Murder at the Art Class

by Nic Saint

  “How far?” asked Maya, nervously shuffling in her seat.

  “No idea. Must be close, though, right? Otherwise why put up a sign?”

  Tom quickly glanced back to the dog, who was still howling at regular intervals. “Maybe we should stop now? Give him a chance to lift his hind leg against a tree?”

  “And freeze his tush off? No way, Dad,” said Maya, who was Ralph’s biggest fan. The feeling was mutual, because Ralph now shoved his wet nose into Maya’s neck, causing her to giggle. “Stop it, you big hairy goofball,” she said, playfully pushing the dog away.

  At seventeen, Maya was the spitting image of her mother: willowy, blond and absolutely stunning, with her mother’s striking green, gold-flecked eyes.

  “Dad? I got some bad news,” said Scott.

  “What is it?” Tom asked. He thought he’d reached his quota of bad news for the day.

  “Is it the baby?” asked Dee, panic making her voice squeaky. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

  “Jacob’s fine,” said Scott, patting the baby carrier. “Sleeping like a log. Thing is, I gotta pee, too, Dad, and I don’t think I can hold it in until Cincinnati, wherever Cincinnati is.”

  “I told you not to drink so much soda,” said his sister. “You’re like a camel when you see a can of soda.”

  “I am not,” said Scott indignantly. “I was thirsty.”

  “Then drink water. You know soda’s bad for you.”

  “I don’t like water. Water’s got no taste. I hate it.”

  “Sugar kills your brain cells. And you don’t have that many to begin with.”

  “I’ve got plenty of brain cells. I can afford to lose a couple hundred.”

  “Yeah, but can you afford to lose a couple million? I don’t think so.”

  “Kids, not now,” said Dee. “Your father is trying to get us out of this mess.”

  And their father was indeed trying to do just that. Unfortunately the storm and the snow were winning and he and the bright red rental Toyota Highlander was losing.

  Just then, a huge sign announcing the presence of the Gateway Lodge Motel loomed up by the side of the road, momentarily visible through a gap in the drifting snow.

  Making an executive decision, Tom steered the vehicle onto the off-ramp and in the direction of warmth, comfort and, hopefully, decent sanitary facilities for human and dog.

  Others had decided on the same tack, however, with an actual traffic jam as a consequence.

  “Why don’t we just leave the car, Dad?” Scott suggested. “It’s just a rental anyway.”

  Maya laughed. “That’s such a dumb thing to say.”

  “Who are you calling dumb, bird-face?”

  “You can’t just leave a rental car by the side of the road, pea-brain.”

  “Kids,” said Dee, trying to inject a parental note of steel into her voice and failing.

  “It’s a rental!” Scott said. “You simply call the rental company, tell them you had to dump the car because of force majeure and that’s it. They got LoJack installed on all the cars in their fleet anyway, so all they need to do is look up the car’s location, send a flatbed tow truck and that’s it.” He pointed a finger at his sister. “That’s what you pay insurance for.”

  Maya was shaking her head. “You are such a dumbass.”

  “No, it’s an actual fact. Look it up. I’m right, aren’t I? Dad?”

  Tom, even though he was proud that Scott was aware of the word ‘force majeure,’ felt that he needed to set the record straight. “I’m afraid it’s not, Scott. Rental companies don’t like it when you simply dump their cars by the side of the road. It’s gonna cost us.”

  “This isn’t one of your geeky movies, Scott,” said Maya, still laughing.

  “Well, I need to pee so I’m getting out,” said Scott, and opened the door.

  An icy gust of wind, along with a few shovels of snow, decided otherwise, and he quickly closed the door again, much to his sister’s amusement. He stuck out his tongue.

  “Very mature, Scott,” she said. “Maybe we should get you one of Jacob’s diapers.”

  Finally, the cars moved on, and quickly Tom managed to reach the motel parking lot. He directed the rental and its long-suffering passengers to the motel entrance, and parked as close as he could. When he finally cut the engine, the Kellys all blew out sighs of relief.

  “We’re here,” Tom announced, quite unnecessarily, since by then the others were already climbing out of the car, leaving him the last one to leave the proverbial sinking ship.

  Chapter Two

  The traffic jam wasn’t confined to the freeway, the off-ramp, or even the parking lot. Inside the Gateway Lodge the situation was the same, with lots of people having had the exact same idea as the Kellys. The receptionist, a vivacious young woman with a blond bob and bright red lips, was working as fast as she could, but she had a pretty big crowd to contend with, and Dee had a sinking feeling it might take ages before their turn came.

  Meanwhile, at least, the motel bathroom was available, even though there, too, a line had formed. Leaving Tom in charge of both Ralph’s leash and the baby carrier, Dee hurried off after her son and daughter, who clearly didn’t share her compunction to leave everything to their father.

  Then again, when one had to go, one had to go.

  She and Maya were next in line, while Scott had already disappeared inside the men’s restroom long before.

  “What is it about men that makes them so much faster than us?” asked Dee as she darted nervous glances back at Tom, now cradling the baby in one arm while holding onto the dog’s leash with the other.

  “Simple. It’s all down to biology and real estate,” said Maya.

  She turned to her daughter. Maya’s long blond tresses were neatly tucked away inside a white knitted cap, and her face was flushed from the cold.

  “Biology and real estate?” Dee asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Men pee standing up, which means restroom designers can fit a lot more prime real estate into the same square footage as women’s restroom designers, since women need a stall, not a urinal.” She shrugged. “The solution most men would suggest is that women simply agree to pee standing up, using a pee funnel.” She scoffed. “Typical male thinking. Can you see women dragging a pee funnel around in their purse just in case they need it?”

  Dee blinked. It was a topic she had never contemplated in depth.

  “My solution? Do away with male and female restrooms, create single, big restrooms with only stalls and no urinals and voila! Problem solved.”

  “Oh-kay,” said Dee carefully. She was still trying to figure out how they were going to reschedule their flight out of Cincinnati and how much this was going to cost, and pee funnels and bathroom architecture were not at the forefront of her mind right now.

  Maya tapped her temple. “See? It takes a woman to think these things through and come up with practical solutions to a practical problem.”

  “That’s great, honey,” said Dee. She’d taken out her phone and was trying to figure out if she had cell phone reception or Wi-Fi or both. Cell phone reception? Nope. Wi-Fi. Yes!

  By the time it was finally Dee’s turn, Scott was already walking out of the bathroom, whistling a tune. Maybe her daughter was right, Dee thought briefly. Maybe public bathroom designers needed to take a leaf from Maya’s page and do some creative thinking.

  But five minutes later she’d finally done her business, washed her hands, splashed some water onto her face, and had forgotten about the whole thing.

  She joined her family, and saw that they’d already moved to second in line, the receptionist looking increasingly harried as more and more people poured into the motel.

  “So. We need to decide what we’re going to do,” said Dee. “Stay the night or brave the storm.”

  “Duh, Mom,” said Scott. “That’s a no-brainer. This storm is going to wipe us out.” He was gesturing at the plate-glass windows to the wintry scene outside. Scott w
as right. The weather had gotten even worse while they were in there, with snowdrifts up to a foot, and visibility so bad she couldn’t even see the rental, even though it was parked right outside.

  “If we stay here we’re going to have to reschedule our flight,” she said.

  “No need,” said Tom. He turned to the man waiting in line in front of them. He was an elderly florid-faced rotund man with a friendly smile. He was accompanied by an equally rotund woman of similar age and blessed with the same kindly features.

  “Hi there,” said the man. “Jim Grive. And this is my wife Eden.”

  “Hi,” said Eden, holding out a hand. “Flights out of Cincinnati are all cancelled due to the storm, I’m afraid.”

  “How do you know?” asked Dee, surprised.

  Eden pointed to a television mounted near the ceiling behind the reception desk. Even though it was muted, there was a news ticker running along the bottom of the screen, indicating, ‘BLIZZARD WARNING - ALL FLIGHTS OUT OF CINCINNATI AIRPORT CANCELLED.’

  “Yeah, that should do it,” said Jim, staring up at the screen. “They’re saying it might take three days for the storm to blow over and the runways to be cleared.”

  “What about other airports?” asked Dee.

  “Pretty much the same,” said Eden. “Dayton’s closed, too, and so is Lexington. Same with Louisville, Indianapolis or Columbus. Besides, the roads are a bust, too.”

  “Yeah, looks like we’re stuck out here in lovely…” Jim frowned. “I don’t even know where the heck we are.”

  “Middletown,” said his wife, who was starting to display the qualities of a minor oracle. “Just forty miles from our destination. But at least we’re inside where it’s safe and warm.” She smiled at the baby carrier. “You’ve got a lovely family. How old is the baby?”

  “Just eighteen months,” said Dee. She looked at her husband. “So we’re staying?”

  “Seems like the only option. Like Eden just said, at least it’s safe and warm.”

  Dee had expected groans of annoyance and frustration from Maya and Scott, but they were both surprisingly resigned. One look outside told her why this was: even a twelve-year-old couldn’t blame the incoming blizzard on his parents, grownups in general, or whoever else he usually shifted the blame for anything bad onto.

  Looked like they were extending Thanksgiving Break with one final surprise stop in lovely Middletown. Not that they would see a lot of the small town’s no doubt stunning scenery. At least there was a nice, big Christmas tree set up in a corner of the small lobby of the Gateway Lodge Motel. Its many-colored lights twinkled merrily, trying its absolute darndest to spread some of that festive cheer and joy in these bleak circumstances. It warmed Dee’s heart and suddenly made her feel like everything might just turn out fine after all.

  Just then, a howl made them all look down at Ralph, who was looking up at them with his sad brown eyes. Oh, God, Dee thought. They’d totally forgotten about poor Ralph’s bathroom break!

  Chapter Three

  Scott was in hell. No doubt about it. Stuck in the middle of nowhere. Worse. Stuck with his parents and his sister in the middle of nowhere. Worse! Stuck in some crappy motel with his parents and his sister in the arse end of nowhere, like the Brits liked to say.

  Aargh!

  Why did they have to land themselves in the snowstorm to end all snowstorms? And why was he the one singled out to take Ralph out for a pee in this horrible weather?

  Double aargh!

  He stomped his feet, the collar of his winter jacket turned up, while he waited for the family Goldendoodle to do his business in the bushes that lined the motel parking lot.

  Cars were still pulling in from the highway, the motel their last resort destination, and Scott looked moodily on, while Ralph seemed in no hurry whatsoever to do his business.

  “Come on, boy,” he said encouragingly. “Just pick a nice bush and take a wee.”

  But Ralph was a picky dog. He seemed to be determined to sample every last bush out there before taking his pick. Meanwhile the snow kept on coming down, covering the world in a thick pack of white and frost, and the wind kept on howling, smacking wetly against Scott’s exposed face. In spite of his thick parka, his knitted fleece-lined cap and his winter gloves, he was freezing his tush off. Not so Ralph, whose tail was wagging excitedly, poking his nose into a bank of snow and leisurely pawing at the fluffy white stuff.

  “Ralph!” Scott said desperately. “Just do it already, boy. Just go ahead and pick a bush. They’re all exactly the same and they’re all fit for duty.”

  Ralph turned his head and gave an excited woofle.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Scott muttered. He looked up at the sky and allowed the snowflakes to drift down on his face. In spite of the cold he had to admit it was pretty neat. Not that he didn’t get enough snow in Seattle, where he lived, but a snowstorm like this was something else. It was as if the world had completely turned white—covering everything.

  So he took out his phone, and snapped a couple of selfies against the backdrop of the motel, took another few shots of Ralph as he dug into the snow, and of Ralph as he finally got wise and did his business, digging up some snow to cover the end result.

  “Good boy,” said Scott, fluffing up the Goldendoodle’s ears and getting a happy bark and a lick on the nose in return. “Now let’s get inside, shall we? I can’t feel my feet.”

  Returning indoors, he quickly checked the pictures he’d taken. Pretty cool stuff. He posted a couple of them online, then shoved the phone back into his pocket. He had to admit that being out in the cold and watching Ralph enjoy the snow had considerably lifted his mood. And it was with a light heart that he joined his family, hoping that at least they’d picked a nice room for him with a decent flatscreen, some primo cable and other amenities.

  Maya couldn’t believe her ears. “No separate rooms? You can’t be serious!”

  “Maya, please,” said her mother. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Mom, I can’t be in the same room with that animal,” she said, and she didn’t mind who heard her. “He makes weird sounds in his sleep! And what’s more, he’s a hormonal teenager and you know what that means.”

  “No, I don’t know what that means and I don’t care,” said Mom, who was obviously very near the end of her tether. “We’re very lucky they have a room left, so…” She turned to the harried-looking receptionist, who was chewing her bottom lip and nervously glancing at the long row of people still to be processed. “We’ll take it. And thank you very much, Vikki.”

  The young woman brightened. “So that’s settled then? Can I have your credit card, Mrs. Kelly?”

  Tom, who was still cradling Jacob, gestured silently at his fanny pack, and Maya watched her mother remove Dad’s wallet, take out the credit card and hand it to the receptionist.

  “This is a disaster,” Maya muttered. The prospect of having to share a bed with her brother was horrifying. “How long do we have to stay here for? Please tell me it’s just the one night.”

  “They’re saying the storm will last at least three days,” said Vikki while she processed Dad’s card, then printed out a room key. “Tomorrow will be even worse than today.” She pushed her hair away from her face, then produced a weary smile. “Thank you for your business, Mr. and Mrs. Kelly.”

  “How many rooms have you got left?” asked Maya, not to be deterred.

  Vikki grimaced and whispered, “Only three.” She glanced at the line of people and Maya got the picture.

  She groaned as they stepped away from the counter.

  “Looks like we got here just in time,” said Mom.

  “I wonder what all these people are going to do,” said Dad.

  “Eden said the Middletown fire department and the Red Cross are setting up a shelter in the high school gym and at people’s homes in town.”

  “What about other hotels?” asked Scott, who’d rejoined them. “There must be plenty of hotels in the area.”

 
“All full,” said Mom. “It’s a miracle this motel still had a few rooms left.”

  “Probably because it’s a dump,” said Scott. “So what room did you get me?”

  “We’re all in the same room, Scott,” said Dad. He handed the baby to Mom. “Now help me get the bags out of the car, will you? Before this blizzard snows it under completely.”

  Scott stared at his dad. “The same room? You mean me and duck-face have to share a room?”

  “Be nice to your sister,” said Dad automatically.

  “We all have to share a room, poo-brain,” said Maya with a slight grin. The look on her brother’s face almost made it worth it to suffer the intolerable cruelty of being cooped up with the rest of her family in the same room for three days.

  “All of us? In one room? No way!” Scott cried.

  “At least we’re in a room,” said Maya. “But if you prefer to spend the next three nights on a camping cot in some high school gym be my guest. At least I won’t have to live through the horror of sharing a bed with my idiot brother.”

  “Sharing a bed! You gotta be joking!” Scott looked absolutely horrified now, and it was gratifying to know that Maya wasn’t the only one going through hell right now.

  “Scott,” Dad said. “Come on, dude. Let’s get that luggage before it’s too late.”

  And as Scott and Dad walked away, Maya could hear her brother loudly complain about this latest tragedy that had befallen him.

  “Teenagers,” she said. “Can’t live with them. Can’t kill them.”

  Mom grinned, then immediately wiped away her smile. Parenting 101: never give the impression of partiality, especially by appearing to approve when one kid lambasts another.

  “Come on,” Mom said. “Let’s find our room, before someone else gets there first.”

  Maya, holding the leash Scott had relinquished, tugged it and Ralph gave a cheerful bark.

  At least one member of this family was happy with this unexpected adventure.

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