LITMIR.BIZ

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here.”

      When Brady shook Jacobson’s hand, he felt strength and steadiness. No tremors from this guy. He was cool. His steel-gray eyes reflected the confidence of a trained professional with a take-charge attitude. Brady did not want to butt heads with Grant Jacobson.

      “Glad to meet you,” Brady said. “I have some questions.”

      “Shoot.”

      “What can you tell me about your surveillance system?”

      “It’s going to be state-of-the-art. Unfortunately, the only area that’s currently operational is the front entrance.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “By Friday everything will be up and running with cameras in the hallways, the meeting rooms and every exit.”

      If the hotel security had been in place, they’d have had a visual record of anyone who might have entered or exited room 621. “Was there a security guard on duty tonight?”

      “There should be two.” Jacobson swiveled his head to glare at the hotel manager. “When law enforcement arrived on the scene, those men should have been notified.”

      Chandler exhaled a ragged sigh. “I contacted you instead.”

      “Apparently, we have some glitches in our communications.” Jacobson looked toward Sasha. “And you are?”

      “A witness,” she said. “Sasha Campbell.”

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sasha.” When he returned her friendly grin, it was clear that he liked what he saw. “And what did you witness?”

      Wanting to stay in control of the conversation, Brady stepped in. “We have reason to believe that a woman was attacked in her room. Right now we’re on our way to see someone fitting her description.”

      “Where?”

      “Room 917.”

      “Reinhardt’s suite,” Jacobson said. “I’ll come with you.”

      With a terse nod, Brady agreed. He could feel the reins slipping from his grasp as Grant Jacobson asserted his authority. The head of security was accustomed to giving orders, probably got his security training in the military, where he had climbed the ranks. But this was the real world, and Brady was the one wearing the badge.

      Jacobson dismissed the hotel manager, who was all too happy to step aside as they boarded the elevator. The doors closed, and Jacobson asked, “Where did the assault take place?”

      “One of the suites on the sixth floor,” Brady said.

      “I assume you’ve already been to that suite.”

      “We have, and we didn’t find anything.”

      “What about the Chinese?” Sasha piped up.

      He shot her a look that he hoped would say Please don’t try to help me.

      “Chinese?” Jacobson raised an eyebrow.

      Brady jumped in with another question. “What can you tell me about the key-card system?”

      “Why do you ask?”

      “No one was registered to stay in that room.”

      “And you’re wondering how they could get access,” Jacobson said. “The hotel has only been open a week on a limited basis, which means the new employees are being trained on all the systems. In the confusion, someone could have run an extra key card for a room.”

      “You’re suggesting that one of the employees was in that suite.”

      “It’s possible.” Jacobson shifted his weight, subtly moving closer to Sasha. He looked down at her. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

      “I’m in a corporate condo,” she said. “I work for the Denver law firm that’s handling the Arcadia ski-resort business.”

      “Interesting.” His thin lips pursed. “How did you happen to witness something on the sixth floor?”

      Before Brady could stop her, Sasha blurted, “Binoculars.”

      “Even more interesting.” He hit a button on the elevator control panel, and they stopped their upward ascent. The three of them were suspended in a square box of chrome and polished mirrors. They were trapped.

      Jacobson growled, “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

      “Police business,” Brady asserted. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

      For a long five seconds, they stood and stared at each other. Their showdown could have gone on for much longer, but Brady wasn’t all that interested in proving he was top dog. He had a job to do. And his number-one concern was finding a victim who might be bleeding to death. Though his instinct was to play his cards close to the vest, he needed help. He’d be a fool not to take advantage of Jacobson’s experience in hotel security.

      “Here’s what happened,” Brady said. “Ms. Campbell happened to be looking into the suite. She saw a man and woman having dinner—”

      “With chopsticks,” Sasha said.

      Brady continued, “There was an argument. Ms. Campbell didn’t see the actual attack, but there was blood on the woman’s chest. She collapsed. The man caught her before she hit the floor.”

      “A possible murder,” Jacobson said. When he straightened his posture, he favored his left leg. “How can I help, Deputy?”

      Ever since they got to the hotel, Brady had been moving fast and not paying a lot of attention to standard procedures. At the very least, he should have taped off the room as a crime scene. There was enough to think about without Sasha distracting him. “You mentioned that you had two men on site. I’d appreciate if you could post one of them outside room 621 until we have a chance to process the scene for fingerprints and other forensic evidence.”

      “Consider it done.” Jacobson pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his leather jacket and punched in a number. While it was ringing, he asked, “What else?”

      “I want to check the surveillance tapes from the front entrance,” Brady said.

      “No problem.” Jacobson held up his hand as he spoke into the phone and issued an order to one of his security men. As soon as he disconnected the call, he turned to Brady again. “Anything else?”

      “Where’s the closest place to get Chinese food?”

      “Don’t know, but that’s a good question for the concierge on the ninth floor.” He pushed a button on the elevator panel, and they started moving again. “Now I have a request for you. I’d like to do most of the talking with Reinhardt.”

      “Why’s that?”

      Jacobson’s brow furrowed. “Because this is his fault.”

      * * *

      WHEN THE ELEVATOR doors opened, an attractive woman with her white-blond hair slicked back in a tight bun stood waiting. Sasha’s friendly smile was met with a flaring of the nostrils that suggested the woman had just poked her nose into a carton of sour milk.

      “This is Anita,” Jacobson said as he guided them off the elevator. “A top-notch concierge. She’s been in Arcadia for less than a week, and I’ll bet she knows more about the area than you do, Deputy.”

      His compliment caused Anita to thaw, but only slightly. Her voice dripped with disdain. “Mr. Chandler said you want to see Mr. Reinhardt, but I’m afraid that will not be possible. Mr. Reinhardt asked not to be disturbed.”

      “You’re the best,” Jacobson said, “always protecting the guest, always operating with discretion. But this is a police matter.”

      “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

      “I’m afraid not,” Jacobson said.

      Brady

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