The Hotel

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “Well, I guess so ... if you’ve been cleared of any wrong-doing,” he agreed. “Do you want to come inside?”

  “Yes, I’d love to,” I said to the gullible night clerk.

  He brought me around to an office behind the check-in counter and offered me a rolling chair, positioning a second one beside me. “Okay, do you remember I was the one who checked you in?”

  Duh. “Yes, I recall seeing you here. You were wearing a SpongeBob SquarePants T-shirt.” Today he was wearing a Smurfs T-shirt. There was truly no accounting for taste.

  “Hey yeah, I was.” He smiled at my remembrance of him. “I work the night shift and my mama works the day shift. If one of us needs time off, we have a lady fill in for us.”

  “Who rented room 7?” I asked. He hesitated, not wanting to give out the information. “Remember, this is like a test for the police to see if you change your story.”

  “We never get real names, or ask for ID. You already know that, don’t you ... Lost Hope?”

  “Yes, of course. The code name is all I need to know.”

  “Roland N. Doe.”

  I was so relieved to hear my husband hadn’t checked in under Sonny Boner, Studly Whiplash, or Joystick. But Roland N. Doe didn’t seem to fit either.

  “What did he look like? Describe him for me.”

  “Well, as I’m sure the police told you,” he emphasized, giving me another suspicious look, “he didn’t check in. The girl rented the room.”

  “Yes, that’s what they said. Like I said, this is like a test,” I reassured him with another lie. It came as quite a shock to hear the girl went by that name. My assumption was the name was a take on “rolling in dough.” Possibly Greg wasn’t here with a girlfriend, but had booked a prostitute, one who was doing very well with her job. “Okay, so repeat how you described her to the police.”

  “I wasn’t here when she checked in and neither was Mama. The part-time woman was on staff and she rented out the room.”

  “When did she check-in?”

  “Earlier that morning ... last Tuesday.” He gave me a dubious look. “I know you tried to pull a fast one, didn’t you? You told Mama you wanted to rent the room until Saturday. You said you stayed in room 7. We know it was room 6 ... right?”

  “Did I say 7? I don’t know why I said that?” I peered out the glass front windows at the crime scene tape across both doors. “Clearly I meant room 6.”

  His eyes were getting narrower and narrower as he was putting it together that I was just pumping information out of him. “I don’t think we should be talking,” he decided.

  “Let me ask you one other question and I’ll get out of your hair,” I gave him a pleading look and he frowned. “What’s the name of the employee who checked the girl in?”

  “I think you need to leave or I’m calling the cops.”

  “Look, uh...”

  “Alex,” he provided.

  “Look, Alex, it was my husband that was killed. I followed him here to find out who he was cheating with. If I would’ve killed him, the girl would have been in there too and, either I would’ve attacked her at the same time, or she would’ve run in here and had you call the cops. That didn’t happen ... so I think you’re smart enough to know I didn’t kill anyone. I’m just trying to find out what transpired. Please, I have an eight-year-old daughter. She deserves the truth.”

  His features softened. “Okay, I’ll tell you one more thing. The employee was Darlene Blanton. But that’s all I’m going to say.”

  “Thank you. You’ve said all I needed to hear. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  ◆◆◆

  Darlene Blanton. The world suddenly just became a whole lot smaller. Darlene was married to Greg’s friend Roger, who was Greg’s high school, college buddy and racquetball partner. Roger had met and married Darlene during their college years and they had cranked out five kids since. I said this with a bitter taste in my mouth because I didn’t think they had mastered any parenting skills. I supposed one might say I looked down my nose at them. And the truth would be, I did. Roger, a boisterous guy, loved a good shenanigan which was only superseded by a weekend of partying until he puked. It shocked me that he had been able to hold down his job at Home Depot for going on two years. But then again, he did love tools and cars so maybe he’d found his niche. Darlene had never had a job, so far as I knew. But according to Alex, she worked part-time at The Bliss Motel, of all places. Darlene was someone who, in my mind, would feel right at home in a sleazy place like that. Greg’s connection to room 7 must somehow be connected to his friendship with Roger and Darlene. And I intended to find out what it was.

  On the drive over to their house, I called Mother and updated her on my meeting with the detective and the visit to the hotel. I had just turned into Roger and Darlene’s neighborhood. “Okay, I’m turning down their street right now.”

  “Well, be careful. I’ve never trusted Roger as far as I could throw him. He’s a sleazeball. And that wife of his ... don’t get me started,” she complained. “I just don’t know why Greg associates with them.”

  “Me either,” I agreed, pulling alongside the curb and parking. “Good grief. They haven’t mowed in ... forever. I swear the weeds are two feet tall. And there are at least a dozen newspapers strewn throughout the yard.” I looked disgustedly at their house in need of all kinds of repairs. “Their Christmas lights are still up.”

  “That’s probably from years ago,” my mother surmised.

  I laughed. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”

  “Call me when you leave.”

  Wading through the tall grass to get to the door, I noticed the papers were from the Weekend Bargains, meaning it had been approximately twelve weeks since anyone had bothered to pick up a paper. Ringing the bell, I stood on the small stoop and waited.

  “Hello,” Cassie, their brown-haired, brown-eyed, four-year-old daughter, said as she answered the door.

  “Hi, sweetie. Remember me? I’m Emily. Can I talk to your momma?” I groaned internally because a child had answered the door.

  “Momma, some lady wants to talk to you.”

  From the living room, I heard Darlene’s raspy smoker’s voice. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Emily,” I called out. “Emily Mills.”

  “Oh, Emily. Well come on in.”

  Cassie ran off to play while I worked myself into a dark living room, lit only by the flicker of a TV and one small lamp. Darlene, Roger and Evan, their six-year-old, were all sprawled out on the couch and watching a rerun of Bonanza, turned up at high volume.

  “Hello guys,” I said trying to be friendly.

  “Have a seat,” Darlene offered without moving an inch. She gazed back at the TV. “That Little Joe is a good-looker, ain’t he?”

  “Yes, he definitely is,” I agreed, wishing they’d turn the volume down. Looking around for a place to sit, I noticed they were taking up the whole couch. The love seat was covered in clothes and another chair was filled with car magazines. Opting to shift a handful of clothing, I edged my rear into a small section of the love seat. Positioning myself toward the couch, not the TV, I noticed Roger had moved his kegerator from the back porch to the far end of the couch.

  “Kegerator not working?” I asked seeing empty beer cans strewn all over the coffee table and Roger and Darlene each had one in their hands.

  “Takes too much effort to keep it full,” Roger said. “Easier just to pop a top.”

  “What brings you over?” Darlene asked, adjusting her blue housecoat tighter together and kicking a few beer cans off to the floor and propping her fuzzy brown slippers on the furniture. This prompted Evan off the couch to push the cans around, creating an irritating noise in the process. Eventually he favored one and kicked it into the other room and didn’t return.

  “Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by to see what you guys were up to,” I said easing into a casual conversation.

  “Yeah right. Y
ou were in this neighborhood,” Roger pointed out, not even pretending to buy my story.

  I looked around the room, seeing filth everywhere and a dozen or so toy cars scattered about the floor, now mixed in with dripping beer cans. “Where are all of your kids?” I asked stalling for time because I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of Greg and the hotel.

  “Little Roger is out on a date. Ellen’s in her room. Toby went for a walk, I think. You saw Cassie, and Evan was right here a few minutes ago.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I know you weren’t just in the neighborhood and you ain’t here to ask about my kids. So, what are you really doing here?”

  “Okay, then,” I said giving up my charade. “I heard you were working over at The Bliss Motel.”

  Darlene leaned forward and gave me a hateful look. “Are you pass’n judgment on me?”

  “No, I’m not. I know Alex. He mentioned you worked there. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, okay, Alex,” she nodded and eased back on the couch. “Well, I had to get a job. Roger hurt his back at the Home Depot. We’re working on getting disability, but until it kicks in, we’ve got bills to pay.”

  My gaze shifted to her husband, grateful to see that he was wearing pants and a dingy T-shirt since Darlene had already changed for the night. “Oh, I’m sorry, Roger. When did this happen?”

  “About a month ago,” he answered and all I could think about was how agile he’d been last Thursday night on the racquetball court when I had spied on him, Lucas, Neal and Paul.

  “Well, I hope you get better,” I said trying hard to sound sympathetic.

  “Well, the doctor says it may be permanent,” Roger reported, leaning forward and massaging his back with his hand. “Hurts like hell most of the time.”

  I gave him a supportive look and then directed my attention to Darlene. “Has anyone from law enforcement talked to you about anything that happened at The Bliss Hotel?” I knew they hadn’t. Otherwise, she would’ve already spouted about it.

  “No, what happened?” She first glanced at Roger and they shared a look, then she reached for the remote and lowered the volume on the TV. Her curiosity piqued and she suddenly became all ears. “How do you know Alex? And how did you know something happened?”

  “I don’t know much at this point. Everything is in the early investigative stages.”

  “What is? What’s happening?” Her tone was demanding, making it hard to discern whether she looked nervous or was salivating for some juicy gossip. Sadly, since the police had already found Greg’s body covering up my husband’s cheating ways was of no use. And it was only a matter of time before word was out about the circumstances of his death. In fact, it surprised me the detectives hadn’t already questioned her, then again, the way Liam talked, CSI was still in the process of removing the car for more thorough testing. They probably hadn’t had time to question Darlene yet. But they would. And then the cat would be out of the bag. Darlene would make sure my friends knew Greg had been murdered in that dicey motel, whilst cheating on me. I could already picture Molly looking down her perfect nose at me. Then again, Ava had said Molly had kicked Paul out for having a girlfriend. Maybe we could cry on each other’s shoulders.

  I sucked in a deep breath. “Listen, this is truly embarrassing, but I think Greg may have brought a girl to The Bliss Hotel last Tuesday. I was wondering if you could give me her name. Alex said you checked her in.” I just couldn’t bring myself to admit he’d been murdered. Baby steps were more than I could manage right now.

  An awkward moment passed between us, and then Darlene finally said, “Greg wouldn’t cheat on you. You have this all wrong.” She shifted her eyes to Roger, and I wondered if they were sworn to secrecy. Roger and Greg were close. As friends, he may have confided in them and they weren’t going to betray his trust.

  “No, I’m pretty sure he did,” I finally said. “Please, can you give me any information?”

  Roger and Darlene shared another look. Then Roger turned back to me. “So, the old dog’s cheat’n on you,” he commented, turning up his lips in a proud smile.

  “Well Darlene?” I asked, ignoring Roger’s crassness.

  “Then Alex could’ve looked up the name for you. Why should I tell you? Besides, it wouldn’t be her real name anyway and we don’t ask for ID.”

  “Yes, I know. She signed in as Roland N. Doe. I just wondered if you knew her. Greg could’ve brought someone there you might’ve known.”

  “Roland N. Doe,” she repeated, giving Roger another hard look.

  “Cheat’n on you. I just can’t get over it. That old dog,” Roger muttered. “That’s funny. Are you sure about this? Because I never would’ve thought he had it in him.”

  “No, I didn’t know her. I’d never seen her before,” Darlene talked over Roger’s comment.

  “What did she look like?” I asked, hoping for any kind of lead.

  “Let me think.” She scrunched up her face and looked at the ceiling. For a moment, she was distracted by a giant cobweb. So was I. “Oh yeah, I remember,” she finally said. “She had light blonde hair in those spiral curls that all the young girls are doing these days. That’s all I really remember. I wasn’t paying close attention ... you know, we get paid not to ask questions or notice too much. It’s work policy.”

  “About how old was she?”

  “I couldn’t say,” she answered. “I really wasn’t paying much attention.”

  “Can’t you give any kind of range on age?” I pushed.

  Roger’s eyes broadened. “Wait a second. Is that why the police were there? Was Greg screwing an underage and he got caught with his pants down? My God, that old dog.” He laughed and I wanted to slap him. “Seriously, Emily, you need to trust me on this. I’m damn sure you have the wrong man. You just need to go home and forget this ever happened.”

  “Darlene, did you think she was a minor?” I asked ignoring Roger and focusing on Darlene. Internally I was freaking out. It was bad enough for Greg to have cheated on me in the first place, but it was much worse if he had committed statutory rape. My stomach flipped all over and threatened to toss up my portion of Liam’s meal.

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t think so, but how should I know? These kids these days look all grown-up from the age of thirteen or fourteen on. It’s hard to tell anymore. Look at my Ellen. She’s only fifteen and even old fogies are noticing how filled out she is now.”

  I nodded. “What else can you tell me about the girl who rented the room?”

  “Nothing really. I don’t remember any physical details ... sorry.”

  “Young doesn’t sound like Greg’s type,” Roger pointed out. He plastered on a smug smile and shook his head. “Greg, that old dog.”

  I was about ready to kick him in the nuts.

  “What kind of car was she driving?”

  “I don’t remember seeing her pull up to the front in a car. She must’ve parked beside a larger vehicle or something.” She paused for a moment. “Look, Emily, I really can’t help you with your questions. I’m like Roger; I think you have this all wrong. Greg wouldn’t cheat on you. Go home and forget about this stuff.”

  In other words, she wasn’t going to help me. I truly felt like she was lying or covering up something. “So, Paul took Greg’s place at racquetball,” I mentioned casually.

  “Yeah, we needed a fourth after Greg quit.” He hesitated a short moment and then laughed out loud and slapped his leg. “That old dog. He told me he was working. I thought he meant for real. Ha, that old dog.”

  I was about ready to castrate him.

  “Did you hear the Jensens split up?” Roger asked.

  “Yes, Sarah mentioned it to Ava. She said Paul had a girlfriend and I assumed Molly found out about her.”

  “That’s what I heard too. Ellen got word about it somehow. She said Molly found their love nest and went ballistic. Ellen said she cleaned the place out. Took everything, and I do mean everything, over to Twice Blessed. Supposedly it was full of nice fu
rnishings, designer clothes, expensive jewelry. You name it, she dumped it.”

  “Molly did that?” I asked dumbfounded, remembering I was at Twice Blessed when all the stuff showed up.

  She shrugged. “That’s what Ellen said.”

  “Hmm, I dropped a bag of clothes off one day last week and the clerk told me that stuff was from Margaret Winslow, some rich broad who was cleaning house after a recent divorce.” My mouth stayed closed about having seen Molly and Sarah in the store while the furniture was being offloaded. How could that have been a coincidence? “Do you know where Ellen obtained her information?”

  “No, sorry. She doesn’t always tell me everything. Teenagers,” she added as if it explained everything.

  After talking for a while longer, it was evident Darlene wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any more information and she was beginning to probe me for more and more details. It was getting late, and I wanted to leave. “Well, thank you for your time. If you find out anything more about this girl, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call.”

  “Sure thing,” she agreed. “And vice versa because I’m curious to know who Greg was mess’n around with.”

  “That old dog,” Roger added.

  I smiled past my cringe and made my way to the front door while they turned the TV back up, not bothering to see me out. Walking to my car, I met up with Ellen. Apparently, she was out for a walk and Toby was in his room.

  “Hey Ellen. How are you?”

  “Mrs. Mills, it’s nice to see you,” she said courteously.

  “You’ve certainly grown up since I saw you last.” Ellen’s breasts had blossomed. She was wearing makeup and presented herself as an attractive young woman. She too had blonde hair in spiral curls, as Darlene had described Roland N. Doe.

  She giggled. “That’s what Paul said. Paul said I look hot now.”

  “Paul Jensen?” I asked.

  “Yes, that Paul,” she answered, stifling a smile.

  “Oh, when did you see Paul?”

  “Um … I believe it was two Saturdays ago. We went to dinner with Paul and Mrs. Jensen. Paul insisted on taking the whole family. He sat by me. I guess that’s when he noticed I’m no longer a little girl.”