“Yeah,” Shawn said. “They’re kind of cool, right? The hotel’s former owner was enthralled with these things. When his wife died, he started painting, and didn’t stop until he’d painted just about every flat surface he could find.”
“They’re beautiful. Oh, one more thing,” I said to Shawn as something occurred to me. “Did you meet the victim?”
“Sure.”
“Did he say anything, do anything odd?”
“He didn’t say much. He came down to the office at one point and said he wasn’t feeling well, asked for the name of a pharmacy.”
“Where did you send him?”
“To the drugstore around the corner. But he said he preferred natural remedies, so I told him to talk to Quan.”
“And who is Quan?”
“The day manager. I don’t know much about Chinese medicine, but Quan swears by it. She says it’s the only thing that really works.”
“And was she able to help him?”
“She told him about an herb store, the Lucky something, on Sacramento.”
“The Lucky Moon?” I suggested. That was Sailor’s favorite apothecary, the one Maya had “seen” him in. It was a popular shop, not far from the hotel, so perhaps it was simply a coincidence.
Shawn nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“Did he go, do you know? Any idea what he bought there?”
Shawn shrugged. “Said he felt sick to his stomach and stuff. Gotta say, he looked kind of pale.”
“And what about the man”—my voice wavered, as though railing against the idea of Sailor standing accused of murder—“the man people saw leave the scene?”
“He’s on our security tapes,” said Shawn.
“So I hear.”
“I told everything to the police. No one saw him come in, but a bunch of people saw him leave. It was hard not to notice.”
“Anything strike you as odd?”
“Besides the fact that he had blood all over him?”
My stomach quailed.
“Yes, besides that.”
Shawn shrugged. “People were freaking out at the sight of him, but he was totally calm. He stopped and looked at an old-fashioned pocket watch, and then kept on going. Weird, right?”
“Yep, weird. Okay, thanks. The room key?”
“Oh, yeah,” Shawn said, foraging behind the desk and handing me the key. “The forensics people left about an hour ago. I’ll be here if you need me.”
I thanked Shawn again, encouraged him to go back to sleep; then Hervé and I hurried toward the narrow circular stairs that wound around the elevator.
“Does the pocket watch have any significance to you?” I asked Hervé.
“Maybe he was late for a very important date?” Hervé suggested. “Seriously, the only thing it brings up for me is the rabbit fromAlice in Wonderland.”
Well, that seemed apt. I felt a lot like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole lately.
