Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

follow-up on an interview your manager had with FBI Special Agent Sam Groves,” Sizemore said at the lobby desk. “Is Madeline Dermott on duty?”
    Forty seconds later Sizemore was being let in through a side door to the manager’s office. When the desk clerk introduced Sizemore as an FBI agent, he didn’t correct the clerk. Instead, he held out his hand to Madeline. A brisk shake, a professional smile on both sides, and they were down to business.
    “How may I help you?” Madeline asked.
    “Tuesday afternoon Special Agent Sam Groves interviewed you on the subject of this woman,” Sizemore said, producing the photo. “Her name is Natalie Harrison Cutter.”
    “I remember. She wasn’t registered here at the hotel or for any of the conventions that are currently on our books.”
    “Hate it when that happens,” Sizemore said, smiling easily.
    Madeline smiled back and confessed, “In this case, I was relieved.I didn’t want anyone who was suspected of something by the FBI to be registered at my hotel. And the other one is gone now too.”
    “Other one?”
    “The other one Mr. Groves wanted to talk to. His name was Gavin…Gavin…” Madeline turned to the computer. Her beautifully manicured nails flew over the keyboard. “Gavin Greenfield. Florida.”
    “Greenfield. Of course.” Sizemore gave Madeline an appreciative look. “Is that the Greenfield who lives in Miami or was it…?”
    Madeline glanced at the computer screen. “Coral Gables.”
    “Odd. He hasn’t been answering his phone at that address. Could I check my number against the one he left with you?”
    “Certainly.” Madeline turned the screen so that Sizemore could read it.
    He memorized the number and then said, “Well, that explains it.”
    “What?”
    “Someone reversed the last two numbers when they gave it to me. Happens all the time. Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome. I’m always happy to cooperate with the FBI.”
    Sizemore smiled again and let himself out of the office. He went to a quiet corner of the lobby, pulled out his cell phone, and keyed in the number he had memorized. It was answered on the third ring.
    “If this is another damned telemarketer,” the man began.
    “It isn’t,” Sizemore interrupted. “I’m following up on the interview you had with FBI Special Agent Sam Groves.”
    Silence, followed by, “Who are you?”
    “More to the point, who is Natalie Cutter to you?”
    “Special Agent Groves told me if anyone wants to ask questions about her, they should call him. Since you’re in the FBI, I’m sure you have his number. Good-bye.”
    Gavin Greenfield hung up with emphasis.
    Sizemore sat for a few minutes, thinking about various ploys he could try on the uncooperative Mr. Greenfield. Lacking a badge, he really didn’t have any leverage. All he knew for sure was that Greenfield had heard the name Natalie Cutter before.
    That, and the fact that Sam Groves didn’t want Greenfield to talk about her.
    Sizemore went back to the lobby desk. Once more, the clerk took him to Madeline’s office.
    “Sorry to bother you again,” Sizemore said, “but there’s a problem. Not with your records, but with ours. I’m assuming you keep a list of calls each guest makes?”
    “Of course. Phone calls used to be one of our big profit centers. Not so much now since so many people use mobiles.”
    Sizemore hoped that Greenfield didn’t have a mobile phone. Sizemore himself hated the things. He only put up with them because they were useful.
    “Did Mr. Greenfield make any calls?” Sizemore asked.
    The manager’s fingers raced over the computer keyboard. “Oh, yes. Quite a few. Here, I’ll print it out.”
    “Thanks. That would be a big help.”
    List in hand, Sizemore went up to his suite and started up the computer he rarely used, because he had the same love-hate relationship with the machine that he had with cell phones. He plugged into the Internet and went to a site that listed the addresses of all telephone numbers. Sites like this were one of the reasons he’d learned to use computers. Saved an investigator all kinds of time.
    Most of Greenfield’s calls had been to his home in Coral Gables. Several others were to furniture outlets. Two were to a residence in Glendale, Arizona. That number was listed to K. J. Chandler.
    Sizemore wrote down the name and address, switched over to a map site, and entered the Chandler address as a destination and that of the hotel as a starting point. Very quickly a