Chat - Archer Mayor [17]
But Rob shook his head. “I’m saying they wouldn’t forget who you were if they blamed you for his death.”
“What’s the scuttlebutt?” Joe demanded, growing angry.
Barrows remained placid. “That’s what I’m saying. I haven’t heard a word. I didn’t even know about you and Andy.” He slapped the tire hanging by his head. “You asked me to take a closer look, remember? So, I’m not the one saying the Griffis bunch is after you. But if you’re thinking this was done on purpose, I’d sure have an idea where to start digging.”
Norma Wagner peered up from her crossword as the motel’s front door set off the quiet chime behind her counter.
“Good evening, sir. Are you checking in?”
The man on the threshold looked as if she’d just asked the one question he hadn’t been anticipating. He glanced around the empty lobby nervously. “Yes.”
Norma smiled, both at him and to herself. He was a decent enough looking guy—trimmed beard, not too fat, okay clothes—but homely. A work mouse, as she’d come to consider men like him—processed forms in an office building, went to the movies once a month, ate at the local Bickford’s on Friday, and had a wife he’d grown so used to, he barely knew she existed.
And now, she thought to herself, this one was in the big city—or whatever Brattleboro might be considered. She watched him check the lobby a second time before hestitantly approaching her counter. Instinctively, after fifteen years in the motel business, she checked his left ring finger. The indentation of a wedding band was there, but the actual item was missing. Ah, and he was stepping out, as well.
Norma blended her satisfied laugh into her official greeting. “Welcome to the Downtowner, sir. Do you have a reservation?”
“No.” He spoke barely above a whisper.
Of course not, she thought, eyeing the small overnight bag he kept clutched in his hand.
“That won’t be a problem. We have plenty of room at the moment. How many nights will you be staying?”
“Just one.”
But what a night, she imagined vicariously, typing into her computer, at least in his wildest hopes. She wasn’t faulting him. She’d been married for twenty-five years to a man she saw as little as possible. She hoped this round little guy was going to have the night of his life.
“And how will you be paying tonight?” she asked.
He pulled out a billfold and laid three twenties on the surface between them. “Cash.”
“Cash, it is,” she said cheerily. “Do you have Triple A or another type of discount?”
He cast down his eyes even farther. She was starting to feel bad for him and wanted to get him into that room before he changed his mind and bolted.
“Not to worry, sir. That’ll be forty-three ninety-five, with the businessman’s discount. My treat.”
He looked up partway at that and managed a weak smile, although his beard made it hard to see. “Thanks.”
She placed a registration card before him. “Not a problem. If you could fill this out, we’d sure appreciate it.”
As he put pen to card, she added, “And if I could have a credit card for both our security and any additional incidentals, that would be great.”
He stopped and looked at her straight-on for the first time. Nice brown eyes. “I don’t have a credit card.”
Right, she thought. No more than you have a nose on your face. But, again, he was looking twitchy to her, so she cut him some slack. “That’s all right. It’ll be my job if you mess up, though, so you better promise to be good.”
That broke eye contact. His gaze dived for the card before him again. God, she was having way too much fun with this poor bastard.
She decided to cut him loose with her final zinger. Smiling broadly, she collected the finished registration card and asked, “Two key cards or one?”
“Two, please.”
Yes, she forced herself not to say aloud, instead handing over the keys while she glanced at the card he’d filled out. “Your room’s at the end of the corridor, to the right of the vending machines. Have a nice night, Mr. Frederick, and thank you for choosing the Downtowner.”
He nodded quickly and moved away. She watched him, the