It was after nine when Dwight rolled out of bed. His head was pounding, and his mouth felt like it was full of sand. First thing he did at the bathroom sink before the water even got warm was splash his face and rinse out his mouth so his tongue could move. He pulled some aspirin from his ditty bag and swallowed them with a glass of tap water. His stomach was not happy. Dwight, dizzy, leaned on the sink in an argument with his stomach about holding down the water and pain killer. He finally won but it was close.

After a hot shower and three more glasses of water, sipped slowly, he dressed and went downstairs. It was after ten. He scooped up eggs, potatoes, ham and toast at the buffet and sat down to eat. Halfway through his meal, he looked around. No one with a reunion placard around their neck. Then he remembered that several groups were going to go golfing. There was a tour to the Hoover Dam and some other stuff. He sighed as he stirred the country potatoes around the plate. He’d kind of wanted to go on that dam tour.

Crap! I’m really going to have to get this drinking under control. He finished the food and stomach apparently satisfied, paid with his credit card, leaving a tip in cash. It just made sense. Just how much of the tip actually reached the waiter or waitress if you used the card? He didn’t know but if he was going to tip, he liked to leave cash. He wandered out into the lobby. What to do now? He decided the pool was perfect. He could sit out there all day without spending money and still look like he was enjoying the reunion.

Outside he found a spot in the shade and put a liter bottle of water he’d purchased at the gift shop on the deck beside his lounge chair. The heat felt good. He napped and took a dunk and napped some more. After a couple of hours and the entire bottle of water, he felt more human. He went back to his room and showered again. When he got out, he noticed the message light flashing on his phone. Someone from the reunion wanting to meet for drinks maybe?

He picked it up and dialed. Dwight blinked as he listened. Police want to interview him? For what? He hung up the phone. He dressed and went down to the room they’d told him to go to. What was going on?

Next Chapter: Chapter Five