The staked Goat

her open the room. They peered inside, saw nothing striking, then relocked the door, Mackey remaining at the door, Keller returning to the desk with the clerk.
    ”Twelve-oh-six.” Murphy turned to Keller. ”Was that before or after the maid came?”
    Keller swallowed and reddened. ”I don’t know.” Mackey interceded. ”Lieutenant, the maid for this corridor saw me by the door. She said she had opened 304, looked in, and saw it hadn’t been slept in, so she moved on.”
    Murphy nodded. ”Cross, you and Keller go back to that clerk. Find out whether anybody else has been in or out of the room, and anything else about the room.”
    ”Lieutenant?” I said.
    ”Yeah?”
    ”When I was here last night, a college-age boy was on desk duty. He’d probably started work in the afternoon. That means someone relieved him before the present clerk came on, unless clerks work twelve-hour shifts here. Maybe the names and even home addresses and telephones of all of them would be helpful.”
    ”I would have gotten that information anyway,” said Cross, a bit defensively.
    ”Fine,” said Murphy. ”Check on rent-a-car, too.”
    Cross and Keller started off down the hall. ”O.K.,” said Murphy, ”take your shoes off.” Mackey and I did so. Murphy pointed to the door, and Mackey keyed the lock and swung the door open. We looked in for maybe twenty seconds before Murphy led us into the room.
    We strolled around, looking here and there without touching. Murphy took out a pencil and pushed the accordion doors of the closet open. A battered garment bag hung in there, nothing else.
    I went into the bathroom. Toilet articles were spread out on the sink area. Funny how little a man’s habits change over the years. I closed my eyes and pictured how our place in Saigon would look. I opened my eyes. Certain items outside of the toilet kit. Right Guard stick instead of Right Guard spray, but the same shaving cream. Twin-bladed floating head instead of the adjustable ”track” razor. Toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash all the same.
    Inside the kit... I could peer inside, without touching, because the kit was unzipped. I expect I frowned.
    ”Notice something?” said Murphy. I looked at me in the mirror as I turned my head left toward him.
    ”I don’t know. Can I ask Mackey a question?”
    ”Sure. Mackey?”
    Mackey’s face appeared behind Murphy’s. ”Mackey, did the maid say she left the room untouched or just that she didn’t bother with the still-made bed?”
    Mackey closed his eyes and answered with them shut. ”I asked her, ‘Had you cleaned the room?’ She replied, ‘No, the place hadn’t been used, so I moved on to 302.’”
    Murphy was staring at me. I spoke. ”Can you find out if she touched anything in here today?”
    Mackey looked at Murphy. Murphy nodded, and Mackey was off.
    ”Good cop,” I said.
    ”He’ll be better when he can repeat an exchange without having to keep his eyes shut. What’s up?”
    I sighed. ”Maybe nothing, but when we lived together, he always kept the toilet kit zipped up.” Murphy looked at it. ”When I was in the army, I did too. When I got home, I didn’t bother.”
    ”Like I said, maybe nothing.”
    He turned and went back into the main room. I leaned over the tub and looked up at the vent above the shower. There were some bright nicks around the screws holding it. I decided I would ask the hotel staff about recent maintenance myself.
    We carefully opened drawers and looked under the bed. Mackey returned to report that the maid never even entered 304 that morning. Cross and Keller provided us with the names and addresses of the clerks and bellhops on duty. Cross also reported that Al had made the reservation at the Midtown eleven days earlier and had checked in at 11:30 a.m., Monday, the 22nd. The day before yesterday. He had stayed there Monday night, but apparently not Tuesday night. No one had seen him enter or leave on Tuesday. He had placed two long distance calls to Pittsburgh, presumably home and office, and two local calls, me and presumably a customer, early Tuesday morning.
    ”Was my message to him still in the box?” I asked.
    ”Yes.” Cross handed it to Murphy. He glanced at it and gave it back to her.
    Murphy told Mackey to lock and seal the room, Cross remaining to go through it with the lab technicians she had called from the desk.
    ”C’mon,” Murphy said to me. It seemed to be one of his favorite phrases. We walked back through the lobby to