Murder at the Roadside Inn by J.C. Miller

Author:J.C. Miller [Miller, J.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11:

No End to Evil

Sydney drove to the motel; he had no alternative. If he wanted to get to the truth as quickly as possible, he would have to expose himself at this early stage. The question that bothered him was, how did the letter written by Jack on the night he died fall into Pepet Joe’s possession and where did Pepet disappear to? The two incidents must be related. The only logical conclusion which came to mind is that Pepet is the killer and, when the letter was discovered, he ran for his life. However if indeed he is the killer, why tear the piece of paper with his name on it? One would think he would want to get rid of the entire incriminating letter and not only a piece of it.

This is what caused Sydney to think that something strange was in play here. In his opinion, the real killer hid the letter in Pepet’s pocket in order to incriminate him, but he had to leave out the segment with the name, so he ripped off the bottom half. What was Pepet’s fate? Was he murdered? Kidnapped?

When he arrived at the motel, there was no particular bustle apart from two police officers in civilian clothes patrolling the area and two others inside.

The gravel crackled loudly as he walked on the path, alerting the police officers to his arrival. They stopped him for identification and, after recognizing his name, were shocked to see him there. They asked him about his unexpected visit. They didn’t have the slightest doubt he had the authority to be on the scene, despite knowing they were violating their chief’s orders. Everyone was of the opinion that Sydney should take over from Peter, as McMish was the reason Scotland Yard was losing its standing.

“There’re all here, I hope,” Cartel opened, “you haven’t let any more employees escape, ha?” he said sarcastically, in a slightly humorous manner.

“Of course not, we doubled the guards. We’re keeping a close eye on them so they won’t do anything strange. My Lord, I can’t understand how this Joe bloke got away,” said one of the officers to Sydney, “one minute he was here and the next he was gone. This is the work of the devil.”

Sydney smirked and walked in. Everything remained the same, aside from the fact that the survivors of the bus accident were gone along with the air of fear and terror that pervaded when they were all huddled together. The officers inside the motel welcomed him with warm greetings and optimism, believing that now the action would truly begin.

The detective didn’t speak with anyone, but rather checked each nook and cranny from top to bottom, running his hands over every wall, every brick. Finally he went down to the large and gloomy basements that anyone with a faint heart would prefer to stay away from, as there was a strange smell of mildew; it was dark, dank and very quiet, like a tomb. But he had no fear.

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