Series Starters Box Set, page 42
“Right place, right time.” Diana picked her skirt away from her legs, grimacing as it stuck in places from the tacky blood. “I found the man in the park. He sat down next to me while the protestors were going through.” She gave a small laugh. “He was trying to fix the broken handle of his sign and seemed most put out that I didn’t have a repair kit in my handbag.”
“Typical of the spoiled youth of today,” Harry said aloud as he wrote in his notebook.
Diana frowned. “That isn’t what I said at all. Just, he seemed a bit self-absorbed, but not mean about it. Nothing bad.”
“Don’t worry, this is just to remind me. I won’t actually write out an article using those words.”
“Since I don’t know anything about you except for your name, excuse me if I won’t take your word for it.” She leaned over and pulled the pad out of his hand.
“Found in park, broken sign, fixing it,” Diana read out, then handed it back to Harry with a roll of her eyes. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t try to wind me up. In case you haven’t noticed, today wasn’t a great day.”
“Scout’s honor, I’ll behave from now on.” Harry held a three-finger salute up to his forehead.
“Anyway, that’s all I have to say to you. I found the body when the police moved the protestors on. Except, he wasn’t a body then. He was a very badly wounded young man.”
“How was he wounded?”
An image flashed in Diana’s mind. Pressing her hand against the injury and feeling the soft thud of the man’s heartbeat slowing down. “He was stabbed in the chest.”
Harry sucked in a breath, wincing. “Doesn’t sound very survivable. Don’t you go blaming yourself for anything. With an injury like that, you’re a goner even if you hang on for a while.”
“I wasn’t blaming myself,” Diana snapped, getting to her feet and moving to the front desk. “Excuse me?”
The desk officer glanced up at her, then looked back at the typewriter he was struggling to use.
“Officer Mulgerry told me he was going to sort out a car to take me home.”
“He hasn’t said anything to me.” The sergeant looked up long enough to wave her back into the chair. “I’m sure he’ll come back out once it’s sorted.”
“I have somewhere else to be.” Diana checked the clock on the wall and felt frustration rising up to clutch at her throat. “If I don’t get to the motel soon, they’ll give my room away. Then I’ll have no accommodation for the night.”
“We can arrange a room for you elsewhere if we need to. We do it all the time.” This time, the man didn’t even bother to look up, just kept his eyes on his work as he talked.
“That won’t work. I need to stay at the motel I picked out. I can’t just go wherever you can find a room. My job is on the line.”
She felt like slapping her palm down on the counter, but common sense prevailed. Diana didn’t know how often people tried to bully a police officer, but she could guess how often it was successful. Never.
“There you are,” Officer Mulgerry said, walking out to stand beside her. “I’ve checked in the back and there’s a car going out your way fairly shortly. If you don’t mind another five minutes wait, we’ll get you back to the park, exactly where we picked you up from.”
“Thank you.” The heat from her near confrontation was still warming Diana’s face, and she stared down at the floor so Mulgerry couldn’t see the evidence. “Would they be able to drop me back at the Phillips Algeron Motel instead? That’s where I’m staying.”
“I’m sure they can handle that.” He jerked his head toward the waiting room chair.
Diana was about to decline the offer—she’d sat for long enough today as it was—then realized he wanted her out of the way, so he could talk privately to the desk officer. She sat down next to Harry, deliberately averting her eye so he couldn’t draw her back into a conversation.
A minute later, a couple of policemen walked into the room and nodded to Diana. “We’re your ride if you’re ready.”
“Just a second.” The sergeant held up one finger. “I’ll get you to sign this before you go if you don’t mind.” He shoved five scrawled pages across the counter to her and after scanning it quickly, she realized it was a copy of her statement. “Shouldn’t I read all of this before I sign?”
“We’re about to go,” one of the waiting officers said. “If you’re going to be much longer, you’ll need to hitch a ride with the next patrol car.”
Diana gave the desk sergeant a grim stare, then held her hand out for the pen. She signed where he indicated, then shoved the pages back with a bit more force than was necessary.
“Another thing,” Mulgerry said. “We might want to talk to you again, so don’t leave the area, okay?”
All of a sudden, her anger bubbled up and spilled over. “I’m not under arrest, am I?”
The officer shook his head.
“Then I’ll go anywhere I feel like, thank you very much. If you do want to arrest me, I’m staying at the Phillips Algeron Motel in town, in room 12C, and you can drop by any time tonight or tomorrow. The day after, I’m back on the road again for my job which I’m not going to put in jeopardy by staying in this ridiculous town to answer questions for your ridiculous police force. Is that clear?”
The sergeant’s face clouded over. “Now, you listen here—”
“She’s right, you know,” Harry called out. “According to the law, you can’t restrict a citizen’s freedom unless you actually place them under arrest. Until that time, you can request they stay in the area but they’re under no obligation to do so.” He gave Diana a wink. “Personally, I’d arrest her now. Being that good looking is certainly a crime.”
She left the police station while the journalist laughed himself silly at the joke.
Chapter Four
The motel owner still had the room available. Diana breathed a sigh of relief as the woman handed the key across and brought out her two cases.
The receptionist cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I’d sell it on to someone else when I had your suitcases in the back office and your car still parked out in front, did you?”
“I’m sorry I was so late,” Diana said, not wanting to get into a discussion of what she thought the girl would do. “I got held up with an incident in the park.”
“I can tell.” The receptionist licked her thumb and wiped it across Diana’s collarbone. A shiver worked through her skin in response, the gesture at once making her feel like a small child being cleaned by her mother and like an adult fencing off an unwelcome advance.
“There’s a laundry down at the end of the block,” the woman continued, withdrawing. “If you get those clothes into the wash straight away, cold water, that blood should come straight out. It’s fifty cents a turn, you got quarters?”
“Yeah, I’ve got enough.” Diana clutched the room keys in her hand while she juggled the two cases. They seemed to have gained a few pounds each since she’d packed them the night before. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, love. You need anything, come back here and let me know. If I don’t answer the bell, just hit the thing again. Sometimes I put the radio on so loud, it takes a few goes for me to hear.”
The relief when Diana got to her room and shut the door was incredible. For long minutes, she stood there, collapsed back against the wood with the edge of the peephole poking into her back.
Finally, she gathered herself enough to stand up and pull the chain across. She peeled off her stained clothing and hopped into the shower, turning the water temperature up so high that the bathroom filled with steam.
The small soap wrapped in waxy paper lasted long enough for Diana to begin to feel clean. Ideally, she would have used another one, wiping the stain of blood from her mind as well as her body, but the motel hadn’t been that generous.
She replaced a tiny sliver back onto the tray, wondering if there’d be a replacement after the room was cleaned. It shouldn’t matter. If there were injured bodies lying about the place tomorrow, Diana would leave it up to somebody else to help.
Once clothed in the outfit she’d packed for the next day, Diana made her way down to the laundry. She hoped the state of the room didn’t have any bearing on what would happen to her clothes in the machine. Black fingers of mold clawed their way out of the damp corners while water stains claimed their territory across the cream ceiling panels.
The hum of the machine soothed Diana’s ragged nerves so much she didn’t bother to return to her room while it worked. Instead, she leaned her hip against the side, letting the vibrations work their way into her muscles, massaging them until they loosened in relief.
To think, the only thing she had been worried about that morning was her new job. What a luxurious state to be in.
When the clothes came out of the dryer, Diana held them close to her face, reveling in the warmth. Freshly baked clothing, her mother used to call them. When the heat faded, she walked back to her room and tossed them into the open suitcase.
The report she needed to fill out was sitting on top. After filling out her initial observations, Diana set it aside. She didn’t need the stress of ranking the motel against her vast inexperience right now.
What she wanted was a drink.
It was only just after six o’clock so what she should have was dinner. First, though, she owed her mother a call. At long distance prices, hopefully, the conversation would be a short one. With an echo of the woman camped out permanently in Diana’s head, the real one didn’t need to spend her time on lectures.
She dialed the number, but the phone didn’t connect. Instead, it issued a dull tone in her ear. After trying again, Diana replaced the receiver and made her way along to the reception area. Perhaps they had a different area code system out of state? She hadn’t tried to call before so had no idea.
“There’s a toll block on the phone,” the woman said when Diana roused her with the third hit on the bell. “You can’t use it to make anything other than local calls.”
“Can you lift it? I’m happy to pay the charges but I need to make a call to my moth—um—my friend tonight.”
“No can do.” The receptionist came out from behind the desk and gestured for Diana to follow her outside. “Across there, see the payphone. It should work well enough for you. If I were you, I’d get in quick. I don’t think it’s a great place to be caught out after dark.”
Diana thanked her even though it wasn’t the result she wanted. She retrieved her purse from the room and counted out her change. In preparation for vending machine snacks and laundry coin slots, she’d converted a lot of her notes into coins before she left on the journey. Still, if she ended up feeding them into the phone slot, she’d soon run out.
But for tonight, it’d be fine.
She took a packet of wipes with her to the box, carefully using it to clean the receiver and still holding it a half-inch away from her ear when it was done. Diana told the operator the number and waited for the phone to connect. After a minute of beeps and static, the phone rang.
“Mom, it’s me,” she said when her mother answered. “I’m just calling to say I got to the motel okay.”
“Where is it you’re staying? Evansville?”
“Yes. It’s a place called the Phillips Algeron Motel.”
“I hope the manager there treated you okay.”
“She treated me fine. She doesn’t know what I’m doing here, remember?”
Of course, her mom didn’t remember. Diana had explained the ins and outs of her new role a dozen times for her mom’s benefit. Still, every time she mentioned it, even in passing, her mom appeared to have forgotten each last detail.
As her mother’s monotone droned on, Diana stared down at the hand holding change at the ready. There was a smudge of crimson under one fingernail. Fifteen minutes of scrubbing in the shower and the blood still remained.
Tears welled up in the back of Diana’s throat, making her nose run and threatening to pour down her face. She desperately wanted to tell her mother what had happened, but the words wouldn’t form. Probably just as well. Right now, she’d end up balling her eyes out and losing all her dignity.
“I’ve got to go,” she said with a sniff. “The operator is telling me to put in more change and I didn’t bring any.”
“What operator?” After a second’s pause, her mother’s voice came back on the line, strangled with horror. “Diana! Are you in a pay phone booth?”
“Yeah. It’s already cost $2.75 and I don’t have much change left.”
“You know hoodlums urinate in those boxes at night, don’t you?”
“Not this one, Mom. It’s perfectly clean.”
“It might look that way, but you can take it from me, that isn’t the case. Why—the stories I’ve heard over the years.” She gave a small cry. “I thought I’d raised you better.”
“Ma! It’s the only phone they had available for me to call long distance, okay? If you’d prefer I didn’t call at all, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll send you a letter instead.”
“I can’t read your handwriting and you know it. Don’t be silly, Diana, you just—”
She hung the phone up. At least the anger at her mother’s unreasonable expectations had obliterated her urge to cry. Now, she felt the urge to scream.
As she walked away from the phone Diana tried to ignore the odor rising from a stain near the booth. The last thing she needed was ammunition mounting on her mother’s side. The phone was in a carpark of a bar and grill. After a short tussle with her conscience, she decided to have that drink, after all.
“Evening,” the bartender called out as she slid onto a stool. “What’re you having?”
“House white, please,” Diana said, looking around the murmuring room. “And can I make a reservation for supper?”
“There’re no tables free at the moment.” The bartender slid a coaster in front of her, then turned to the fridge to pull out a bottle of wine. “Your husband coming along soon? I can start a tab.”
“No husband. I’ll just pay as I go, thanks.” At his quizzical look, Diana felt compelled to add, “I’m staying over the road at the Phillips Algeron Motel. Drove up from home today and moving on the day after tomorrow.”
“Right.” He placed the glass of wine in front of her, serving it up with a smile. “You looking for some company for the night? I can hook you up.”
The look of horror on Diana’s face appeared to make him rethink his offer.
“I meant if you wanted a table sooner. It’s an hour’s wait for a single but if you don’t mind sharing, there’re a couple of men you could pair up with.” After a second’s thought, he added, “Just for the meal.”
Diana pulled the drink close, ignoring the offer for the time being. Her fingers disturbed the condensation on the side of the glass and a drop trickled down the side, rolling down the long stem. The scent of the wine was sharp and slightly sweet. “Are you always this busy?”
“We’ve only got the one chef on tonight, so our demand outstripped our supply.” With a shrug, the barman put the bottle of wine back in the fridge and pulled out a board to slice up some lemons. “What’re you in town for?”
“I’m a writer,” Diana said quickly. She’d decided on the ruse in case the motel owner asked but hadn’t yet put it to good use. The words sounded odd, both in her mouth and in her head.
She’d wanted to go to college to get an English degree and write professionally. When her dad put his foot down, she’d gone to work in an office instead, unable to swing the tuition on her own. Once she met Earnest, the idea of saving up and attending later turned into a forgotten dream.
“Really?” The bartender’s expression fixed on her, unreadable. A second later he turned and yelled down the bar, “You’re a writer, ain’t you?”
To Diana’s surprise, Harry Wallace sat around the corner of the bar. He raised his glass of beer in response to the barman’s query. “Yeah. That’s right. Why?”
“Lady here’s a writer too. If you want to get a table sooner, you should sit together, maybe.”
Mission accomplished, the bartender moved down the other end, serving up drinks to a man who appeared twenty years younger than his supposed wife.
“That right?” Harry pushed his drink down the counter toward her before changing stools. “I didn’t pick up on that in the police station.”
“Probably because I didn’t tell you.” Diana turned to look away, taking a sip of her wine. It was tart and cold and slid down her throat like manna from heaven.
“What sort of writing d’you do?”
She thought of the pamphlets for the local attractions shoved in her handbag. The same idea from earlier recurred. Someone needed to write an unbiased assessment of the activities on offer in the region, so visitors would know what to spend their money on.
“Non-fiction. I write travel guides for various places.”
“Really?” Harry drew the corners of his lips down and gave a slow nod. “That sounds interesting. They’re fluff pieces to upsell the tourists? Stuff like that.”
“They’re not fluff pieces.” Diana felt indignant about the disparagement of her imaginary job. “They’re well thought out, well-researched assessments of all the places to visit and sights to see in a town. It’s helping tourists out, not fleecing them. Nobody wants to fork out their hard-earned money on a tour just to find out it’s not worth their time.”
Harry held his palms up. “Fair enough. I’m sure there’s a market for it. Not like serious journalism, of course, but everyone to their own.”
“Serious journalism,” Diana echoed. “Is that what you call hanging around police stations, grilling witnesses?”
“It’s part of the job, yes. Why?” Harry shifted in his seat, then downed the last of his beer in one swallow. He tilted the glass at the bartender who nodded. “Don’t you think that qualifies?”
