"Have you seen Baggins?" I asked.

"Since when? I saw him yesterday afternoon, when he gave us our keys. I saw him last night at the roulette table. I saw him this morning, tearing into eggs and ham. I saw him a while back, lined up at the cashier's desk."

"Cashing in his winnings?"

"Not hardly. He was using his credit card to get money. The professor was doing the same, although he was squabbling with them. I guess knowing everything there is to know about Elvis doesn't always cut the mustard. There were several casino guys arguing with him."

"I'd better go make sure Estelle is okay. Thanks for tracking me down."

"You sure you didn't see anybody wandering around out here? A fellow dressed kinda funny, acting like he wanted to have a nice talk?"

I shook my head and went into the lobby. Everybody who was going to check in or out had done so, leaving the bellmen to share a tabloid (EXTRATERRESTRIALS IN CONGRESS!) and the desk clerks to stare at me with far more curiosity than I warranted. I took the elevator to the eighth floor and was digging through my purse for the room key as I stepped into the foyer.

Japonica damn near pushed me back into the elevator. I caught myself and said, "What's going on?"

"Hostage situation. Soon as we get backup from the sheriff's department and the state police, we can seal off the floor. You go downstairs."

I realized she had a gun in her hand. Chief Sanderson stood in the corridor, his weapon drawn. An anemic young man who appeared to be within seconds of both physical and emotional disintegration was slumped against the wall.

"What's going on?" I repeated. "Have the ladies from Tuscaloosa kidnapped one of those cute little croupiers to be their sex toy?"

"Get out of here," Japonica said as she moved behind her boss. "We can't know for sure, but we figure he's armed."

"Who?" I asked as I followed her.

Chief Sanderson looked back at me. "Would you mind relocating your ass elsewhere? The pertinent phrase is 'armed and dangerous.' We don't need civilians cluttering up the scene. Japonica here tells me you're a cop, but you're out of your jurisdiction, and you'd damn well better not be carrying. If you don't want to spend the night in jail, go play the slots."

"Floyd," I began in a reasonable tone, "I don't-"

"Put her under arrest," he snapped at Japonica. "Don't bother to charge her with anything; just lock her up and let the judge deal with it on Monday. Could be Tuesday, come to think of it, or even Wednesday. We're at the mercy of the circuit judge. He likes to go duck huntin' this time of year."

I stepped over the extended legs of the young man and positioned myself in front of the door to the stairwell, should the situation deteriorate further. "What the hell is the problem?" I whispered to Japonica.

"Hard to say. Somebody saw a man with a gun in the hall. He had a woman in front of him, and she was looking grim. We're not sure what's going on."

"Estelle?"

"I think so, unless there are two women on this floor with twelve-inch-tall hair. You know what room she's in?"

"Yes, but I think I'd better scoot downstairs before I get arrested. Why don't you call the desk? Ask for a man named Mackenzie Cutting."

Japonica grabbed me before I could push open the door. "They're paging him. Can you help us?"

"If you want me to," I said, sounding as sulky as a wallflower with an empty dance card, as opposed to someone who wanted to trample down Chief Sanderson and burst into Estelle's hotel room à la Mighty Mouse. "This is likely to be the man I was trying to tell you about earlier, the one who locked me on the balcony. He wants something. We should give it to him."

"Sanderson has his own agenda, and reelection is at the top of his list. How's it going to look if he lets this guy walk out of here?"

"How's it going to look if he lets an innocent tourist get killed because he failed to negotiate? Anybody who's ever been to the movies knows that the cops are supposed to negotiate while the SWAT team creeps over the roof."

Japonica grimaced. "You're looking at the SWAT team. That boy on the floor is Sanderson's nephew, Lloyd. Lloyd attends evening classes at the community college, working on a degree in agroeconomics. He's got bad allergies, especially this time of year. He's our sniper."

I looked down at the purported sniper, who was blowing his nose into a grubby handkerchief. "Hey, Lloyd," I said, nudging him with the toe of my shoe, "you ready to cover me if I try to break into the room?"

Lloyd sneezed. "Yeah, sure, just give me a minute. Japonica, did Uncle Floyd remember to bring my gun this time?"

I took a deep breath, then went over to Sanderson and tapped his shoulder. "Why don't I go talk to this man?"

"And get yourself blown across the hall? How am I supposed to explain that to the voters next fall? One more term and I'm officially retired. We've never had an unsolved homicide."

"It won't be unsolved if he shoots me," I pointed out in a remarkably cool voice. "You, Japonica, and Lloyd will all be witnesses. Well, Lloyd will have to get off his rear and come into the hall if he wants to watch the fun, but that's not important. What is important is that this man is holding Estelle in her room. I'm the only person who can talk to him."

"Why's that?"

I didn't have a good answer, but rather than admit it, I rolled my eyes and said, "Haven't you read Japonica's reports? It's all laid out like a recipe for lemon icebox pie. Maybe you should go to the office and get caught up. We'll wait here, our fingers crossed that no one gets hurt until you get back."

"You're one major pain in the neck," Sanderson said, holstering his gun as he stepped back into the foyer. "Anybody else ever tell you that?"

I gave him a tight smile as I went down the hall and knocked on the door of eight-eleven. "Estelle?" I called. "Are you in there?"

The door opened an inch. I could see Estelle's face, whiter than a pillowcase and dazed with fear.

"Arly?" she said huskily.

"You want to go down to the restaurant and have supper?"

"I don't think I can do that just now."

"Has someone got a gun stuck in your back again? I swear, Estelle, I can't take you anywhere without this happening. Let me talk to him."

The man who'd assaulted me earlier took her place. "You must think you're pretty damn funny. Any other jokes before I put a bullet in your friend's head?"

"And then dive off the balcony? In how many languages can you say 'Splat'?" I clapped my hands in case he'd forgotten his previous sound effects.

He grunted. "So what else you got to say?"

"There's a highly trained SWAT team in the parking lot. If you so much as step onto the balcony, you'll be hyperventilating in ways you never thought about before. I guess that covers it."

"Just take the money and let me be," said Estelle from behind him. "I hadn't even gotten around to considering how to spend it. Easy come, easy go."

"That's not what he's after," I said. "It's something that used to be in Stormy's bag. Of course, if it's in the hotel safe, he's going to have to do more than wave a gun under your nose."

"It's not something she'd have put in the safe," the man said, curling his lip. "She didn't hide it in her hotel room or the one right next door, either."

"Why would she have hid it in here?" I asked.

"'Cause she saw me in Memphis and knew I was after her. Someone saw her carrying three bags yesterday afternoon. She must have switched 'em around."

"You want to look in mine?" said Estelle. "Be my guest."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mackenzie edging along the wall toward us. This was not good. I extended my hands. "I'm unarmed. Why don't you let me inside and we'll all search together? Afterward, you can keep me as the hostage until you're out of the hotel and on the road to wherever your heart desires."