The Final Rose

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sure Thing

I doubted there'd been a bus out of town the previous night, and in the absence of transportation, Lee would have been forced to stay at the only hotel in town—a motel, actually. The Pine Ridge Resort was the only available accommodation in town for outside travelers. The reservation was far from a tourist destination, so anything else would have been unnecessary. With no competition in town there was similarly no need for the motel to bother with things like upgrades or standard amenities one might find elsewhere. The motel sign by the roadway boasted of cable television and complimentary coffee.

My vehicle was the only car in the parking lot. A neon red sign in the window of the reception area said "Vacancy." I couldn't ever remember seeing the "No" part of the sign illuminated.

Clyde Calgrove had been the motel manager's and sole employee for as long as I could remember. He was a tall man with a thin frame except for the round belly that hung over the top of his jeans. Like so many other men in town, his hair was long and black, and he wore it in a thin braid down the center of his back. He was watching a morning talk show on a small black-and-white television when I walked into the motel's reception area. It smelled like a combination of wet dog and burned coffee. I stood in front of the tall counter and waited for him to notice me.

The bubbly host on the television addressed the video cameras and the viewing audience: "And coming up next, the Rejection Heard 'Round the World. We'll talk to Jacob Gladstone about life after Lee McCutchen."

Clyde finally turned his attention to me as the morning show went to commercial. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Did a blonde woman rent a room here last night?"

I wondered if she would have given her real name or had paid in cash for the sake of anonymity.

Clyde sucked on his front teeth. "You'll have to be more specific."

I dug into my jacket pocket and pulled out my wallet. I slapped a twenty-dollar bill onto the reception desk.

"Clyde Calgrove, there are never blondes in this town. If she's here, tell me."

He was silent, and I momentarily panicked that he might send me away. "Keep your money, Nokomis Reed," he slowly drawled. "She's in Room Four."

+ + +

I stood outside in front of a wooden motel door and the brass number four. I knocked with authority before I could psyche myself out and leave.

"Just a minute!" I heard Lee's voice through the door. "I know I was supposed to check out, but I'm almost ready."

I knocked again just as the door jerked open.

Lee's hair was wet, and she wore the same clothes as the previous night. It reminded me that she hadn't had any luggage with her. Her eyes were swollen and red. She looked young and vulnerable, and I instantly hated myself for how we'd left things.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out.

She stared at me, not speaking.

"Come in," she finally allowed.

Faux wood paneling covered the walls of her room. The olive green carpeting clashed with the red comforters that covered two identical double beds. Only one bed looked slept in, but Lee—as was her habit—had re-made the bed.

"Fancy digs," I remarked.

She stood by the door, looking cross. "How'd you find me?"

"There's only one motel in town, which I'm sure you discovered late last night."

She made a quiet, contemplative sound. "I bet you lived your entire life in this town without having the pleasure of seeing inside of one of these rooms."