Cereal Killer

onto the desk and gave the nurse her friendliest down-home smile. “What’s... in there?” she asked.
    “It’s sort of an unofficial break room. It’s where they catch a nap when they get the chance.”
    “Who’s they?” Dirk wanted to know.
    “The head nurses,” she replied, again lifting one brow. “The doctors. The surgical nurses.”
    For a moment Savannah could see those last three
    words, like a giant neon sign flashing over the woman’s head.
    “Surreal nurses?” Savannah repeated. “And head nurses?”
    She nodded knowingly.
    “And maybe sometimes they might be napping in there at the same time?” Dirk said.
    “They might be in there. They might be napping. Depends on who it is how much sleeping is going on.”
    “Gotcha,” Savannah said. “And do you suppose they’re ‘napping’ in there right now?”
    “Naw, don’t think so. I haven’t seen anybody go in there today yet.”
    “How about the day that Kevin Connor’s wife died?” Dirk asked. “Do you think there were any head nurses and surgical nurses in there napping together?”
    “I was sitting at this desk all day. I saw Nurse Connor go in there. He stopped by the desk first and said he was really tired after a long surgery he’d had that morning. Said he was going to get some sleep before a myomectomy in the afternoon. He told us not to bother him.”
    “And was he... bothered, that is?” Savannah asked. Again, the nurse looked around, but the only other two nurses in the area seemed deeply engrossed in a patient’s chart. “Nurse Murray went in there for a couple of minutes. When she came out, she said he was sound asleep and reminded me not to disturb him, to let him rest.”
    “How long was he in there?” Dirk said.
    “About an hour. Maybe a little longer.”
    “How did he look when he came out?” Savannah asked.
    “Look?”
    “Yes. Did he look... rested?”
    She nodded. “He looked fine. I mean, he didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. Usually people come out of there with pillow prints on their faces, their hair standing up, and drool on their chins.”
    Savannah turned to Dirk. “That sounds like you in the morning,” she said. “Or pretty much any time up till noon.”
    Dirk ignored Savannah’s comment and said to the nurse, “Do you think I could see that room?”
    “You mean, like go in there and look around?” ‘Yeah. Exactly.”
    “I don’t see why not. The door’s usually unlocked, and I don’t think anybody’s in there right now. Go ahead.”
    “Thanks... for everything,” Dirk told her.
    “Yeah,” Savannah added. “And you have a real good day, darlin’.”
    The nurse’s eyes sparkled with good-natured mischief. “I always do.”
    As they walked away and headed toward the room in question, Savannah whispered to Dirk, “Don’t you just love a blabbermouth?”
    “I depend on them,” he replied. “They’re almost as informative as pissed-off ex-wives.”
    When they reached the door at the end of the hall, they were pleased to find it unlocked. Dirk entered first and switched on the light.
    Following him inside, Savannah was surprised to find far less than the five-star accommodations she was anticipating. Although she hadn’t expected the nap/break room to have down pillows and Egyptian cotton duvets, she had figured that doctors snoozed on something better than a gurney and a simple cot.
    Both “beds” were empty, but rumpled pillows and sheets suggested that they had been used recently.
    Savannah shut the door behind her and joined Dirk beside the large window.
    “So much for the idea that Connor couldn’t have left this room without being seen,” she said.
    “Just what I was thinking. Tell everybody not to bother you, hop in and out of the window, and go on about your merry way of murdering your old lady.”
    “How?”
    He gave her an exasperating, weary look. “One thing at a time, if you don’t mind.”
    She turned and glanced around the room. On the far wall was a line of small gray lockers that were secured with assorted padlocks and combination locks.
    “Oh, lookie, lookie,” she said. “That one there on the end says MURRAY. And it’s got a padlock.”
    Dirk sniffed. “Yeah, but I ain’t got a warrant and my butt’s still sore from the chief chewin’ on it. He hasn’t gotten over us breaking into the Montoya chick’s place yet.”
    “Eh, the chief should fall down a flight o’ stairs,” she said, walking over to the locker and