Deceived - Laura S. Wharton Page 0,27

left.” The boy looked relieved to see Sam going.

“Thanks.” Sam started to head for the doors, then stopped. “Oh, just one more thing. Did anyone get hurt in the fire?”

“No,” said the clerk. “There was some damage to the offices, but nothing serious. The only weird thing about it was that was the same night some crazy nutcase drove down on the beach and tore up the pier a block down. Did you see that?”

“No, I didn’t. Which night was that?” Sam turned and faced the teen.

“Two or three nights ago. It was actually early morning, and Tracey said she heard a car racing through the parking lot and then onto the beach right over there. See where the fence is down?” He pointed out of the window at the ocean side of the motel. “Tracey said she went to see what happened, and by the time she came back to the desk, she smelled the smoke coming from down the hall. She got the firemen over here right away, so there wasn’t much damage, like I said.”

“What kind of a car was it?” Sam asked.

“Man, it was sweet: 427 four-speed, Camaro, silver with black stripes on the hood. I get hot just thinking about it.”

“Sorry I missed that.” He’d missed a lot during the past few days. Sam flashed back to the sound of the souped-up car he had heard leaving the Circle K the night Lee was killed as he walked out the door and headed across the parking lot to the high-rise. It was still early, so there wasn’t much of a lunchtime crowd yet for the restaurant. Undetected, Sam slid into a booth toward the back of the restaurant, close enough to hear the table of hotel staff as they gathered for their meeting. The manager was going over the week’s schedule. Once that was over, the group of employees disbanded to go to their duties. Sam picked up a menu from the table as a few employees streamed past him. One of them stopped to see whether he wanted to order anything, so he asked for coffee.

When a sprightly waitress returned with a mug, Sam asked her the same sort of questions as he’d asked the young clerk next door.

“Oh, wow, yeah, I heard about the car. I mean, like, everyone has heard of it, right? A bunch of us went to the pier that it hit, or, like, what was left of it.” The waitress talked as bouncy as she walked, Sam noticed. “We were, like, that driver must have had too much of something, you know?”

“Did he get hurt?” Sam asked casually, as he glanced back over the menu.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? The police didn’t find the driver. The car door was open, the keys were gone, and the driver was gone, too. They already cleared the car out ’cause it was, like, a hazard or something.” She waited patiently as Sam looked over the menu, then offered, “You looking for breakfast or lunch?”

“Just coffee, thanks.”

With that, the waitress pulled out her pad of checks, scribbled what Sam thought looked like the word coffee and a smiley face, and placed it on the table. “Have a great day!” And she bounced off again toward the kitchen.

Sam left two dollars on the table, drank a few more sips of the black brew, and meandered back through the halls until he reached the lobby. An attractive woman about six feet tall stood behind the counter, tapping away at the hotel’s computer keyboard as she balanced a phone on her shoulder.

“No, I am sorry; all of our oceanfront rooms are booked that weekend. We do have rooms on the other side of the building, though. Would you like one of those? Okay, let me see. Yes, I have two adjoining rooms for you, both non-smoking. Yes, that would be fine. May I have your credit card number to reserve the rooms? Yes…3451…yes…0221. Got it. Thank you. If you make it here before check-in time, you are welcome to use the restaurant. Okay, then; we will see you in two weeks.”

Sam waited until she hung up the phone before approaching the desk.

“Hi. May I help you?” she called out to Sam.

“I hope so. Are you Tracey?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Sam McClellan, and I am looking into the incident that happened here a few nights ago.”

“You have to talk to the hotel manager. I’m the assistant manager, and I already told the cops everything I know.