Mulatto, maybe? Could be. A tad american Indian? Could be. Black? Asian? How about Eskimo? Could be all of them. No one knew and he wasn't telling. An... a shit-eating grin isn't too much help, is it?His age? He had that taut kind of skin that could fool you and make you believe he was either in his mid-forties or somewhere over the line of sixty. With many folks guessing at just about every other age in between.Where did he hail from, this Dicker Man? Fuggedaboudit!Oh, sure, the cops tried. Even. I demurred, and she stripped it off me. She walked next to the tub and opened a small door, held the jacket in and dropped it..."Everything you put in here goes to the hotel laundry." She grinned, "give me your shirt."I sighed and rolled my eyes, unbuttoned and handed it to her. She tossed it in the chute.She snapped her fingers and pointed at my shoes. I took those off and she put them in a different door and pressed an ornate button above the door. The shoes dropped from sight."They'll be in. More

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