Free The Scratch on the Ming Vase by Caroline Stellings

dictionary.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What would he want with a Chinese dictionary?”
    When Nicki finished her shift at five-thirty that afternoon, she found T’ai waiting by the main desk.
    â€œI figured you’d be around here somewhere,” he said. “I wanted to apologize for taking off last night. I wasn’t mad at you.”
    â€œI know,” replied Nicki. “And I don’t blame you for being frustrated with Mac.” She looked around the lobby. “Since you’re here, do you want to help me with something?”
    â€œSure. What’s up?”
    â€œI want to search the manager’s office.”
    â€œYou think this guy’s involved?”
    â€œI don’t know.” She pulled out her mother’s override key and opened the door to Newman’s office.
    â€œWhere did you get that?” asked T’ai.
    â€œWho cares? Point is, I have it.”
    T’ai shut the door quietly behind them.
    â€œWe’ll have to work fast,” Nicki said.
    She switched on the desktop computer. “I don’t see his laptop around here, do you?”
    â€œNo, just the hotel computer,” answered T’ai. “How did you get the access password to this thing anyway?”
    â€œI work here, remember?”
    T’ai sat down and started opening files.
    â€œWhat, exactly, am I hacking into here?”
    Nicki started searching through CDs in a case behind his desk. “I need to find the surveillance footage of the eighth-floor hallway on the night David Kahana was knifed— Wednesday night, around eight-thirty or so. I need to know who entered his room from that time on.”
    T’ai clicked away, and Nicki watched over his shoulder. “I know Newman’s connected. I just don’t know how.”
    They shoved discs in and out of the computer until they came to surveillance footage of Wednesday night.
    â€œLook at that,” said Nicki. “It’s been erased.”
    â€œHow can you tell?” asked T’ai.
    â€œThe time stamp doesn’t match up. Look here.” She replayed the tape. “Nothing but an empty hallway, except for the odd person with a suitcase coming on or off the elevator. But notice how the counter stops at ten thirteen, then starts again fifteen minutes later. Enough time for Newman to go upstairs, walk through the hall, enter the room, and return to his office.”
    â€œFor sure,” said T’ai.
    â€œNobody else but Newman has access to these tapes.”
    Nicki thought for a minute. “What about the record of room 813? Was it opened on Wednesday night around that time?”
    T’ai found the files for the rooms.
    â€œYes.” He pointed to the screen. “The universal key opened Mr. Kahana’s door at ten nineteen.”
    â€œSo Newman erased the videotape of himself, but not the record of the entry.” Nicki looked at T’ai. “Maybe there’s no way to erase that.”
    T’ai shrugged his shoulders.
    â€œI don’t know. Mac could tell you.” He leaned back. “But I don’t want his help.”
    Nicki didn’t comment.
    â€œSo,” continued T’ai, “Newman had time to stick the fake vase in the safe. But so what?” He got up. “We can’t prove anything.”
    â€œNot yet,” said Nicki.
    She sat down at the computer and started searching for downloaded files that might help.
    â€œJust hotel records, documents, payments. Nothing interesting,” she mumbled.
    Then she found something.
    â€œLook at this,” she said. “In his e-mail program—his list of contacts.” She ran her finger down the screen and pointed to a name.
    â€œPeter Byron?” T’ai shrugged. “They know each other?”
    Nicki heard something moving outside the door and gestured to T’ai.
    â€œWhat do we do now?” he whispered. He opened the door a tiny bit. “There’s