But after much grunting and sweating, he managed to inch the door open far enough to sternly command her, “Come inside, ma’am.”

Drue obliged, stepping into the room. To her delight, the kiddie cop had switched on the overhead light. There wasn’t much to see. The room was small, furnished with a queen-size bed, dresser, nightstands and bad art. The carpet was worn and faded and, though it was clean enough, the room smelled faintly of mildew. Any clues to the criminal acts that had led to Jazmin Mayes’s death were long gone, she knew.

The door from the hallway swung open and a middle-aged white guy entered. He had wire-rimmed glasses perched atop a beakish nose and was dressed in a white polo shirt, black dress slacks and a black baseball cap with the word SECURITY stitched across the bill.

“Here she is, Mr. Shelnutt,” the guard said, gesturing to Drue, who was still trying to take in every detail of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Shelnutt asked, his deep bass voice meant to intimidate.

“Just looking around,” Drue said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Attempted breaking and entering,” Shelnutt said. He unclipped a radio from the holster on his belt and spoke into it. “Security one to front gate. A TI police unit should be arriving any minute. Let them in and direct them to Room 133.”

The radio crackled but the guard’s response was unintelligible.

“Say again?” Shelnutt said.

“Just passed them through,” the guard repeated.

Drue slumped down onto the desk chair.

“Who told you to sit down?” Shelnutt barked. “That’s hotel property.”

She was tired and her knee hurt too much to argue.

“So shoot me.”

They heard the soft ding from an elevator down the hall and a moment later a uniformed Treasure Island patrol officer entered the room. He was approximately the same age and build as the security guard, although his uniform badge and the service revolver holstered on his hip gave him an air of authority the two rent-a-cops accompanying him lacked, in Drue’s opinion.

He looked from Drue to the glowering security chief. “What have we got here?”

“Our security cameras caught her sneaking onto the property from the beach and attempting to break into the north tower,” Shelnutt said. “When she couldn’t gain access that way, she broke the lock on the back gate here, then climbed onto the balcony outside this room.”

“That true?” The cop, whose name badge she couldn’t read, didn’t seem too worked up about her one-woman crime spree.

“I just wanted to get a look at the rooms here,” she protested, extending her arms from her sides. “Look, you can see I didn’t take anything, and I certainly didn’t damage anything either, except my own knee and my favorite beach cover-up.”

“Got some ID?” the cop asked.