Maine lobster and medium rare Iowa tenderloin tasted much better going down. While the agents discussed investigative tactics, I heaved up what little dinner I'd eaten. Worse, I had to fight off convulsions just feet from Stone's invisible message, evidence they refused to erase, though Roy had taken several shots of the words while the room was still foggy.
"Cross your fingers they can get trace DNA," Roy said.
Sam stood so rigid, I thought he'd snap. "He wore gloves. He's too smart to get caught. Check the balcony door and railing. Maybe we'll get lucky. But I doubt that was his entry point. He's arrogant. Over confident. Which means one thing."
Roy sighed openly. "Larry, Moe or Curly?"
Sam gave a short nod. "All of the above."
After Roy stomped off to hunt down his fellow agents for a traitor, Sam called Mallory in to collect evidence.
"Not exactly the orders I was expecting. Boot-jacking Stone's ride, sure. But this? Not my strongest area, you know." She set a triple-decker toolbox on the tile floor. She looked my way, jerked her head in recognition when she saw me wrapped around the commode, and said, "Weddings suck, right?"
No kidding.
Sam fisted the latex gloves she offered. "You're the only agent on site I trust right now."
"You mean daddy's a suspect?" Mallory grimaced at him. "Give me a break, you're not that paranoid."
"Yes, he is." I wiped my brow of sweat despite sitting on the cold tile floor. "And so am I."
Sam crouched next to me, his hands interlaced between his knees. "Some date, huh?"
"The view was nice. But you better get a refund on the room." Talking still pushed the boundaries of using my diaphragm for something other than puking, so my words came out airy.
"That's my girl." He reached his hand to the side of my head and stroked my cheek. He wouldn't be offering any reassuring kisses. I longed for a pinch of toothpaste, but now that the tube was evidence and potentially drugged, I'd have to suffer my own mouth.
"Feels familiar down here. I seem to like bathroom floors lately. These tiles are hideous though."
When Sam started to leave, I latched onto his sleeve. "The bikers, Sam. They're here. You were right."
"Yeah, I caught that. Turns out, they're on the guest list."
"Whose, the Ambassador's or the bride's?" The Ambassador's taste in friends proved lacking, but his daughter I didn't know and hadn't met.
"The groom's. Old school buddies."
"Sure they are. And we just happened to cross their paths on the ride here." I rolled my eyes.
Sam paused in thought, staring at the ugly tiles. "God, I hate coincidences."
As Mallory examined the toiletries arrangement on the counter from various angles, taking more photos with her camera phone, she said, "We could bunk her with the kids. The Vilets got our best detail. Besides her, I mean." She jerked her chin toward me. "Parents will be occupied untangling this shit all night. Between Boss arguing with Ambassador Ruskin about the surprise guest list, and Doctor Vilet calming down a hysterical bride, this party is officially a smash hit."
We both glared at Mallory.
She shrugged, pulled on her gloves. "So I hate weddings. I say there should always be a fist fight after they say 'I do.'"
Sam made a "cut" gesture with his hand slicing at his throat, which told me they weren't talking about the bride and groom throwing punches.
"The Ambassador never saw that coming." She snorted. "I'll give Stone credit. He knows your moves."
