Page 57 of Death By Llama
Straightening up, I frowned at him.“You have a letter opener in one of the guest rooms?”
“Yeah.It’s like an antique thing.A decoration.No one uses letter openers.”
I grimaced.“I don’t know.A letter opener doesn’t seem like a great idea in a hotel room—in a town that seems to have a knack for random murders.”
Oliver considered my words, then nodded.“Why would that occur to Cameron or me or anyone else?Every object in this room could be a potential murder weapon, including the soap bar.”
“How could you kill someone with a bar of soap?”
Oliver’s jaw dropped.“Have youneverseen a single prison movie or TV show?They put it in a sock and swing.”He used a hand gesture to demonstrate, which was disturbing.
“Okay, okay, you’re right.Everything is a weapon in the wrong hands.”
“I seriously don’t think the letter opener is a clue.”He nudged the pile of clothes back over the supposed antique decoration, covering it again.
I moved back to my side of the bed, going through more piles of clothing with deliberate care.My hand froze when I came across men’s boxers covered in vibrant prints of hot sauce bottles.
“Hey.These might be a legit clue.They might even have actual DNA on them,” I said with a small triumphant grin.Pinching the waistband, I lifted the boxers with the utmost care, mimicking Oliver’s earlier technique with the camisole.
Oliver wrinkled his nose.“Oh, those are definitely Nick’s boxers.”
I nodded, eyeing the gaudy material.“Yeah.He looked like the type to wear kitschy boxers, though I’m not sure why I think that.”Looking around the room, I frowned.“Maybe we should put them in a bag or something.”
Oliver seemed to have the same idea.He grabbed a plastic grocery bag that had been lying on a nearby chair.He circled around the bed, holding it open.I carefully dropped the boxers inside, trying not to touch them any more than necessary.
“I mean, it’s not much, but it could potentially prove she was involved with him,” I said.
Oliver nodded but furrowed his brow in thought.“Yeah, but she’s never actually denied she was involved with him.”
I shrugged.“Well, it’s the best thing we’ve found so far.”
“Even if there’s blood on them it doesn’t prove anything.We’d need a murder weapon with blood that can’t be explained by them being romantically involved.”
I sighed after a moment.“I don’t think we’re going to find anything in here.”
Oliver nodded and grimaced, clearly eager to get out of the messy room.“Let’s check out one of the others.”
We stepped back into the hall, and he locked the door behind us.“The one across the hall is Gemma’s, and the one right next to Daphne’s is…the juggler guy’s.”He paused.“Why did none of us learn the juggler’s name?He was one of the coolest people at the festival.”
“Him and the glassblower.Nick would be so disappointed he wasn’t the star.”I looked back and forth between two new doors.“I don’t think we need to look in their rooms.Let’s check out Vance’s.”
“He’s down the hall,” Oliver said, leading the way.
We crept toward the appropriate door, which was fully unnecessary since we were alone in the building.The brass plaque above on the door read, “The Ebb Tide Room.”
Oliver slipped the key into the lock, and we stepped inside.While Daphne’s space had been in complete chaos, Vance’s room was the picture of military-grade neatness.
“Doesn’t even look like he stayed in here,” I remarked, glancing around.
Oliver nodded.“I haven’t even had to come in here to clean it.He’s had the “Do Not Disturb” sign on his door since he arrived.He must be making his own bed.”
“Weird.”One of the best things about staying at a hotel or inn is not having to clean up after yourself.Although, I like to think I’ve never wrecked a room quite as badly as Daphne.“Alright, let’s do the same thing.You take that side.I’ll take this side.”
We started scanning through the room.The place was so immaculate, there wasn’t even a trace of lint on the carpet.“I don’t think there’s anything in here at all,” I muttered.
Oliver frowned.“Did he even bring luggage?”
I opened the closet door to investigate and pointed to the suitcase stand, where a carry-on sat, zipped closed.Carefully, I unzipped it and flipped the top open.Neatly folded button-down shirts and pressed pants greeted me at the top.I hesitated, reluctant to disturb the orderly setup.“This guy might actually notice if something’s out of place,” I muttered, gingerly poking at the clothes.
