I wished the room were closer to the elevator so I could hear a ding that would tell me when or if the knocker had left the floor.

I waited until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I opened the door a crack and looked up and down the corridor.

No sign of movement.

I slipped under the tape and walked as fast as I could toward the elevator. I kept my head high, my walk confident, as if I’d just exited a room that was legitimately mine.

In my pants pocket were a life-size key card and a miniature locker room mirror that made my face flush at the thought of them.

I came to the corner. One more lap to the bank of elevators. I felt more than saw another presence. A wave of fear came over me as I passed one door after another, staying as close to the center of the hallway as possible, lest I be easily dragged into a room on one side or the other.

I had only two more rooms to go when a door behind me opened and closed. I stepped up my pace. A tall hulk of a man passed me on the right, then turned, stood, and faced me, stopping me in my tracks. If he hadn’t been so well groomed and dressed to the nines, I might have fainted, instead of just freezing in place.

“Did you find it?” he asked. His sharp dark suit spoke of wealth and power; his heavy whisper carried authority and threat.

My heart pounded; the tiny mirror in my pants pocket seemed to be rendering the fabric transparent so that my accoster could see its outline. “What-?”

“I know you were in Bridges’s room. Did you find it?”

My gaze followed his right arm down to where his hand was hidden in a bulging pocket.

“Excuse me,” I said, moving to the left to pass him.

I knew he’d block my way. I thought this might give me an excuse to scream. He hadn’t touched me, but I felt as though he had me in a choke hold.

“Look, I know you’re from Callahan and Savage,” he said. “Tell them we’re looking for it, too.”

Wonderful. I took a breath. It was simply a case of mistaken identity. I could clear this up in no time.

“I’ve never heard of them. You have me confused with someone else. I’m here with the reunion. The Abraham Lincoln-”

“Listen,” he said, closing the already small gap between us. He gripped my arm.

I opened my mouth to scream.

Ding, ding.

The elevator doors opened and a crowd of teenagers came out. The group was loud and loaded down with packages and shopping bags. I was relieved when they headed in our direction, taking over the hallway with their different-size purchases. I looked at the red logo souvenir bags and translated the slogan to “I ‹3 SF.” I was delirious.

When the kids started up a chorus of the song I nearly joined them. They sang out, “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.”

The thought of my granddaughter and her ‹3 symbol gave me a burst of energy. I rushed past the hulking man to the elevators and slipped into the car with its doors still open to accommodate a straggler who had dropped her bundles. Frantic, I edged the teen away from the doorway, slammed in the CLOSE DOORS button, and pushed the button for the third floor. (I hadn’t sat through James Bond movies with Richard and Ken for nothing-when being pursued, never choose your actual floor on the elevator panel.)

I got off at three, found the stairwell, and ran up two flights. I arrived breathless at the door to my fifth-floor room. I knocked, said, “It’s Grandma,” and searched for my key card, all at the same time.

Maddie opened the door, the ever-present white earbud wires around her neck.

“You’re out of breath, Grandma.” She laughed, as she always did before one of her own jokes. “Was someone chasing you?”

“Very funny, sweetheart. Let’s get ready for dinner.”

Chapter 7

I hoped dressing Maddie and myself for a banquet would take my mind off the near mugging (albeit by a designer-clad attacker) on the eleventh floor. The image of the man’s threatening eyes stayed with me, however, as did the specter of his no-neck strength.

There was one thing I could do that might put the matter to rest.

When Maddie went into the bathroom, I pulled her laptop toward me. I was a Luddite in many ways, but I knew how to Google.

It took me a while to cut through Maddie’s technology camp software and get to a clean, white Google page. I entered “Callahan and Savage” and pushed Google Search.

The first link on the list was for Callahan & Savage wholesale refrigeration equipment. After that, there were links that had Callahan and/or Savage in the description but not together, such as “Mary Callahan wrote a savage attack on the latest novel by…” I didn’t bother with those links. I’d learned a lot from Maddie.

I sat back. Refrigeration equipment. Why would a refrigeration company send me on a mission? Did I look like I needed more than one fridge? We’d considered buying an upright freezer for the garage in the days when Richard and his friends could put away several pounds of meat and a few loaves of bread in one sitting. But that was the extent of my involvement with refrigeration, other than keeping the freezer compartment cold enough for ice cream.

I felt a little better since my mission had nothing to do with wholesale or retail cooling and freezing. I was sure the hulk in fine clothing would find the Callahan and Savage representative he was so concerned about-somewhere else.

On the other hand, it nagged at me that he’d known I’d been in David’s room. If David had recent (and contentious) business with the hulk or with Callahan and Savage, or both, maybe the police should know. If a company representative hoped to find something in David’s room, after it was public knowledge that David was dead, maybe whatever he was looking for had something to do with that death.

On the other (third) hand, if one of them were the killer, why wouldn’t he have just taken the item at the same time? Aha, I answered, because he killed David in Lincoln Point and the item was still in the Duns Scotus suite.

Too many possibilities. I made a mental note to seek Skip’s input on the matter, in such a way that my trespassing wouldn’t be part of the exchange.

I’d tried Rosie’s cell and her shop phone off and on throughout the day and left messages but had no response. I looked over at her twin bed, still made up. The maid had folded Maddie’s roll-away cot and pushed it against the wall. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be needing it tonight.

We had a few minutes before our scheduled meeting with Henry and Taylor in the lobby. Maddie decided to check her e-mail once more, in case a boy named Doug had answered a question she had about something called “flash animation.” She’d mentioned Doug a lot in the last weeks. He was her camp lab partner, she’d explained.

“You seem to like Doug,” I said.

“Yeah, I like him because he gets my jokes, but I don’t like like him,” she said.

Strangely, I knew what she meant. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for the day when “like” became “like like” and the chance of hurt and disappointment hung inevitably in the air.

I’d taken the opportunity during Maddie’s shower for another look at the spiral-bound “yearbook” Rosie had produced for her reunion class. I hoped to be able to greet as many of my former students as possible by name, without looking at their badges.

Rosie had done an impressive job on the book, using fancy fonts and color graphics throughout. For each classmate, she’d juxtaposed a senior photo with a current one and added an updated biography, plus a space to “please share your funniest experience since high school.”

I flipped through the pages, stopping to read about students who no longer lived in Lincoln Point, which was a considerable percentage. Many entries brought a smile of recognition. The unfortunately named Mathis Berg, “Math Bird” to the C students, had survived the nerdy label and now taught math at a college in San Diego. Billy Anderson, who was the shortest guy in the class and suffered accordingly, now operated a chain of health clubs. Fran Collins, voted Girl Most Likely to Succeed, ran a travel agency, her funniest experience being the European cruise she organized for single people and their pets.