The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [63]
“This is a nice piece,” I said.
“Would you like it?” Small asked expectantly.
“I live above a bar. The place could use some music.”
“Take it,” Small said.
“You’re sure you want to part with it?”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
A toolbox sat on the floor. I found a screwdriver and unscrewed the jukebox from the wall. There were tears in Small’s eyes as I carried the jukebox out the door.
Sally was waiting when I came back inside. She led me to a bedroom in the rear of the house, which had been set up with a hospital bed. My host was facing his computer, and I came around his wheelchair to see the photo of Sampson sitting in a dog crate on the screen, the resolution much sharper than Sally’s laptop.
“Recognize anything?” I asked.
Small nodded while staring at the screen. “The carpet and wall coverings are from a defunct hotel chain called Armwood Guest Suite Hotels. Most of their properties were located in the southern United States. Armwood tried to capitalize on the corporate business traveler and fell victim to the last recession. If I’m not mistaken, the entire company was sold off.”
“Did they have many hotels in Fort Lauderdale?” I asked.
“Yes. They were quite big in Broward County.”
Small’s voice had grown weak, and he paused to gather his strength. “Now, there are some little things that this photograph is telling me. I don’t know if they’re significant, but I’m happy to share them.”
“Please,” I said.
“The carpet is frayed, and appears to be quite old. I’m guessing it’s original, and was never replaced. That’s unusual, even more so if the property is in south Florida, where you have to replace the carpets every few years because of mold and mildew. The wall coverings are probably original as well.”
“Excuse my ignorance, but what does that mean?” I asked.
“More than likely, whoever bought the hotel in this photograph is not presently using it as a hotel. It’s too downtrodden.”
“What would it be used for?”
“It could be used for a variety of things. Perhaps to house welfare recipients, or maybe a religious organization bought it to lodge their members. It might also be empty, and your kidnapper is using a room without the owner’s knowledge.”
“Anything else jump out at you?” I asked.
“There was one other thing,” Small said. “Behind the boy there is a night table, which is next to a wall. I believe that was where the telephone in all Armwood rooms was placed. In this photograph, there is no phone.”
I looked at the screen and saw the empty night table. “Are you sure there was a phone there?” I asked.
“I believe there was. However, there’s one way to know for certain.”
“How?” I asked.
“Print the photograph, and we’ll see if there is a phone jack on the floor.”
With Small’s help, I printed the photo off his computer onto a laser copier, and we both scrutinized the spot on the floor beneath the night table. There was something there, but neither of us could be certain what it was.
“Danny, please get my magnifying glass,” Small said.
The nurse went into another room and returned with a magnifying glass. Small held the magnifying glass up to the photo with a trembling hand.
“I was right,” Small said. “Have a look.”
I took the magnifying glass and looked for myself. It was small, but I could see a phone jack screwed into the baseboard on the floor.
“Someone removed the phone,” I said.
“It certainly looks that way,” Small said.
His voice had dropped to a whisper. Sally shot me a look, and I realized it was time for us to leave. I folded the photo into a square, and put it in my pocket.
The nurse pushed Small into the foyer. Sally kissed him good-bye, and I thanked him for his help. Small looked like a mummy in his sheets and his sickly state, but when he gazed up at me, the expression on his face told me he was still very much alive.
“Good luck finding the boy,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I followed Sally to a Cracker Barrel near the turnpike, and we got a booth. After our waitress delivered