“Yes, you’re free to search the room if you’d like.”
I walked over to the open French window and
peered down on the crowd that had formed in front of the
hotel, the cause of all the city noise and bustling that
awoke me from my slumber. Three cop cars formed a
circle, yellow tape had been posted, and crowd control was
pushing onlookers back. The smell of blood was on the
air, as was death.
“Mr. Kade, can you come away from the window,
please?”
“Of course. I was wondering what the commotion
was. My apologies.” I closed the window and sat in the
dove gray armchair next to the bed.
“Did you hear anything last night or see anything
this morning? Anything at all?”
“No, sir. I was back to the hotel by ten, latest, and
went to bed shortly thereafter. I didn’t wake for the day
until I heard the sirens outside, and you knocking at my
door.”
“I see,” he said as he wrote in his notebook. “Do
you have a number that we can reach you at, Mr. Kade?”
“It’s an out-of-state number.”
“I expected so. Where are you from and what
brings you to New Haven?”
“I’m a doctor in L.A.” I gently stood – careful of
my movement as Detective Syke’s eyes bore down on me
– and picked up a silver monogrammed business card
holder with my initials. “My card.”
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