said to you when he checked in."

hector looked up, trying to remember.

"nothing special. he just said he wanted a room. i asked, "how many nights, sir?" and he said, "one."

"

"that's it?" "i said, will that be cash or charge? and he said, "cash." then i gave him the key and he took off."

"nothing else?"

"nothing."

"you're sure." he thought a moment.

"that was it."

"he didn't have any special requests for his room?"

"no."

"he didn't ask for the room to be on a certain floor?"

hector shook his head.

"i don't even think he looked at the number on the key until he stepped into the elevator."

cold fear slid down bernstein's chest. his finger went back into his mouth, but there was nothing left to chew except skin.

this whole thing was getting messy and complicated, too messy and too complicated. bruce grey had not asked for a special room.

he had not asked for a room with a view or a room near an elevator or one of those new no-smoking rooms. he had not asked for a room with a king-sized bed or a queen-sized bed or two separate beds. and most of all bruce grey had not asked for a room on a high floor. for all he knew, he could have gotten a room on the ground level.

"is there anything else, lieutenant?"

"no, that's it for now."

hector rodriguez turned to leave and then stopped.

"i saw your name in the herald, lieutenant. i hope you catch that whacko before he slices off somebody else's nuts."

max's head shot up.

"what did you say?"

"cutting off a man's balls. pure loco, huh, lieutenant?"

"where did you hear that?"

"the evening edition. front cover. what kind of a man does something like that? city's full of sickos."

once again, max rubbed his face and eyes with his right hand.

the press. the mayor. the gay activists.

help.