I noticed the missing bookings when a group of hunters arrived on Thursday.
The reservation book listed them for the following week, but a letter in the post said their rooms had been canceled. The handwriting looked like mine, though it wasn't. Someone had copied the shape of my name.
I compared the letter to the notes in the ledger. The paper was different, the ink too fresh. The cancellation had been sent to the wrong address, then forwarded to us.
"Rook?" Cole asked.
"I don't know."
"Could be."
"Then we need proof."
I looked over the entries again. Three bookings had vanished. Two had been transferred to the Rook Sporting Company. All three groups had used the north trail.
"I'll write to the clients," I said.
"We can't tell them someone stole their reservations."
"We can tell
