"So, what do you think?"

Hunter smiled. "One of life's little mysteries-emphasis on the little."

Dean began to fill the suitcase and Hunter helped him by folding the suits. Neither man said anything for a few moments. Finally, Hunter said, "The only thing peculiar about this whole thing is that there ain't nothing peculiar about it. That's the prob­lem. Does that make any sense?"

"It's too damn easy, isn't it? I'm used to everything being all screwed up. We don't even have any unanswered questions to play with."

"There are only four possibilities-accident, suicide, murder or skip." Dean counted them off on his fingers. "Murder seems a real stretch, given lack of motive-nothing missing, no evidence or anything else usual to a homicide. Suicide lacks reason if you lis­ten to what everyone is saying."

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"Plus we don't have the usual nice little note saying, 'See you in the next life, honey. This one sucks.'"

"Not much motive for a skip, either."

Hunter nodded in agreement. "Let's play devil's advocate just the same." He thought a moment. "I want to skip. I don't take anything from the room-that's a dead giveaway. I set the game up, pretend to tie one on."

"What about the local guy they gave a send off-Fletcher something. Did you talk to him?"

"Fletcher Brunell. Vanished," Hunter said, his voice dripping with mock melodrama. Then he smiled. "He's already left town. His last day was Friday but he stuck around because Byrne was coming down from the head office with his last paycheck. The office confirmed he and Byrne went out to have a drink or three, just the two of them. It seems Brunell burned a lot of bridges in the office and no one else wanted to buy him a send off snort."

"The head office didn't think much of him either. Only 'St. Jeffrey,'" Dean commented. "Too bad Brunell's gone. He was the last person to spend any time with Byrne. I'd like to hear how much Byrne had to drink."

"We tried to run him down but he was hush-hush with every­one at World Wide on his new job and where he was going. We're checking with the Post Office for a change of address. As to the booze, Byrne only had two beers here with dinner."

"So," Dean mused as he continued their speculation, "if you want to let the world know you're loaded and your drinking part­ner's gone, you..."

"...make sure someone else sees you leave your room, like Leo, the waiter," Hunter finished.

"But you're in a bathing suit, a poor choice of traveling duds."




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