The telephone inside the room had rung, but if my guest was still there, he hadn't answered it. The telephone in the adjoining room had rung, too. The lights were off, though, so I'd assumed no one was there.
I reached my limit for freezing my butt off. I picked up the remaining chair and stood by the railing. This time I'd aim for the roof of a car. Damage might result, but I wouldn't be ignored.
The light went on in what had been Jim Bob's room. I pulled the chair back and leaned out, hoping to see someone inside the room. By this time I was almost convinced the man responsible for my present situation was long gone. Then again, I was reluctant to scream and find out my supposition was wrong. I wanted no starring role in a second splat.
I lifted the chair over my head and flung it at the neighboring balcony. It landed with a satisfactory clatter, knocking over the chairs and table and almost going over the far railing.
The sliding doors opened and a head popped out. I'd been anticipating Mrs. Jim Bob, so I was pleased to see Japonica's braids.
"Over here," I said softly.
"Arly?"
"On the next balcony."
"You must be mighty bored tonight. There's a casino downstairs, you know. If you're not in the mood to gamble or drink in the bar, you can go to the show. Carlette saw it last weekend, and she said she damn near believed Elvis was gonna step down from the stage and give her a shiny new Cadillac."
"I need help," I said, glancing back at the curtains.
"A gambler, huh? There's a twelve-step program for that. You ought to do something before you get yourself in bad trouble. I got a cousin that lost his house-"
"A man came into the room, made me come out here, and then locked the doors. I don't know if he's in there or not. If he is, you need to be careful. He's the size of a refrigerator box, and his attitude is bad."
"Who is he?"
"Japonica," I said hoarsely, "I am turning an unflattering shade of blue. Can we discuss this once I'm inside?"
"How long have you been out there?"
I picked up the table and staggered to the railing. "See this? See that Mercedes pulling up? Want to make a small bet as to whether I can hit it or not?"
She went back into the room, and within a matter of seconds, slid open the door and let me inside. I immediately crawled under the covers of the nearest bed. "I am so cold," I groaned. "I was most definitely not an arctic explorer in a previous life. You did look in the bathroom and the closet, didn't you?"
"And under both beds," she said. "You want to explain whatever you were carrying on about?"
I told her what had happened. "Don't bother to ask," I went on, "because I have no idea who he was or what he wanted. It has something to do with Stormy, though." I sat up and pulled the blankets around my shoulders. "She must have been followed from Farberville. Estelle saw some suspicious characters at the motel the first night. Stormy demanded a new hair style and color, most likely to alter her appearance so she could get away. It didn't work, since one of the men was at Graceland, and possibly in this hotel earlier in the day."
Japonica shook her head. "This isn't some best-selling suspense novel with Mafia thugs. You had the bad luck to encounter a burglar. You're damn lucky you didn't find yourself out there without your clothes. Then again, the bellman wouldn't have scratched his head and gone off to polish the elevator buttons."
"So you're still convinced you have the killer in custody?"
"I'm still convinced we had the killer in custody until about an hour ago. He climbed out the washroom window and went hightailin' into the back streets. We'll find him before too long."
I did not allow myself so much as a tiny smirk. "So that's why you gave Mrs. Jim Bob and Brother Verber a ride back here. Where are they now?"
"Down in the restaurant. I told 'em not to come up here until I made sure he wasn't in the next room. His car keys are still there, as well as a couple of hundred-dollar chips from the casino. I wanted to check, even though there's no way he could have walked all this way. He's probably hiding in some vacant building not a hundred feet from the police department. I wouldn't be surprised if he was already pounding on the door, begging to turn himself in for a hot meal and a bed with blankets."
"The man wanted something from Stormy's bag," I said mulishly. "He's got to be involved in some way."
She gestured at the scattered clothes on the floor. "Well, he didn't find it in either of the bags out in plain sight. The bag in the closet has been emptied, too. There's no way of knowing if he found something in it. If he did, it's likely to be the last of him." She crossed her arms. "That doesn't mean he wasn't an ordinary burglar thinking he'd find jewelry or a stash of spending money. This is the time when most folks are downstairs enjoying themselves."
I crossed my arms. "He said Stormy's name. He knew what happened to her."
"Most everybody who works here has been gossiping about it all day. That's all the more reason why he'd expect the room to be empty. He was dressed up like a plumber so nobody'd notice him wandering around the floors. I'm surprised you fell for it, being a cop and all."
I let my arms drop. "I had plenty of time to think about it while I was out on the balcony, feeling like a damn fool. Don't you think you ought to dust for fingerprints?"
"And compare 'em with what?" Japonica said. "There are hundreds of folks on the staff, and thousands of customers in the casino. I don't think the hotel management would look kindly on me if I suggested they all get in line to be fingerprinted. Guys like him work one area for a few weeks, then move on like a tent revivalist making the circuit."
A beeper concealed somewhere on her body chirped. She slapped her pockets until she found it clipped to her belt. After squinting at it, she said, "I got to make a call. You mind if I use your phone?"
"Help yourself," I said as I leaned against the headboard and tried to come up with theories that would persuade her to reconsider the investigation.
"This is me," she said into the receiver, then paused. "That little store near the bait shop? Anybody hurt?" She gave me a curious look before turning around. "I've been on duty for more than twelve hours, Chief, and there's not really anything we can do tonight. On my way home, I'll stop by and see if she has anything else to add. I'm not about to set up a roadblock on a Saturday night."
When she replaced the receiver, I gave her a sympathetic smile. "You have had a long day, haven't you? A murder, an escaped prisoner, and now this. While you were running all over the place, did Chief Sanderson spend the afternoon watching basketball on TV?"
"He's got a hot tub on his patio. Most of the time he sits out there and lets his wife bring him beers while he listens to classical music. God only knows what he'll do when he actually retires." She began to zip up her coat. "Stay away from plumbers, you hear?"
She left before I could offer further arguments. I stayed in bed for a few more minutes, racking my brain for inspiration, then got up and went into the adjoining room. As Japonica had said, a ring with keys and a short stack of black chips were on the dresser next to a bottle of bourbon that was half empty (or half full, depending on your perspective; in that Brother Verber had not poured the devil's poison down the drain, I had a pretty good idea of his). Jim Bob's wristwatch was on top of the television.