Murder of a Misfit by Kelly Rey

Author:Kelly Rey [Rey, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: jersey shore, beach read, Women Sleuths, vacation read
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

WEDNESDAY

At one time there'd been a rash of one-story motels sprinkled along the Jersey Shore. Most had been bulldozed over time, but a few stragglers remained, unkempt cousins of the sparkling high-rise hotels that had replaced them.

Curt and I rolled into the parking lot of Randy O'Brien's motel the next morning. The place was an island of decrepitude in a sea of sticky melting blacktop. A dust colored one-story building squatting beneath a moth-eaten sign: Sea 'n' S ay Motel.

We got out of the Escort and stood staring at the sign.

"Looks like someone took target practice," Curt said. "Guess being a valet doesn't pay very much."

"The cow says moo," I said.

He gave me a look. "Just couldn't help yourself, could you."

I shrugged. "Look on the bright side," I said. I usually didn't. It was sort of a genetic flaw. "It's only a block away from the ocean."

We turned to look at the dunes at the end of the block. It was a really long block. We couldn't hear a thing.

"Well," I said brightly, "it's out there somewhere."

"At least they've got vending machines," Curt said. "And there's a Chinese restaurant across the parking lot."

We looked. The place was completely dark, with pieces of plywood nailed over two of its windows. A heavy chain secured the doors. On the plus side, its sign was still bright and hole-free.

I blew out a sigh. Although it was midmorning, it was in the mid-90s with stifling humidity, no breeze, and not a cloud in sight. My shirt was stuck to my back. I didn't even want to know what my hair looked like.

Curt, of course, wasn't sweating a bead when he looked over the motel. Not much to see. A rusted ten-speed was chained to a pole in front of a room. A rusted Chevy Impala was moored in front of another. He pointed his chin in the direction of the rooms to the left of the office. "We'll start where the curtains just fluttered."

"Maybe it's the air conditioning," I said. And maybe we'd be invited inside, out of the heat, and served iced something and cookies. Cookies would be good. I could use some sugar to counteract the draining effects of the equatorial heat.

"Maybe it's Randy," Curt said. "Come on."

I followed him with a definite lack of enthusiasm. The prospect of meeting Randy set my nerves on edge. Based on what Carolyn had told us, I already disliked him by proxy.

Curt knocked sharply on the door. It rattled badly in the frame but somehow stayed shut. I heard a sound like a giant rat scurrying across the floor, and this time I saw the curtains flutter from the corner of my eye. "Someone's there," I whispered.

Curt knocked again.

"Go away!" a female voice yelled.

"I'd like to talk to you," Curt said. "Would you open the door, please?"

"Go away!"

"You could step outside if you want," he said.

"Go away!"

"I think she wants us to go away," I said. I stepped up beside him. "We're looking for someone named Randy O'Brien," I called.

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