Pity and a Shame

Chapter 19

He'd managed to get the car off the road and under the cover of some dying sumac bushes before crashing for the night. His hand was burning and his head was throbbing from yet another bash on the skull. Mickey was beginning to be concerned about possible brain damage.

After coming to and finding the women gone, he was glad to see his car still there until he realized that they had left together in Carol's car. Mickey had thought about that and didn't like the conclusion he reached. He woke up in the back seat cold and an aching head, his hand was swollen and throbbing from Gwen's kneeling on it and his eyes were still rimmed with red and sore.

He jerked himself into a sitting position and looked out the window at the bush surrounding him. His thoughts returned to the previous night; if Gwen and Carol joined forces, he was in real deep shit. Gwen would alibi Carol's recent behaviour and in return, Carol would provide cover for Gwen . . . and Gwen still had the damn knife.

He opened the back door and got out, stretching and shivering. He needed food and a decent washroom. The spot he'd picked to park in for the night, he figured was far enough from the shack and just past the intersection of the road that wound around from the service station.

Mickey knew there was a lodge around there somewhere, a place where he might eat or at least wash up; he couldn't risk going back into town. He shivered again in the brisk wind and climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

Polly Whitehorse stood at the lobby doors watching the car pull up and stop in the forecourt. The driver got out and quickly turned his back to a gust of wind driven leaves and dust. He hurried across the drive and up the steps to the lodge.

"May I help you?" She asked, filling the opening she'd permitted in the doorway. She didn't like his appearance at all; the bandaged hand, the red eyes and the bruised forehead set off alarm bells.

"Is this a hotel or bed and breakfast or something?" Mickey sounded genuinely confused.

"No, I'm afraid not. It's an artist's retreat. We don't rent rooms."

He sagged and looked forlorn. "No restaurant or anything?" He looked around helplessly. "I've been on the road all night, I hurt my hand and my head, and I'm dirty and hungry. Is there some place close by...?"

Polly looked him up and down considering his demeanour and decided that it would be very inhospitable to send the poor man away in his apparent condition. She broke a personal rule and invited him inside. "You may use our restroom off the great hall and I think I can rustle up an egg or two." She pointed the way and told him how to find the kitchen when he was done.

Mickey finished in the washroom and did a hasty reconnaissance of the building before following Polly's direction and the smell of cooking and hurrying to the kitchen. The room was large and bright with stainless steel cupboards and appliances.

Everything was gleaming from constant care and cleaning and Polly stood before the immaculate stove wearing a bright red apron and flipping eggs.

"I only do them one way," she said without apology. "Over and well done. There's some bread in the basket. If you want toast, it's on the counter behind you."

Mickey could feel his mouth watering; he'd forgotten how long it was since he'd eaten. The bread was whole wheat and thick and he plopped two slices in the commercial toaster. Polly slid a plate with three eggs and a couple of slices of crisp bacon onto the steel counter and told Mickey to sit and eat.

He pulled up a stool and dug in hungrily while Polly buttered his toast.

"Where did you come from?"

"South," he muttered through a mouthful.

"What happened to your hand, it looks quite swollen, and your head?"

"Flat tire. Smashed it with the stupid jack handle and banged my head when I fell forward." He nodded thanks for the toast and took a huge bite.

"You certainly were hungry," she said staring at his empty plate. Polly looked at his clothes and noticed the wrinkles and stains. "You said south. South where?"

Mickey slowed his chewing at the tone of her voice and looked up into her calm, penetrating eyes. "Ravenstoke. I was doing some maintenance work for a client." He took another bite of toast and turned away.

"I have relatives in Ravenstoke. Who's your client?"

Mickey closed his eyes and let his head droop. This was no good. The old dame was suspicious and she was far too curious. "It's a small machining company. They make valve fittings." He elaborated on his lie.

Polly started to ask the name of the company and stopped. One of the gifts as founder and operator of the retreat was being able to define meaning through body language. She taught students the importance of establishing the right posture in their subjects, one that was consistent with the story their paintings told.

This man was lying through his teeth.

"Did you get enough?" She took his empty plate to the sink.

"Uh yeah... yeah, thanks. What uh- what do I owe you?" He watched her intently.

Polly turned and leaned back on the sink. "No charge. When someone's in a fix, people should help. Compliments of Nature's Gateway," she smiled.

Mickey nodded, still watching her, and stood awkwardly. "Uh well, thanks again." He wasn't quite sure what to do, the woman seemed calm enough, but he sensed a fake serenity about her.

"So where are you headed from here?" She didn't look at him, instead she wiped her hands and went toward the hall, hearing him follow behind.

"North."

Polly chewed her lip and quickened her step. "Best way is straight along this road. It'll take you into the north end of town, you'll miss the traffic." She turned and gave him a short laugh. "Split Oaks must have all of two dozen cars downtown at any one time." Mickey grinned back, still unsure about her.

"Well, good luck and drive carefully." She opened the door wide and smiled him out. Mickey stood on the steps still waffling over what to do when he heard the lock click and he turned to see her watching him with a small frown.

"Shit," he muttered and hurried to his car. "Now I need someplace else to lie low."