Мэри Эндрюс - The Newcomer

Oscar snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey, hey! Pay attention here.”

Letty took a step away backward and swatted his hand away. “Please don’t do that, Oscar. I am paying attention. Is there a sign-up sheet or something like that, where guests reserve court time?”

“No,” Merwin said. “It’s just understood. It’s always been understood. Up until this week.”

“So, in other words, the shuffleboard courts are used on a first-come, first-serve basis. Maybe you two gentlemen could simply arrive at the courts a little earlier in the day? To make sure you’re there first?”

“You’re missing the whole point,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “We play at ten, before it gets too hot. Merwin and I have other obligations until then. Those two girls, they’re not even serious players.”

“Don’t even know the rules,” Merwin said. “It’s outrageous, is what it is. We need Ava to go out there and lay down the law to them. Or you. You could tell them.”

Letty gave the men a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, I don’t dare leave the office unmanned while Ava’s gone. Plus, I don’t have that kind of authority. Why don’t you try working out a schedule with them? Like, maybe playing at ten on alternate days?”

“Never mind,” Oscar said. “Should have known you’d side with those Feldmans. It’s a women’s-lib thing, right? Feminazis and all that?”

Her smile disappeared. “You should probably go now, Oscar. Before I decide to let Ava know you were smoking outside my room again last night.” She pulled out her new phone and showed him the photo she’d snapped through her window, of a man matching Oscar Jensen’s exact profile, leaning against the veranda column, letting out a long plume of smoke.

He looked at the photo. “You can’t prove that’s me.”

She stood her ground. “Who else?” She went back to staring at the door to unit 2. It was ten thirty and nothing had changed.

Ava had programmed Joe DeCurtis’s number into her phone. She sighed and scrolled through the short list of contacts.

“What are you doing?” Merwin demanded. “Who are you calling?”

“I’m calling Ava’s son, Joe,” she replied.

“The cop? No need to go overboard,” Oscar said, scuttling toward the door. “We’ll discuss this with Ava later.”

When the shuffleboard players were gone, Letty picked up the house phone and dialed the number for unit 2. The phone rang five times with no answer. She hung up, waited five more minutes, and called again. Five more rings.

She really did not want an encounter with the police today, especially Detective Joe DeCurtis.

On her third call, someone in unit 2 picked up. “Who is this?” The man’s voice sounded groggy.

“This is Letty, in the office. Checkout time was thirty minutes ago. I’m going to have to ask you to…”

“Fuck off,” the man drawled. He hung up.

“I tried,” Letty said with a shrug. She called Joe DeCurtis.

“Hi,” she said. “It’s Letty, at the motel? Your mom said I should call.…”

“On my way.”

Five minutes later, the white pickup rolled up beside the maroon Impala and the manager’s son got out. He wore a navy polo shirt with POLICE stenciled on the back. He looked over his shoulder at the office, saw her standing at the window, and gave her a thumbs-up.

She watched while he walked around the Impala, peered in the windows, then moved around to the rear of the car, knelt down, brought out his phone, and photographed the license plate.

Then he strode to the door of unit 2 and knocked loudly.

When there was no response, he waited another minute, then extracted the heavy flashlight from his belt loop and banged it against the door. Letty could hear his voice from across the courtyard.

“Sir? This is Detective DeCurtis with the Treasure Island Police. The hotel management needs you to vacate this room, immediately.”

She saw the door open a crack, and could see the chain lock. A hairy arm poked out, flipped a bird, and then the door slammed shut again.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered. She looked over at her niece, who was pretending to feed some broken crayons to the stuffed elephant.

“Maya, why don’t you take Ellie into the supply room,” she said, guiding the child by the shoulders. “I saw some empty boxes that would make her a nice bed.”

She pulled out some empty cardboard shipping cartons, and when Maya saw that they were filled with foam peanuts, she gleefully climbed inside with her toy.

Letty went back to the front office to watch the unfolding drama with a mixture of dread and excitement.

The cop banged on the door of unit 2 again, and she saw the curtains part. A bearded, bare-chested man stared out briefly, and then the curtains closed again.

Joe went back and leaned against the truck. He pulled the two-way radio from his shoulder rig and spoke into it, then walked briskly toward the office, pushing through the glass door.

“What’s going on?” Letty asked nervously.

“Just another low-life scumdog,” Joe said. He walked past her into the back room. “Hi, Maya,” she heard him call. “Playing hide-and-seek?”

“I’m playing house with Ellie,” Maya said.

“Great idea. You guys stay in there, okay?”

He emerged from the office with a pair of lethal-looking bolt cutters, and stopped at the desk again to pick up what Letty knew was the master key to every unit in the motel.

“What now?”

“Just checking to see the name of the dude I’m fixing to arrest,” Joe said. He flipped through the pages of the reservations book, ran a finger down a column of handwritten names, and rolled his eyes. “Mr. Benjamin Dover,” he muttered. “Real cute. Dammit, Ava. I bet they paid with cash, so she didn’t even ask for ID.”

“Should I be worried?” Letty asked.

“No,” Joe said. “Mr. Dover is the one who should be worried. That Impala was stolen a week ago from a truck stop in Ocala. I just called for a tow truck and a backup unit. Looks like Mr. and Mrs. Dover will be checking out of the Murmuring Surf and into the Graybar Hotel.”

14

JOE USED HIS FLASHLIGHT TO knock on the door of unit 2 again. He waited a moment and announced himself again.

“Sir? This is the Treasure Island police. This is your second warning. I need you to vacate this room immediately or face arrest for trespassing.”

Letty stood just outside the office, irresistibly drawn toward the unfolding drama.

The door opened a crack with the chain lock engaged. “Fuck off,” the man yelled. “I paid for this room.”

Joe shoved his booted foot against the door, picked up the bolt cutters, snapped the chain, then tossed the tool aside and pushed the door all the way open.

“Oh God,” Letty breathed. She glanced back into the office, toward the door to the supply room, reassured that Maya was still safely ensconced in her cardboard playhouse.

Joe disappeared into the room, leaving the door ajar. She heard sounds of a struggle, shouted curses, the splintering of wood, then a woman’s shrill scream. “Leave him alone!”

Letty clutched the phone in her hand. Should she call 911? Where were the backup unit and the tow truck he’d called for?

A moment later, the door opened, and Joe pushed the occupant of unit 2 out into the blazing midday sunlight. He was tall, with greasy dark hair that fell to pale, bony shoulders, barefoot, and naked except for a pair of tight-fitting red satin briefs. The man struggled, but ineffectively, because the cop had his hands clamped tightly behind his back.

Joe shoved the squirming suspect facedown onto the hood of the Impala. He drew his handcuffs from his belt and was in the process of fastening them when the woman appeared in the doorway of unit 2.