CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
When we returned to the hotel, a few policemen were still there. They checked our ID’s when we entered. “We have to be safe,” the tall one with a mustache said.
When Rick flashed his badge from his wallet, the man smiled. “Sorry, Officer Dexter. Just procedure.”
“I totally understand, but it’s not typical of a suicide case.”
The cop nodded. “No, but it is of a murder.”
I gasped. “Brian, uh, Mr. West, was killed?”
“Yes. Looks that way. The perp sure did a good job of making it look otherwise, but we have advanced methods of checking. The M.E. is sure it was murder.”
“Do you have any leads?” Rick asked.
“Not yet, but we’re working on it. Don’t worry. Was he a friend of yours?”
“An acquaintance,” I said, and Rick gave me a look that seemed to say he thought Brian
