"Spindler, Erica - See Jane Die" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spindler Erica)

A couple of the guys hooted in amusement; Stacy sent the man an annoyed look. She returned her attention to the pathologist. "What else can you tell me?"

"Not much," the man replied, removing his gloves. "You'll have my official finding tomorrow by eight."

"Tomorrow morning? Come on, Pete, this is a homicide. Every minute is critical, you know that. Every minuteЧ"

He held up his hand, stopping her. "I've got several in line in front of her. This time you have to wait your turn, no wheedling."

"Sure, of course." She held up her hands. "I wouldn't want to butt in line. Wouldn't want anyone to accuse me of not playing fair. Never mind that this poor woman was murdered by someone she trusted. Never mind that every minute that ticks past makes finding her killer that much more difficult. Never mind thatЧ"

"All right, fine. I'll call you no matter the time. But before you say yes, know that I plan to wake you from a very deep, very peaceful sleep."

Stacy smiled sweetly at him. "You're a doll, Pete. I look forward to it."


THREE

Monday, October 20, 2003
12:45 P.M.

Rick Deland, the hotel's general manager, looked shaken. Green around the gills, actually, Stacy decided. He had every right to. A woman had been murdered in one of his guest rooms. The Dallas police were swarming the place, pressuring him for the elevator and eighth-floor surveillance tapes, a guest list and the okay to question the people on that list.

"La Plaza," he explained carefully, "caters to people accustomed to smooth, silent service. People accustomed to the best money can buyЧand the ability to buy it anonymously. If I allowed you access to them, we would be breaking our commitment to provide that level of service. The level of service we pride ourselves in. That's our trademark."

Stacy sized up the dark-haired, fortysomething manager. An average man in an exceptional suit, she decided. He would earn high marks in people skills, diplomacy and table manners. She wondered how much the G.M. of a property like La Plaza earned a year. A hell of a lot more than a detective with the DPD, she bet. Even one with ten years' experience under her belt.

He had absolutely no clue who he was up against.

She had never learned the art of taking no for an answer.

"A woman's been murdered, Mr. Deland. A guest in your hotel."

"That's unfortunate, of course. But I don't seeЧ"

"Unfortunate?" she repeated, cutting him off. "Murder is a much more than unfortunate act."

"A poor choice of words." His gaze skittered to Mac, standing behind Stacy, near the door. Finding no help there, he returned his gaze to hers. "I apologize."

"Talk is cheap, Mr. Deland." She leaned forward. "One of your guests may have seen something, someone...they may have heard something. We'll never know if we don't ask. Most murders are solved within forty-eight hours of being committed. If they're going to be solved."

"That's correct, Mr. Deland," Mac inserted. "After that, with each hour that passes, the probability of the case being closed diminishes greatly. Memories fade, trails grow cold."

"Has it occurred to you that a member of your own staff could be the culprit?" Stacy asked.

He looked horrified. "My staff? How could you possibly think...why would youЧ"

"Access, Mr. Deland. To every part of the hotel. Including the guest rooms."

He shook his head. "We run background checks on every new hire. Drug testing is mandatory. Our training is stringent. I can all but assure you, no one on my staff was involved."