“Well, come on, then. By the time we get over there they should have talked to him.”
Casey slung Bailey’s bag over her shoulder and trudged toward the Rest E-Z.
Death paused on the sidewalk in front of the door that said, “Office.” “Not the nicest establishment we’ve ever stayed in. I hope there aren’t fleas.”
“It’s a little skanky, I know. But a bed, L’Ankou. I hardly remember what one feels like.”
The lobby was tiny and worn, but mostly clean, with a clerk to match. The little man behind the counter was of an indeterminate age. His wrinkles and missing teeth made Casey’s guess lean toward the older end of the scale, but the twinkle in his eye belied the rest of his body. He wore a checked cotton shirt, and a nametag made with a Labelmaker. Hi! Please call me Claude.
“Kimberly Tifton,” Casey said. “My husband was going to call and—”
“Just got off the phone with him,” Claude said. “Sorry to hear about your troubles. You okay? Should I call the police?” He examined her face and its multiple abrasions and swelling, leftovers from her time in Kansas.
“Please don’t. It’s already taken care of, and I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”
“Sure thing. We’ll get you right set up in a room.” With friendly efficiency, Claude checked her in and handed her an electronic key. “Out the front door and to the right, missus. There’s an ice machine at the end of the row, if you want some for…you know.” He gestured at her face.
“Did my husband tell you about my bags?”
“Said they should be delivered tomorrow morning. We’ll give you a buzz as soon as they’re here.”
“Thank you.”
“Glad to help out. You get some rest now.”
Casey found the room with no problem. Again, small but clean. She set Bailey’s bag on the little table, kicked off her shoes, and fell across the bed.
She was asleep before Death could ask her to turn on the TV.
Chapter Two
The phone woke Casey at nine-twenty-five the next morning. Casey had somehow managed to sleep all afternoon and all night. “Mrs. Tifton? This is Maude at the front desk.”
Maude? Really? The motel was run by Claude and Maude?
“I have a package for you.”
Casey sat up. “I’ll be right there.”
Hi! Please call me Maude was the female version of the night clerk. Small and ageless. Only this half of the pair smelled of smoke and didn’t have the same twinkle in her eye as she examined Casey from head to toe, squinting at her beat-up face. “You Kimberly Tifton?”
“That’s me.”
“Then I guess this is yours.” She kicked at something on the floor, making no move to pick it up.
Casey rounded the desk, and her heart lightened at the sight of the large box. “It is. Thank you.”
“Strange shaped luggage for a woman to be carrying.” Maude pushed out her lips, her arms crossed.
Casey didn’t feel like explaining. She picked up the box, trying not to appear overly enthusiastic.
Maude tipped her head toward the other end of the room. “Breakfast is only out five more minutes. Better grab it if you want any.”
Food. Casey’s stomach growled in response, and she carried her package to the meager selection of pastries and canned orange juice. She hesitated. Inside the box should be some money. And with that money she could go somewhere and buy a real breakfast. Much more appealing than dried out danishes and overly-ripe bananas.
With a last nod at Maude, Casey lugged her box back to her room, where she set it on the bed and gazed at it. Her things. Her things. Stifling a cry, she ripped open the tape, not sparing the cardboard. Her heart gave an extra beat at the sight of her bag’s familiar canvas. She yanked down the zipper, plunging her hands into the depths of the pack, toward the pocket holding her treasures. Carefully, hands shaking, she pulled the items out and released them from their wrappings. Holding Omar’s hat to her face, she took a deep whiff. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Even back in Ohio it hadn’t smelled like baby shampoo. After all it had been through the past couple of weeks it smelled even more like the backpack itself. But it was still soft.
She set it down and picked up the other little bundle. Jewelry. Reuben’s wedding ring, and the necklace he’d given her so long ago. She ran her finger along the curve of the gold band and imagined