Page 91 of Cougar Point

Ronnie leans against the counter. “I told you she wouldn’t talk to us without the Health Department and Code Enforcement.”

“You all alike. What you want?”

Ronnie pulls up the photos on her iPad and turns the screen where we can all view it. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

The lady glances at the pictures and then asks, “They in trouble. No come here.”

“Look again,” Ronnie insists.

She looks more carefully and then says, “No. Don’t know.”

I noticed her eyes when she looked at the photo of Duke. “One more time,” I say. “Look closely. It’s a crime to lie to a detective.”

She points to the picture of Duke. “He come here. Rent apartment. I kick him out. Too loud and make a mess upstairs.”

Ronnie zooms in on Vinnie’s picture and points at it. “Does he come here? Did he rent with the other one?”

She shakes her head and puts the glasses back on the counter.

I say, “We need to look upstairs. We’ll arrest them if they come here so you don’t have trouble with them. Okay?”

She comes out from behind the counter and takes us to the door leading to the foyer for the upstairs entrance. She opens the door and walks away.

Ronnie and I check the upstairs rooms. It’s a bust. Still dirty and no one home.

“It was worth a try,” Ronnie says.

We’re about to leave by the side door when I have a thought and go back into the store. The woman sees me and stops moving things on the shelf. I ask, “What did you mean police are all alike?”

“Man detective already here. He leave. Good riddance.”

FIFTY-SEVEN

“Semiahmoo Resort, Roger Whiting speaking. How may I help you?”

“Turn the cameras off.” The voice is unmistakable.

Roger goes into his office and looks at the monitors. A man wearing a red ball cap with a black hoodie pulled over it is at the employee entrance behind the resort. He picks up the call in the office and says, “I’m not supposed to be talking to you. You promised to keep me out of this.”

“Turn the cameras off, Roger. I won’t tell you again. I just want to talk. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll stay on the line until you tell me they’re off.”

“Uh, okay.” Roger logs in to the surveillance system and turns it off. “It’s off. I can’t keep doing this or they will get suspicious.” No answer. “Are you there? Hello?”

“I’m right here.”

Roger turns and his voice fails him.

“I know you’ve been talking to the cops, Roger.”

Roger starts to protest but Thundercloud clamps a hand down on his shoulder and squeezes hard. “You gave Missy up, and they know I was living with her. They know I worked here. What else have you told them?”

Roger tries to pull away, but one hand covers his mouth and the other goes to his throat and shoves him backward into the desk.

FIFTY-EIGHT

I park on the gravel lot of the fabulous Ocean View Motel. The building is a squat, flat-roofed, boxcar type construction dating back to WWII, complete with peeling flamingo-pink paint, gingerbread trim, windows held together with duct tape, rusted A/C units, and the whole shebang covered in bird shit. It’s a mile at least from an ocean view or any water unless the plumbing leaks. Ronnie makes a face, and I say, “It’s perfect.”

Rebecca calls. “Ronnie, are you at the motel?”

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