Dead Sand (Lewis Cole Book 1) by Brendan DuBois

Author:Brendan DuBois [DuBois, Brendan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2023-04-05T16:00:00+00:00

15

In the early hours of Tuesday morning—as on most predawn summer mornings—the traffic along Tyler Beach peaked just a bit after 1:00 a.m., when the bars along the Strip and the many side streets closed. That’s the busiest time for the Tyler police, and the regular and summertime officers have to watch carefully and shepherd along the tourists and the residents as they stumble or try to walk in a straight line from all of the drinking establishments on the beach. Most of them crawl back into their bedrooms at the cottages or hotels with no problems, but the cops’ blood pressure and tempers rise from those drunks who like to toss bottles at police cruisers, or stand on street corners, chanting, “Show us your tits” at passing women.

With so many people leaving it was easy to find a parking place, and I walked quickly to the St. Lawrence Seaway Inn, running through my mind what was going to happen, whom I might see, and what I would do. I was running through a little patter in my mind, working out a little scam as I went into the lobby, and I almost laughed as the door closed behind me. It was too easy. There was no one there. Just a pot of coffee on the counter staying warm and a bell with a handwritten sign next to it that said, “Ring for Assistance,” and out back I could hear a television set playing. I leaned over the counter and looked at the room assignments and keys; I was looking for a special room on the third floor.

I quickly went up the carpeted stairs to the third floor, heart thumping, wondering what would happen if Derek Cooney or Oliver Mailloux were to pop out. If that was to happen, a scam or patter wouldn’t help much, and I knew I wouldn’t do anything much except turn and run the hell away.

Up on the third floor I passed the room that was Mailloux’s, and I kept on going, to the room I had picked: 305. I stood by the door, and just to make sure the room assignment sheet downstairs was correct, I knocked on it. There was no answer. Using the passkey I had so unashamedly stolen the other day, I let myself in. The room was dark, and I felt for a switch on the side, but first I closed the door behind me. It was almost identical to the room that Corinne and Tammy—the two chambermaids—were living in, except this one was empty and clean. There were two single beds and a low counter with a chained television set, and just on the left was a bathroom and to the right an empty closet. When I was sure of what the room layout was, I shut off the lights and locked and chained the door. I didn’t want someone coming by and seeing a light on in a supposedly empty room.

I went to the window and opened the curtain a bit and looked down at Baker Street.

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