Outwitting Trolls Read Online Free PDF Page A

from my sprint down the corridor. I’d never catch him.
    I turned and went back to where Sharon was waiting outside Ken’s room. I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath.
    â€œWhat was that about?” she asked.
    I shrugged. “That guy panicked when he saw you and me standing here. I wanted to ask him why.”
    â€œYou think…?”
    I shrugged again. “I think he was coming to Ken’s room, but I could be wrong about that. Did you get a look at him?”
    She shook her head. “No,” she said. “You think he’s the one who killed Ken?”
    â€œMaybe,” I said.
    She looked at me. “But why?”
    â€œWhy would we think it was that man?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “Why would he kill Ken?”
    â€œWhy would anybody?” I said.

Four
    A pair of uniformed Natick police officers arrived a few minutes later. One of them, a young blond guy with a Marine Corps haircut and a linebacker’s build, went into Ken’s room. The other cop, a chunky fortyish woman named Lloyd, according to her nameplate, stayed out in the corridor with Sharon and me. All she said was “We’re here to secure the scene till the staties get here.” Then she stationed herself outside the door with her hands clasped behind her, staring straight ahead.
    The blond cop came out a minute later. Officer Lloyd arched her eyebrows at him. He shook his head. Then they both stood there with us in the corridor outside the door to Ken’s room, rocking back and forth on their heels and toes, and nobody said anything.
    Eventually Roger Horowitz and his partner, a pretty female detective named Marcia Benetti, showed up, and behind them an entourage of Massachusetts State Police officers and forensics technicians straggled in. Horowitz spoke briefly to the two Natick cops; then he and Benetti came over to where Sharon and I were standing.
    He nodded at me and said, “Hey,” and I returned his nod and said, “Hey,” to him.
    Marcia Benetti gave me a quick smile, then went over to Sharon. “I’m Detective Benetti,” she said. “I need your jacket.”
    Sharon looked at her. “Excuse me?”
    â€œYour jacket,” said Benetti. “For evidence. That appears to be a bloodstain.” She pointed at the sleeve.
    Sharon shrugged, slipped her jacket off, and handed it to Marcia Benetti, who dropped it into a big plastic bag and carried it over to a tech who was standing outside Ken’s hotel room.
    Horowitz turned to Sharon. “Mrs. Nichols, is it?”
    She nodded. “Yes. Sharon Nichols. I kept my married name.”
    â€œWe’re going to need to talk with you. I assume you’ll want your lawyer”—he jerked his head at me—“with you?”
    â€œYes, she will,” I said.
    â€œBrady’s an old friend,” said Sharon.
    â€œThat’s swell.” Horowitz looked at me and gave me one of his cynical smiles. “Okay,” he said to Sharon. “Officer Lloyd here will stay with you until we’re ready. You folks want some coffee or something?”
    â€œCoffee would be nice,” said Sharon. “Milk, one packet of sweetener. Sweet’N Low, if you have it.”
    â€œMe, too,” I said. “Black.”
    â€œYou bet,” Horowitz said. “We aim to please.” He went over to talk to a cluster of people, a few in uniforms but most in plainclothes, who were milling around outside Ken’s room.
    Ten minutes later somebody brought over a couple of folding chairs for Sharon and me, and a short time after that, a uniformed officer handed us foam cups of coffee.
    People kept going into and out of the hotel room. After a while, a gray-haired man, accompanied by a younger Asian man carrying a big camera bag, showed up. Both of them nodded tome. The medical examiner and his assistant. I’d run into them before. They talked with Horowitz for a few