Page 18 of Their Haunted Hearts
“Yeah, sure.” The bartender turned away. “There were a few men who held her up. It’s my job to keep her moving but I don’t mind her being nice to the customers. It’s good for business, so yeah, I notice who she spends time chatting with. I know most of the locals, so I can give you names if you keep my name out of it.”
“They don’t need to know who we spoke to.” Kane leaned into Jenna as if speaking to her. “We use general terms when questioning people.”
Keeping her voice low, Jenna met the barman’s gaze. “However, I will expect you down at my office to give a statement within twenty-four hours. Unless you want me to haul you out of here in handcuffs.”
The bartender hurried away and the owner came back and handed her a sheet of paper. She left the document on the bar. “I want the bartender’s full name and address.”
“Okay.” Johnstone took a pen from his inside pocket and made notes. “There you go.”
A few moments later, the bartender came back, took a bottle of beer from the fridge, and placed it on a coaster in front of Kane.
“Thanks.” Kane slid the beer toward him and the coaster disappeared into his pocket. He dropped a few bills on the counter and nodded to Jenna. “Is that all you need, Sheriff?”
Jenna folded her notebook and pushed it inside her pocket. She collected the sheet of paper, looked over it and smiled at the manager. “That seems to be in order. Thank you.” She glanced at Kane as they stepped out into the fresh air. “I so feel like taking a shower and washing my hair. The smell of male sweat and stale beer is like death. It clings.”
“Add gunpowder and it smells like war.” Kane grimaced and climbed into the Beast.
Seventeen
Cold wind with an icy chill filled the cab before Kane closed the door. Outside, leaves rose high into the air, swirling in the gusts of wind rolling down the mountain. It would snow soon; he could smell it in the air. Already the higher slopes of the mountain shone white through the trees. Before starting the engine, Kane pulled the coaster from his pocket and handed it to Jenna. “I’m surprised he gave us a list of names.”
“It’s better than the information from the manager.” Jenna frowned at the coaster, turning it this way and that. “Her name was Bunny Watkins. No previous experience and she didn’t work behind the bar. She bussed tables and cleaned. We have her Social Security number, and her address is listed as the Black Rock Falls Motel, room sixteen.” She looked at the coaster. “This is almost too helpful. Why is he offering this information? They never help us in the Triple Z.”
Kane started the engine, glad of the blast of hot air from the heater. “Know anyone on the list?”
“Nope.” Jenna shook her head. “We have Dale Cash. He has added ‘ranch hand.’ Now that’s even more helpful.” She narrowed her gaze as if trying to make out the names. “Bryce Withers, horse breeder; Daniel McCulloch, hospital maintenance; and Sly Goldman, cleaner, Triple Z. Hmm, we’ll look at them back at the office. I need to follow up on the victim first.”
Kane swung the truck around in reverse and they bumped over the uneven ground. He waited for an eighteen-wheeler to thunder into the parking lot and slow in a squeal and puff of airbrakes before pulling onto the highway. “I’ll head to the motel. We’ll be able to get access to her room. Maybe we’ll find more information about her.”
During the short drive to the motel, Kane drove slowly and indicated to the overgrown ditch alongside the highway. “There’s not anywhere to walk safely here. She must have walked along the blacktop. It would only take someone to watch her movements for a few nights and then wait for her to leave.” He sighed. “I can’t see any type of disturbance but we’ve had rain.”
“I doubt anything would stick out in that long grass. We’d need to search it.” Jenna pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Rio. We know which bar she was in the night before she died, so they don’t need to check out the others. They can search the roadside.” She made the call.
Ahead, the old motel fluorescent sign flickered vacancy as Kane turned into the Black Rock Falls Motel. The place never changed. It was a dive stuck in the seventies. The dusty windows surrounding the office had the same yellow sunflower drapes as when he arrived in Black Rock Falls over seven years ago. He pushed open the door and stepped inside the dingy room. The ceilings carried a thick coating of yellow sludge, left from years of smoking, and although now banned in public areas, the hint of it still lingered as if it had permeated every fiber of the room.
He scanned the room, taking in the faded, yellowing posters and the old travel ads that hadn’t been updated in decades. Notices pinned haphazardly in a plastic-wrapped bulletin board featured local events from years ago. He glanced at Jenna and grimaced as they approached the cluttered reception desk, its wood scarred from years of use. He moved forward and stared at the coffee-stained register book. The pages for the last few days were empty.
In the background, he could hear the sounds of daytime TV, and when he leaned over the counter, he found a TV screen with grainy images of the line of motel rooms. On the wall was an old key rack, with keys dangling from rough chunks of wood with the numbers written on with a marker. He snorted and looked at Jenna. “Does he really figure someone is going to run off with one of those keys?”
“I guess so.” She hit the bell on the counter, which made a hollow clinking sound, not loud enough to alert anyone watching TV in the back room. She wiped her hand on her jeans. “Hey, anyone home?”
A large balding man stepped out from the back room. Potato chip fragments liberally coated the front of his knitted sweater. He took a gulp from a bottle of soda and his limpid eyes moved from Kane to Jenna. “Look, I’ve been following regulations. No one smokes out here no more. The sheets are changed regular, when the clients leave. I run this place to the book.”
Kane raised one eyebrow and shook his head. “I’m sure that you’re doing your best to keep everything up to date but we’re not here about the regulations. We’re here to remove the personal effects from room sixteen, and before you start making a fuss, Ms. Watkins is deceased.” He held out a hand. “Give me the key. I’ll return it when we’re through.”
“She’s not still in the room, is she?” The man behind the counter looked to the door and then back to Kane.
“No, she isn’t. Now the key, please?” Jenna glared at him.
After handing her the key, Kane followed Jenna outside to the Beast. She’d dropped the key on the hood and was frantically pulling out wipes from the dispenser. He took a handful from her and wiped his hands and then pulled on the examination gloves she thrust at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I am now.” Jenna snapped on gloves and threw the wipes into an overflowing garbage bin outside the office door. “I’m not planning on taking germs from that disgusting hole back to our kids.”
Kane smiled and let Duke out of the back seat to stretch his legs. The dog wouldn’t go far. “I’m surprised he didn’t want to come with us in case we try to sneak away with one of their towels.”
“After the Triple Z Bar and now this filthy disgusting place, I’m taking a shower before I go home. You should too.” Jenna headed along the row of motel rooms.
Kane followed, wondering if the council inspected dives like this, but then the motel rooms out back of the Triple Z Bar were in even worse shape. He figured if they changed the sheets and offered clean towels maybe that was enough. He stood to one side as Jenna opened room sixteen. A gust of cleaning spray escaped when she opened the door but it hadn’t masked the damp mildew smell. He figured Bunny must have tried to clean the room. He glanced around at the floral wallpaper, peeling at the edges to reveal water stains. The bed was unmade and the blankets pulled back as if to air the damp sheets. He moved closer to read the rude graffiti carved into the headboard and shook his head. Some of the messages for a good time dated back to the eighties.
