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into learning about new developments in veterinary medicine. But I figured going to a few sessions would provide a good distraction. And at the moment, a good distraction was exactly what I longed for.

    It turned out that spending the day thinking about medicine really was the perfect cure. I started with the session on feline AIDS, then moved on to the talk on treating exotic animals. As soon as I started taking notes, I realized the whole issue of exotics would make a terrific topic for
Pet People,
the television show I’d recently started hosting on a Long Island cable TV station. While a lot of people consider adopting animals like iguanas, monkeys, flying squirrels, ferrets, and even poison dart frogs, the reality is that it’s not a very good idea to keep them as pets.
    The speaker reinforced what I already knew: that exotics don’t generally do well living among people, because it’s invariably difficult to meet all their needs. Those that do survive tend to live long lives, and if their owners tire of them, there’s no good place to bring them. The most common “solution,” setting them loose, is cruel to the animal and dangerous to the community. Another negative is that exotics often carry bacteria that are harmful to humans and can transmit chlamydia, hepatitis A, ringworm, and even tuberculosis. Then there’s the simple fact that owning certain exotics is illegal. I took pages of notes, pleased that I’d be able to spread the speaker’s message far beyond the walls of the room.
    Over lunch, I caught up with a bunch of people I’d gone to vet school with and hadn’t seen since graduating. It was fun filling one another in on the details of our lives over the past decade and exchanging news about other classmates we’d kept in touch with.
    The afternoon was filled with more sessions, back to back. Yet through it all, the terrible thing that had happened to Marnie Burton was never far from my mind. A despondent feeling hung over me like a headache I just couldn’t shake.
    By the end of the day, I was ready for a break. The last session ended a bit early, which gave me time to shower before Nick got back from the beach.
    I stood beneath the spray of steaming water, relishing the sensation of my muscles relaxing. It was as if all the tensions of the day were gurgling down the drain. I stayed in much longer than I needed to, reluctant to leave such a welcome refuge.
    As I stepped out and began drying off, I was already looking forward to the evening ahead. I pictured Nick and me at a beachside restaurant, holding hands and gazing out past the flickering tiki torches at the dramatic Maui sunset….
    And then,
bang.
I was so startled by the noise that I smashed my shinbone against the edge of the tub. But from the way the wall behind the sink vibrated, I realized it was nothing more threatening than the door of the hotel room slamming shut.
    â€œNick?” I called, wrapping a big white towel around me. I opened the bathroom door and poked my head out. “Nick, is that you?”
    Silence. Puzzled, I stepped out into the foyer—and immediately felt a rush of fear.
    Someone’s been in here, I thought, my heartbeat racing.
    I surveyed the room, anxious to make certain the intruder was gone. Nobody was there.
    Next, I went over to the door and debated whether or not to open it. I finally did—about two inches. No one stood lurking outside the room, at least as far as I could tell. I opened the door further and looked up and down the corridor.
    Empty. Not a soul in sight. Not even a cleaning cart.
    You’re imagining this, I thought, closing the door firmly, because of what happened to Marnie.
    But I still didn’t manage to convince myself. I walked around the room slowly, studying each detail and trying to decide whether my impression that something was out of sorts was valid—or simply the result of being edgy because of the murder.
    The