The Sun Down Motel(96)

I turned off the ignition. A dog barked wildly in the house, and the front porch light switched on. I sagged in relief.

Alma Trent opened her front screen door and walked out onto her porch. She was wearing jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked at me, still sitting in my car, and then her hard gaze moved to the car still on the road at the foot of the driveway, idling. She watched it for a long minute, and then Callum’s car pulled away.

I opened my driver’s door with a shaky hand and got out.

“Evening, Carly,” Alma said, her voice its usual unhurried speed. “Were you having a little trouble?”

Her tone said that trouble didn’t scare her. That she’d spent decades walking toward it instead of walking away.

“Maybe a little,” I said. “A guy was bothering me.”

“Well, that’s goddamned rude,” Alma said. “I can talk to him if you like. Some guys don’t get the message until they get a talking-to from me.”

“His name is Callum MacRae,” I said.

Alma went very still. For the first time, I saw a crack in her cop’s fa?ade. “I see,” she said. “I didn’t realize you knew Callum.”

“It’s strange,” I said. “I first met him at the Fell Central Library. I was doing research there, and he introduced himself. I’m wondering now if maybe he found me.”

“Callum can seem nice enough, but sometimes he’s a little unstable,” Alma said. “Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?”

I took a step forward, but I didn’t answer her question. “You were on shift the night that my aunt Viv disappeared, right?”

Alma hesitated for the briefest second. Then she nodded. “I was.”

“But you didn’t know she was missing until it was reported four days later.”

“How would I know she was missing?”

It was a hunch. Only that. But every instinct in my body and my brain told me I was right. “I’m wondering now if maybe my aunt didn’t die that night,” I said. “I’m wondering if maybe she lived and someone else died.”

“Carly,” Alma said, “you should really come in for a cup of tea.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m going anywhere with you. Or Marnie Clark. I’m sure you heard about the body I found in a trunk this morning?”

Alma’s eyes were fixed on me, but I couldn’t read them. Pity? Kindness? Fear? I realized now that to survive decades as the only female cop on a male police force, Alma had become very, very good at hiding what she was thinking. “I heard about it, yes,” she said.

“I thought it was my aunt, but the police told me it was a man,” I said. “And then Callum called me and told me this crazy story about how his grandfather disappeared around the same time my aunt did. And I know he’s telling the truth, because a man named Simon Hess disappeared sometime around November 1982. His wife was too embarrassed to report it because she thought he’d left her. Simon Hess worked as a traveling salesman. Just like the last man seen with Betty Graham.”

“Callum gets fixated on things,” Alma said. “His grandfather’s disappearance is one of them. He’s never been quite right. We think he has borderline personality disorder.”

“Who’s we?” I asked.

“He’s had more than one run-in with police,” Alma said, ignoring my question. “Usually for bothering girls. He stops when he gets a talking-to. He’ll stop bothering you if I talk to him.”

“Not if he thinks my aunt murdered his grandfather and stuffed him in a trunk,” I said.

Alma was quiet.

“Did she?” I asked her.

“You know I can’t answer that,” she said.

“Then I’ll answer it myself. Marnie says there’s a notebook at the Sun Down that I need to read. I think I’ll go read it.”

“You talked to Marnie?” Alma said, her voice shocked. “You have the notebook?”

“I’m going to get it now. And then I’m going to meet her.”

Alma hesitated, then nodded. “She’s right,” she said. “It’s time.”

Now is as good a time as any for all of it to come out, Marnie had said to me on the phone. It was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not.

Why now? Why me?

“What am I going to find in the notebook?” I asked her.

“You’ll see,” Alma said. She turned toward her door, then back to me. “Go meet her,” she said. “Do whatever she asks. Maybe you don’t want my advice, but that’s it.” Then she turned, went into the house, and closed the door behind her.



* * *



? ? ?

No one followed me on the dark roads as I drove across town from Alma’s to the motel. Was I supposed to be working tonight? I didn’t even remember anymore. Maybe I was quitting. Maybe I was fired. It didn’t matter.

The road sign was lit up, the familiar words blinking at me: VACANCY. CABLE TV! Nick’s truck was in the parking lot, and the office was closed and dark. I parked and got out of my car, letting the cold wind sting my face. There was no sound but the far-off rumble of a truck farther down Number Six Road. I could smell dead leaves and damp and the faint tang of gasoline.