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with his head bashed in.”
    There was a long silence. Then, “What should I do?”
    “Ma’am, somebody broke into our room, trashed it, and there’s a dead body on the floor. You work here. Has anything like this ever—” Well, of course, nothing like this had happened before.
    “I’m sorry, my manager isn’t in and I—”
    “Just call nine-one-one. They usually take care of everything.”
    Maria had regained her composure and was standing by the sliding glass door, looking out at the pool and the ocean. James was sitting on the bed watching me.
    “If you can stand it, look again, Skip.”
    I walked back to the body. He was dressed in a green T-shirt and jeans. I forced myself to look up at the face, those glassy eyes staring through me. He had one of those three-day beards that I’ve tried to grow but it never worked.
    “It looks like he bashed his head on this nightstand when he fell.”
    James nodded. “Fell or was pushed.”
    “Pretty nasty gash.”
    “Recognize him?”
    And then I did. From the Yellow Pages. It was Jim Weezle from AAAce Investigations. We had found half of the vanished team.

CHAPTER TEN
    Of course, all hell broke loose. We called Mrs. Trueblood, and wearing jeans and a Bon Jovi T-shirt, she came stomping down before the cops arrived, shaking her head, and muttering something about how “everybody in the damned world is now going to know about that damned gold.”
    It didn’t seem to bother her that one of her former employees lay dead on our floor.
    Some guy in a blue denim work shirt with thirty keys dangling from his belt came running in, assaying the damages. He quietly gazed at the body still oozing blood, went into the bathroom, loudly threw up, then walked out, nodding at us as if he’d taken care of things.
    A young blonde lady with an official name tag pinned on her blouse stuck her head in, saw the commotion, and slowly backed out muttering, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”
    The four of us walked out onto the concrete walkway, waiting for the Monroe County Sheriff Department to arrive. I looked right out into the parking lot and could actually see some of the highway from there.
    “Are you all right?” I noticed Maria hadn’t said a thing and I figured I should check in with her.
    “No.”
    I put my hand on her shoulder and she pushed it off.
    “How did I get mixed up in something like this?” She walked to the railing and stared down at the broken-shell parking lot.
    “You agreed to help us. I’ve got to be honest with you, this happens to people who hang around with us.”
    She actually smiled, then gave me a little laugh. The problem was, I was dead serious.
Dead
serious.
    I saw the white car with green-and-black lettering pull in with its rooftop lights flashing as if they were going to pull someone over for speeding. The lettering on the side of the vehicle said it all.
    S ERVING THE F LORIDA K EYS
K EY L ARGO TO K EY W EST
    So these guys patrolled a one-hundred-mile stretch of highway, dealing with everything from speeders and drunks to, well, possible murder. Two officers stepped out of the car, looked up at us, and I waved. Lights on the car still flashing, they walked to the elevator. I should have told them it was slow. Really slow. Almost two minutes later they exited, a one-floor ride.
    The red-and-white rescue unit pulled up thirty seconds later, preceded by its screaming siren. And then there was the second sheriff car, and a third, and the officers separated us while two men walked into our room and immediately put crime tape over the open doorway.
    I don’t know what all went on in that room, but cars kept coming and men and women were going in and out, lifting the yellow crime tape, then putting it back, and we were all herded downstairs where the police cleared the pool area. A mother and father with three small children were not very happy.
    At the bar I saw Bobbie frowning at me as she slammed drinks down as fast as possible. Every seat was taken