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As Mercy wondered what she should do next, the door behind her slammed and Spence asked, “What am I? Chopped liver?”
She turned with a grin. “I’m pretty sure you don’t deserve an apology.” His head tilted, and she added, “I wasn’t all that grumpy with you. HIM, on the other hand—” Mercy waved her arm at the sheriff’s office and rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure he deserved it.” Then she switched gears and asked, “Is the café any good? Never mind, I’m about to find out. Would you like to join me? I’m buying, or will that earn me the winning lottery ticket to hell for violating small town morality?” Mercy knew she was avoiding that call to Grammy and using any excuse to put it off.
“There’s one way to find out.” Spence took her arm, and they headed to Francine’s. When the door jingled, everyone turned to watch the stranger enter. They greeted Spence like an old friend while managing to convey their distrust of Mercy.
Finding an empty table, they sat, and Mercy remarked, “Does everyone in this town know you?”
“They should. I’m on the volunteer fire department.”
“So?”
“There are plenty of small refineries in the area,” he explained under his breath. “There’s nothing like the nectar of an old-fashioned still.”
“You don’t report them?” she asked quietly, not wanting to give the mistrustful diners a reason to toss her into the bayou with a fully charged car battery and jumper cables attached to her toes.
“No harm, no foul,” he explained. “I’m not going to make trouble for them. Besides, they compensate me well.” At her snort of derision, he added, “You’re a very suspicious woman, Mercy. I don’t blackmail them. But it would be rude to turn down the moonshine they offer as a gesture of their appreciation.”
A big blonde woman arrived to take their orders, and after deciding, Mercy leaned back in her chair. “So your name is Spence?” Taking a page from Rose’s book she added, “I bet everyone calls you Spencer.”
His eyes narrowed, and she perked up with interest when he grudgingly admitted, “Montgomery Spencer, and even my mother doesn’t call me Monty!”
She hid her amusement by wiping her mouth and changed the subject. “I don’t suppose Sinful has a car rental—never mind. I should have known towns like this have car thieves but no service for the victims.”
“Where are you from?” he asked. “You have a mighty superior attitude.”
She looked shamefaced and rubbed her forehead. “It’s not so much where I’m from as where I’ve been.” His expression was doubtful, so she explained, “I was normal until I stepped out of my car in Bitumen—” He corrected her with Asphalt, and she said, “Whatever.”
“That’s exactly what I mean!” he exclaimed, and she applauded silently, choosing to misunderstand his words.
“And here I thought you wouldn’t understand!”
“You’re blaming your poor attitude on a small town?” Spence sounded incredulous.
She fiddled with the salt shaker and thought for a minute. “I don’t know. It might be the company I’m keeping.” Her eyes sparkled, and a dimple showed in one cheek as she smiled to let him know she was joking. When the food arrived, Mercy realized how hungry she was, but after a few minutes of steady eating, she paused and admitted, “All I’m saying is everything went bad from the moment I stopped at the gas station in Asphalt. See? I know the name.”
“Try using it more often,” he suggested.
Mercy shook her head sadly. “So judgmental for a man who hasn’t been scorned by the kid at the gas station, abandoned by a woefully duty deficient deputy, stalled by the 911 operator, jilted by a dead cell phone, and doubted by the deputy sheriff.”
“You left out the bathroom episode,” he reminded her.
She gave a mock sigh. “There’s your disparaging attitude again. How’s this? And mocked for making a mistake in a moment of desperation.” She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes.
He wiped his mouth after finishing his meal. “Can you add melodramatic overkill?”
“I could, but then no one would believe my plight. Plus, I had something irreplaceable in my car and I’m going to be in trouble if I don’t recover it quickly.” Trouble is an understatement! Grammy will haunt my dreams AND waking hours if I let Loyal down.
“Really? Nothing on the list you gave Carter seemed irreplaceable.” Spence watched the emotions flit across her face to settle on a look of irritation.
Mercy, you fool! Watch your step. You can’t let your guard down just because your dinner companion is hot!
“Were you carrying something illegal?” he probed.
“Quiet down,” she hissed when everyone in the diner grew silent and stared. “Of course not. I had something personal in my care, that’s all.” Unable to stand the scrutiny of so many strangers, she abruptly rose to pay the bill and left a tip on the table while ignoring the diners who silently watched her every move.
Spence held open the door, and they stepped outside. Then he asked, “So what are your plans for tonight?” She smirked, and he gave her a dirty look. “That wasn’t an invitation to come home with me!”
“How about a hotel then?” she offered with a sultry look. His sudden nervous expression made her chuckle. Patting his arm she said, “You’re too gullible. I’m going to find a place to spend the night in hopes they find my car so I can continue on my way.” And finish the job I was sent to do.
“Continue on your way? So where are you headed?” he asked, and she gave herself a mental head slap for providing an opening for him to question her plans.
Thankfully, Deputy Breaux erupted from the sheriff’s department a few doors down, searching anxiously up and down the street. When he spotted Mercy, he trotted in her direction, waving his hand.
“Lord, I hope he doesn’t have a stroke,” she whispered to Spence, who said, “You can’t stop poking fun, can you?”
“I’m not kidding,” she exclaimed. “It’s too hot for him to run.”
Kyle was out of breath when he reached them, and perspiration poured down his brow. He stood panting so Mercy took his arm and dragged him into the café. “Go get iced tea,” she said to Spence. His brow rose. “Please,” she added, and he gave a small nod, doing as she requested.
When the deputy finished his iced tea in the air-conditioned café, he said, “We found your car. Someone reported seeing it abandoned just west of town a few miles. We had it towed.”
“Do you know if my contents are safe?” He shrugged, so she said, “Then I guess I’ll follow you.” She ignored Spence’s teasing remarks about her mistakenly identifying the car not long ago.
Down at the sheriff’s office once more, she met the dour Deputy LeBlanc with an imbecilic grin. His head snapped to Kyle. “Didn’t you tell her?” Deputy Breaux’s eyes grew round, and he nodded hastily.
“When can I get my car?” she asked eagerly.
Carter looked at the wall clock. “The junkyard is closed now so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Junkyard! Did you just say my car is at the junkyard?”
Carter sighed and asked Spence, “Why did you have to bring her here? Couldn’t you take her to the state police post instead? They have more staff.”
“I thought you could use the business,” Spence replied.
“Humph! I’m getting the business all right,” he griped while Mercy tried to wipe the stupid look from her face. That happened quickly when he tossed down a couple photos and she learned her car wasn’t only abandoned. It was also stripped.
She waved one and dropped onto the nearest chair, gazing at the picture of the completely empty interior and trunk. “Any idea who stole it?” she asked seriously.
“Yeah, but we’re waiting for them to turn themselves in,” Carter responded sarcastically.
Mercy let it pass as she stared at the photo and tried to control her expression. The last thing she needed was for a small-town sheriff to know she lost more than her car, her laptop, and personal items. She saw Carter and Spence exchange a look, so she hopped up with a forced smile. “Is there a hotel in this town?” she asked. “There’s no point in moving on if I have to come back to retrieve what’s left of my car, is there?” The men remained silent, and she cleared her throat. “I mean, since I’m on vacation and not due back in Denver right away.”
Carter ignored her comment and asked Spence, “She plans to stay at the Sinful Inn?”
Mercy put her hands on her hips and said, “Didn’t I just imply that? I’d smack your head if I didn’t think you’d throw me in a cell.” She didn’t understand their laughter until Spence drove her to the Sinful Inn. She rubbed her eyes. “Is that a mini-golf course?”
“No, that’s just a distraction so you won’t look closely at the rooms until it’s too late,” he replied as the truck bounced across the rough parking lot. “If you plan on playing a round, make sure you bring a drill. Eugene Mooney ran out of money so he used plywood for the lanes. And he forgot to make holes for the balls.”
Spence stayed in his truck while Mercy hopped out and headed to the front door, gasping as she entered the smoke-filled office. Through a billowing haze she saw a gaunt man sitting behind the counter. Waving her hand, she jokingly shouted, “Is anyone there?”
“I won’t have an hourly room available for another ten minutes,” the skeleton announced, and her eyes bugged as his meaning became clear. That was a mistake as the man, presumably Eugene Mooney, blew another lungful of smoke in her direction.
Mercy clapped her hands to her eyes and stumbled around the office, crashing into God only knew what. She wished she’d been blinded before she saw the condition of the place. With her eyes squeezed shut, she felt along the wall with both hands. She opened the inner door and patted around for the latch on the outer door. The screen in the door ripped, and she tumbled onto the sidewalk, wearing it around her arm when the door latch unexpectedly gave way.
“Are you okay?”
She heard Spence, but she couldn’t see him. Her arms flailed helplessly, and she accidentally clipped his jaw as he bent over her.
“Never mind,” he said. “I don’t know why you bother with a gun. You sure don’t need it.”
Mercy dropped her arms and shook her head, removing the torn screen. “How is this my fault?” She rubbed her eyes, then held one open with her fingers. The brown orb surrounded by bloodshot white twitched. “Is that you, Spence? Is there an eye doctor in Sinful?”
He snorted, and she asked, “Any kind of doctor? Okay, is this even a motel? Because I got the impression that—”
The door squeaked, and the skinny man said, “Is she gonna take that hourly room? If not, I got other customers. Oh, tell her she owes me for a new screen door.” It squeaked again and the inside door slammed while Mercy’s head swiveled back to Spence.
“I’m right here,” she protested. “Why didn’t he just ask me?”
He laughed. “Welcome to Sinful.”
Mercy flopped back onto the broken sidewalk. “No! You’re laughing, and that can only mean Sinful is worse than Concrete! How is that possible?” she moaned as he hauled her to her feet and shoved her into the motel office.
“She’ll take a room,” he told Eugene.
“What’s he looking at?” she asked Spence through watery vision.
“You don’t want to know. One night, Eugene.” He wasn’t going to tell her Eugene just scoped her. Not because he liked what he saw. He was assessing whether the room would be available for another guest in an hour.
Mercy patted inside her handbag and passed her wallet to Spence. “Please get a receipt,” she requested. When the transaction was complete, Spence walked her to the room and unlocked the door. Her nose wrinkled. “What’s that smell?”
He pushed her inside and parked her on a hard chair. “Residual tobacco from the office,” he lied, turning on the air conditioner.
“Oh. It smells odd.”
“Eugene smokes the cheap stuff. You’ll get used to it,” he offered.
“I don’t want to.” She shuddered. “Is there a washcloth and water, or have those left town along with the doctors and sane people?”
The noisy faucet reminded her of the bar bathroom and, before that, the gas station bathroom. When he handed her a wet cloth for her eyes, she asked, “Are the walls green?”
“What difference does it make?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s lead in green paint,” she said.
“You don’t need to worry unless you plan on licking it,” he replied.
The cloth dropped, and she blinked at him. “Don’t discount it,” she warned. “Something happened to me. Something bad,” she hissed. “Unless the kid with spots at the gas station released a toxin, it was the painted walls in his station that started all this.” She flapped her arms, and he ducked.
“Nice try.”
“Thanks!” Through hazy eyes, she looked around the room in awe. “Either my vision is shot or I should have assaulted the cop when I had the chance for a night in the jail.”
He stood by the door. “You should have picked Curtain Number Two.”
“Wait! You’re leaving?” She jumped up and nearly tripped on a hole in the carpet. Rather, one of the carpet squares as the floor was covered like an old patchwork quilt.
“I’m sure as hell not staying in this dump with you,” he exclaimed.
She craned her head, peering at the wall. “Is that a cockroach? No, just a cricket. Well, that’s a comfort!” Then she glared at him. “Chivalry is dead.”
“No, ma’am. It’s just found a nicer place to stay.”
“Are you saying there’s a better motel in the area?” she asked in disbelief.
“The rooms here are recently renovated,” he replied, ignoring her question.
“Recent and renovated are relative terms,” she argued. “And I’m pretty sure both are non-existent in the vocabulary of the exhaust pipe sitting in the office.”
He shrugged. “You said you wanted to stay in Sinful.”
“Thanks! Because I sure wouldn’t want to get uppity by staying in a place with something as high class as an ice machine. People might get the wrong impression.”
“I’m beginning to think this place has gone to your head with comments like that,” he retorted.
Mercy’s brow furrowed, and she thought fast. “You’re right! I’d better leave before they have to call for the jaws of life to get my head through the door.”
He glanced at his phone when it rumbled. “Perfect timing! I’ve got to go.”
“Wait! Could you round me up a phone charger? Please?”
“And now you’re officially high maintenance.”
“I’m desperate,” she corrected.
“That’s what you said earlier, and look how that turned out,” he reminded her as he left and closed the door.
She made a face and took off her sandal to throw at the door. Then she remembered the floor and hopped around trying to get the sandal back on before her foot touched the fibers, undoubtedly hiding decades of secrets, all of them dirty. She tripped on the washcloth she dropped earlier and landed headlong on the carpet with her face mashed into a shag of indeterminate color and definite odor. The door opened, and Spence watched her from the doorway.
“If that’s a trick, I’ll wait here until you’re finished,” he said.
She choked on the dust and odor a few inches from her nose. “I thought you left,” she gasped.
A cell phone cord whipped through the air and landed just short of the bed. “Sorry,” he lied with a grin. “Now I’m going.” The door closed.
Mercy’s face hit the nasty shag. “Why didn’t I use that gun when I had the chance?” she moaned before rising to retrieve the phone charger. Twenty minutes later her phone had enough power to call Grandma Joy and tell her the latest developments.