That�s why, in my next life, I want to be a hotel housekeeper.

There is nothing more sacred in our industry than the guest�s privacy.  Well, OK, maybe RevPAR is more sacred, but guest privacy is way up there.  It�s only after the guest leaves that we get to speculate on the events of the past 24 hours in room 235, and it�s the housekeeper that�s always first on the scene.   Sometimes the housekeeper has to contact the chief engineer, the general manager, Interpol or the Center for Wolverine Control, but most of the time he or she just mentally records the evidence, sorts it according to guest type, and moves on, with 12 more rooms to go.

Some clues are simply too easy � empty liquor bottles, razor-blade marks on the desktop, blankets and pillows in the vicinity of the toilet.  No challenge there.  But every now and then there�s an interesting case to cogitate, to the whine of the industrial vacuum and the squeak of the linen cart.

Case #133: bed not slept in, three empty pots of room service coffee outside the room door, wastebasket full of crumpled pencil sketches of shoes.  Insomniac fetishist?  Pressured shoe designer?  After work, I�d have to survey the city for shoemakers and establish surveillance at the Manolo Blahnik outlet.

Case #292: phone off hook, scattered belongings, sheets knotted together and trailing out the second-story window to the ground.  An obvious quick exit.  Tipped off to police raid?  Arrival of angry ex-wife?  I would check the local court records for unpaid alimony, and examine the clothing for the reflective paint used in making license plates.

Case #219:discarded matchbook from upscale restaurant in Copenhagen.  Wrinkled map of Bogota.  Pistol under the pillow.  Paranoid globetrotting executive?  Trafficker in illicit goods?  I�d check for unusual DEA activity at the international airport terminal, and scan the business pages for suicidal CEO�s departing under board pressure.