The Ghost and the Haunted Portrait by Cleo Coyle

Author:Cleo Coyle [Coyle, Cleo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 32

A Not So Comfy Time

We’ll leave the light on for you.

—Tom Bodett

THE COMFY-TIME MOTEL was located up on the highway, past the McDonald’s and a hamburger’s throw from the Gentleman’s Oasis—a “girlie bar” with cheap beer, backroom poker games, pole-dancing entertainment, and a notorious reputation.

The roadside motel where I was heading wasn’t notorious. But the economy lodgings were no great shakes, either, and the absolute antithesis of the charming, meticulously cared-for Queen Anne mansion that served our town as the Finch Inn.

These days the Comfy-Time was showing serious signs of wear. Its paint had faded under the relentless New England winters, and no matter the season, the swimming pool was always covered with canvas and a layer of dead leaves.

I pulled into a spot near the office, grabbed my purse, and dodged raindrops until I pushed through the glass doors.

Behind the Day-Glo orange desk, a young clerk looked up.

“Do you need a room?” she chirped on the uptick. “We’re nearly full, so it will have to be on the ground floor.”

“Actually, I’m looking for one of your guests, although he might have checked out. His name is Clifford Conway—”

Her smile revealed nearly invisible braces. “Mr. Conway has taken our executive suite for the rest of the week. He’s there now.”

“How do you know?”

“A little while ago he complained that his suite was too warm and asked me to turn down the heat. I told him I didn’t know how, but the night manager would be here soon, and he would fix the problem.”

“Where exactly can I find Mr. Conway?”

“Room 224, the corner suite on the second floor. Take the guest staircase, turn right at the top, and follow the veranda. It’s the very last door before you hit the metal service stairs to the dumpsters out back.”

I texted Seymour the info. After a few minutes of waiting, I got antsy and decided to stretch my legs—in the direction of Conway’s room.

Outside again, I walked by the ice machine and drink dispenser. As I crossed the outdoor veranda, wind whipped the occasional blast of rain in my face (always a special treat). The spray was accompanied by the overpowering aroma of sizzling burgers and French fries from the nearby McDonald’s—which only served to remind me that I hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of food all day.

Through my streaky glasses, I saw that Room 224 was the last in the row, before the service stairs at the end of the veranda, just like the clerk had said. The light from that suite was reflecting strongly on the wet concrete floor. It didn’t take a seasoned private eye to figure out Conway’s door was ajar.

“Great.” I stopped, still ten feet away. “Another open door.”

Don’t give yourself heartburn, sweetheart. This is a public motel, not a private home. It’s no ghost town, either. The clerk already told you the place is packed. Give a shout and you’ll have company fast. And don’t forget the upside.

Upside?

Someone left the light on for you.

I

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.