up some of his muscadel fall-out, but the picture changed somewhat in my favor. He cut Frankie down to size with a couple of parade-ground barks, and wrote up the report, but didn’t issue any tickets. The damage to the panel truck wasn’t extensive. We exchanged insurance company information, and a wrecker came along and picked my car up. I rode to the garage with the driver. It was back the way I’d come, near the river on the west side of the business district.
It was hot and still, around two in the afternoon of a day in midsummer. Shadows were like ink in the white sunlight, and I could feel perspiration soaking my shirt. I’d left New Orleans early that morning and had planned to go on through to St. Petersburg and have a dip in the Gulf before dinner. Well, it couldn’t be helped, I thought sourly. Then I thought of the girl again and tried to remember just what she’d looked like. The only thing I could come up with was that she was tall and quite slender. Attractive? Somewhat, but no real dish. About thirty, I thought. But there’d been something about her face, a quality that escaped me now—Well, it didn’t matter.
The garage was a big place on a corner, with a showroom in front and some petrol pumps in the driveway. We towed the car on into the repair department, and the foreman looked it over. He was a thin slat of a man with a cold face.
“You want a bid, is that it?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I’ll pay for it myself and let the insurance companies fight about it later.”
“Day after tomorrow’s the best we can do. We haven’t got that radiator in stock, but we can get it out of Tallahassee on the bus.”
”Okay,” I said. I didn’t look forward to spending thirty-six hours or more in the place, but there was no point in griping about it. I lifted the two cases out of the boot. “Where’s a good place to stay?”
“One of the motels would be your best bet,” he replied.
“Fine. Where’s the nearest one?”
He wiped his hands on a piece of rag and thought about it.
“Only one on this side is about three miles out. East of town, though, there’s a couple of good ones fairly close in. The Spanish Main, and the El Rancho.”
“Thanks. Can I call a cab?”
He jerked his head towards the front office. “See the girl.”
A big blond kid in a white overall had come in to get something off a work-bench. He turned and looked at us. “If he wants a motel, Mrs. Langston is out front now, getting some gas.”
The foremen shook his head.
“Who’s Mrs. Langston?” I asked.
“She runs the Magnolia Lodge, east of town.”
“Well, what’s the matter with that?”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He puzzled me. “Is something wrong with it?” I asked.
“I guess not. It’s run-down and there’s no pool, but where you stay is your own business, the way I look at it.”
Just then the name clicked. I was almost sure it was the same one. Rather than fish it out of my wallet, however, I merely picked up the two bags, said “Thanks,” and walked out front to the driveway. I was right. She was standing beside an old station wagon taking some money from her purse.
I walked over and put down the suitcase. “Mrs. Langston?”
She glanced around and gave me a brief smile. “Oh, hello,” she said. And all at once I realized what it was about her face that had struck me before. It was tired. Simply that. It was a slender and rather attractive face with good bone structure, but there was an almost unfathomable weariness far back in the fine gray eyes.
“I understand you run a motel,” I said.
She nodded. “That’s right.””If you have a vacancy, I’d like to ride out with you.”
“Yes, of course. Just put your bags in the back.”
The boy brought her change and we drove off back down the main street. I hoped if Frankie was still in town with his panel truck we’d see him in time to take the station wagon apart and hide it.
“When will your car be ready?” she asked, as we paused for a traffic light.
“Day after tomorrow,” I said. “By the way, I want to thank you again.”
“You’re quite welcome,” she said. The light changed and we went on.
I turned and looked at her. She had dark reddish-brown hair in a long bob just off her