“Life has grown more interesting in this quiet corner of Navajoland since you got here.”
Chee came in off the balcony and took a final, slow look at the living room, forcing himself to study the area around the body. He left the murder scene and took a couple of deep breaths. Erdman and Delahart had moved from the hallway floor onto the big stuffed chairs near the elevator. The man had his head back, staring at the ceiling, a tissue pressed against his nose.
“There are tracks in the sand out there, down from this balcony. Can you make sure nobody disturbs them?”
“Sure,” Erdman said. “What else?”
“Do the surveillance cameras up here work?”
She nodded. “We have them in the lobby and the restaurant, and at all entrances and exits too.”
Delahart interrupted. “How long do I have to stay here?”
“Until the police are done with you,” Chee said.
“I want a lawyer.”
Chee gave him a cold look, then turned to Erdman. “Can you go downstairs and make sure the front desk staff and the room service guy who brought the cart are available for questions?”
“Of course. Anything else? Whatever I can do.” There was energy in her voice, and her eyes were shining.
“Those tracks in the sand off the balcony. Make sure nobody goes behind the building.”
“Will do. You told me that already. I’ll have the tape for you in my office.”
After she left, Chee moved the chair she’d been sitting in to give himself a clear view of both the hallway and Delahart. “Why did you shoot that man?”
“I didn’t. You knew him. He told me he’d met you when I said you were coming to interview me.”
“Who was he?”
“He was that big guy, Samuel, the rent-a-cop from the movie camp.”
“What made you kill him?”
“That’s crazy talk. I’m lucky I’m not dead myself and you treat me like a criminal.”
“Then set me straight.”
Delahart coughed. “Samuel got here right when my nosebleed started. I was in the little bathroom dealing with it when I heard him talking to somebody. I thought he was on the phone. But then I heard the gunshot.”
He’s had time to work on his story, Chee thought. “So you heard the shot and went out to see what happened?”
“Hell, no. I thought whoever shot the guard might be looking for me. I hunkered down in there until you two showed up.”
In that time, Chee thought, Samuel had bled to death. If he’d done his job and come straight to the room instead of posing with those tourists, Samuel might be alive.
“So, if you didn’t shoot him, who did?”
“I told you I couldn’t see through the closed door. Do you think I’m Superman or something?”
“Were you expecting any visitors?”
“No. Yeah, you.” Delahart removed the tissue from his nose.
“Did you recognize the other voice?”
Delahart shook his head. “Hard to hear well through the door.”
“So let me replay this. A mysterious stranger comes to your hotel room and shoots your security guard while you’re in the bathroom. Is that your story?” Delahart’s nose was bleeding again.
“That’s what happened.”
“Do you usually have a bodyguard?”
“Samuel wasn’t my bodyguard.” Delahart wiped his nose, reapplied pressure with the tissue. “He was doing some special assignments. He wanted to talk about that.”
“You might as well tell me.”
“One of the women in this movie is a hot ticket, so she gets extra security as part of her contract. Samuel would let me know if she was planning to go to Las Vegas for the weekend, had an argument with her boyfriend, changed the color of her toenail polish. I’d send out some tweets: the Zombie Queen sleeps late. Stuff like that.”
Chee shifted in the chair. “Was she OK with someone spying on her?”
Delahart coughed and moved the tissue back to his face. “Guess I forgot to ask her. The price of fame.”
“Did Samuel want more money?”
“He was whining about an ex-wife breathing down his neck for more child support. I told him he could quit working for me if he wasn’t happy with the arrangement. His ex wasn’t my problem; I’ve got two of my own to contend with.”
“Did he punch you? Is that how you got the nosebleed? Maybe you shot him in self-defense.”
“How many times do I have to say I didn’t shoot that obnoxious son of a gun? The nose problem is the dry air in the desert.”
Dry air and nose candy, Chee thought. He wondered if too much cocaine would cause a cough, too.
“Who is the star Samuel was spying on?”
“Rhonda Delay. Hey, maybe she offed him. Zombie Queen claims a new victim.”
Chee frowned. “You’re lucky she didn’t shoot you, too.” Delahart seemed more like a petty criminal than a murderer. He might have hired someone to do the deed, but he didn’t seem reckless enough to do it himself.
“Rhonda knows the way the game’s played. If you’re looking for a person who wanted Samuel dead, I’d start with his ex. From what I hear, he had a thing for young girls.” Delahart looked at the blood on his hands. “Can I go to the room and wash up?”
“No.”
“How long do I have to sit here?” A cough.
“Until my boss stops by to take you to the police station for safekeeping.”
“You’re joking, right? I’ve got a million things to do, man. I can’t afford to sit around.” Delahart made a move to rise. “I have to go get my phone, make some calls.”
Chee put a hand firmly on Delahart’s arm. “You better get used to waiting. If I had to guess what happens next, I’d say you’ll be waiting in jail.”
Everything about Delahart irritated Chee—the grating, high-pitched sound of his voice, his arrogantly unkempt look, the know-it-all attitude. But most of all, the lying.
“I came by hoping to talk to you about something that looks like a grave, remember?”
“Do you take me for a mortician? We’re busy making a movie, man. We don’t have time for a stunt like that. Like I told you before, I don’t know anything about a grave.”
Chee frowned. “So if you won’t tell the truth about something as easy as that, I figure you must be lying about everything, including murder.”
“You wanna know about the grave? What do I get in exchange?”
“Maybe I won’t volunteer the information about what I saw in the vial next to your watch.”
Delahart exhaled, made a sound as he cleared his throat. “The grave is a prop. Turner and I came up with the idea when he was scouting. I thought it would create a little buzz. Sorry it got your panties in a knot.”
“Clever to add bones to make it more realistic. Animal remains or something?”
Delahart laughed. “That’s a good one. I wish I’d thought of that. We ought to hire you to help with this promotion stuff.”
And this time, Chee realized, Delahart was telling the truth.
13
When she got off the phone with Chee, Bernie returned Darleen’s call. Her sister answered on the third ring.
“Howdy, sis. How’s it goin’?’”