I prob’ly never would’ve missed ATF agent Arnold if Nina hadn’t been so keen on me turnin’ in the Klan. The folks at Motel Six hadn’t seen him lately, though he hadn’t checked out. I sweet-talked Lucy, the housekeeper, into lettin’ me have a look ’round his room. It ’peared like he’d unpacked half his stuff an’ shaved ’fore leavin’. Lucy said he hadn’t touched nothin’ in three days.
There wasn’t a whole lot else to do after that but wait. If I called ATF to ask what was up, they’d deny sendin’ a agent or tell me to mind my own damn business. An’ if he was really missin’, they’d send another couple of turkeys—who wouldn’t be the least use in findin’ Arnold—to complicate my life. I decided to put him at the bottom of my folks-to-find list an’ wait ’til I had evidence of foul play ’fore makin’ a federal case of it.
’Fore I left the motel, I looked up our visitin’ detective. When he opened his door an’ spotted me, he looked hopeful as a convict who’s just had his sentence reduced to time served. “You find him?” he axed. He kept standin’ in the doorway blockin’ my view of the room ’til I wondered if he had a woman in there, or drugs.
I said, “’Fraid not.”
“But you just found another body. The whole town’s talkin’ about it.”
“Mind if I come in?”
Peter took a quick look behind him—no doubt checkin’ to be sure there was nothin’ in the room I shouldn’t see. As he stepped away from the door, he grabbed the coat off the chair next to it an’ tossed it on the dresser. It neatly covered the police scanner he had set up there, but not ’fore I spotted it. I didn’t let on I seen it, though it explained how Peter’d managed to show up in the swamp when he did.
He pointed at the empty chair. “Have a seat and tell me about this latest body.” He sat hisself down on the end of the bed.
The room looked pretty lived in. The motel’d kept up housekeepin’, but that didn’t extend to hangin’ up clothes or unpackin’. Peter’s stuff lay ’round on every flat surface an’ overflowed his suitcases. An’ the table was covered with half-full bottles of booze an’ mixers, an’ half-empty bags of chips an’ pretzels. I’d a bet fifty bucks the bathroom was a mess, too, in spite of Lucy.
“Don’t get your hopes up. It were a older fella. Probably some guy ran afoul of the mob in the city, an’ got hisself whacked.”
“You didn’t come all the way out here to tell me you didn’t find Roger Devon.”
“Well, I was hopin’ you might could help me out with somethin’ else.”
He stood up. “Cut the corn-pone, deputy. I’ve been asking around about you and I’m not going to fall for your country Columbo routine.”
I stood, too. “Well, if you wanna put it like that, Mr. Peter, I’m conductin’ a investigation into two deaths an’ a couple suspicious disappearances, an’ I expect you to cooperate.”
“I’ve already told you why I’m here, Deters. So far I’ve been stonewalled, cheated, and continued. I’d like nothing better than to finish my job and shake the dust of this place.”
I’d heard about the “cheated” the previous evenin’, when I was out celebratin’. I said, “If you’re cryin’ foul ’cause you severely underestimated our local pool sharks, you oughtta be ashamed. You’re old enough to know better’n to try hustlin’ hustlers on their home turf.
“As for the other stuff, I been busy an’ ain’t heard. How is it you been stonewalled and postponed?”
“I haven’t gotten a single hard fact from you or anyone else since I got here. And that shyster that passes for a judge, told me he was giving me a continuance so he could ‘consider the merits of my petition.’ For a court order to get a forwarding address, for Christ’s sake!”
I shrugged, then hitched my thumb in the general direction of Arnold’s room. “Not to change the subject much, but you seen the guy in 108 lately?”
“I’ve never seen him. Who is he? And what’s your interest?”
“Claims he’s with ATF. I got no interest in him, but I do have business with him.”
“What does he look like?”