I'll be traveling next Monday night, so I don't know when I'll be able to post the next chapter, perhaps on Tuesday. Meanwhile:

Chapter 36.

"What was Harve wearing?" Cameron got out her phone.

"Dark slacks and a plaid shirt. Who are you calling?" A different kind of anxiety crept into Steve's voice.

Cameron remembered House talking about the men's plaid shirts. "Relax. I'm just calling House."

House answered right away. "You probably knew I was in the bedroom, trying out the bed."

"Without me?" She chuckled. "Listen, Steve Holder's here and he can't find his friend Harve. Have you seen him since this morning?"

"No. Did you call Anita?" he asked.

She looked at Holder and his quivering lips. "Steve doesn't want to involve the police, at least not yet."

"Yeah. I figured." A chuckle filled his voice.

"You'll have to explain that comment later. Right now, I need suggestions about where to look for Harve before I have to treat Steve for extreme anxiety."

"He's on foot, I gather?" House asked.

"Yes. Their car's still here. Although he could have hitched a ride."

"Nah. He's still around." A pause told her House was thinking. "Could he have taken another room at the motel? The only other place nearby are the shipyard and the stores in the strip where your clinic is."

Cameron's turn to chuckle. "And I doubt he's getting his nails done. I'll talk to Zach, find out if he's seen Harve. Thanks." She ended the call thinking she should have thought of that possibility. Then she turned to Steve. "Let's go talk to the owner of the motel."

They walked the length of the building to Zach's office. He was registering a couple, so they had to wait. Once the couple was gone, they approached the desk.

"What can I do for you, Doc?" Zach asked.

"Mr. Holder here is looking for the man he checked in with, Harve…" She realized she didn't know Harve's last name.

"Landau," Steve supplied. "We were sharing a room, but I think he may have decided he needed his own."

"Sure. I remember." Zach smiled. "Came in after breakfast asking for a single. I put him in number two. It's a double, but I didn't have a single."

"Thanks, Zach."

"Any time, Dr. Cameron." He was still smiling as they left.

"That was easy. Mystery solved."

Steve was studying her. He shook his head. "Yeah. Now I just have to decide what to say to him." Steve led the way down the walkway to number two.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Have to get back to work." Cameron continued on past the diner and across the alley.

The first of her afternoon patients arrived the same time she did. But she hadn't gotten far with the first patient before Naomi beeped her. "Doctor Cameron, a man named Steve is here to talk to you. He said it was urgent."

"I'll be right there." She turned to her patient. "Will you excuse me, Mr. Cartwright. I won't be long. You can take off your shirt so I can look at your rash when I return." The man likely had shingles from his description of his symptoms. He could wait a few minutes.

She rushed out the door. Steve Holder was more panicked than before. "Dr. Cameron, I knocked and Harve didn't answer, so I peaked through the window. It looks like he's dead."

"You'll have to call the police now. I'll have someone meet us at the room. Ask Zach for another key." She turned to look at the door to the exam room. It wouldn't take much time to give Mr. Cartwright a prescription and send him on his way.

House sat down at the piano, his fingers finding familiar melodies. A couple of keys sounded flat. He'd have to get the instrument cleaned and tuned. That's what you get for keeping it in storage, he thought. But it was a treasured old friend, one he was glad to have with him again. "I never realized how much I missed you." He played a few more riffs, not really a song. He'd have time for that later.

One of the moving men walked by carrying a table.

"Put that next to the couch," House said. So much more room in this house than the room at Edna's. "There should be a matching one for the other side." Even in Princeton he hadn't been able to keep all of his furniture in his apartment. Now there'd be a place for everything with room left over for Cameron's stuff.

He shifted to the couch, thinking about all the times he fell asleep on it, too tired, or too drunk, to move to the bedroom. Then there were the times Wilson slept over. He couldn't believe Wilson had been able to get all of his pieces into that apartment at the other house, but he seemed to be happy with the arrangement. No complaints. So far. As the landlord, he supposed there'd be many down the road, but he'd let Edna deal with them.

"That's it," one of the moving men said. "We just dropped the last of the boxes in that room with the bookshelves."

"The library."

"Yeah. Whatever." He handed House the inventory to look at and sign. Everything listed was checked twice, he assumed that meant loading and unloading.

"If anything's missing, I know where to find you," he warned the man. He'd have to go through the boxes, find his CDs, books and guitars. The last had been packed in a special box so they'd be easy to spot. He noticed the man was still standing there even though House had signed the papers and returned them. House glared at him, but reached into his pocket and pulled out a few twenties. "Split that with your pals."

A smile appeared. "Will do." The man took the money and turned to his companions. "Let's go guys." They climbed into the truck and sped off down the lane, spitting gravel.

House took another tour of the house, then he too left, heading back to town.

Simpson was alone in the conference room, checking with the people who'd arranged the teachers' conference. Melanie's math teacher had been registered, and someone picked up her packet at the conference center, but they couldn't confirm she attended.

"Has anyone who was at the conference reported getting sick afterwards?" Simpson asked.

"Oh, I couldn't say." The woman claimed that she wanted to help, but her answers to his questions had all been just as useless.

"Well, what can you say?"

"It was a lovely conference. Everyone enjoyed it."

He sighed. "Well, thanks. I might call back if I have other questions." Something else occurred to him. "Were all the attendees staying in the conference hotel?"

"Oh, yes. We got them a wonderful rate, and the hotel is so lovely."

"And the name of the hotel?" he asked.

She had to think a minute, no doubt checking her notes. "Let me see." Finally she found it and gave it to him.

"Thanks again," Simpson said automatically as he ended the call and prepared for another to the hotel. "Hello, this is Dr. Simpson at Snow Hill Mercy Hospital in Maryland. I understand a Miss Kendall Storey stayed at your hotel a couple of weeks ago for the teachers' conference there."

"I'm afraid we don't give out information about our guests," I lilting voice said. "I'm sorry."

"Wait, don't hang up. Miss Storey is ill and we wondered whether anyone else became ill while they were there."

"I can't give you that information." The voice was just as pleasant, but also adamant.

"Can I speak to your adviser or the manager of the hotel?" he asked.

A pause, then, "I'll check whether Mr. Talmadge is in."

Simpson tapped his pen on the table while he waited. He had to either clear the teacher or prove that she could be the carrier. Finally, a male voice came on the line. "This is Jonathan Talmadge. Can I help you?"

"Mr. Talmadge, this is Dr. Simpson calling form Snow Hill Mercy hospital. Was a Miss Storey, a Miss Kendall Storey staying at your hotel in the last two weeks?"

"As my employee told you, we don't divulge who was here at any given time."

"This is a very serious medical emergency. We believe she's a carrier of a fatal infection and want to protect anyone she was in contact with." Simpson tried to come up with a compelling argument. "I hope no one else staying there has become ill."

"Oh. We haven't been informed of anyone." The hotel manager's voice showed he was now alert. "Is it really serious?"

"I just said so," Simpson muttered. "Yes, very serious," he said aloud. "Unless anyone who was in contact with her is examined and treated within the next week, they will begin to show symptoms."

"Give me a minute." True to his word, the man was back in one minute. "Miss Storey checked in the Friday of the conference, and checked out on Sunday. I can't confirm whether she slept here each night."

"Would your housekeeping staff know?"

"I…I doubt they'd remember. I'm sorry. Should our staff be worried?" He sounded more than concerned himself.

"Has anyone called in sick?" Simpson pressed.

"Well, no. How infectious is this disease?"

"Very. Why even you might have caught it."

"I wasn't here that weekend, but I'll check with the staff that were."

"And the other attendees or anyone else staying there that weekend?" Simpson knew he was pushing, but this could be important.

"I can assure you that if anyone had complained about becoming ill after that weekend, we would have heard from corporate." The manager was back to being adamant. Simpson might have gone too far.

"Well, thank you for your cooperation. We'll let you know whether to be alarmed."

When House pulled into the parking lot for the motel and diner, he noticed a few uniformed police, a police car and several other people clustered around one of the motel rooms. Ever curious, he joined the crowd, spotting Anita, Cameron and Steve Holder. He smiled at the prospect of something juicy happening.

Anita and Holder were talking animatedly, but Cameron caught sight of House and called him over. "What happened?"

"Harve is dead," she said. "Steve's the prime suspect, of course."

"But he didn't know where Harve was."

Cameron shrugged. "Maybe he pretended."

"Or maybe after you helped him find Harve, he killed him. Either way, who else in this town knew that Harve was here?"

"What did you mean earlier about not being surprised Steve didn't want the police to help him find his partner?"

"I don't know what they're mixed up in. I think they just stopped here for something to eat before going on to Baltimore, or maybe it was something in Shelby that brought them to the diner. Whatever it was, if Steve didn't kill Harve, someone else did, and it sure wasn't you or me."

"We have to get Steve to tell us why they were here." She clenched. "That has to be the key."

"If Anita will let us talk to him."

"She can't just arrest him, can she?"

House shrugged. "Whether or not she can, it looks like she just did."

Chatterji joined Simpson in the conference room.

"The teacher did check into the conference hotel and picked up her packet, but otherwise, I have nothing on her movements in Detroit," he reported.

"I may have something. Talked to a friend of mine who works in the IT department of the father's company." Chatterji bit her lower lip. "Mr. Gardiner was gone that same weekend. And get this, he used his work computer to make a plane reservation to Detroit."

"You don't think…"

"Bart, if Mr. Gardiner was with the teacher, then where was Melanie's mother?"

"I assume home with Melanie. Does she have brothers or sisters?" He leafed through the files. "I can't find info on that."

"Then let's ask her." Chatterji smiled. "Who knows what she can tell us."

They took off together for Melanie's hospital room, full of questions for the kid.