almost time," Upton said, suddenly standing. "Why don't you go--"
"It's only two." She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you trying to ditch me?"
"Something just occurred to me," he said, trying to make it sound unimportant. "I need
to check it out."
"What kind of something? You look like the cat that just caught the canary."
He grinned sheepishly. "Maybe a way to identify the dead man."
"Great. I'm coming with you." She took him by the hand and led him toward the
door.
To his surprise, he didn't resist.
CHAPTER TEN
"So what exactly are we doing?" Rena said in a conspiratorial whisper as she and Upton
crossed the hotel lobby.
"You'll see."
At the front desk, a clean-cut young man in a blue Marquis Hotel uniform said, "May I
help you?"
"I hope so. I'm Arthur Upton, the president of the Colorado Fiction Writer's Association.
We're trying to account for one of our members. Does this man look familiar to you?"
The desk clerk studied the photograph in Upton's hands. "Is this some kind of
joke?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're the second person to ask me about this guy in the last half hour."
"I am? Who else--"
"Beats me. He said he was a cop. Cameron, I think he said."
"Tall and thin, clean cut, wearing a plaid work shirt?"
"Yeah, that's the guy."
"I should have known he'd think of this angle. So what did you tell him?"
"The man in the picture doesn't look familiar. But I only work Saturdays and Sundays. If
he checked in any time before this morning, I wouldn't have seen him."
"Is there anyone here today who was working the desk yesterday or--"
"No, sir. The regular clerk is named Larry. He didn't make it in today. He lives up in the
foothills, and he's snowed in."
"I see," Upton said. "Thank you for your time."
"Well, that was a dead end," Rena commented as they retreated.
"Maybe so, but there's still another possibility. Cameron probably thought of it, too, but
let's check it out, just in case." He permitted himself a smile. "I'd love to beat him to the
punch."
He led her toward the hotel restaurant. A sign said, "Closed. Will re-open at 5:00."
Upton ignored it and stepped past. Together, they weaved their way through the unoccupied
dining room, headed toward the kitchen.
"I don't get it," Rena said.
He pushed the door open on what appeared to be organized chaos as the chefs scurried
around, in the early stages of preparing for the CFWA awards banquet.
"You will." Upton caught the first person he spotted. "Excuse me. I'm trying to find one
of the waitresses who served breakfast this morning."
The man shrugged helplessly, to indicate that he didn't understand what Upton was
asking.
Rena stepped forward. " �Habla usted Espanol? "
The man's face brightened. " Sí ."
She smiled and translated Upton's question. " Buscamos una persona quien servio el
desayuno hoy dia. "
The cook pointed toward a counter at the rear of the kitchen, where two women were
busy refilling ketchup bottles and salt-and-pepper shakers, and said something Upton didn't
understand.
" Gracias. " Rena said. She turned to Upton. "Those two in back. He says they're
the only ones who made it in today."
"Nice work. I didn't know you spoke Spanish."
"I had six years of it. All though middle school and high school. At the time, I thought it
was useless. Later it helped me when I was working as an RN."
"No knowledge is ever useless." Upton said. "Do you want to do the honors?"
"Thanks." She called out across the room, "Excuse me, can I talk to you for a
minute?"
The two women turned to see who was beckoning them. The larger one looked
Hispanic.
Rena said, "Do you speak English?"
"Of course I do," the big-boned woman answered indignantly. "This is America. And I'm
an American."
Upton held up a photograph. "Do you know this man? We're trying to--"
She turned to her companion. "See, I told you!"
"Told her what?" Upton asked.
"He had breakfast in the dining room this morning. I told her something was not
right."
"I take it, there was