41
It was three in the afternoon when we reached the Cactus Inn.
“We need to find this housekeeper, Camila Morales.” I scanned the area, looking for a housekeeping cart or an open room door.
“We don’t even know if she’s working today,” said Byrd. “You going to ask the guy at the registration desk?”
“Nope.”
“Then what’s the plan?”
“I’m going to talk to her.” I pointed at a heavyset Latina woman stuffing bedsheets into a laundry bag attached to her cart. “Wait here.”
I stepped out of the Charger and sidled up to Shea. “Sit tight. I want to talk with the housekeeper over there.”
“I can come with you.”
“I don’t want to spook her.”
“Spook her?” Shea smirked, giving her biker vest a tug. “Nothing spooky about me.”
I figured she got my point and sauntered over to where the woman was pu
