Perdido County- Fentanyl by Larry Darter

Author:Larry Darter
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Fedora Press
Published: 2019-06-18T04:00:00+00:00

A swarthy, muscular Hispanic man of about thirty walked into the motel lobby. He was wearing a black nylon track suit with athletic shoes and carried a small gym bag and a long rectangular plastic case. He stopped at the desk and took off his dark tinted aviator-style sunglasses revealing eyes so dark they looked almost black. The female clerk hung up the phone and smiled.

“Did you have a reservation, sir?”

“No,” the man said in accented English.

“That’s all right, I’m sure we have a room available. We have a special if you’re staying by the week.”

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town,” the man said. “Let’s take it day to day.”

“All right, sir,” the clerk said. “Then our best rate is seventy-two dollars a night.”

“That’s fine.”

“Will you be putting that on a credit card?”

“No, cash.”

“All right, all I need is an identification card and we’ll get you registered,” the clerk said.

The man laid a Mexico driver’s license on the counter. The clerk picked it up and typed on the keypad in front of the computer.

“Ya’ll getting any rain down your way?” she said.

“Which way would that be?”

“Well, from the license I assumed you’re up from Mexico,” the woman said. She made a copy of the license on the photo copier below the counter then handed it back to the man.

“What business is it of yours where I’m from?” the man said.

“I meant nothing by it,” the woman said, feeling uncomfortable now at the man’s demeanor. “I was only passing the time of day.”

“How much do I owe you?” the man said.

“That will be seventy-six dollars and seventy-eight cents with the tax, Mr.Gutierrez.”

The man peeled a one hundred-dollar bill off a bundle of folded currency and laid in on the counter. The woman opened the register and counted back his change. The man picked it up and put it into his front pocket.

“Will there be anything else?” the clerk said.

“I don’t know,” the man said. “Will there?”

“Is there something wrong?”

“With what?”

“With anything.”

“Is there something wrong with anything?” the man said. “Is that what you’re asking me?”

“Will there be anything else?” the clerk said nervously.

“You asked me that already,” the man said. He put his sunglasses back on. “No, there will be nothing else.”

He picked up the bag and the case then turned and left the lobby with the key card.

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