Blood Hunt

3

At the Westin Harry showed his badge to the desk clerk and held up the envelope with the key. “Who has this room?”

The clerk looked up the registration form and handed it to Harry. “Mr. Gerald Mossman.”

Copying the information, Garreth saw a Denver address and a company name: Kitco, Inc. The room rate seemed lower than usual. “Is this a convention rate?”

The desk clerk nodded. “For the Association of American Homebuilders. They’re holding an exhibition at Moscone West.”

Two blocks away. He raised a brow at Harry.

Who said, “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m driving.”

He parked in one of several open handicap slots, Kojack light prominently displayed on the roof. Signs in the level one lobby area welcomed the AAH and pointed the way to the exhibition hall. They headed for it. The company name on Mossman’s hotel registration suggested he was probably an exhibitor. Hopefully with other company reps at their booth who might help them trace Mossman’s whereabout last night.

At the doorway, however, a young man barred their way. “No admittance without a badge.”

With a quick, wicked grin at each other, Garreth and Harry produced their badge cases and dangled them before the young man.

He looked down his nose at them. “Those are the wrong — ” He broke off, coloring, and stammered, “Excuse me. . I meant — I’m supposed — may I help you? Do you have business here?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Where is the Kitco display?”

“There’s a floor diagram just inside.” He hastily stepped aside.

The diagram located Kitco at the far end of the hall. There they found a woman and two men, smartly dressed and flawlessly groomed, working before a photographic montage of kitchen cabinets. Leaflets and catalogs lay on tables at the front of the booth.

The woman turned a brilliant, professional smile on them. “Good morning. I’m Susan Pegans. Kitco manufactures cabinets in a wide variety of styles and woods to fit any decor. May I show you our brochure?”

Harry said, “I’m looking for Gerald Mossman. He’s with this exhibit, isn’t he?”

“Mr. Mossman is our sales manager, but he’s not here at the moment.”

“Can you tell me where he is?”

“I’m afraid not. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Garreth opened his notebook. “Does he fit this description?” He read off the dead man’s.

Her smile faltered. “Yes. Steve… “

The taller of the two men left the people he was talking to and came over. “I’m Steven Verneau. Is there a problem?”

Harry showed his identification. “When did you last see Gerald Mossman?”

The blusher on the woman’s face became garish paint over a bloodless face. “What’s happened to him?”

Harry eyed her. “Could we talk somewhere away from this crowd, Mr. Verneau?”

“Sure.”

“Steve,” the woman began.

Verneau patted her arm. “I’m sure it’s nothing. This way, Inspector.” He led them out to the lobby area and quiet corner area. “Now, what’s this about?”

There never seemed to be any easy way of saying it. Harry made it quick. “We’ve found a man in the bay with Mossman’s hotel key in his pocket.”

Verneau stared, shocked. “In the bay? He fell in and drowned?”

Garreth said carefully, “We think he was dead before he went in. He appears to have been robbed.”

“Someone killed him?” A passing pair of men turned to stare. Verneau lowered his voice. “Are you sure it’s Gary?”

Garreth gave him the description.

Verneau sucked in a breath. “That could be Gary. He has a coat like that.”

“We need to have someone come and identify him,” Harry said. “Will you?”

Verneau paled, but nodded. “Just let me give Alex and Susan some excuse for being gone.”