“Good-looking guy,” she said. “But not real friendly.”
“Did you notice the car he was driving?”
“Honey, I noticed everything about him. He was driving a blue van. Wasn't one of those fancy conversion vans. Was more of a work van. The kind without all the windows.”
“Did you get a plate number?” I asked.
“Hell no. I wasn't interested in his plates.”
I thanked her and retreated to my car to drink cold coffee. Every now and then I got out and stretched and stomped my feet. I took a half-hour break for lunch, and nothing had changed when I got back.
Morelli pulled his cop car beside me at three. He got out and slid onto the seat next to me.
“Christ,” he said. “It's freezing in this car.”
“Is this a chance meeting?”
“Kelly drives by here on his way to work. He saw the Buick and started a pool on who you were shacked up with.”
I gritted my teeth. “Unh.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Through some superb detective work, I discovered that Kenny is staying here, registered as John Sherman.”
A spark of excitement flickered across Morelli's face. “You have an ID?”
“Both the night clerk and the day clerk recognized Kenny from his picture. He's driving a blue panel van and was last seen yesterday morning. I got here early last night and sat until one. I was back here at six-thirty this morning.”
“No sign of Kenny.”
“None.”
“Have you been through his room?”
“Not yet.”
“The maid been through?”
“Nope.”
Morelli opened his door. “Let's take a look.”
Morelli identified himself to the day clerk and got a key to number 17. He rapped on the unit's door twice. No answer. He unlocked the door, and we both entered.
The bed was unmade. A navy duffel bag sat open on the floor. The bag contained socks and shorts and two black T-shirts. A flannel shirt and a pair of jeans had been tossed across the back of a chair. A shaving kit sat open in the bathroom.
“Looks to me like he's been scared off,” Morelli said. “My guess is he spotted you.”
“Impossible. I parked in the darkest part of the lot. And how did he know it was me?”
“Sweet thing, everyone knows it's you.”
“It's this awful car! It's ruining my life. It's sabotaging my career.”
Morelli grinned. “That's a lot to ask of a car.”
I tried to look contemptuous, but it was hard with my teeth chattering from the cold. “Now what?” I asked.