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Denise might have removed them.
Or Kent might have had another hiding place.
Putting everything back as she’d found it, she checked the bathroom medicine cabinet to see if Crawford had any prescription medications. Like sedatives.
But she found nothing. If he’d been drugged so that his killer could more easily stage a suicide, then the killer had brought their own pills.
The only room in the house that had any personality at all was Denise’s sewing room. There were fabrics in bright colors and unfinished projects draped over chairs. The sewing machine had a layer of dust, though. Kit didn’t think Denise had been up here recently, which was sad.
She went back downstairs to find Denise asleep in her chair, her afghan having slid to the floor. Kit covered her, then checked the doors to make sure everything was locked up before letting herself out.
Rarely did Kit feel zero compassion for a murder victim, but she thought Kent Crawford might be one of those cases.
Getting back into her car, she googled the Palm Springs hotel, then placed a call to the reception desk.
“Silver Palm Resort. How can I help you?” a dapper-sounding man asked.
“My name is Detective McKittrick and I’m with San Diego Homicide. I’m currently investigating a murder in which the victim was supposed to have checked into your hotel on Saturday.”
“Oh my,” the man said. “How awful.”
“Yes. I’d like to talk to his friends who are also staying there. Just to see if they have any pertinent information. They’re not suspects. I need to know when they’re checking out.” Because they’d be returning home to three different cities and it would be far easier to talk to them in Palm Springs. “One of the party is David Jenkins.”
“Oh, Mr. Jenkins. He checks out tomorrow, ma’am. But he and his party have an eight o’clock tee time.”
“Thank you so very much. Have a nice evening.”
Kit ended the call with a grimace. It was at least two and a half hours to Palm Springs with no traffic. They’d need to leave well before dawn. Connor wasn’t going to be excited about that.
She called Connor’s cell, hoping that he was on his way back from LA by now.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Kit. You’re on speaker.”
He was still with his date, then. Kit hoped this girlfriend would last longer than the others had. Usually Connor messed up his relationships in the first month, but he’d been dating this woman for at least two months now, so there was reason for optimism. “Call me when you’re free. I learned quite a bit tonight.”
“Hi, Kit,” a woman’s voice called.
“Hi, CeCe.” Kit liked CeCe. She was a kindergarten teacher with a sweet smile and an even sweeter disposition. She’d gentled Connor. “How was the concert?”
“Not bad. How was your family dinner?” CeCe asked.
“Really nice.” CeCe had met Rita a month ago when Connor had brought her to a McKittrick Sunday dinner. “Rita was happy.”
“I’m glad you took the time,” she said warmly. “You deserved the break. I see how hard you both work. I’m glad you had time with your people.”
“Me too. You guys be safe. Connor, call me when you get home. We have to get an early start tomorrow.”
“Palm Springs?”
“Yep. Arrival by seven.”
“In the morning?”
Kit chuckled at the predictable horror in his voice. “Yep. Call me. Set every alarm you own. Don’t make me come over to your place and wake you up again.”
CeCe laughed. “I’ll set my alarm, Kit. He’ll be awake.”
“Oh man,” Connor complained, then sighed. “Fine. Talk to you soon.”
