and had been raving about this jerk. I’ve been staying with my uncle, who lives in Pacifica, but I was too embarrassed to borrow money from him, so I decided to get a job and work until I had enough money to go home with a little dignity.”
Conklin and I commiserated and Koebel went on, telling us that she’d seen a HELP WANTED sign outside the Big Four Motel. She had taken the job for a couple of weeks, which expanded into a couple of months.
Conklin’s famous way with women wasn’t all about his good looks. He was kind, he listened, and he used the magic words. He’d taken the lead in the Koebel interview, and I was happy to sit back and let him do it. He said, “What can you tell us about finding the body and any information you may have about Carly Myers’s death? Don’t edit, please, Nancy. We’ll listen and ask questions.”
She nodded, and I sat on the edge of the rickety metal chair as she began to tell her story.
Inside the first hour, Koebel told us, “I was working my usual shift—from noon checkout time to 10 p.m.—and room 212 was supposed to be empty. But the ‘Do Not Disturb’ card was still on the door. I knocked a few times, and then I had to go in. The room had to be cleaned.
“I went to the bathroom first. That’s how I do it. I take the towels and toss them into the cart, then I go for the bedding. But the towels weren’t on the rack or the floor, so I opened the shower curtain.”
Koebel covered her face with her hands. I’d seen what she’d seen—so I knew that the sight of the victim had given her the shock of her life.
She told us what she’d done after that, and it matched Tuohy’s version of the events. She’d gotten her bag from the office, run out to the street, and not been back to the Big Four since, not even to get her paycheck.
She said, “That’s how messed up I was about what happened.”
I showed her on my phone a photo of the man seen on Tuesday coming down the stairs at the back of the motel.
Koebel thought she might have seen him, but not on the day she found the body. She also said she had never spoken with Carly Myers. She claimed that she had done her job, kept her head down, and saved her money so she could go home.
“I just came in to tell you what I know. That when I opened the door to room 212, no one was there—only that poor woman hanging in the shower.”
CHAPTER 48
An hour and a half after first meeting Ms. Koebel, my hope that she was going to lead us to a killer, or two missing schoolteachers, had dimmed considerably.
Conklin said to our iffy witness, “But you recognize the man whose picture we showed you?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. I didn’t pay that much attention.”
Conklin said, “Okay. It’s okay. Nancy, let me get you that tea I promised you.”
When he’d left the room, I said, “One more time, please, Nancy. You were working from noon until ten. Did you see Carly Myers check into her room last Tuesday night at around ten?”
“No, like I said, I didn’t see her at all on Tuesday. I’ve seen men going to her room on other days, two or three times. But I didn’t know her name until I saw her picture online.”
“Did you ever speak with her?”
“She asked for more towels once. She asked for batteries for the remote control. For the TV.”
“And what about these men you saw with her on separate occasions? What can you tell me?”
“Like I said, Sergeant, I didn’t look at their faces. They went to 212. She let them in, and a little while later they left. I didn’t look or try to remember any of the guests. It was none of my business, and Mr. Tuohy made sure he got his six dollars an hour out of me. I had stairs. I had vacuuming. I had laundry. I wanted to keep my job.”
“I understand. Did you ever hear or see any signs of violence? Broken furniture, bruises on Carly’s arms or face?”
“Never.”
“Did you ever find anything disturbing in Carly’s room after she checked out? Blood? Anything like that?”
She said “No” emphatically.
Conklin came in with a mug of tea for Nancy. I smelled Chinese herbs. Paul Chi’s