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that will happen until tomorrow.
    “When you talk to his
wife, tell her not to plan any services or anything for several days. After the
death certificate’s signed, we’ll put him on a plane and fly him out to
California, course she’ll have to pay the airline in advance.” He and his
assistant walked up the stairs carrying a gurney. A few minutes later the
covered body of Milt Huston was taken down the stairs by them and placed in the
rear of the mortuary van.
    Mr. Gordon walked back in
the lodge and said, “Would you give me a call after you talk to the widow? I’d
kinda like a heads-up on what to expect. Here’s my business card with my telephone
number. I’ll convey my condolences when I talk to her. No matter how they die,
it’s always sad for the ones who are left. Give me about an hour. It’ll take
that long for us to get back to the mortuary.”
    “I’m going up and call her
now,” Liz said. “I’ll call you afterwards.” The big front door of the lodge
closed, and the van drove off while Sam and Liz looked out the window at the
long trail of dust it left behind. “Okay, boy, let’s get this over with. I have
a feeling you’re coming up with me again.” The big dog walked next to her as
she went up the stairs.
    Liz dialed the number
she’d retrieved from Roger’s cell phone and listened to the ringing phone. A
moment later a woman’s recorded voice said, “You’ve reached the home of Milt
and Valeria Huston. Milt is on a hunting trip in Texas, and I’ve taken my
visiting parents sightseeing in Northern California. We’ll be returning in a
few days. Our housekeeper is staying at our home with our family pets, but she
won’t be answering the phone. At the sound of the tone, please leave your
message, and one of us will return your call. Thank you and have a nice day,”
the woman said with an accent that sounded like Italian had been her native
language.
    “There’s no way I’m going
to leave a death message on her answer machine,” Liz said to Sam. “I guess I’ll
keep trying every day until I reach her.” She looked at her watch and saw that
it was too early to call Mr. Gordon. She spent the next half hour unpacking the
rest of hers and Roger’s clothes and generally getting organized.

CHAPTER 9
                                                                           
    Liz was no stranger to what she
called “her niggle,” that feeling or little inner voice that always alerted her
when something was off, and right now it was making itself heard loud and
clear. It was very insistent she go to Milt’s room and look around before Roger
and the rest of the hunters returned for breakfast. She decided she probably
should put Milt’s things in his suitcase and have it sent to his wife along
with his body. She wished she’d thought to do it earlier and given it to Mr.
Gordon when he was here. If anyone questioned why she was in his room, she
could use that as an excuse.
    She and Sam walked down
the hall to Milt’s room. She looked up and down the hall and didn’t see anyone. Actually , she thought, since all the guests and the guides are out
hunting, seems like the only people who are in the lodge right now are Cassie,
the chef’s assistant, the chef, me. and of course, Sam, although technically he
doesn’t qualify as a person.
    Liz gingerly opened the door
to room number eight, wondering why no fingerprints or any other type of police
investigation had been taken. If a death occurred in Northern California, where
she and Roger lived, it was normal police procedure for some type of police
investigation to occur. She remembered when Barbara Nelson had died in one of
the guest cottages at her lodge and the bumbling chief of police, Seth
Williams, had looked for evidence of foul play and had dusted for fingerprints.
    Of course, that was
definitely a murder. This isn’t, or so the lodge owner thinks, so I