The last guest of the season signs the register as R. Castle, pays cash, and asks for Room 31, the one nobody wants, at the far end of the third floor. In the morning the chain is still on the door from the inside, the window is painted shut, the bed hasn't been slept in, and the man is gone. His car is still in the lot. His suitcase holds nothing but a postcard mailed thirty-seven years ago.

Nell Brody is only the night clerk. But she was the last person to see him, and she's starting to think she's the only one at the Aldrich House who wants to know where he went.

Who's Who at the Aldrich House
(for those of you who've written to say you lost track, and you know who you are, Aunt Colette)

• Nell Brody, 26. Night clerk. Three years of college, one of them finished. Reads paperbacks at the desk and knows more about poisons than a young woman should.
• Vera Aldrich, 79. Has owned the Aldrich House for fifty-one years. Does the crossword in ink. There is a realtor's sign behind the boathouse she hasn't mentioned to anybody.
• Gus Molnar, 56. Handyman. Has worked at the hotel since he was a bellboy of nineteen. Owns the bolt cutters.
• R. Castle, about seventy. Tan raincoat, small brown suitcase. Room 31. Whereabouts unknown.
• Deputy Lonnie Pratt, of the county sheriff's department. Would rather be fishing.

Your Theories So Far
Tallied from your e-mail through Tuesday. I read every one. I will not say who's right.

To the twelve of you who voted ghost: I will say this much. I don't write ghost stories. What you do with that is up to you.

About Me, and About "Low Water"
I'm an insurance claims adjuster in Grand Rapids, Michigan. All day long I read people's accounts of how the accident happened and try to work out what really did, which turns out to be very good training for writing mysteries. At night I make up a few accidents of my own. I've read mysteries since I was ten and found my mother's Agatha Christies in a box in the attic.

Some of you have been reading since January, when I started posting my first serial here, "Low Water." It ran twenty-two chapters and finished in June. If you've been looking for it: I've taken it down, and here's the happy reason. A literary agent in New York read it and asked to see the whole manuscript, and she prefers that it not be sitting on the Web while she does. I don't know yet what will come of it. I'm trying very hard not to check the mailbox twice a day. (I check it twice a day.)

Thank you to everyone who wrote to me about Low Water. That counter down there is mostly your fault, and I'm grateful.

Want to Know When a New Chapter Goes Up?
Send me an e-mail with CHECKOUT in the subject line and I'll add you to my list. I send one short note every other Sunday and nothing else, ever.