The Colonel, his knees locked, held a handkerchief over his nose with a shaking hand and stared through the hotel room door. Inside, a smoke-ejecting fan, two firefighters, and two medics worked over the burned thing on the floor. In twenty-three years, Blanc had never seen anything like it. It was turning into one hell of a night.
It started with that foreign i***t at the morgue telling him the American girl"s body was missing and then, apparently, just walking away from his work. Followed by a frantic call from the Le Alexandre staff reporting a hell-raising assault on their fifth floor. Now this. Good Christ – what was this?
Le AlexandreHis call to Durand, that lazy son of a b***h, was a waste of time. The surgeon insisted he"d already declared the Kramer woman dead, autopsied her and
