Granny Burns Rubber by Harper Lin

Author:Harper Lin [Lin, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Cozy, General, Action & Adventure, Cats & Dogs, Women Sleuths, Amateur Sleuth
Google: PF41EAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B0986482LV
Publisher: Harper Lin Books
Published: 2021-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

Ten

Liz said she knew a good hotel on the Interstate, so I followed her directions just past the city limits, where we took an off-ramp.

“I didn’t see a sign for a hotel.”

“It’s the kind of hotel you only find on the Internet.”

“Um…”

We shot down a narrow county road with nothing but forest on either side. Then the land to the right cleared, and past an open field I saw a neon sign announcing the Assignation Inn. The sign was of a woman’s face that flickered between a smile and a wink then a hushing finger to the lips.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Liz?”

“It’s not what you think.” She snickered.

“I can’t imagine how it could be anything but what I think.”

The building appeared ahead. It was a one-story structure built like a motel, where you park right in front of your room. The only lights were at the front, where a sign said Reception.

“Well, they certainly won’t think to look for us here,” I said.

I’m not a prude. I think I’ve mentioned that before. Perhaps I’ve mentioned it too often and come off as prudish. But I’m not prudish. Really.

It’s just that I felt very, very uncomfortable driving up to reception in this sort of place.

The reception desk was actually a drive-through window like you get in fast food restaurants. I drove up, noticing there were no security cameras like in every other hotel I’ve ever been to. In fact, there was a little sign under the window saying, “There are no cameras on the premises. This is a surveillance-free zone. Long live privacy!”

I was surprised every burglar in the state wasn’t here breaking into the rooms.

The man behind the window was an older fellow with an unconvincing comb-over. Of course, all comb-overs are unconvincing—balding men should simply embrace this particular sign of aging and cut their hair short—but his comb-over was especially so. He had a massive bald spot running from where his hairline must have been when Nixon was president to well behind his ears. Only a narrow fringe remained, which he had grown to Rastafarian length in order to sweep across his shiny pate, where it made a U-turn and came back for another pass. He must have spent a fortune on hairspray.

“Good evening. Welcome to the Assignation Inn. What kind of room would you like?”

He didn’t look at me when he spoke.

“One with two beds, please.”

Surprisingly, this request didn’t surprise him, but his response surprised me.

“There’s a surcharge for more than five people in a room.”

I blushed then said, “It will only be the two of us.”

That got me blushing even more.

“By the hour or for the full night?”

More blushing. “The full night.”

He still wasn’t looking at me. Then it struck me—he was blind. So literally no one was going to see us coming into this place. It was a cheater’s heaven.

“What kind of beds do you want? We have waterbeds, Magic Fingers beds, beds with mirrors on the cei—”

“Normal beds. Beds to sleep in.

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