Shrimp, in particular. Cunning petty criminals disguised as chefs. She tells one amusing story after another, and Scarpetta listens attentively because she wants something, and the only way to get it is to play audience to the head of security’s performance. Ruth is an elegant older woman who is a captain in the National Guard but looks more like a demure librarian. In fact, she looks a little bit like Rose.

“But then, you didn’t come see me to hear all this,” Ruth says from behind a desk that is likely hotel surplus. “You want to know about Drew Martin, and probably Mr. Hollings told you the last time she stayed here, she was never in her room.”

“He did tell me that,” Scarpetta says, looking for a gun under Ruth’s paisley jacket. “Was her coach ever here?”

“He ate in the Grill now and then. Always ordered the same thing, caviar and Dom Perignon. Never heard of her being in there, but I don’t imagine a professional tennis player would be eating rich food or drinking champagne the night before a big match. Like I said, she obviously had another life somewhere and was never here.”

“You have another famous guest staying here,” Scarpetta says.

“We have famous guests all the time.”

“I could go door to door and knock.”

“You can’t get on the secure floor without a key. There’s forty suites here. That’s a lot of doors.”

“My first question is whether she’s still here, and I assume the reservation isn’t in her name. Otherwise, I’d just call her,” Scarpetta says.

“We have twenty-four- hour-a- day room service. I’m so close to the kitchen, I can hear the carts rattle by,” Ruth says.

“She’s already up, then. Good. I wouldn’t want to wake her.” Rage. It starts behind Scarpetta’s eyes and begins working its way down.

“Coffee every morning at five. She doesn’t tip much. We’re not crazy about her,” Ruth says.

Dr. Self is in a corner suite on the hotel’s eighth floor, and Scarpetta inserts a magnetic card into the elevator and minutes later is at her door. She senses her looking through the peephole.

Dr. Self opens the door as she says, “I see someone was indiscreet. Hello, Kay.”

She wears a flashy red silk robe, loosely tied around her waist, and black silk slippers.

“What a pleasant surprise. I wonder who told you. Please.” She moves to one side to let Scarpetta in. “As fate would have it, they brought two cups and an extra pot of coffee. Let me guess how you found me here at all, and I don’t just mean this wonderful room.” Dr. Self sits on the couch and tucks her legs under her. “Shandy. It would appear my giving her what she wanted resulted in a loss of leverage. That would be her petty point of view, at any rate.”