid in and closed the door.


    The cab driver''s deep, gruff voice boomed from the front seat, "Don''t mention it!" He had that slight gargle in his throat that only an old man gets after too many years of late nights sleeping next to the bottle. "Where we headed?"


    Perry pulled a sheet of paper from his bag and passed it to the driver. "Ever been to the Canyon Jewel Hotel?"


    The old man read over the address and nodded his head violently. "I know the place! Never stayed there myself, but have been up there a handful of times over the years." He glanced over his shoulder to check for traffic and pulled away from the curb with a jolt. "Been a long time since anyone asked to go there! What''s the occasion?"


    "I''m writing an article about its glory days. I hear they''re really struggling right now." Perry knew his escort would have some good history on the place. Which is why he preferred a taxi to other ride-share apps and things. A classic cabbie is local. They''ll know all the dirt and grime about spots around town. All the newer technology and carpool services seem to be hustled around by the younger crowd that spent too much time staring at phones and tablets. The mustache would know a thing or two about the hotel.


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    "You got that right! A real shame, too." The driver took a drink from a styrofoam cup with a straw barely sticking out the top. "The Jewel used to be a real hot spot! A little rich for my blood back in the day. I remember picking up gals at all hours of the night! The lounge up there was something special! Big names were always throwing parties up there."


    Perry watched out the window as the sky began to slowly fade to grey. "What happened?"


    "Rumor has it, ownership was poor with their money. And the canyon road washes out a lot when it rains! I once heard a car got washed away during a big downpour and a couple died. After an investigation, the cops found out the hotel was supposed to put money into developing the road because of the storms but spent it on celebrity bookings and all that instead." The driver took another drink with a loud slurp when the beverage was gone. He shook the cup to hear only since in the bottom and pushed it back into the cup holder. "Supposedly, once the story got out, the family of the couple that died brought a lawsuit and that''s when the Jewel started to go."


    Perry looked back at the driver, skeptical. "The rains get that bad?"


    "You''ll see when we get closer. It''s not far now!" The driver removed his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He combed down his mustache with his hand and pointed out the passenger window. "It''s a decent view, though!"


    Perry looked back out as the city started to fade. The Canyon Jewel Hotel was situated in a small canyon about ten miles outside of town. The elevation rose slightly and one could easily understand the draw to a place like this. As the scenery changed, the canyon walls slowly climbed up on both sides of the road, and areas around each bend had loose gravel and rocks that showered down during the rainstorms. Just as he was told, Perry could see the dip before the hotel came into view. Any decent amount of water could easily pool up and transform the small road into a lake and make it impossible for a vehicle to pass through. Perry leaned forward and asked with a little more concern this time, "So what happens when it floods? What do they do?"


    "Wait it out!" The cabbie laughed aloud and began to cough. He pumped his fist on his chest and cleared his throat. "Now you can see why this place struggles!"


    As they passed over the top of a small hill, a large driveway with a gate appeared to the left with big, golden letters, "CANYON JEWEL". The letter "O" was cleverly fashioned into a green emerald jewel that split in half as the gates automatically opened when approached. Even with the sun fading behind the darkened clouds, the letters managed to shine and greet each guest with glamor, fashion, and a sense of wealth. On approach, the driveway was lined with pink, cherry blossom trees in full bloom. The small, gravel under the tires was purposely laid to force vehicles to enter slowly and take in the hotel''s architecture and grounds. As the taxi made a loop and came to a stop, Perry studied the fountain in the center of the entrance circle. It was close the twenty feet tall and resembled a man and woman embraced while dancing, both holding martini glasses. He assumed the drinks were where the water once flowed as the fountain was now completely dry. Small, pink flower petals from the trees littered the ground as someone descended the short stairs to greet him.


    "Welcome to the Canyon Jewel, sir." A man in his mid-thirties with a deep, green bellhop uniform and a short, brown beard had his hands out wide with a smile on his face. He wore white gloves with gold trim around the wrists and shiny, black shoes. Clearly, this man took his job seriously. He moved only to nudge his small, round glasses back to the top of his nose and then quickly resumed his stance, smile included. "Might I help you with your things?"


    Perry took mental note of the display in front of him and was impressed by the man''s dedication. We waved dismissingly with his hand and bundle of bandages. "I can manage, thank you. I only have a small bag."


    The bellhop nodded politely. "Of course, sir." He turned on his heels and gestured with his gloved hand up the stairs to the doors. "Right this way." He held the door for Perry and let him enter first. Following behind, he quickly hustled around the counter and also began working the front desk. Checking the time, the bellhop looked up at Perry with the same bright smile, "And you must be Mr. Stone."

 FOUR

    Perry turned to get a look at the hotel''s lobby as the taxi pulled away and drove back out down cherry blossom drive. The lobby was maintained with a vintage vibe that reminded him of something from Viva Las Vegas. Faded gold trim, green velvet furniture to match the bellhop''s uniform, dark wood planks on the floor, and framed pictures of celebrity guests from years passed. To Perry''s left was the famous lounge he''d heard so much about and to his right were two blackjack tables and one more for roulette. Along the wall were five slot machines that looked like they hadn''t been played in years. On the counter behind the front desk, Perry notice a cardboard box that was filled to the brim with old, glass ashtrays. Ages ago, when it was legal to smoke indoors, nearly every patron toted the classy, green glass ash-catchers around the hotel. Now, they looked to be worth nothing more than paperweights. Nevertheless, he noted the faint smell of old smoke that was cooked into the walls as deep as the stain in the wood slats under his feet.


    His study of the interior was interrupted by the busy staff member. "You''ll be in 404, Mr. Stone." The man disappeared into a small back office and reappeared with a golden key attached to a green gem, resembling the gate at the road, with the small room number engraved. "Right this way and I''ll show you to your room."


    As they made their way to the elevator, Perry took note of the few other persons that appeared to be guests as well. He saw an older, grey-haired couple at a small table in the lounge, enjoying some drinks. They said nothing to each other, only sat looking out the large windows at the hotel grounds. The old man''s pale, blue cane rested against his leg. Perry was impressed by the man''s ability to match his shirt to his cane and wondered if he had a thousand shirts, all that same color, just to coordinate each time he left his house. The woman with him was dressed in a dark, plum jumpsuit with gold rings on nearly every finger and a few necklaces to match. Her thick, gold-rimmed glasses sat low on her nose while she sipped her martini.


    The elevator dinged as it began its descent to the lobby and a noise of a man shouting as he entered the hotel caused Perry to look. "No, I can''t hear you!" The man turned to walk back outside, holding his cell phone to his ear. He appeared to be frustrated, clearly hoping for better reception. Again, muffled by the glass doors this time, the man shouted into his phone, "Hello?! Can you hear me at all?!" Pulling his phone away from his ear, he looked down to see the call had dropped. Perry noticed the bellhop had left his side to try and greet the disgruntled customer. "Service up here is shit."


    "Yes, we''re sorry, sir." The employee held the door for him to enter the lobby again. "The landlines are, by far, the most reliable source for calls from the canyon." He apologetically signaled to Perry for the wait.


    Perry, noticing how understaffed the hotel was, offered to make his way to his room on his own. "I''m sure I can manage." He reached out his hand and received the room key, nearly dropping it, due to the bandages on his injured finger.


    As the upset man with no cell reception dropped his bag on the front counter, he placed his phone into his sportcoat''s breast pocket. He was clearly just passing through and traveling for business. He wore khaki suit pants with his navy jacket over a light, yellow polo shirt. The man looked disheveled with half of his color out of the coat and the other tucked neatly beneath. Perry assumed he knew the type; shaved head to hide his terribly-receding hairline, large chest because he only used the bench press at the gym, but a protruding gut from too much daily beer. If he had to guess, he was a bully when he was young and was still a bully now.


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    The elevator doors opened as Perry turned back, ready to head to the fourth floor. He stepped inside and saw himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The stubble on his face had grown into a short beard now and his eyes looked heavy. He was wearing a grey t-shirt under a tan jacket. His brown-rimmed reading glass hung from his shirt collar and his hair needed a wash. He slung his bag and camera over his shoulder and awkwardly pressed the floor button with his pinky, avoiding the injured finger, and watched the elevator doors close. He yawned and stretched by leaning side to side in an attempt to get the blood moving again. He opened his eyes wide and blinked, trying to wake up as the elevator came to a stop at his floor and the doors opened. He almost collided with a young woman that had her head down, clearly not expecting someone in the elevator. She was dressed in overalls and carried a tool bag and a bucket. She was wearing a construction mask with a tan hat pulled down low and her boots were covered in white dust. Perry wasn''t much of a manual labor guy, but he recognized someone hanging sheetrock when he saw it. He naturally apologized and stepped aside. The woman made no effort to make eye contact and kept to herself. Perry found the directional sign and made his way down the hall to room 404. The hotel carpet was dark green with small, white dots and the walls were an earthy cream. Gold sconces lined the walls every fifteen or twenty feet giving the floor a low-lit, need-to-whisper vibe, and the doors were painted deep, glossy emerald.


    Perry''s door was heavy and closed with a loud thud that startled him. The room was small with a queen-size bed, a small nightstand with a lamp. When he turned on the light, he noticed the wallpaper was printed with a giant, black-and-white image of Joey Bishop from the 1960s. The large-print image was the first modern touch he''d seen in the hotel. Based on what he knew, he''d guess each room had a different celebrity on the wall. There was a TV mounted to the wall with a desk that matched the nightstand in the corner by the window. Despite the size, the room was clean and organized. As Perry began to lower his bag onto the bed, there was a knock at the door.


    Perry looked through the peephole to see the bellhop again. Surprised by how quickly the man was back upstairs, he opened the door. "That was fast."


    "I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Stone. Did you get settled in?" The man nodded toward the room.


    "Yes," Perry replied, "everything''s fine. Thank you." He leaned out the door and looked down the hall. You made it up here awfully quick. Is there another elevator?"


    A beeping sound interrupted them before he could answer. He reached behind him and unclipped a small two-way radio from his belt. He turned away and spoke briefly in a low voice. There was a short pause and a quiet reply that Perry couldn''t make out. As he spoke into the radio again, his demeanor changed and he appeared agitated. "You''re kidding me! ... No, just wait! I''ll be right there." Flustered, he spoke through gritted teeth and clicked off the radio. He turned, replaced his pursed lips with the same, wide smile, and pretended as if nothing was wrong. "I apologize for the inconvenience, once again, Mr. Stone." He bowed slightly and hurried back toward the elevator.

 FIVE

    A splash outside of Perry''s window broke his concentration. He was cleaning the lenses for his camera when he realized his window was slightly open. The pool outside was shaped like an old hourglass and was surrounded by different trees of all shapes and sizes, giving the area an oasis feel in the otherwise dry and rocky canyon where the hotel was built. He gently opened his window wider, noting there was not a screen or stop hinge for additional safety. He began to wonder if the hotel''s outdated features were something holding them back. Certainly things like this could lead to dangerous accidents. He leaned out, carefully, to see the water below. It looked clean and blue and the green leaves swayed lightly in a breeze with clouds now overcasting the sky. Perry breathed in deeply and could smell moisture in the air, anticipating some possible rainfall. In the pool, a man was swimming alone. He had dark hair and dark-rimmed glasses with an average build. He was just far enough away that Perry couldn''t quite make out any specific details about the man, but he didn''t recognize him and was confident he hadn''t seen him earlier. Perry replaced the lens on his camera and snapped a few photos before noticing another smudge. He placed the camera back on the desk and went back to cleaning. Thinking about a potential place to convert into a dark room, Perry made his way to the bathroom. He ispected the area, envisioning a way to close off the light that peaked through the cracks around the door and imagining the tub, developing photos submerged, coming to life, ready to be hung to dry. Satisfied, he went back to reassembling the lense and camera, ready to get to work.


    He looked out of the window again to see the same man practicing the backstroke. The man stopped in the middle of the pool, interrupted by something just out of Perry''s view. The trees and leaves continued to rustle in the breeze and it was difficult to get a good look. It quickly became clear that the man in the pool looked concerned or possibly frustrated. Shifting further to the side of the window, Perry strained to see what the commotion was about. He noticed there was another person just on the edge of the pool now, but could only see parts of black shoes and dark pants. Whatever the conversation was, the man in the pool did not look happy as he made sharp motions with his hands, pointing and arguing. Perry looked back down at his camera and tried to quickly put a lense back in place. The exaggerated size of the wrapped fingers made everything difficult. As he looked back to the pool, it appeared there was a small scuffle of some sort that had ensued. Perry frantically raised the camera to take a photo, quickly trying to adjust the focus. The man in the pool looked as if he was beginning to struggle now, splashing and kicking is feet. In the panic of the moment, trying to hold the other lenses he was cleaning, juggling the Nikon, and trying to focus enough to get a decent photo, one of the lenses fumbled from Perry''s grasp. It fell out of the window to the ground below, lost in the bushes and shrubs by the pool.


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    "Shit! Son of a bitch." Perry muttered through gritted teeth as he saw the person outside the pool make a large, swinging motion. Quickly, Perry zoomed and snapped the shutter three times as he saw small specs of blood spray back into the pool. The man, now without his glasses, dropped against the edge of the pool with a heavy, wet thud and slipped back into the water. The edge of the pool began to slowly turn a deep, dark red as the man, now motionless, sank back into the water. Bubbles rose to the surface as the lifeless vessel and bleeding skull began the awful process of separating one''s soul from their body.


    Perry, in complete shock, was unable to speak. There, at that moment, he''d witnessed a murder for the first time in his life. He slowly placed his camera on the desk below his window and watched, still baffled at what he''d just seen. As the corpse now rose to the bloody surface, face-down, Perry''s eyes remained wide as he watch it assume the infamous dead man''s float. He sat there for only a moment, though it felt like hours until he finally snapped back to the present. His heart suddenly raced and sweat began to bead on his brow as he looked back toward the edge of the pool where the crime occurred. No one was there. The killer was gone. He jumped to his feet and made a mad dash out of his room and down the hall, sprinting at a neck-breaking pace. He pressed the elevator''s call button repeatedly but noticed it was clearly stalled somewhere below. He took a few steps back and looked up and down the hall for a stairwell entrance. Finding one about twenty feet further down the way, he resumed his sprint, crashing through the door and descending the stairs, nearly three at a time. Once to the ground floor, he threw the door open and stepped out into the small hallway just around the corner to the lobby. Panting and sweating, his eyes darted back and forth, looking for a sign, any sign, of who the assailant might be. To his surprise, everything seemed normal. The handful of people in his immediate view appeared to be completely unaware. He ran to the glass doors at the entrance, still nothing out of the ordinary. He pushed through and down the stairs to the discarded fountain, looking all around for an escape vehicle. Perry was sure someone would be making a run for it right about now. There was no way someone could commit such a crime and make their escape that quickly. The gate he entered through was the only exit for the property. Unless they were on foot, out in the hills, hiding among rocks, dead trees, and cacti, the killer was still in the hotel. Perry turned on his heels, the small gravel rocks slipping under his feet, and ran back inside. Again, completely surprised, nobody seemed to know what he knew.


    "Is everything alright, Mr. Stone?" The same, wide smile, was on approach to Perry''s aid.


    Perry, sweating and breathing heavy, feeling his lungs begin to burn, calling out for a cigarette, met the giant grin with an opposing frown. "No." His hand wiped sweat from his brow and scraped the thick stuble on his chin. "You need to call the police."

 SIX

    "I''m sorry?" The bellhop leaned in close and lowered his voice to minimize the chance of others hearing him.


    Perry, still catching his breath, looked around the lobby in a panic. Clearly not wanting to alert anyone else, he spoke through gritted teeth. "There''s been a murder out at the pool."


    The bright, wide smile slowly faded into immense concern. "Did you just say what I think you said?" Complete bewilderment cursed the young man''s face. Clearly, dealing with homicide was not on his list of expectations for the day.


    Perry softly nudged the employee toward the hall, leading to the pool area, and motioned that he''d follow. They quietly walked past a few other guests and no one seemed aware of the tragedy that was lying facedown in the deep. With each step, Perry looked around and over his shoulder, expecting to see a suspicious character, guilty of the crime. Still, to his amazement, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As they approached the door leading out to the pool, Perry could feel his heartbeat increase. He''d never seen a dead body like this before. Sure, he could recall his father''s viewing and a few funerals of unfortunate friends along the way, but a corpse that was peacefully prepared was one thing. This, on the other hand, was something else entirely. They pushed through the door and out onto the concrete. There, slowly bobbing in the water like an ocean buoy, was the victim. You could barely make out anything else in the water from all the blood. Perry barely noticed the man''s glasses drifting now by the steps in the shallow end.


    "Good God." The bellhop''s voice was merely a whisper but the silence outside was more like an amplifier.


    Perry, without looking away from the scene, repeated himself. "You need to call the police."


    The young man retrieved a cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed 9-1-1. His eyes were wide and it''d been a long time since he''d even blinked. As both men stood in silence, they could hear the ring on the other end.


    "9-1-1, what''s your emergency?" A female voice answered, calm and collected.


    "Um." There was an awkward silence. "This is the Canyon Jewel Hotel." He paused again, unsure how to continue. "And we have a dead body in our pool."


    Perry watched as the words struggled to the surface. The police operator jumped acted quickly to fill in the blanks. "We''ll dispatch troopers right away, sir. Who am I speaking with?"


    "Um. My name is Peter." He looked down at his chest pocket, almost as if he wasn''t sure who he really was. Noticing his name badge was missing, he quickly pulled it from his pants pocket and fastened it to his uniform. At that moment, Perry realized he''d never new the man''s name before now. He was surprised he never thought to ask it and even more surprised that it hadn''t been offered.


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    "We have two officers in route now. Can you describe what happened?" The woman continued to keep Peter engaged, despite the obvious shock taking over. He attempted to paint a picture of what he saw before stopping and turning to Perry. His eyes locked on to Perry''s as he spoke into the phone. "I didn''t see it happen, actually. But I think Mr. Stone did."


    "Mr. Stone?" The 9-1-1 dispatch changed gears. "And is Mr. Stone there?"


    "Yes, he is standing with me now. We are both by the pool." Peter slowly held the phone out for Perry.


    Reluctant, feeling like he was being drug into something he didn''t want to be, Perry took the phone and held it to his ear. "This is Perry."


    "Am I speaking with Mr. Stone?" Perry could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background as she collected as much information as possible.


    "Yes, Perry Stone." A gust of wind blew through the pool area and the phone began to cut in and out. The clouds overhead were getting darker and a few drops of rain began to spot the concrete. Perry furrowed his brow and cocked his head slightly to the side, like a dog trying to decipher his master. "Say that again? You''re breaking up."


    The woman''s voice was muffled and only a few words managed to make it through. "Sir, did you --- we need --- because --- with the storm."


    Perry pulled the phone away from his ear to inspect it. The call had dropped and the cell reception was out. The phone was an older model, originally made for landline connections and had a short antenna with duct tape holding it in place. He looked back to Peter.


    "There must be a storm rolling in. The phone lines get real spotty with bad weather." Peter took the phone and placed it back in his pocket. He sighed deep and stared at the dead body in the water. A few more drops of rain rippled the water. "We should probably do something?" Peter''s eyes went back to Perry, who was searching for a cigarette.


    "No, we shouldn''t." With a cigarette in his lips while he dug for his lighter, he quickly added, "Don''t fucking touch anything!" Agitated, he began scanning the area, more aware of his surroundings now. "Christ, what a mess."


    Peter waved his hand in front of his face, moving the smoke away. "Who would do such a thing?"


    Perry looked back at Peter with a jolt. "Shit! That''s the thing!" Perry pointed to the doors leading back into the hotel. "I didn''t see anyone leave." Perry watched as the shock faded into confusion on Peter''s face. "Listen, Pete. I didn''t get a look at much from my window. The reason I rushed down to the lobby is to try and find someone. You''d think if someone just committed a murder, they''d be in a hell of a hurry to leave. Did you see anyone rush out before I got there?"


    Peter''s eyes moved back and forth as he tried to access his recent memories. "No." He paused, thinking hard. "No one has left." The confusion was now fading into concern. "Mr. Stone, does that mean the... um."


    Clearly, Peter didn''t like coming to terms with the situation, let alone actually saying the words. Perry offered to complete his thought. "Yes, Pete. There''s a killer in the hotel."

 SEVEN

    Peter and Perry rushed back inside as a light rain began to fall. They headed back toward the lobby and behind the front desk. Perry''s eyes darted back and forth, watching everyone, looking for signs of suspicious activity. An old door with a small plaque reading "Employees Only" opened to a small office with a few, old TVs showing blurry footage from a few security cameras around the hotel. One to the main entrance with the dried fountain, one in the main lobby, and another in the casino area. Nothing at the pool. Perry stood watch at the desk while Peter began watching recorded footage, looking for anything of use. As Perry was on guard, his thoughts raced about each person he could see. The grey-haired couple slowly wandered past and the old man gestured toward the slot machines with his blue cane. The disgruntled businessman that complained about cell service was scrolling through his phone by the window, looking up periodically at the rain against the glass. He took mental notes of two new people he had not seen before; an Asian woman with dark hair and tattoos down her left arm wearing black pants and a black tank top. She was sitting with her legs crossed, digging through a leopard-print handbag. The other was a maintenance worker in a dark green jumpsuit and a tan ball cap, the same as the young woman he nearly bumped into earlier that day. It was for the first time that Perry realized this was only the third employee he had seen, including Peter. The worker had grease stains and scuffs on his uniform and carried a tool bag. He was climbing a small step ladder to inspect a light above one of the blackjack tables.


    The hotel was quiet as the rain got louder and the sky grew dark outside. The few patrons went about their business, paying no attention to each other. After a short while, Peter reappeared at Perry''s side with a distraught look on his face. "Nothing that I can see." He sighed deep and looked to Perry for some sort of direction.


    "So strange." Perry scratched the stubble on his chin again. "Not many customers today?"


    "No, sir. Been slow for a while." Peter kept his voice low. "There were a few people that left here and there, but nothing suspicious around the time you saw the murder."


    A low rumble came from above and the rains picked up a little more. Thunder was approaching. Just then, headlights caught Perry''s eye and he turned to look out the glass doors. A car was coming up the drive. As it came to a stop, the doors opened and two police officers hurried up the steps and into the lobby. The rain was coming down in sheets at this point. Both officers removed their hats, shook off the rain, and made eye contact with Peter. Dressed in dark blue uniforms and long raincoats, the two officers introduced themselves, careful to also keep their voices low.


    "Hello, gentlemen. Are you Peter?" The first officer nodded and reached out his hand. "I''m Officer Wellburn and this is my partner, Officer June."


    Peter shook their hands and did his best to greet them warmly. "Thank you so much for coming."


    Officer Wellburn was a tall, black man with a dark mustache and short hair. His voice was deep and intimidating, and he easily towered above six feet. As he motioned to his partner, Perry couldn''t help but note the stark differences. Officer June was a white female, barely above five feet, and did not appear to keep a regular exercise routine. Her eyes immediately began darting around the room and she was distracted enough that she failed to see Peter''s hand try and shake hers. He awkwardly pulled his hand back and looked at Perry. Perry didn''t like that he''d already become the de facto lead in this duet. He was annoyed that Peter seemed so shaken that he was nearly unable to communicate properly. Every time Peter looked at Perry, it was as if he was waiting for him to make decisions for the both of them.


    Officer June turned back to face them and spoke, "You''ve gotta be that other one. Mr. Stone, right?"


    "Yeah, that''s me. You can call me Perry."


    "Got it. And you can call me June." Her approach was far more cavalier than Wellburn and her quick, sharp movements made it appear she was new to the force. She was clearly nervous. Perry noticed her do a few things almost exactly after her boss, mimicking his actions, following his lead.


    Officer Wellburn took a small step closer. "Mind showing us what you''ve found?"


    Perry looked to Peter, waiting for him to initiate and lead the way but he made no attempt. Annoyed, again, Perry rolled his eyes and started down the hall toward the pool. "This way."


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    Once out of earshot of the others, Office Wellburn spoke up, walking next to Perry. "How long have you been staying at the hotel, Mr. Stone?"


    "I just got here today. I''m a columnist and photographer doing a piece about this place. I saw it all happen from my window."


    "You saw the murder?" Wellburn reached in his pocket for a small notepad and pencil.


    "Well, not exactly." Perry stopped at the door before stepping out into the pool area. I was cleaning my lenses when I saw him in the pool, but there are plenty of branches and leaves that blocked my view. I could tell something was wrong and some sort of struggle, but couldn''t see the killer at all."


    Wellnburn''s lips pressed together. "Hm. Interesting." His eyes scanned Perry, looking for any possible signs of dishonesty. Without looking away, Wellburn motioned with his head out the door. "Let''s take a look."


    Perry felt the hair on his neck stand and a small chill traveled his spine. Officer Wellburn looked like he could crush a small human with his bare hands and he made Perry feel uncomfortable. He swallowed nervously as he opened the door. "Um, sure thing."


    The four of them made their way out into the rain and looked at the dead body floating in the pool. The blood dispersed enough that nearly all of the water was now a dark pink. The weather was louder with the rustling of the leaves, slight wind, and raindrops against the cement and splashing in the crime scene.


    Wellburn had to shout to be heard over the weather. "Anyone touch anything?"


    "No. We called 9-1-1 right away." Perry watched as Wellburn go down on his hands and knees to get a closer look. The dead man was floating only a foot or two away from the edge of the pool.


    "Hey, June! Run and grab a tarp, will you?" Wellburn began to put on some latex gloves.


    "You got it, boss." Officer June pointed toward a tall metal gate at the far end of the pool area and looked at Peter. "Can I get out that way?"


    "With a key, yes." Peter dug in his pockets, found his keys, and walked with her to the gate.


    Officer Wellburn held out a second pair of gloves in the direction of Perry. "You''re gonna have to give me a hand."


    Perry stepped back slightly, surprised at the officer''s instruction. "A hand? I don''t think th-"


    Wellburn quickly interrupted him. "Listen." He looked back over his shoulder to make sure Officer June was out of the gate and into the parking lot. "She is brand new on the job, been with me only a few days. If I go making her pull a corpse out of the water and put her face-to-face with a dead man this early, she''d not gonna last a week." Wellburn nodded to the gloves in his outstretched hand and made eye contact with Perry. "Call it intuition, call it whatever you want. But I''m pretty sure you didn''t kill this poor son of a bitch."


    Perry was taken aback. "You''re right, I didn''t. But I-"


    Wellburn''s patience was thinning. "Man, this weather is getting worse. Put on the damn gloves and let''s get this thing going!"


    Perry''s head rolled as he let out a frustrated grunt. "Goddamnit."


    Perry pulled the gloves on and kneeled next to Wellburn. The officer reached out and grabbed the waist of the swim trunks, pulling it closer to the edge. "We''ll lift him out, lay him face down, and then roll him over onto the tarp. That way we can pick him up and carry him inside so we can get out of the rain. We''ll each grab a corner. Make sense?"


    Perry nodded. "You get the wrists, I guess."


    Wellburn did so while Perry grabbed the dead man''s ankles and gave them a count. "On three now. One, two, three!"


    They pulled hard and heaved the dead weight onto the concrete next to the deep end. It was heavy and made a loud gurgle as the water drained from his open mouth and nose. Perry flinched at the nose and let the ankle drop. The dead man''s feet slapped the wet ground with a loud smack and bloody water splashed against his pants.


    "Easy now." Wellburn looked back over his shoulder as both Peter and Officer June returned with a large, heavy-duty, plastic tarp. They quickly laid it out next to the body and stepped back. "Alright now listen," he continued, speaking to the others "We gotta get out of the rain. Do you have a room where we can have some privacy and take a closer look at things?"


    Peter furrowed his brow as he thought. "There is a large, maintenance room just inside the doors. It doubles as a boiler room and has the hot water heaters, things like that."


    Officer Wellburn nodded. "That will work." He motioned back to the body laying face down next to the water. "We gotta flip him over onto his back, each person grabs a corner, and we''ll hustle him inside. This weather is only getting worse." Each person nodded in agreeance and Wellburn gave another quick count to three. Perry helped roll the body as it made a small splash in the already pooling rainwater. Officer June let out a small, disgusted sound. The body had a large, prominent head wound that split open above his left eye and was accompanied by a broken nose. "Well, looks like we got a cause of death." Wellburn gave directions again. "Grab your corner and let''s go." He counted to three one last time and they all lifted. Except Peter. The dead man''s leg drooped off the side and still touched the wet ground.


    "Hey now!" Officer June shouted at Peter who stood still, rain running down his face, eyes wider than they''d ever been before.


    Surprised at Peter''s shock, Perry looked to Officer Wellburn and then back to Peter. "Come on, Pete. We gotta get inside!"


    Lightning flashed and a loud crack of thunder boomed overhead. The strike was nearby and so loud that they each dropped their corners and covered their ears. The corpse splashed in a puddle with a thud and they each looked at each other, wincing. Except Peter. Still shocked and his face now pale, he finally spoke. "I know him."

 EIGHT

    They struggled inside and through the boiler room door, finally dropping the body in the middle of the floor. The room was basically all cement with cobwebs, rusty pipes, and flickering lights. Every time the thunder boomed, the aging bulbs would shake and dim. The heavy rain added weight to the tarp and dead body, which immediately began to flow a tiny river of water and blood toward the drain in the center of the room.


    Officer Wellburn removed his hat and rain coat and pointed toward Peter. "I think you''ve got something to tell us." Awkwardly, Officer June did the same, following her superior''s lead.


    Peter did not look up. The blood had drained from his face completely and his eyes were still as wide as ever. Perry looked up, made eye contact with Wellburn and decided to help the conversation. He cleared his throat and engaged Peter again. "Hey, Pete. How did you know this guy?"


    Peter finally spoke but struggled to look at anyone else in the group. "He was supposed to stay a couple of days. He checked in this morning."


    Officer June kept him going. "Does he have a name?"


    "Mr. Thane. Chris Thane, actually." Peter brushed the wet hair out of his face. "I can''t believe he''s dead."


    Wellburn crouched down to get a closer look at the body and looked up to ask the big question. "Any idea why that is, Peter?"


    Peter, obviously still in shock, struggled to find the words. "I don''t know. I don''t think so, I guess." A small beep sound broke Peter''s trance and he seemed to focus again. After a short pause, the sound came again. The officers and Perry all made eye contact, curious what it could be. After a third time, Perry realized that he''d heard the same noise once before. Earlier that day, when Peter came to his hotel room, they were interrupted in the door way by his work radio. Peter finally turned back and took a few steps away from the others, muttering something to someone, before turning back to the others. "I am terribly sorry, everyone. I have a hotel to keep and patrons to attend to. I don''t know -"


    "We understand." Officer Wellburn cut in with his hand raised. "Just keep this quiet and don''t plan on heading out anywhere."


    Peter politely nodded his head. "Of course not. Thank you, officer."


    With that, Peter quickly left, closing the door again behind him, leaving Perry alone with two police officers and a bludgeoned, sopping wet corpse. Wellburn was still crouched by the body, inspecting the face and poking at it with the tip of his pen. "What do you think?"


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    As if Officer June knew he wasn''t talking to her, she looked at Perry. Surprised, Perry spoke back, "You''re asking me?" He looked around the room, confused. "What do you mean?"


    "I mean, what do you make of all this?" Wellburn stood up and looked at Perry. "It''s clear Pete is rattled by this. He damn near fainted out there when he saw the body. And you don''t seem to be terribly fazed by this whole thing."


    Perry looked at Officer June and then back to Wellburn. It seemed like the mood was shifting and Perry suddenly felt like he was under investigation. Suspicious, Perry asked Wellburn, "What are you getting at?"


    In another rare moment, Officer June piped in. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Stone?"


    Perry was becoming agitated and naturally reached for his cigarettes. "I''m a journalist, actually. Here to write a piece about the hotel for Earl & Sons." Perry fumbled with his package of cigarettes and his injured finger, finally getting on into his mouth.


    June spoke again, surprising Perry that she had it in her. "You can''t smoke in here."


    Perry rolled his eyes, annoyed, and spoke out of one side of his mouth with his cigarette still pursed between his lips. "Look, I probably look unfazed because I have seen a thing or two in my line of work. I don''t make it a point to be around a corpse that often, but it''s not exactly the worse thing I''ve seen before."


    "Makes sense." Wellburn was back in the driver''s seat of the interview. "We''re just trying to get a better idea of what we''re dealing with here."


    Perry pulled the cigarette from his mouth. "So tell me what you plan to do next? Because from what I can tell, whoever killed this man is still here in the hotel. Either that or drowning out there in this God-awful rain storm." As if on cue, thunder boomed over head. "Should we expect more help from your precinct?"


    Office Wellburn shook his head. "Not in a storm like this. I''m sure the road is flooded over by now. Trust me, nobody is going anywhere for a while."


    Perry sighed deep, frustration growing. "Great."


    Wellburn could see Perry''s frustration growing. Trying to keep him calm, he continued, "I know it''s not ideal, but we might be working a lot closer together than you''d like. You don''t seem the killer type to me and we could use someone like you that''s trained to look at things with a critical eye. I imagine you''ve done a lot of interviewing and asking questions with your job."


    The statement was more of a question and Perry began to feel a little more at ease. "I have, yes."


    Wellburn looked at Officer June, nodding toward Perry. "That could be useful."


    Perry put the cigarette back in his mouth and padded his pockets, searching for his lighter, and spoke out of the side of his mouth again. "So what do you suggest?"


    Wellburn was already moving around the room, looking for anything useful, inspecting their surroundings like an old hound that was visiting a new farm. "First thing''s first, we need to quarantine this body. We can''t have someone messing around in here. June, you head down to the lobby and see if you can''t get a key to this room so we can keep it locked up." Officer June nodded and left without saying a word. Wellburn slid his arms back into his rain jacket and placed his hat back on his head. He then pulled Officer June''s jacket from the back of a chair and tossed it to Perry. "You''ll need this." The dark, night sky belted out a loud thunder and the lights flickered again. Wellburn motioned toward the door and continued, "You and me are gonna go back out there and look for a murder weapon."

 NINE

    Officer June made her way to the lobby, looking for Peter. She was beginning to sweat and was slightly out of breath. She felt a little out of place without Officer Wellburn there to guide her but she knew how important getting a key would be. She imagined how much panic would set in if anyone else found out about a dead body among them with a killer still on the loose. The more she thought about it, she felt her heart begin to race, watching the few patrons go about their evening, unaware of what she knew, wondering who could have committed the crime. She caught the stare of an old man sitting by the window with his wife. The old man quickly looked away and leaned in close, whispering something to his wife. They appeared to be watching the rain fall and the wind pull blossoms from the trees. The old man stood and motioned toward the bar with his better half. She draped her arm inside of his as he made his way forward with his blue cane. They both caught Officer June''s glance but said nothing. June nodded politely and continued looking for Peter. She scanned the room again and was drawn to the sound of the elevator. She noticed an Asian woman with tattoos stepping into the elevator as a maintenance man was exiting. For fear of wasting more time, she decided to ask if he''d come across Peter lately.


    Stepping in his direction, she waved, trying to get his attention. "Excuse me, sir."


    The worker turned, surprised that someone was speaking to him. "Me?"


    "Yes, please." Officer June got close enough to speak in a low voice. "I''m looking for Peter. The bellhop."


    "You mean Mr. Thornby, ma''am. He is the owner." He set down his tool bag and looked around, doing his best to assist. "I saw him last in the bar. But if he is not there, I would check the small office behind the front desk."


    Officer June thanked the man and turned toward the bar. Before walking away, something peaked her interest and she spun back to ask a question. "Owner? Did you say Peter is the owner of this hotel?"


    "Oh yes, ma''am." The maintenance man picked up his tool bag. "Been in his family for years."


    "Good to know, thank you. What''s your name by the way?" Officer June was looking at his uniform for a name tag or something to identify him.


    The man looked shocked that someone would take interest in him. His eyes shifted, looking around the room for anything to be a distraction, waiting for Peter to come to his rescue. After what seemed an eternity, he nervously replied, "I''m Erik, ma''am."


    "Thank you for your time, Erik. If you happen to come across Mr. Thornby before I do, please let him know I am looking for him. For now, I''ll check the bar." June nodded and turned away, making her way toward the smell of bourbon.


    * * * * *


    The rain was pounding the pavement by the pool as lightning struck somewhere near the hotel and lit up the sky for a brief moment. Office Wellburn was scanning the area with his flashlight, looking for any sort of clue that could give them a lead. Perry found a smaller flashlight in the boiler room that barely helped at all. The base was loose and made the batteries rattle around, causing the light to flicker. The two men split up and canvased the pool area from both sides. Perry recreated the scene in his mind, trying to let his memory guide him. He suddenly remembered that he had been able to snap a few photos and was curious if they''d reveal any other information that could help the case. The way the mind works, jumping like a flash from one point to another, Perry also remembered the camera lens he''d knocked out of his window. He stepped into the small bushes of the flower bed and quickly spotted his lens. Lying in the dirt, the chrome edge made it easy to find when lightning flashed in the sky. Relieved, Perry was about to bend down and grab it when a voiced called from across the pool.


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    "I think I found something!" Officer Wellburn was shouting, struggling to be heard over the storm.


    Wellburn''s discovery interrupted Perry''s thoughts. He wanted to quickly grab his lens but realized Officer Wellburn was looking in his direction. Worried about looking suspicious, Perry turned back. "What is it?!" Perry moved closer toward Wellburn who was standing by the pool''s pump and filtration system. It was a medium-sized unit encased in a metal box, surrounded by bushes and wood chips.


    When Perry got closer, Wellburn crouched and leaned in. "Does that look like blood?"


    Perry raised his flashlight that began to flicker. He slapped the light in his palm, frustrated with what he had to work with. Wellburn shone his light instead, helping Perry to see. As Perry crouched down, he saw dark, red speckles on the side of the metal box. He looked back over his shoulder at the pool again, red and littered with leaves and dirt from the storm. "Looks like the filter doesn''t work too well."


    Officer Wellburn also looked at the pool and then back to Perry. "Sarcasm suits you, Mr. Stone."


    "And look there!" Perry pointed to the small space behind the pump box, pushing a bush aside for Wellburn to see. In the dirt and leaves was a large wrench. It did not look like someone had intentionally tried to hide it, rather it almost looked cast off.


    Wellburn nudged Perry to the side and reached back to pick it up, using a handkerchief from inside his jacket to protect the item from his fingerprints. Thunder boomed again and lightning flashed. The top of the wrench was covered in deep, dark red blood. "Would you look at that." Wellburn stood again, looking at Perry. The gears in his mind were turning as he looked around, thinking about the evidence. "If I were a gambling man, and I am, I''d bet the killer was in a rush and just tossed this aside."


    "Certainly looks that way." Perry motioned back to the other side of the pool. "I''ll take another look around and see if anything else might help."


    Lightning flashed and the crack in the sky was nearly deafening. "Sure thing! I''ll get this inside and see if June got us that key!"


    Officer Wellburn carefully carried the bloody wrench inside while Perry made his way back to the flower bed below his window. Searching, struggling again with his faulty flashlight, Perry found the ground where he stood before had been shuffled. Granted, the weather had made it difficult to see much, but Perry thought there certainly wasn''t this much disturbance in the bushes earlier. The closer he looked, he began to make out what looked like bootprints in the mud and dirt. Perry became alarmed with the thought that someone had been here, possibly watching he and Wellburn. What''s worse, Perry couldn''t find his camera lens anywhere. He dropped to his knees, frantically looking. It had been so easy to see before, he was certain he couldn''t miss it now. He stood again, looking around the pool area and the rain and wind whipped against his face. No one else could be seen, Perry was alone. And now someone knew that the murder weapon had been found. And that someone had Perry''s missing lens.

 TEN

    Officer June was looking at a giant black and white photo of Elvis Presley and his iconic half smile. It was behind the bar, lined with a vast array of liquors. There, she found Peter speaking in a hushed tone to the elderly couple that past Officer June only a few minutes before. Peter smiled politely and left the couple with their martinis and approached her.


    "Yes, officer? How can I help you?"


    Office June leaned in close to keep her voice low. "Hey, Pete. Any way I can get a key to that boiler room?"


    "Um, sure." Peter looked hesitant and his eyes shifted, looking back toward the older couple and back to June. "Why do you need a key to that room?"


    Officer June, looked back over her shoulder, making sure no one was near. "Well, we''d like to keep things contained as much as possible." Checking her surroundings again, she quickly motioned to the wall of booze and whispered, "Think you could pour me a quick shot of something? Might help calm the nerves, if you know what I mean."


    "Anything you say, Officer." In one swift motion, he summoned a rocks glass and a couple ounces of Canadian Whiskey. "But you didn''t get it from me." Peter winked casually and walked back to the couple at the end of the bar, leaving her alone with the bottle. He spoke with them for a short minute, just as quiet as before, and then returned to June''s end of the bar with a gold key.


    "Thanks. I''ll make sure you get it back before we go." Officer June turned to admire the bar. Although it was all but empty, it was clear to realize the draw it must have had in its day. Surfaces covered in worn gold, stained glass lamps in the center of the small, round tables. A stage on the far end of the room where music likely played well into the morning hours. Tall, glass windows that would normally show a beautiful driveway, lined with cherry blossoms. Of course, the storm had darkened the skies and made everything grey. Rain still smashed against the windows, a steady river of water running from top to bottom. June knocked back her drink with a subtle wince as it burned and landed in her stomach. With a small pause, she looked back at the whiskey and poured herself another. This time a double. She took a deep breath in and threw it back like seasoned pro. Closing her eyes, she felt her chest warm and her heart slow. Slowly exhaling, she turned sharply and headed back toward the lobby.


    * * * * *


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    Perry came through the door to the boiler room and tossed his flashlight on to a table. Officer Wellburn had carefully laid the murder weapon next to the dead man''s head, examining them both in the same area. Wellburn looked up at Perry. "Any luck out there?"


    Perry wiped rain water from his face and stubble and shook his head. "Not with that shitty thing. Batteries are loose. It''s nearly impossible to see anything out there,"


    "Is that why you look like you were crawling in the mud?" Wellburn looked ad Perry''s knees, now covered in mud and wood chips.


    Perry hadn''t realized how dirty he became in the panic of searching for his lens. Worried that he might seem suspicious, he came up with a quick lie. "I couldn''t see and tripped on some bush roots or something while I was fiddling with that flashlight." He tried to brush away some mud before looking back to Wellburn. "What about you? Anything new?"


    "Nothing more than the obvious. It looks pretty clear that Mr. Thane here probably didn''t suffer much. This wrench is mighty heavy and broke through his skull pretty easy." Wellburn stood again and shook his head. "And there''s no way we''re going to get prints off that thing."


    Perry held up his hand and inspected his injured finger. The bandage was wet and dirty. "You mind if I head back to my room and get cleaned up?"


    Officer Wellburn nodded. "That should be fine for now. Just don''t go running off on us. I need you for this one."


    Perry didn''t like how much Wellburn seemed to trust him already, yet made him uneasy at the same time. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another loud thunder book and the lights flickered again. "Where am I going to go? You said it yourself, the road is flooded by now."


    "True." Wellburn removed his hat and wiped his brow. "I''m not sure how we''re going to do this."


    Perry empathized for a short moment and knew Wellburn was right. This hotel, the weather, and the fact that someone else knows about the murder made things very complicated. No one can leave and they were all stranded together, not knowing who to trust. He sighed heavy and tried to offer some verbal comfort. "Look, I''m in 404. Get a game plan together call me. Iill be ready to do whatever we need to catch the son of a bitch that murdered this poor guy."


    Wellburn nodded with acceptance. "I appreciate that."


    As if on queue, Officer June entered the boiler room with a grin on her face. "Got it." She held up the gold key to show her boss.


    "Good work, June." He pulled out a chair from the small table and sat, motioning to June to do the same. "Perry is going to get cleaned up. You and I are going to cover everything we know so far and start this train down the tracks."


    June stepped past Perry without making eye contact, as if she''d already forgot he was there. "You got it, boss."


    Perry started for the door but looked back over his shoulder as he caught a small trail of liquor in the air. He started to ask Officer June if she smelled it as well but decided against it. He needed to get cleaned up and start formulating a plan. And perhaps finally get a chance to smoke.