Thursday, October 17
11:15 P.M.
Jefferson, Texas
THE RACKET AND rattling in Jefferson was enough to drive a man with Malachi’s gift of hearing insane. Probably all those damn ghosts.
“Just one night,” Malachi addressed the desk clerk at the Bargain Bayou Inn.
Her lips started moving.
“What?”
She pointed at his ears.
Of course, he’d forgotten he was wearing his noise-canceling headphones. He slipped them off.
“That’ll be ninety seven dollars plus tax. Sign here, please.”
“A bargain indeed.” As he handed her cash, he smiled politely. The place was modestly furnished but really clean. The lobby smelled of fresh paint. A picture of a woman dressed like a Southern belle, parasol and all, hung above the front desk. Strange for Texas, but then again, Jefferson was once a riverboat town and quite close to Louisiana. Noting that the Bargain Bayou was relatively quiet compared to the streets of Jefferson, he decided he liked it here.
Good thing Spenser and Cassidy had chosen this place and not one of the haunted hotels—where the cacophony of the dead would’ve kept him up all night.
Unlike Langhorne, they weren’t on his employer’s to-do list. But Malachi knew they might lead him to his target, which would save him time and effort. Also, Spenser had seen his face, so on or off the list, he had to be eliminated. Following the pair from Dallas was a good way to kill two birds with one stone.
Or three.
Caitlin Cassidy was a nice bonus.
Ten minutes earlier, while the couple checked in, Malachi had stood at a pay phone in the lobby with his back turned. To pass time, he’d checked the Jefferson phone book and found one Langhorne—Yolanda. Had to be either his target’s mother or sister. Whichever, Yolanda would have the information he needed to locate his target and the diary—both of which he’d somehow lost track of. Or maybe Langhorne was with Yolanda now. He smiled to himself. This had been a good plan indeed.
But time was of the essence. He couldn’t risk Spenser’s arriving first and possibly describing him to Yolanda. He had to get to Cassidy and Spenser before they got to her. So after the couple exited the lobby, he’d followed them to room number 175. The entire way, he’d heard humming, smooth vibrations, two distinct octaves, entwining in perfect harmony.
Two!
His ears vibrated from sheer joy. The couple not only provided him a soothing break from the washing machines of this earth, he knew he’d hit the jackpot. Once he collected these two souls, he was positively guaranteed the magnificent death he longed for.
He watched impatiently while the couple entered the room and closed the door behind them. Then he’d headed back to the lobby to check in. With the noisy strains of useless men assailing him from every direction, he’d been forced to put on his headphones. He had no time to plan the fantastic death Spenser and Cassidy deserved, but he could certainly do better than shooting them in their sleep. So as he made his way back to the lobby, he looked for something useful. Some way to give them a death less ordinary, an ending that would make their families wonder what the pair had done to deserve such a twist of fate.
A freak accident would work.
But nothing came straight to mind. Malachi was just about to resign himself to simply shooting them when he spotted something that gave him an idea. There, on the sidewalk, most likely waiting to be hauled off to the dump, stood the inspiration he’d been looking for.
An old refrigerator.