The chairs were gone.

This was not good. This was really not good. Not after she'd let Cora Felton see they were there. Photograph them, even. And figure out how to unlock the door. No, that wasn't fair-just surmise on her part. But somehow while they photographed the chairs the button on the door had been disengaged. Marge had made a point of locking it again when Cora was watching.

So the missing chairs could hardly be her fault. Because it would have to be someone with a key who took them. Which explained things. Benny Southstreet came back, took his chairs, and left. Forgetting to pull the door tight behind him. Perhaps because he had an armful of chairs. He had left, and someone had parked in his spot, and none of it was her fault.

Except for the briefcase on the desk. He might have taken his chairs, but he'd certainly left his briefcase. Not a bright move, under the circumstances, with the door left unlocked.

So, the guest might not have slept in the bed, but this was still an occupied room. Which needed to be made up. Let's see... The glasses on the tray next to the ice bucket had the protective paper over the top. The bucket was dry. The wastebaskets were empty. Nothing had been touched.

Did he need any soap and towels?

Marge pushed open the bathroom door, stopped, and gasped.

There was a gun on the tile floor next to the bathtub. It was lying on a piece of paper.

A crossword puzzle.

The shower curtain was half-closed.

Marge grabbed it, yanked it open.

Benny Southstreet lay in the bathtub. He was fully clothed. His tie was even tied. His hair was slightly mussed, but his eyes were wide open in a look of weary resignation. Aside from his prone position, he could have been waiting in line at OTB. He was clearly dead.

ACROSS.

* 1 Grounds for a suit * 5 "__ Frutti" (Little Richard song) * 10 Erie Canal mule * 13 African lilies * 15 Reaction to, "Pick a cod, any * cod"

* 16 "___ pasa?"

* 17 Start of a message * 19 Beehive State athlete * 20 Polo or Garr * 21 It's under foot * 22 Feel poorly * 23 Classic Ford model * 26 Threatening sentence-ender * 28 TV broadcast band * 29 Message part 2 * 32 Synthesizer inventor * 34 Gets bored with * 35 Bio by Molly Ivins * 37 Have a couple of eggs?

* 38 Xerox competitor * 42 "I'm OK with it"

* 45 Iditarod race place * 46 Message part 3 * 50 Links number * 51 All told * 52 Falls in New York * 54 "___ whillikers!"

* 55 Till bills * 58 Hoofbeat sound * 59 Easy mark * 60 End of message * 64 Cobra kin * 65 Bungled play * 66 Streamlined * 67 Fourth of July?

* 68 Oceans, in poetry * 69 Connecticut campus DOWN.

* 1 Mai ___ * 2 Long in the tooth * 3 Is a fan * 4 Basic belief * 5 ___ Friday's (restaurant chain) * 6 Big coffee containers * 7 Brouhaha * 8 Makes fit * 9 Lower-ranking * 10 Violent gust of wind * 11 Pediatric mental disorder * 12 Actress Sobieski * 14 Lamb, at large * 18 North Dakota city * 23 ___ the word * 24 "Oops!"

* 25 Jury verdict * 27 Small and lively * 30 Garbage * 31 "Yo, dude!"

* 33 Enthusiasm * 36 Closed, as a sports jacket * 39 Confess to less * 40 "The Mod Squad" costar Epps * 41 Juno, to Greeks * 43 Mined over matter?

* 44 Cager Strickland or Dampier * 46 Puzzle cutter-upper * 47 On edge * 48 Treeless tract * 49 Some surrealistic paintings * 53 "Holy smokes!"

* 56 "To be," to Henri * 57 "Cut it out!"

* 61 Surgery sites, briefly * 62 Brooks of "Blazing Saddles"

* 63 Barely manage, with "out"

Chapter 36.

THE MOTEL PARKING lot had never been so full, with the police cars, the medical examiner's car, and the ambulance. Chief Harper wasn't about to park on the road. He pulled into the last available space, blocking the ambulance, and got out.

Officers Sam Brogan and Dan Finley were there to meet him.

"What have we got, boys?"

Sam popped his gum. "Male, Caucasian, thirty-five to forty-five, black hair, blue eyes-"

Harper had no patience for it. "Oh, for Christ's sake, you're not on TV, Sam. What the hell happened?"

Dan Finley chimed in. "Someone popped Benny Southstreet."

Harper sighed. "If we could hit a happy median."

Sam frowned. "Huh?"

"Just tell me what happened."

"The occupant of Unit 12 is dead. The chambermaid went in to make up the room, found him in the bathtub. The doc's in with him now."

"Any sign of a weapon?"

"There was a gun on the floor. I photographed it and bagged it."

"Was he shot?"

Sam shrugged. "Ask the doc. I didn't see a bullet hole. But there's blood under his head."

"If he was shot, any chance it was self-inflicted?"

"I don't know. But if I ever climb into the tub and shoot myself, I promise I'll leave a note."

"And there wasn't?"

"Not as such."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"There was a crossword puzzle." Dan Finley seemed proud of the announcement.

Harper groaned. "Tell me there wasn't."

"Yeah, there was," Sam said. "Right under the gun. I bagged it too."

"In the same bag?"

"No. Separate bags. Was that wasteful? Should I have been more thrifty?"

Harper ignored the sarcasm. "You dust the place for prints?"

"I will when the doc gets done leaving his."

"Now, Sam, Barney Nathan's a pro."

"Yeah, sure. I got his prints on file for elimination, all the same."

"Any witnesses?"

"Chambermaid who found him." Sam jerked his thumb.

Harper looked, saw a young woman in front of the motel office being comforted by an elderly couple.

"That's the owners of the place," Sam said. "They don't know squat and the chambermaid's hysterical. Wanna talk to her?"

"Guess I better." Harper walked over. "Hi there. You the owners?"

The man looked close to ninety, with lonesome wisps of hair, and sagging skin that hung as loose as his flannel shirt and fishing vest. "That's right."

His wife, just as thin but hard as nails, jumped in. "How long you gonna tie up the parking lot? Guests can't get in and out, and no one's gonna rent a room."

"One of your guests is dead, ma'am."

"Well, I didn't do it," the woman groused. "It's not our fault, either, but whaddya wanna bet some damn shyster decides to sue?"

"That's out of my hands, ma'am." Harper turned to the chambermaid. "You're the one who found him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, that's gotta be a shock. You feel up to talking about it?"

Marge had recovered some of her composure. Still, she had been dreading the questions. "I guess so."

"How'd you come to find him?"

"I was doing my job. Cleaning the rooms. I got to his. I didn't know whether he was there. The car was out front, but there was no DO NOT DISTURBsign. So I knocked."

"And?" the Chief prompted.

"And the door was open. Just an inch or two, but definitely unlocked. I pushed it farther open, called, 'Housekeeping.' " She stole a look at the elderly owners, as if not wanting to say the wrong thing in front of them. "Which is what I'm supposed to do. The guests shouldn't be disturbed, but the rooms have to be cleaned."

"I understand. What did you do?"

"No one seemed to be there, so I went in."

"What did you find?"

"The first thing I saw was the bed was made. Hadn't been slept in. Just the way I left it yesterday."

"Could it have been slept in and made?"

"It could, but I don't think so. The bed was made perfectly, the way a chambermaid would make it, with the top sheet folded over and the blankets tucked in. A guest wouldn't bother."

"You thought the guest never came home?"

"At least never slept there. That was my first thought. The bed hadn't been slept in."

"So you didn't have to make up the room."

"Right. I just had to check if he needed new towels. I went in the bathroom and there he was."

"Must have been a shock. Did you have any idea who might have done this?"

"Not at all."

"You work here every day?"

"Five days a week."

"Anyone ever visit him? As far as you know. He ever have company in his room?"

Marge chose her words carefully. "As far as I know, he never let anyone into his room."

Harper wasn't happy with that answer. He was sure the girl wasn't lying, but still. Why had she hesitated?

Before Chief Harper could frame another question the Channel 8 News van came screeching up, and on-camera reporter Rick Reed, young, handsome, and bright as your average fireplug, emerged, followed by a camera crew.

"Chief Harper," he cried. "What have we got here? Wait. Don't tell me. Hang on a minute." Rick squared his shoulders, faced the camera. "This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News, live, at the Four Seasons Motel, where a grisly find in one of the units hints of a potential tragedy." Rick paused for a second, to see if that made any sense. Wasn't sure. He plunged ahead. "Chief Harper, what can you tell us? Do we have a homicide here?"

"It's too soon to say."

"Yes, but is it true someone has been killed?"

"We don't want to jump to any conclusions."

"Of course not. You were talking to that young woman. Is she a witness?"

"She's an employee." Eager to deflect the news team from the chambermaid, Chief Harper led Rick Reed in the direction of the unit. "A man was discovered dead in Unit 12. The doctor is examining the body now to see if there is any sign of foul play."