Page 21 of Cougar Point

“I don’t know. Maybe. They could have checked in before my shift. It’s not a totally unusual sight so I didn’t pay much attention.” She stops and considers. “Do you think it could have been Mrs. Marsh I saw with the man?”

I fight back the excitement. “Can you describe them?”

“I only saw them for a second. He was taller than me. White. Dark sunglasses. Long hair with a ball cap. I’m sorry. That’s all I know. I’m horrible with descriptions. Oh yeah. He had acne. I remember because my cousin suffered with it in high school.”

I ask her a few more questions, but that’s all she can recall. I let her go and make a note to ask her colleague Missy about it. Perhaps she’ll have a better eye for detail.

“Miss Marsh,” a young man says from the entrance. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Come in, Alan,” Rebecca says with a smile. “Have a seat.”

“Let me get you some coffee first. Roger keeps a pot going for day shift. He said you might want something to eat. I’m not much of a cook but I make a mean grilled cheese.” Without waiting for an answer, he goes behind the counter and through the batwing doors into the kitchen.

Alan is quite hot in his tight cut-off shorts and tie-dyed shirt. He couldn’t be more than eighteen years old, beach-boy blond hair, dark tanned, perfect white teeth, in shape and knows it. I give Rebecca a look, and she turns red in the face. “You and him?”

“He’s nice to me because of Mom.”

I seriously doubt it. At twenty-six years old, Rebecca is an attractive older woman to this younger horny stud. I saw the way he looked at her. Lust was in the air. Hormones were on overdrive. Not that I noticed his perfect tight little…Hey, I’ve got a steady boyfriend, but I’m not dead. “None of my business.”

“What are we going to ask him?”

“Same as Connie. Did he see your mom with anyone? Where did the champagne come from? How late was he at work? If he saw her, what was her mood like. That kind of stuff. I’m not hungry yet. You?”

She shakes her head and goes to the counter to tell him just coffee is fine. The writer dude looks over at her annoyed that we’re making noise. If he does it again, I’ll give him something exciting to write about.

SEVENTEEN

Victoria hears someone enter and a light switch click.

“I know you’re awake, bitch,” the man says, and the pointy toe of a shoe strikes her in the side and takes her breath. She begins hyperventilating and blackness clouds her consciousness. She is going to die. She is going dark like a light switch had turned off, but a hand is shaking her.

“Stay awake.”

She hears a click and then something whirring. She recognizes the sound, He’s taking pictures with an old Polaroid camera, the kind where a photo pops out of the bottom and develops itself. He slaps her several times on the face and her broken nose, and when she cries out he takes several pictures.

Her eyes are still watering from the sudden pain in her nose when she feels the gag being removed; now he’s wiping her nose and mouth with it.

“I thought you were a goner there. That would be a damned shame after all the effort it took to get you here in one piece. Tell me your name and where you live.”

Victoria’s mind is fuzzy. “Wha…?” Her jaw aches and the sides of her mouth feel raw from the rough cloth that cut into them.

“The gag came off so you could answer some questions. I can put it back on.”

Victoria hacks up a wad of blood and spits it on the floor before another coughing fit overcomes her.

“I know you didn’t just spit at me. But that’s okay. I’m glad to see you have some spirit in you. We’ll break that soon enough. Now. Are you going to answer my questions? Or do I have to wear your kidneys out?”

“Sorry,” Victoria says in a weak voice. She hadn’t spit at him. She was choking on it and he probably knew that. “My name is Marsh.”

“And what’s the rest of it. I need to make sure my girl didn’t give you a concussion.”

Victoria felt a sliver of hope. They wanted her lucid. At least for now. Maybe they’d release her. “Victoria Marsh. My name is Victoria Marsh. I live on Cougar Point.”

EIGHTEEN

Alan came back with mugs, a coffee carafe, sweetener and cream, and loaded with pastries. He didn’t come back with any usable information. I hated to see him go. So did Rebecca.

“That leaves us with the night manager and his assistant,” I say as I see the last of Alan.

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