You Have Right to Remain Puzzled by Parnell Hall

Author:Parnell Hall
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Published: 2011-06-28T19:52:14+00:00

Chapter 35

MARGE, THE CHAMBERMAID, looked at the door to Unit 12 and frowned. There was no DO NOT DISTURB

sign. But a car was parked in front of the unit. Actually, two cars were parked in front of the unit. One in the space straddling 12 and 13, and one in the space shared by 11 and 12. Either could be Mr. Southstreet’s car. On the other hand, it was equally possible neither car was. Due to the vagaries of the parking lot, the car between 11 and 12 could be for Unit 11, and the car between 12 and 13 could be for Unit 13, leaving no space at all for the car for Unit 12. Which sometimes happened. Usually, the guest in question would simply choose another space, but occasionally one got really ticked. Marge could remember an instance when the police had to be called, another when an irate guest had to be comped a room. Thank goodness she hadn’t had to deal with them. Ralph had been driven nuts.

So, what to do about Unit 12? It was after ten o’clock. By rights the guest should be up and out. Of course, she could skip his room and move down the line, but what if the car meant someone was in Unit 13?

Marge frowned. She would have to intrude. The thing she liked least about her job. Waking people up. Disturbing them in the shower. Or at even more embarrassing times. Like when that old couple was having an affair. That old couple were in their early forties, but that seemed ancient to Marge.

Associating, perhaps, Marge glanced down the row to where her genuinely old employers were having an argument in front of the motel office. Marge hated it when they bickered. Moms always won, and Pops always took it out on Marge. Without even realizing.

So, there was no hope for it. Marge fished out her passkey, went to the door, and—

The door was open. Just a crack, but still.

Marge pushed it slightly farther open, called, “Housekeeping.”

No answer. No rustle of anyone turning over in bed. No sound of running water.

Marge pushed the door wider. “Housekeeping.”

The first thing she saw was the bed. It was just the way she’d left it when she made up the room yesterday.

That was odd. Benny Southstreet hadn’t come back. Well, less work for her.

Marge opened the door, stepped inside.

The chairs were gone.

This was not good. This was really not good. Not after she’d let Cora Felton see they were there. Photograph them, even. And figure out how to unlock the door. No, that wasn’t fair—just surmise on her part. But somehow while they photographed the chairs the button on the door had been disengaged. Marge had made a point of locking it again when Cora was watching.

So the missing chairs could hardly be her fault. Because it would have to be someone with a key who took them. Which explained things. Benny Southstreet came back, took his chairs, and left. Forgetting to pull the door tight behind him.

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