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Orvis
shirt and brown corduroy pants.
    "I'm Detective Cameron," the newcomer declared in a businesslike manner. "I
understand you've found a dead body?"
    Upton pointed toward the corner of the room. "I'm afraid so."
    Cameron kneeled down beside the dead man. "Have you touched him?"
    "Just long enough to check for a pulse. Otherwise, I haven't disturbed anything. I used to
be a cop. Midtown Manhattan. I spent most of my time assigned to the Nineteenth Precinct."
    "Oh yeah?"
    Cameron reached for the leather case attached to his belt. He pulled out a cell phone,
punched in a number and waited. "This is Mitch Cameron. I'm at the Marquis Hotel." He gave
the address. "We've got a dead body."
    Upton couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but whatever Cameron was being
told, it wasn't good news.
    The color rose in the policeman's face. "What? What are you telling me? Are you
serious? Yes," he said in an exasperated tone, "I know it's been snowing all morning. But there
must be someone who can-- Okay, okay I get the picture. Do the best you can." He stabbed at the
button to end the call. "There's nearly two feet of snow on the ground and they're predicting
another foot and a half by sundown. Apparently there's also something else going on. The
dispatcher can't even promise to get an ambulance out here."
    "That figures. I've never seen a blizzard like this. I'm Arthur Upton, by the way.
President of the CFWA."
    Cameron grunted an acknowledgment.
    "What are we going to do?" Rena said. "I don't mean to sound insensitive, but we've got
two more sessions in this room this afternoon. We can't just leave a dead body--"
    "We'll have to hold them somewhere else" Upton told her.
    "Why? He probably just had a heart attack or something. Can't we just -"
    "Rena, this matter isn't as simple as it seems."
    "Oh?" Cameron said. " What are you suggesting, Mr. Upton?"
    Upton felt bitterness rising up into his throat, making it hard to even speak. "Rena, do
you remember when I first arrived at the hotel this morning, I asked you if anyone had turned in
my ski hat?"
    "I do. But what--"
    Upton aimed an accusing finger in the direction of the dead man. "It's sitting on that
man's head!"
    "What are you talking about?" Rena said. "How could your hat be--"
    "I have no idea. But that's my hat. I have no doubt about that."
    Cameron squatted down next to the corpse. "Are you suggesting he met with foul play
because he's wearing your hat?"
    "I'm not suggesting anything," Upton growled. He focused upon the dead man with
narrowed eyes. "It just strikes me as very peculiar that he's wearing my hat. And that's not all.
Rena, go find Royce Fontaine. There's something I want him to take a look at. Come to think of
it, round up the whole CFWA Executive Board. Quietly, of course. But hurry!"
    "Yes, your highness," she snapped, glaring. "I'll go fetch them." She stormed off.
    "Do you know who he was, Mr. Upton?" Cameron said.
    Upton shook his head but kept his gaze focused on the corpse. "I have no idea. I've never
seen him before. I'm hoping someone on our Executive Board will be able to I.D. the body."
    In a quietly assertive voice, Cameron said, "Tell me about the hat."
    Upton looked up sharply. He took his time considering the implications of the question.
"I had it with me last night. I'm sure of that. It was probably stuffed in one of my coat pockets.
This morning I was running late and I couldn't find a parking space under the hotel. When I
realized I'd have to hike through the snow, I reached for my hat. It wasn't there."
    "Why were you asking Ms. Oberhaus about it at that particular point in time?"
    "She's in charge of this convention. She also happened to be the first person I bumped
into when I arrived this morning. I figured, if anyone had turned it in, she was the most likely
person to know about it. But no luck. Of course, I had no idea it would wind up on the head of a
dead man."
    "I see," Cameron said. "When Ms. Oberhaus came to get me, she