HIS SHIRTS AND pants were hung in the narrow closet, and sitting on the floor beneath them was a cloth duffel bag. In the room itself, there were no clothes flung on chair backs or lying on the floor. The bed was made, and there wasn’t a single wrinkle on the bedspread.There was a dresser against one wall and a low table beside the bed. An imitation Tiffany lamp sat on the table by a small clock radio. There was a book on top of the radio. Rhodes was amused to see that it was a mystery novel. Terry Don might like being a cover model for historical romances, but he wasn’t very loyal in his choice of reading material. The title of the book was Masquerade. Rhodes wondered if that was a clue, though he was pretty sure it wasn’t.There was also a round glass ashtray on the table. It had been emptied, but there were streaks of ash in the bottom.Rhodes looked in the wastebasket, but there were no cigarette butts. There was nothing else, either. The wastebasket had been emptied, if it had ever been used at all.
