risked his life to save one of your guests. Also gives you some extra time to track down the manager.â
âOf course,â the clerk said. âIâll just need an ID.â
I nudged Steve. âHeâll give you his. Mine is in the truck. Iâll check into my room later.â
âDetective,â a young officer rushed inside. âWe still havenât identified the victim. The morgââ
Bell tilted his head toward me and held up a hand to quiet the officer. âWeâll clear that up soon.â
âNo one knows her,â the officer said
No one? A knot formed in my throat. I decided to try and help a little. âSome croppers come as a single and not as part of a group. Lydia Clement or Marsha Smith could give you a copy of the registration forms.â
âThe forms indicate who came alone?â Bell asked.
I nodded. âGroups split room costs. And croppers will write on their forms who theyâd like to share a table with and have around them. The organizers do their best to accommodate all requests. Theyâd know who came as singles.â
Bell handed the officer back his handcuffs. âThank you for the information, Miss Hunter. Thatâll help us speed up the process.â
âYour keys.â The clerk held out a white sleeve.
I felt someone hovering behind me. I glanced over my shoulder.
Ellie gave me an apologetic smile. âIâm sorry to bother you right now, but we still canât get into the conference center. No oneâs seen Lydia or knows where Marsha is.â
âGo on.â Steve held the card in the air. âIâll be in the room.â
I hesitated. Steve suffered a head injury. He shouldnât be left alone.
He removed one of the room keys and placed it in my back pocket. He brushed a kiss over my lips. âCome check on me once you help them.â
âAll right.â I hated leaving him, but we did need to get into the room. Hopefully, Gussie Buford and Darlene Johnson would show up soon. Theyâd get the store ready for me while I cared for Steve.
âIf we split up we might find someone who can let us in sooner,â Ellie said. âPauline is checking out the fitness center, and I told her Iâd run down to the convenience store near the entrance to the interstate. Maybe Lydia or Marsha went there.â
âLydia asked me to let the manager know she was running late. He must have a set of keys to let us in.â
âThe bar and grill is down the hall,â the clerk said, pointing the way. âYou might find Marsha there.â
The sneer in the womanâs voice caught my attention. âDid you see her there?â
âI havenât.â The clerk pressed her lips together.
That was all she was going to say about that, but I was smart enough to hear the unsaid drama.
âThanks.â I hurried down the hallway, which fortunately was short. We needed to get in the conference center. If the store was opened late, no biggie, but if the scrappers lost cropping time we would never hear the end of it. Plus it might affect the reputation of the Cropportunity events and any extra income opportunities for Scrap This.
I almost missed the bar as a tiny wooden sign was all that announced the location. The door was the same style and painted the same color as the doors for the restrooms. I tugged it open. One man sat in the corner typing away on a laptop, and another man wearing khakis and a white polo shirt with a logo of an inverted V resembling a mountain range talked to the bartender. I saw the word âmanagerâ on his nametag but couldnât make out his name.
âI ainât switching shifts so I can babysit a bunch of women.â The bartender swiped a cloth across the counter. He used the back of his hand to shove a lock of blond hair from his eyes. âBesides, Iâm already here and clocked in.â
âAbby isnât physically able to help a