Page 59 of Meant to Be
Mitch vacillated about whether or not to show his badge. But it wouldn’t get him out of paying the parking fee, and it might put the hotel staff on guard. Mitch handed him the keys. “I’m just here for part of the day.”
“Yes, sir.” The valet handed him a ticket.
Mitch pocketed the ticket and entered the hotel. It was like walking into a city unto itself, with a large, ornate lobby and men and women in blue power suits scurrying about. It was the type of place Mitch suspected Sydney stayed in. That or nicer. Mitch, on the other hand, was a budget motel guy, when he needed one. He didn’t travel much. Most of his overnights away, he camped. Did Sydney camp? The woman he’d known in college wouldn’t have liked the bugs and dirt. But, maybe that had changed too. He wondered if she’d be interested in going to Potters Creek with him. He’d nearly asked her when he saw the painting in her office but stopped himself, worried about blurring the emotional lines. Of course, since she mentioned friends with benefits, he found himself closer and closer to stepping over the line.
He came across someone wearing a hotel badge and asked for directions to the psychiatry conference. By the time Mitch located the room, only a handful of people were gathered at the front. Patrick Andres wasn’t one of them.
Mitch approached, sizing them up to determine the best approach. The two men dressed in dark suits looked more like FBI agents than shrinks. The woman wore a navy dress. Had they conferred on their attire? Mitch opted to play the good cop with them to learn about Patrick’s movements the last two days. The southern sentiment about catching more flies with sugar than vinegar was true, especially in police work.
Deciding he didn’t want to come off as some hick, he cleared his throat and mentally practiced toning down his accent. It was a trick he learned in college and later in the military when he discovered some people equated a southern accent with a lack of intelligence.
“Excuse me.” He approached them with a smile, hands on his hips, pushing his jacket back far enough so they’d be able to see the badge clipped to his belt. “Are you with the psychiatry conference?”
The three looked up. Only the woman smiled as she gave him an appreciative full-body scan. Seeing it, Mitch smiled back. In another time and place, he might have asked her out for a drink. One of the men, an older gentleman, frowned as his eyes caught site of Mitch’s badge.
The third stepped forward. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m Detective Mitch McKenna.” Mitch extended his hand toward the man who stepped forward.
“Doctor Gerald Sykes. This is Doctor Faye and Doctor Lloyd.” Doctor Sykes nodded toward the woman and then the older gentleman. “Do you need a consult?”
Mitch shook his head but continued to smile, hoping his affable attitude kept them off guard. “I was hoping to find Doctor Patrick Andres.”
“Oh, really?” Doctor Lloyd’s tone immediately turned suspicious.
Mitch waved his hand to dismiss their concern. “Don’t worry. I’m just here because he’s a witness and I need information.”
“Witness? To what?” Doctor Faye’s smile faded slightly.
“I can’t really go into detail. It involves a close friend of his and an incident yesterday.”
“Doctor Andres was here yesterday.”
“Yes? What time did he get here?”
The three looked at each other, brows pulled together as if trying to decide if they should answer.
To help them, Mitch said, “It’s possible he didn’t witness anything. That’s why I’m here.”
“Why not call him?”
“Do you do counseling by phone? I doubt it. You get so much more information by talking in person. And since this involves a friend of his, I felt it better to see him.”
“He checked in a few minutes before the morning keynote.” Doctor Faye hadn’t referred to a sign-in sheet, making Mitch wonder how she was sure.
“Did you check him in?”
“I was at the table when he arrived.” Something in her voice made Mitch wonder if Doctor Faye had a thing with Doctor Andres. If so, that changed things. His theory that Patrick was a lover scorned would be bunk.
“I see. Was he here all day yesterday?”
“I don’t see how this is relevant.”
“Like I said, if he was here all day, he couldn’t have been a witness. Any chance he bowed out? Maybe he was worried about his friend?”
“I saw him in the morning sessions.”
“What about at lunch?” Mitch knew that if Patrick was involved, he’d have left the conference around lunch to get to Charlotte Tavern in time to attack Jenny.
