“Let’s do the east side first,” Sam suggested, “then work our way through town.”
“Why the east first? Have you used your sleuthing skills to deduce something that will shorten this gross trip to the underbelly of crime?” Paige asked hopefully.
Sam shook her head. “Elementary, my dear Watson. It’s all downhill from there.”
The two girls wheeled into the parking lot of the first motel. Sam pulled a crumpled and stained letter out of her back pocket and a small notepad and pencil.
“Here, take the pad and pencil and follow my lead.” She walked into the motel office and rang the bell at the desk. “Hello, is anyone here?” she called in a cheery voice.
A dishevelled woman wearing worn, pink clogs shuffled in from the back. Her faded, flowered dress hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in some time. “Whaddaya want? You’re interrupting my soap,” the woman mumbled.
Sam watched in fascination as the cigarette between the woman’s lips flapped up and down when she spoke. It was gravity-defying how the ember never flew off and set fire to the joint. “Uh, hello. My name is Marge Simpson, and I’ve been sent by my boss, Mr. Burns, to deliver this important message.” She held out the crumpled letter.
The woman squinted at the envelope. “You can’t read the name. The ink’s all smudged. How do you know the person’s here?” She lit a new cigarette from the butt of the first, blowing smoke out her nose in a great imitation of an angry dragon.
“I know the name is smudged, that’s the problem. I got it wet by accident. You don’t know my boss. He’s a tyrant. If I don’t deliver this, Mr. Burns will give me huge grief. I saw the gentleman in our office once, perhaps if I give you a description, you’ll know if he’s registered here.” Sam waited as the scowling woman weighed her options.
“Okay, missy, hurry it up. I haven’t got all day.” The woman coughed, a thick mucousy sound, and spit into a used tissue, which she stuffed back into the pocket of the dress.
Sam went on hurriedly, “Thank you. The gentleman is quite tall, has swarthy skin, dark hair and a thin, black moustache. “
The manager shook her head. “Nope, don’t recollect anybody fittin’ your description. Of course, Joe works nights. The gent might have come in then.”
Sam noticed the staff used an old-fashioned book to check in guests, instead of a computer. “If I could peek at your register, one of the names might ring a bell. My boss said the fellow was Spanish, so perhaps one of the guests has a Spanish-sounding name.”
“It’s against company policy.” The manager inhaled deeply on her cigarette.
Sam could hear background music on the TV building to a crescendo. “Gee, it sounds like something exciting is about to happen on your show.” She reached out and tapped the register lightly.
The dishevelled woman slid a bloodshot eye toward the room with the music, then at Sam.
“Don’t tell anyone I let you do this.” She pushed the book across the desk and hurried back toward the beckoning sound.
“Score!” Sam flipped the pages. “Hmm, I’d say business hasn’t been too good. This shouldn’t take very long.” She scanned the entries. “I’ll call out any likely sounding names along with their room numbers and the license plates for their cars.
Paige waited expectantly, wiggling her notepad as if warming up the tires on a racecar.
“You know something, cuz? Smith seems to be a really common name around here.” Sam continued running her finger down each page. “None of these sound right. I think Agent D is somewhere else.” She reluctantly closed the book.
“Oh, well, we tried. Now can we go back to the boarding house?’” Paige squirmed as she adjusted her rain cape. She seriously resembled a Mutant Ninja Turtle.
“You’re not thinking of bailing on me, are you? We still have a whack of motels, the hotel and the motor lodge to scope out. Perseverance is the name of the game.”
“I wish the game would be called on account of rain.” Paige shook the voluminous cape. “I’m dying of heat in this thing.”
“It will all be over soon,” Sam assured her. “Then you’ll be out of your misery.”
“Do you have to put it that way?” Paige grimaced.
Sam called out a thank you as she and Paige left to continue the search.
“I must admit, your envelope trick was super clever, Sam,” Paige complimented her cousin as they pedalled to their next destination. “You do seem to be cut out for this sneaky stuff.”
“Basic operative procedure,” Sam answered casually. She suddenly felt unreasonably happy at those few simple words and the vote of confidence they implied. Paige was her toughest critic when it came to Sam’s dream.
The girls had the same bad luck with the next motels and then they found a Manuel Rameres staying at the hotel. Unfortunately, when señor Rameres showed up, he was not alone. There was also señora Rameres and four Rameres niños. He was definitely not their Agent D!
“There’s only one more place he could be,” Paige needlessly reminded Sam.
“It’s a long shot and I don’t care. We’re going to do it anyway. We can’t leave one stone unturned.” Sam urged her bike toward their last destination, the Westgate Motor Lodge.
Chapter 9
Perseverance Pays
Sam had finished her spiel about the waterlogged envelope and was going into a detailed description of Agent D when the desk clerk silenced her.
“Yes, it could be Mr. Delgato. However, I’m not allowed to tell you what room he’s in without notifying him first. If you care to give me your name, I can call and let him know you’re here,” the clerk said officiously.
“Oh, don’t disturb him,” Sam said quickly. She really wanted to know what room Mr. Delgato, if that was his real name, was in. Pushing the crumpled letter toward the desk clerk, she added casually, “Would you please see that he gets this message?”
“Of course,” the clerk said frostily.
“Thanks, ‘bye.” Sam turned, and she and Paige headed for the door. “Cut left behind this pillar and try to see what number the clerk writes on the note,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “I’ll create a distraction.”
The clerk wrote something on the note, then before she could put it under the counter, Sam windmilled her arms as she stumbled into a potted plant, knocking it over and scattering dirt everywhere. “Oh, my! How clumsy! I am so sorry!” she shouted loudly.
The clerk hurried from behind the counter and pushed Sam out of the way. “Don’t walk through it! It will track all over the lobby. I’ll clean it up. Now leave!”
Sam scurried for the door, reciting a litany of apologies as she went.
Ten seconds later, Paige emerged from the lobby.
“Two-zero-four!” she triumphantly informed Sam.
“You crushed it, cousin!” Sam slapped Paige on the back. “We know the room number if we need it. Now, since we have nothing better to do, let’s just hang for a bit and see if Agent D goes in, or comes out.” Paige groaned but decided to not object too much after her room-number triumph.
It was more than an hour later when a man left the Westgate and drove away in a blue, four-door sedan. “It’s Agent D from the bus all right,” Sam whispered as she peered through the hedge they were hiding behind. “The question now is, who’s his contact at the museum.” Sam read the license plate as the car left, committing it to memory. The numbers indicated it was rented. That would explain why Agent D had come to Drumheller on the bus and now drove a car. She also noted how he was dressed in dark clothes; he even wore black gloves and a black hat. Sam thought he could have been typecast as the bad guy in an old-time gangsta movie.
“This is what I call a good day’s work.” Sam elbowed Paige. “Not only do we know where Agent D is staying, we know the name he’s using and the make and plate number of his car. This is even better than I’d hoped for.” Satisfied, she started toward the back of the building where they’d stashed their bikes. “Wow,
I’m starving. Let’s return to H.Q. for supper.”
Paige flapped her cape in an effort to cool herself. Her face was the same shade of fuchsia as her mascara and she was sweating profusely. Sam hoped she hadn’t been too hard on her cousin by making her wear the cape instead of going back for the sunscreen. Who knew they’d be on her first stakeout so soon?
•••
Supper was delicious and both girls ate way too much, then helped Mrs. O’Reilly with the dishes. Later, Rose Hocking dropped by their room and they talked late into the night. Rose told them stories about growing up in Wales and how she planned on staying in Canada permanently and hoped to become a Canadian citizen. Sam thought it was interesting to hear someone else’s dreams for the future.
As they shared confidences, Sam was careful not to mention their day’s activities, and for once, Paige clued in. Sam suspected it was because her cousin was too embarrassed to admit she’d spent the day in an old rain cape and hat, hiding in bushes and spying on every Tom, Dick and Garcia who’d remotely fit Agent D’s description.
•••
On Monday, work at the museum was progressing well, and Sam caught on quickly. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit she enjoyed the work. Palaeontology was a combination of educated guesses backed up with pure science, all wrapped up with infinite patience and a little luck. It was a lot like sleuthing.
Professor Caine continued to watch over her. Unfortunately, she had nothing concrete to report to him. She needed some hard evidence to connect Agent D and the missing fossil before she could go to the authorities.
Sam finished dealing with several crates of bones and headed to the project office with the paperwork. She put the sheets in the appropriate basket and was about to leave when she spied a corner of a file peeking out of a desk drawer.
Reading the title upside down wasn’t hard. It was another useful skill that came naturally to her. Sam saw it was the original data Jackson had brought back from Colombia. Perhaps she could find some missed reference to the X fossil. She pulled on the drawer. It was locked. “Slithering snakes!” Sam muttered peevishly. “These people have a thing about locking doors, drawers and every possible carton or container in the building.”
The desk was old, and the drawer didn’t fit well. Sitting on the floor, Sam wedged a letter opener in the sliver-sized crack at the top, trying to pry it wider and wiggle the file out at the same time. As she fumbled with the file, the opener slipped and fell inside the drawer. “Oh, this is so-o-o-o not great!” It was then she saw a scrap of paper in the wastepaper basket beside the desk. Forgetting the opener, Sam retrieved the note.
The words scratched across it read Delgato, Westgate Motor Lodge.
This was the clue she’d been searching for! A positive connection. Someone at the museum was linked to Agent D, and she had a sneaking suspicion who it was.
“Is there something I can help you with, Gopher?” Jackson stood in the doorway.
Sam slammed the partially open drawer and hastily scrunched up the paper in her fist. She stood awkwardly, trying to cover her obvious actions. “Uh, no, I was dropping off these inventory sheets and tripped over my shoelace. I’m such a klutz. I guess I’ll leave them...the papers…in the basket...on the desk. Right, that’s done. I’d better get back to work.” She edged toward the door.
Jackson continued to block the way. “Do you know what your problem is, Sam? It’s the same one that killed the cat – it’s curiosity. Except in your case it’s plain old nosiness.”
Sam gulped, then tried to push past him.
“I wouldn’t go poking around for trouble, Gopher. You might find it.”
“Me? Trouble? No way,” Sam replied a little too quickly.
He gripped her shoulder. “The missing piece of plaster you’re so worried about – that’s all it was – a piece of plaster. Got it?”
Sam shook him off, then tried to be cool. “Yeah, I know you’re right. Sometimes I let my imagination run away with me. My focus now is this great summer job. It’s all I care about. Well, duty calls.” She squeezed past him and hurried down the hall.
Jackson was being a first-class jerk. He was also really scary. It was far too late for her to pull out of this case. With a little luck, Jackson Lunde would think his warning had worked, and she’d backed off the missing fossil thing. When she was around him, she’d be sweet as Saskatoon pie and as innocent as a babe. Unless she had to weasel something vital to the case, and then she’d be very, very careful how she did it. In the meantime, she was going underground.
For the rest of the day Sam studiously avoided Jackson. His spooky behaviour in the office was hard to shake but by quitting time, she was sure he had swallowed her act. Heck, she’d been so helpful and sugary, even she believed the show.
A half-hour before quitting time, Jackson took off his lab coat and hastily gathered his paperwork. “See you tomorrow, Professor. ‘Bye Gopher.”
He left, and Sam wondered where he was off to in such a hurry.
“Samantha,” Professor Caine called, “these fossils must be safely put away before we go home.” He indicated a cart laden with the fossils he’d been working on. “Would you mind returning them to the storage area while I take the catalogue sheets to the computer room?”
“No problem, Professor.” Trying to make it seem easy, even though the wretched thing weighed a ton, she pushed the heavy cart into the huge storage area.
It was dark and Sam had trouble finding the section she wanted among all the shelves and stacked crates. At last she found the assigned shelf. “Wouldn’t you know it, right on the top!” She moved a stepladder over and started ferrying the heavy boxes up to their lofty perch.
Struggling, Sam had just finished tucking the last box into its slot when she heard a noise behind the tall stack of crates across the aisle. She froze.
“Who’s there?” The silence was ominous. Quietly, she climbed down from the ladder.
Suddenly, there was the sound of scraping boards and Sam’s head snapped up in time to see a tower of heavy wooden crates teeter and sway in her direction! She gasped and threw herself out of the way as the whole pile came crashing down.
Wood splintered, choking dust enveloped her and the noise was deafening! Rolling out of the way, Sam thought she saw the storage room door close behind the dark outline of a man.
All the clamour brought technicians scurrying from the adjacent labs.
Professor Caine pushed through the crowd. “Oh, my God! Samantha, are you hurt?” He helped her stand, concern etched on his weathered face.
‘No. At least, I don’t think so,” she stammered. He reminded Sam of a worried Santa Claus.
“You must have bumped the crates with your ladder, Gopher.”
Jackson’s voice made her whirl around.
He inspected the pile of heavy boxes. “You had a very close call.”
“I never touched those crates!” Sam’s voice cracked rather foolishly as she spoke.
“Jackson, find a seat for Samantha and get her some water. I’ll take care of this…” Professor Caine waved at the shattered boxes, “…this destruction.”
Jackson led Sam back to the uncrating room as the professor directed the clean-up.
“I thought you’d gone for the day.” Sam couldn’t catch her breath or calm her racing heart. Jackson brought her a chair and she was grateful to sit; her legs were doing the no-bones thing and didn’t want to hold her up any more.
He offered her a bottle of water. “I was on my way, then I heard all the fuss and came to see what happened. That was a nasty accident.”
Sam didn’t say anything as she took the bottle. She wasn’t sure if accident was the right word to use.
Chapter 10
Pointing Fingers
Mrs. O’Reilly walked into the dining room carrying a thickly frosted birthday cake aglow with candles. The cake was for Rose, who beamed as everyone at the table sang an enthusiastic, if off-key, chorus of “Happy Birth
day.” Sam and Paige had decided Rose was cool. It was easy to laugh with her.
“Thank you all so much!” Rose said after the singing had subsided and she’d extinguished the candles. “This truly means a lot to me. You are all the family I have here in Canada, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She stole a shy peek at John.
“Would it be impolite to inquire how old you are today?” Danny asked, as Rose cut into the confection.
“Not at all.” Rose added a little extra frosting to Danny’s piece before giving it to him. “For everyone’s information, I’m twenty-five today. I came to Canada right after I graduated and was lucky enough to be hired by the brokerage firm I work for now. I’m 1.63 metres tall, weigh eight stone, that’s about fifty-one kilos for you colonials, and have all my own teeth. Any other questions?”
Everyone laughed, and happy, noisy conversation soon followed as the heaping plates were passed around. The LaSalle sisters always dressed for the evening meal, but Sam thought the two fragile ladies had outdone themselves tonight. “I must say, Abigail and Clarisse, you two are both stunning this evening,” she said.
“Thank you, my dear. How kind of you to say so.” Abigail’s voice was soft as face powder. “Clarisse and I think birthdays are special, especially birthdays that aren’t ours. We’ve had enough of them, thank you.”
Sam, who was in charge of filling everyone’s cup, poured more tea. When she offered to top up Paige’s, her cousin covered her cup with her palm.
“Whoa! No thanks, Sam. I’m tea’d out. Think I’ll get a pop.”
She left for the kitchen and Sam was about to offer Jackson and John refills, when she heard something that made her hang back.
“Jackson,” John said setting his cup down. “You missed being there for your big transfer today.”
Jackson didn’t say anything.
John went on. “As a matter of fact, it’s the biggest deposit I’ve ever put through.”
“Today’s deposit?” Jackson asked quickly. He stirred his tea so hard it sloshed into the saucer.
Death by Dinosaur: A Sam Stellar Mystery Page 6