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“We’ll try to be done by then,” Connor promised.
The hotel lobby was as decadent and overwhelming as she’d anticipated. Everything was marble and gold, with imposing chandeliers casting sparkling reflections on the glossy floor. One whole wall was a plate glass window, with a view of the lush grass of the tidy golf course. The uniforms worn by the busboys were nicer than the clothing Kit wore. Not a wrinkle in sight. There was a polish to the place that screamed that it was a cut way above the normal hotel.
Connor, however, navigated it with ease. He’d come from money and, in situations like this, it showed.
“I’ve been here before,” he told her. “With my folks when I was still in high school. It’s been a while and I’d forgotten the name of the place, but I recognize the lobby. The dining room should be that way.”
She followed, noting the personnel behind the desk watching them. Connor looked like he fit in here, but Kit knew that she did not. Trying not to stare, she matched Connor’s longer stride.
“Do you see them?” he asked when they paused at the entrance to the dining room.
Kit scanned the crowd, ignoring the hostess who asked if they’d like to be seated. Connor told her they were meeting their party inside, injecting the right amount of haughty confidence in his voice, and the hostess became solicitous.
Baz would have barged right in, probably making a scene. So Connor was good to have along.
I still miss Baz.
“Ah. I see them.” The photo Denise had provided made the identification easy. Pete, Dave, and Garrett were an accountant, a financial advisor, and a marketing manager, respectively. “Over by the window.”
Connor smiled tightly when they reached the table—just in time, as the men were signing their breakfast bills. “Gentlemen, we’re sorry to bother you, but it’s urgent that we speak to you. I’m Detective Robinson of the San Diego PD. This is my partner, Detective McKittrick. Can we go somewhere less public?”
One of the men, Pete, paled. “Is this about Kent? He never showed up and didn’t answer his cell phone. Is he all right?”
Kit leaned in, dropping her voice. “We’ll answer your questions as best we can, but not here.”
The three frowned at one another but rose as one. “We can go to my suite,” Dave said. “It’s a quick elevator ride.”
To their credit, the three didn’t pepper Kit and Connor with questions, waiting until they’d reached the penthouse suite, which was the nicest hotel room Kit had ever seen.
“So tell us,” Garrett demanded. “Where’s Kent?”
“He’s dead,” Kit said, keeping her tone gentle, but watching the three men carefully.
Garrett dropped into a chair while Pete and Dave stared at them.
“Dead?” Pete whispered. “How? When?”
“Where and why?” Dave added, his jaw clenched. “I’m guessing you don’t know who yet, which is why you’re here.”
“We believe it was intended to look like a suicide,” Connor said. “But there is evidence of foul play.”
“Did Mr. Crawford mention any issues he might have had with anyone?” Kit asked. “Anyone that might want to hurt him?”
“Just his wife,” Garrett muttered. “What?” he snapped at his friends when they glared at him. “She suspected.”
“Suspected what?” Kit pressed.
Garrett shoved his fingers through his hair. “That he was having an affair.”
“You three knew?” Connor asked.
Each man shrugged and Garrett sighed. “Kent was always looking for the perfect woman,” he said with a little too much sincerity. “We kept telling him that his wife was good for him, but he didn’t listen.”
That, Kit thought, was a lie. She’d bet a week’s pay that these men all covered for one another. Connor’s glance said that he agreed.
“Do you know who he was seeing?” Connor asked.
“No,” all three said in unison.
