This was stupid; no doubt about that;
absolutely none. Walking into a motel where a major bad guy who probably wanted
to kill her was staying had to rank up pretty highly on Molly’s top ten list of
dumb mistakes. But what else could she do?
Walk away, that was what; walk away
and call the police from home; hope he was still there.
She almost stopped crossing the
street and turned back to her car but didn’t. She kept right on going, closer
and closer, compounding the error of her initial choice.
It was really starting to get dark
now. The internal lights of the motel lobby she was aiming for displayed the
interior in clarity against the mottled dusky front walls.
There was no “had to” here’ she could
walk away if she chose; but the chances of him coming after her were high and
if he caught her unawares she was in trouble. Furthermore, her mother and Ruben
were at home. What might he do to them? At least here, in this situation, she
had control. She knew where he was and he didn’t even know she was close.
Not a very thorough rationalisation
but enough to keep her walking.
She pushed open the doors and went inside.
A seventeenth century air conditioner unit attached to the wall above the
counter was coughing like an eighty-a-day smoker. There were brown flowers in
the carpet pattern, each as big as a dinner plate, but it was only clear what
they were near the skirting boards. In the central thoroughfare the designs
were smeared with grease and oil in a wide trail that ran from the front door
to the counter then round into the rest of the building. Through a pair of
double glass doors there was a corridor and a set of stairs. The dirty glass
and dim lighting back there made it difficult to make out any detail. To the
right of the doors was a vending machine that looked seconds away from its own
funeral. Next to that was the phone, hanging from the wall with a clear plastic
hood round the top of it to shield the speaker’s conversation.
Molly looked at the man behind the
counter. His eyes had been on her since her arrival. Sleaze: the word bubbled onto her mental palate. He wore an
Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned, the hairy mound of flesh hanging over the waistband
of his combats a lovely sight. Molly turned away to hide her revulsion.
“Mind if I use your phone?”
“I don’t mind at all sweetie pie,” he
said, a leer in his voice. Molly dipped her head under the phone’s round
plastic hood and picked up the receiver. There was no dialling tone. “It’s just
a shame it don’t work.” He chuckled then coughed, covering his mouth with the
back of his hand.
Molly turned round to say something
nasty but as she did so one of the double doors to the stairs and corridor
opened and the man who had beaten up David Eden walked through. He was brushing
lint off the left flap of his suit jacket, looking down at it as he did so. He
hadn’t seen her yet. Molly stared straight at his face as though she had brain
damage. Any second he was going to look up at her but she couldn’t stop gaping.
His head started to rise. She buried
her face in the phone, turning her back to him, pretending it worked, that she
was listening to someone, praying that he didn’t know the phone was out of
order like every other damn phone in the neighbourhood.
The man stopped at the vending
machine, right behind her to her left. She could see a blurred reflection of
him in the metal front of the phone. He seemed to be thinking, choosing what he
wanted to buy.
The guy behind the counter said “You
having a nice evening sir?”
The man with the slicked back hair
said “Fuck off,” without turning round.
Molly said “Uh huh” into the phone as
though she were replying to the person on the other end.
Stupid stupid stupid. He wasn’t going to buy it for a second. She was going to die.
The man slotted several coins into
the vending machine and made a selection. Inside a motor whirr began as his
choice was moved into position to drop into the pocket at the bottom.
Molly was terrified. This wasn’t
going to work. He was going to spot her or the proprietor was going to give her
away. Any second now. Any second. No way was her alleged phone conversation
even realistic.
“That’s great Marie,” she said. “I’m
really happy for you,” then kicked herself. In the side of her eye she could
see the proprietor looking at her.
The man’s selection clunked into the
pocket at the foot of the vending machine. He squatted and reached under the
plastic flap.
Molly looked at the proprietor. He
was staring straight at her, obviously about to speak. He was going to blow it.
All he had to do was wait until the man had left the lobby but he took an
intake of breath. Molly raised her finger to her lips and made the gesture for
quiet. He looked at her oddly then shifted his eyes to the man at the vending
machine. Her heart felt like it had stopped the moment the man entered and
still hadn’t started.
The man stood up and stepped away
from the machine. Molly faced away from him, hunching her shoulders.
He hadn’t seen her. She was going to
make it.
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