Pity and a Shame

Chapter 12

"I'm sorry about last night and I need your help." Brian stared at his desk, holding the phone to his ear.

"With what, manufacturing your excuse?"

"No," he said, sounding angry. "I have a perfectly legitimate excuse, and that's what I need your help with."

Janet bit her lip at the sound of his voice. Brian was usually pretty passive when she became aggressive... this sounded different. "What do you want?"

Brian explained all about Doc Butler and what he thought might be a way to give the old man something to get his teeth into... a distraction. "How can I help?" Her own anger at being stood up faded immediately in the glare of Doc's news, and she kicked herself for always jumping without looking.

"I want you to come up to the office and pretend you heard about a strange woman arriving in town and that with some of the gossip you pick up in the shop, you thought maybe... I don't know. Jesus! Maybe something about Paynter's murder. I know this sounds lame but I need something to get him interested without making it look like I'm tossing him a bone."

"I get it. I'll see what I can come up with, and Brian, with a plan like that how did we ever give you the job of sheriff?" She hung up on his feeble reply.

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Monty put down his paper and watched the car cruise slowly onto his parking court, driving the length of the motel before turning around and parking by the office. The driver got out slowly and made his way inside.

"Mornin'," Monty greeted him. "Lookin' for a room?"

"I guess I get my choice, eh?"

"Not quite. There's three others here at the moment." Monty spun the register around and offered a pen.

The man moved to the counter and studied the register. "I only see two names here."

Monty suddenly didn't like the sound of the man's observation. "The uh- the third one's under repair."

"But you said there was three others here."

"Yeah. Two in one room and one in another. They're all sales people. Come here all the time." Monty was getting nervously angry.

The man looked at the register again. "Show me the one on the end."

Monty blanched. "That's uh- that's the one I'm getting' fixed up. It ain't ready to rent yet."

"I'm interested in renovations, I'd like to see it."

"Look, I don't have time to run tours, you want a room I'll rent you one, otherwise buzz off."

The man shrugged and smiled. "Okay. Truth is, I'm lookin' for someone, a woman. Name's Gwen Armitage."

"Never heard of her." Monty shuffled the register around and pretended to read.

"Blonde, or at least she was, about five-four, nice build. She has a wide mouth and a small mole right here." He pointed to the side of his lip.

"Nope. Never seen her." Monty wouldn't look up.

"Well now you see... what's your name?"

"Hazelford. Monty's what everyone calls me."

"Right. You see Monty, this place is the only public accommodation around here and I know for a fact that this woman is in the area. You see where I'm heading?"

"She could be with friends or something..."

"Monty," he leaned over the counter and cupped the back of the manager's neck, pulling him forward. "I don't want to have any trouble, okay? Just tell me which room she's in and I'm outta your hair."

Monty pulled the pistol from the clip under the counter and swung it up as he jerked back, but the man was faster. The knife point tore through the register pages and across the counter catching Monty in the stomach with a frightening thunk.

He stepped back, the colour leaving his face with haste, and gaped down at the flood of pink soaking into his shirt and trousers and then at the face of his killer. "For god's sake..." Monty hunched over from the sharp pain and crumpled to the floor behind the counter. The man grabbed the key from the rack on the wall and stepped out, closing and locking the office door and putting up a no vacancy sign.

Gwen sat up with a start at the sound of a key in her lock. She swung her feet off the bed and went to the dresser, taking the small spray bottle of insect repellant from her purse. It wasn't Mace, but it did a good job in a pinch. The lock clicked and the door open slowly. Gwen moved closer, sticking to the wall behind the door. When the door bumped her foot she saw the face of the man come around the edge and smile.

"Hi."

Gwen squeaked in fright and directed a stream of repellant into the smiling face, yelling and pushing against the door at the same time. The man roared and stumbled backwards, screaming and clawing at his face. He fell over the small chair by the window, breaking it and whacking his head on the wall.

Gwen kept the nozzle pressed until it emptied then she threw the container, hitting him above the eye.

"You bitch!" He screamed pulling at his face and groaning.

Gwen bent down and tore at his pockets, finding the car keys on her first try and she stepped back, her chest still heaving in panic and glared malevolently at the man writhing on the floor. "You bastard! I might have known it was you!"

"You blinded me, you bitch!" A small trickle of blood from where the repellant can hit him ran down his cheek. "I'm gonna kill you," he yelled back between agonized groans.

"We'll see about that, Mickey." She went to the dresser and grabbed the metal ice bucket and marched back to where he still lay holding his face. "This is for Germany and for Paynter."

She slammed the bucket against his head drawing another roar of pain. Mickey's fingers flew to his scalp and she slammed the bucket down again, smashing his fingers. Two more, heavy blows and Mickey sagged silently to the floor. Gwen tossed the bucket on the bed and took a huge breath.

As she turned away, she saw the knife lying by the door. The stain on the blade looked fresh and surmising what it was from, an icy jolt ran through her. Carefully, using a piece of tissue from her purse, she picked it up, wrapped it in a piece of motel stationery and stuck it in her purse. You killed Paynter too, didn't you?" She whispered at Mickey's still form.