"I think I'm losing my touch," Curt said as we headed for Room 12 round the back. The back of the Sea 'n' Spray Motel was worse than the front, thanks to trash heaped on the ground next to two full Dumpsters along with a car's worth of bald tires and discarded fast food wrappers. A few fat seagulls swooped lazily down to help themselves to leftover fries and chunks of bread.
"Don't worry about it," I said. "She's probably got a stud back at the trailer park. At least you got a room number."
"You could have done that, if you'd forked over twenty bucks." He glanced at me. "By the way, can I borrow twenty bucks?"
I had about eight dollars in my handbag, counting the loose change and a two-dollar scratch-off winner. Which reminded me, I had to cash that in.
Luckily, Curt wasn't waiting for a loan. "I sure hope Randy's around. I don't even want to think about being here after dark."
The place was run-down and flat-out ugly, but I didn't get a dangerous vibe from it. More like desperate. Which maybe sometimes was the same thing.
We stopped at Room 12. Closed curtains. No sounds from within.
Curt put his ear to the door. "I hear breathing."
I blinked. "You're kidding."
He grinned. "Yeah. I am." He knocked. No response.
"Let me try." I reached around him and knocked. No response.
"I'm really getting sick of this place," Curt said.
"Let's jimmy the lock," I said.
"Excuse me?"
"Have you got a skeleton key handy?"
He stared at me. "No," he said, "I do not have a skeleton key handy."
Maizy would have had a skeleton key. Probably better not to mention that. "How about a screwdriver?" I said. "I hear you can jiggle the thingy and the doo-dad will release from the whatsis." I looked at the door doubtfully. "Of course, that would probably damage the frame."
"You worry me," Curt said.
That was bound to happen. "How about a credit card? It'll take longer, but I think we can make it work."
"You've got to be kidding." But Curt reached for his wallet and pulled out a platinum Visa. Show-off. "Before I forget, Maizy's not allowed to play with you anymore. Now wait, I want to record this." He pointed his cell phone at the door and made a "go ahead" gesture.
Like I knew what I was doing. I stepped up, slid the card between the door and the jamb, and wiggled it around, hoping I didn't snap the card in two. I had no idea if I was even near the doo-dad or the whatsis. But when I tried the knob, the door opened.
Curt's mouth fell open. Nice to know I could still surprise him. I stepped aside. "After you."
"You know this is breaking and entering," he said.
"I didn't break anything," I said. I was kind of proud about that. "We'll just take a quick look around."
"A quick look around," he agreed and went inside. It was a very small room, with a shabby looking unmade twin bed and dresser, and a small round table with two spindly chairs near the window. It smelled like industrial cleanser. Randy O'Brien hadn't done anything useful like forgetting his wallet or leaving behind a photo ID. We found a day old newspaper in the wastebasket along with an empty Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup. The closet was empty except for one pair of black pants and a white dress shirt, probably the clothes he wore to work. There were a few ratty T-shirts in the dresser, along with two pairs of jeans and some socks and underwear. Randy was about as low maintenance as you could get.
Except for the pearl earrings on top of the dresser, half buried under a coiled gold chain.
"Hey." I grabbed Curt's arm and pointed. His lips tightened when he saw the earrings.
"Annie had a pearl necklace," I said. I moved closer to the dresser, trying to discern if the pearls could be real without actually touching them. It was hard to tell—I wasn't into jewelry all that much. But they seemed to match Annie's necklace. I stared at Curt. "I think Randy O'Brien is Sasquatch."
"Maybe," Curt said. "Maybe not. Maybe these belong to his girlfriend."
We glanced around. No other signs that a woman had been there.
"Maybe they don't," I said.
"Let's go ask him." Curt gave me a gentle push toward the door and followed me out. With the bottom of his shirt, he wiped the doorknob clean before pulling the door shut. He grabbed my hand. We practically jogged until we hit the parking lot. Then we slowed to a casual stroll across the blacktop, just two lovebirds on our leisurely way. Nothing to see here. We climbed into the Escort and drove off as slowly as legally possible.
Which wasn't all that hard to do, since the Escort was running out of gas.