I pushed him away. “They’ll be checking everything but the ceiling for prints.” He didn’t push easy. I shoved harder.
He didn’t like that. He wasn’t used to it. His neck got red under the golf-links tan. “Roffis had a key to this suite. I wanted to find out if it’s still on him.”
“Don’t.” I went to the phone. “Mona?”
A brusque voice behind me: “Pudda phone down.” I did as requested. The guy in the door was the prissy-mouth with the misfit tuxedo. He had his right hand in the pocket of his dinner jacket just as Lanerd had. But the newcomer had an uglier scowl.
Lanerd burst out, “Where is she, Hacklin?”
Hacklin shifted his eyes from me to Reidy and back again.
“These hotel people?”
“Mister Vine’s the security chief.” Lanerd waved at me. “The other—”
“Duman.” Reidy frowned. “Assistant manager.”
I asked, “And you?”