Despite the chilly weather, Elsie’s sweaty hands left damp prints on the steering wheel as she pulled into the motel parking lot on Friday.
She’d left McCown County behind forty minutes prior. She had dodged out of the office before the end of the workday, feigning illness. All day, she’d taken care to tell anyone who would listen that she felt sick, thought she might be coming down with something. Because it was not her habit to take unwarranted sick days, no one argued when she made a dash for the door in the early hours of a Friday afternoon.
She glanced around the area, getting her bearings. This city was a metropolis, by Ozarks’ standards. It sat on a major highway. On the outskirts of town, motels and gas stations and fast food businesses dotted the landscape.
As she checked out the parking lot, she saw it: the sedan with Alabama plates she’d seen at the Rancho. Craning her neck, she could read the license plate. She grabbed a pen from the console, and found a Sonic Drive-in receipt on the floorboard. After looking to ensure that no one was watching, she scribbled the license plate number on the back of the receipt and tucked it into her cup holder.
This was really happening, she thought. She checked her face in the mirror, reapplying the pink CoverGirl lipstick with a hand that trembled.
The motel rooms loomed before her. Before she walked into the unknown, Elsie pulled out her phone. As she held it, she debated which number to push.
And decided on her mother. She sent Marge a quick text: Doing some investigating on a case. Meeting at EconoMo Motel off I-44 in Bodine County. Room 217. If you don’t hear from me by midnight, call Ashlock.
After the message was sent, she approached the motel and climbed the stairs to the second floor on shaky knees. As she approached Room 217, her stomach clenched with a fierce spasm.
Maybe, she thought, she should call Ashlock. Give him a heads-up. Time to break the silence between them.
But the door cracked open, and an auburn-haired woman peeked through. “Are you Tessie?”
Elsie smiled, though she felt her mouth tremble. “That’s me.”
“I thought so. Come on in.”
The woman opened the door wide, a silent invitation. As Elsie stepped inside, her eyes darted around the motel room, searching for evidence of Desiree or Mandy.
But the room was empty. The two beds were unoccupied, made up with shabby bedspreads. No one sat in the sole chair at the plywood desk. The bathroom door was open, but she couldn’t detect activity inside. No running water, no voices.
When she met the woman’s eyes, Elsie saw her penciled brows raise, wrinkling her forehead.
“You looking for something?” she said.
Elsie ducked her head, letting a bashful laugh escape.
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry. I just thought it would look like a studio or something, like you see on TV.”
The answer appeared to appease Dede; she smiled and said, “Oh, that’s not how it works. I’m Dede, by the way. I saw you on Skype, remember? I’ll do your interview.”
Elsie nodded, with a look of anticipation. “That’s cool.”
Dede stepped over to the dresser, where a bottle of vodka sat. “Let’s have a cocktail.”
The suggestion shouldn’t have taken Elsie by surprise. She had tried numerous sex cases in her career. She knew that predators used alcohol and drugs to keep women compliant. But she needed to keep her wits about her.
Dede was pouring the vodka into a red plastic cup, topping it off with a measure of Diet Coke. Elsie watched her make the concoction. It looked deadly.
In a bright voice, Elsie said, “What you got there?”
Dede didn’t look up. As she made a second drink, the woman said, “Where I come from, we call this a skinny black bitch.”
Elsie’s eyes narrowed with distaste at the name Dede gave to the beverage; but when Dede glanced into the mirror and checked Elsie’s reflection, her face cleared.
“I’m partial to beer,” Elsie said, grinning.
Dede snorted. “I can tell that. By looking at the size of your ass.”
For fifty cents, I’d kick your ass across this room, Elsie thought; but she took care to act like she enjoyed eating humble pie.
Elsie kept her tone friendly as she said, “I’m thick, that’s all. Some dudes like it. I hear being thick is coming back in style.”
“Not fast enough for you.”
Dede handed Elsie the cup, then sat in the desk chair. Elsie stood awkwardly, as if she didn’t know what to do.
Dede nodded at the bed. “Sit down. Let’s get started. How old are you, really?”
“Twenty-five.”
Dede rolled her eyes and took a swallow from the red cup. “Okay. Where you from, Tessie?”
“Miami, Oklahoma.”
“Born there?”
“Naw.” Elsie crossed her legs, pulling her skirt up to reveal some thigh. “I’m from all over. But I landed in Oklahoma a while back.”
Dede nodded, as if she approved of Elsie’s answer. “Marital status?”
“Single.” Elsie cleared her throat. “Is that something that’s required? For modeling?”
Dede flashed a phony smile. “We need to know. For tax reasons.”
“Oh.”
“Do you live alone?”
Elsie’s radar buzzed like a live wire. Tell her you’re all alone in the world, she thought; just like a girl in a Grimms’ fairy tale.
“Yeah. I don’t know that many people in Miami. Just some folks from work.”
Dede’s eyes sharpened. “Employment?”
“I’m between jobs, kind of.”
“What did you do? When you were working?”
“Hospitality industry.”
Dede shook her head. “What’s that mean?”
“I was a cocktail waitress. At one of the Indian casinos in Miami, Oklahoma.”
“Which one?”
“Do I have to say? Because I don’t think the manager will give me a very good reference.” Elsie twisted her face in a pout.
“Why’s that?”
Elsie hung her head, sighing. She had thought out this part of her fake background in advance. “I got in a little trouble. They said I was flirting with the customers at the casino.”
She peeked up at Dede to evaluate her response. The woman was smiling. Good, she thought.
“And they said they thought I was drinking on the job.”
After that, Elsie lifted her own cup and took a gulp. She nearly choked, but swallowed it down with a valiant effort. Dede had poured a Coke-flavored martini.
Dede rose from the chair, and tipped Elsie’s plastic cup with her own.
“You sound like you’ll fit right in, honey. Here’s to your career at Marvel Modeling.”
When Dede drank, Elsie followed suit. This time, she was ready. She managed not to gag.