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“I dunno, say five or so.”
“And what do you remember about him?”
“You said you’re with Homicide—” He paused there to glance over at Trent. “The guy was murdered… in the motel?”
“It’s an open investigation,” Trent interjected the diplomatic answer.
“Mr. Morgan, what do you remember about Mr. Palmer? How did he seem to you? Did you see him with anyone?”
“Nice guy, you could say. He thanked me for the towels, said ‘please’ when he called the front desk for them.”
“So he called for towels because he didn’t have any in his room, or needed more…?” Amanda asked.
“He was looking for a couple of extras.”
“How many are provided in the room?”
“Two bath towels, two hand towels, two facecloths.”
“And they’re changed out every day?”
“Yeah.”
Palmer had enough for himself, so what had prompted the request for more? It would seem there was only one logical explanation. “Did he have company?”
David’s mouth opened, shut. He winced.
“You’re not going to tell us.” Her voice was more snarl than genial. She was tiring of the Denver’s Motel employees’ code of silence and was curious if their employee handbook directed employees not to speak with cops.
“It’s not personal.”
“I never assumed it was.” She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “But it’s because we’re cops.”
David chewed his bottom lip and didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. His body language confirmed she’d reached the right conclusion.
His failure to communicate was telling her more than he realized though. It would seem that David had seen someone in his room, but he just wasn’t going to talk about it. She’d push a little harder. “Was it a guy or a girl?”
David avoided eye contact, and eventually said, “I’m sorry, but I need to respect our customers’ privacy.”
“At a place like Denver’s?” she volleyed back.
“We have some standards.”
“Uh-huh.” She uncrossed her arms. “Did you happen to notice if there was a duffel bag or anything in the room when you delivered the towels?”
“A duffel bag?” His tone was incredulous, as if he was trying to understand what that could possibly have to do with a dead guy. And it might not have any bearing on the case, but then again, it could. “Follow the money” was an adage for a reason.
“Yes,” she said.
“I didn’t go in the room, but yeah, I saw one inside the door.”
If what David was telling them was the truth, then the duffel bag—and presumably the money—was stolen, went missing, or was given to someone between Saturday and Sunday. Possibly even to his mysterious Saturday visitor. “What did the bag look like?”
David’s gaze flicked to Trent. “Blue with a gray stripe through it like a wave.”
Trent scribbled in his notepad.
“I’m going to give this one more go, and I’d like to remind you that a man is dead,” Amanda started. “Did you see anyone in his room? Notice any vehicles in the lot outside his room?”
