Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

how to reach a landmark on their road map. None of them looked up as Millay, Olivia, and Haviland turned down the first corridor in search of the stairwell.
    “Do you know their room numbers?” Olivia asked as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.
    “Pretty much,” Millay replied smugly. “This morning Annette mentioned that her room had a little balcony that overlooked the pool and she could hear the ice maker going at it in the middle of the night. That means it backs up against her room. The men will either be on the same side or across the hall from her. It’s easier for housekeeping that way.”
    Olivia mulled this over. “And the mention of the balcony versus a patio is why we’re headed to the second floor.”
    “Yep. Hotels save the ground floor for seniors and the handicapped. Couples and families get the higher floors.” Millay tapped her head. “Amazing what you can find on the Internet. I even watched a YouTube video on how to use my handy break-in gadget.”
    Millay had shown the tool to Olivia in the privacy of the Range Rover. It looked like an oversized coat hanger and was meant to slip beneath the door and then curl up on the other side, grabbing hold of the handle.
    However, when they reached the niche where the ice maker and a pair of vending machines stood, Millay spied a housekeeper coming out from a room two doors down and decided to appeal to her first. She claimed to have been sent to get an insurance card for her aunt who’d landed in the hospital and made quite of show of being both worried and rushed.
    The housekeeper repeated the words “hospital” and “insurance” in English and then murmured to herself in Spanish. She quickly nodded her head and opened what they suspected was Annette’s door with her master key. She then pointed at Haviland and raised her pencil-thin brows in question.
    “She needs a dog.” Millay jerked a thumb at Olivia and adopted a pained expression. “Very sick.”
    That was all the housekeeper needed to hear. She gave the two women a tight smile and quickly pushed her cart in the opposite direction, her orthopedic shoes squeaking as she hustled down the hall.
    “Now she thinks I have the plague,” Olivia said and pushed past Millay into the room. “Check the closet. See if you recognize Annette’s clothes.”
    While Millay shut the door and turned to the closet, Olivia took the clove cigarettes out of her purse and held them under Haviland’s nose. “Find,” she commanded.
    He sniffed the open pack, sneezed, and shook his head in distaste, but then got to work.
    “She wore this shirt yesterday.” Millay pointed into the closet and then stepped aside as Haviland stuck his head into the space. He backed out again and entered the bathroom. Olivia watched him carefully while Millay spent her time opening and closing drawers and flipping through the pages of the novel on Annette’s bed.
    After five minutes of deliberate sniffing, Haviland returned to Olivia’s side and sat down on his haunches. He hadn’t found the scent anywhere in Annette’s room.
    “Now what?” Olivia asked though she already knew the answer.
    “Keep an eye out for the housekeeper and I’ll open the room next door.”
    Olivia moved to the center of the corridor and kept watch as Millay got on her knees, slipped the wire tool from the bag, and slid it under the door. She then pulled back on the wire in a movement that reminded Olivia of an archer nocking an arrow on a bow, and maneuvered the hooklike piece on the other side of the door until it caught hold of the handle. Within thirty seconds, Millay had gained access to the room.
    “Damn,” Olivia breathed once they were safely inside. “You’re way too good at that.”
    Millay shrugged. “I practiced it like fifty times after work. I want to nail this bastard and I wasn’t going to let some locked hotel door stand in my way.”
    The next room appeared to be Fletcher’s. It was easy to identify his clothing, and the leather travel case in the bathroom bore his initials in gold lettering. Millay carefully rummaged through his drawers, Haviland investigated every nook and corner in an attempt to track the aroma of cloves, and Olivia examined the stack of papers on the desk. “There are copies of Natalie’s medical records detailing Talley’s birth,” she told Millay. “Looks like the same stuff the sheriff asked Judson to fax him.”
    At that moment, Olivia’s phone buzzed. She had an incoming