The Unpopular Sheriff by Andrew Allan

Author:Andrew Allan [Allan, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Swamp Hassle Books
Published: 2020-02-02T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

THE TEAM WAS hunting down Corizzi.

The Ellie lead was burning a hole in Pete’s brain.

He had time to chase it.

That brought him to Meadowlark Motel. It was situated on Highway 77 just north of the state line dividing Kansas and Oklahoma. It was owned by Interstate Accommodations, Inc, the same company that owned the house that held Ellie Melcher during her kidnapping. Pete was certain about that now.

What did Rolf Schnaas, registered agent of that corporation, have to do with it? Who did he know? Pete checked social media. The only Rolf Schnaas he found was in Einbeck, Germany.

So, it was time to see the comings and goings of the Meadowlark. It was old school all the way. Fifteen doors behind a stand-alone front office situated at the base of a large sign depicting the name of the motel in white neon with its namesake bird in yellow neon perched at the top. It flashed bright in the night; so bright it made everything around it appear darker.

That worked for Pete. His car was tucked away at the rear of an auto body shop just across the highway from the motel. Pete lifted binoculars and watched from the darkness.

The front desk manager was older with grey streaking through his overgrown hair. He struck Pete as a guy who used to be very large but lost the weight and was now bones dragging around a parachute’s worth of skin. Skin wobbled. He wore a pair of readers and wrote on a piece of paper atop the front desk. When he was finished writing, he fiddled with this and that behind the desk and then dropped out of sight. Pete assumed he was sitting and watching TV behind the desk, his duties done for the moment.

Chatter over the radio. Pete responded as needed and never revealed his location.

Just over an hour later, a Ford Expedition rolled up from Oklahoma and turned into the Meadowlark. It parked. Five Black males stepped out. Their mamas fed them well and they looked like players on the OU football roster.

Four of the five men hovered by the SUV. The fifth strolled into the front office. The desk manager stood up, smiled, they shook hands. Not your typical weary traveler greeting. The manager and the man exchanged a few words. The manager searched the desk. He found what he was looking for and handed a white envelope to the visitor. The desk manager pointed the way. Another handshake.

The man walked out of the front office. He reached into the envelope and pulled out an old style room key, the kind with the diamond shaped plastic key chain. He partially extracted a stack of bills, and when he returned to the SUV he handed each man money. The fifth man lead the other four over to a room whose number Pete could not read. Everyone was feeling good. The five men entered the motel room, flipped on lights, shut the door.

No way they were sleeping there. Something was up.

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