THE CHIMES ON THE OFFICE door sounded. Her guest was an elderly man with a fringe of silver hair and an aggrieved expression on his suntanned face. He was dressed in one of those violently patterned terry-cloth beach jackets and matching trunks.
“You’re not Ava,” he said, looking over her shoulder.
“No,” Letty agreed. “Ava’s out running errands. Is there something I can help with?”
“Who are you?” He spied Maya, who was busy stapling together the pages she’d finished coloring.
“I’m Letty,” she said.
“Oh yeah. The newcomer. With the kid. I heard about you.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t hear anything bad,” Letty said, flashing him what she hoped was a disarming smile. “And you are?”
“Merwin Maples. Unit four.”
The door opened again and a woman pushed through, leaning on an aluminum walker.
“What’d she say?” the woman asked. “Can we get the Sheehans’ unit, or no?”
He went to the door and opened it wider. “Ava’s not here.” He jerked his thumb in Letty’s direction. “This is the woman Ruth told us about.”
Merwin turned back to Letty. “This is my wife, Trudi.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Letty.”
Trudi Maples had creamy, almost unlined skin and pale blue eyes. She wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, a knee-length snap-front housecoat, and sensible thick-soled lace-up walking shoes. But the oddest thing about her was the white cotton gloves she wore on both hands.
“Don’t I know you?” she asked, studying Letty’s face.
“I don’t think so. We just moved into the pink unit this week. I’m going to be helping out here in the office.”
“Where are you from?” Trudi asked, inching closer to the reception desk. “I could swear I’ve seen you someplace before.”
Letty felt a tickle of fear. “I’ve pretty much lived all over. Most recently in New Jersey.”
“We’re from Jefferson City. Ever spent any time in Missouri?”
“Not really,” Letty said. She needed to change the subject. “You were saying something about moving into the Sheehans’ unit?”
Merwin spoke up. “Yes. Word on the street is that Bill and Alice are moving into the Polaceks’ unit. So we’d like to move into the Sheehans’ unit.”
“Is there something wrong with the unit you’re in?” Letty asked.
“No view,” Merwin said. “You can see the water from the Sheehans’ place.”
“All you see out our window is the ice machine,” Trudi griped.
“Oh,” Letty said. “Ava should be back around lunch, so I’ll tell her you came in and made that request.”
“Write it down,” Trudi instructed. “I know for a fact that the Weidenauers have been angling to move. But we’ve been coming down here way longer than they have, so by rights, we should get first shot at it.”
“Okay,” Letty said, dutifully scribbling a note to that effect. “I’ll let Ava know.”
Trudi looked past Letty at Maya, who was peeling the paper off a purple crayon.
“Pretty little girl,” she said. “Whose is she?”
“Mine,” Letty said, not bothering to explain. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”
“I never forget a face,” Trudi Maples said. “And I know I’ve seen you someplace before.”
“People tell me that all the time,” Letty said. “I’m always hearing that I look like somebody’s high school classmate or second cousin.”
“No. It’s nothing like that,” Mrs. Maples insisted.
Merwin rolled his eyes. “It’s her superpower. Sooner or later, she’ll figure out how she knows you. And it’ll probably come to her at four in the morning, so she’ll wake me up to tell me all about it.” He touched his wife’s shoulder. “Come on, Trude. I want to start packing our stuff so we can move into the Sheehans’ unit as soon as Ava gives us the go-ahead.”
Letty recognized the next visitor as one of the women she thought of as “the bird ladies”—the three skinny women she saw gathered together most nights at the Murmuring Surf’s smokers’ lounge, laughing easily and sharing a bottle of wine.
Today’s visitor was easily the most youthful-looking of the women—with hair dyed blue-black and a still-shapely figure she accented with snug-fitting capris and T-shirts. She pushed through the door and looked right past Letty.
“Where’s Ava,” she asked breathlessly.
“She’s out. Is there something I can help with?”
“God, I hope so. My bathtub is stopped up and I’ve got a small river flowing straight into my bedroom. Is Joe around? He usually fixes stuff.”
“I haven’t seen him this morning,” Letty said. “Is there a plumber I could call?”
“How do I know? Call Ava. Get her back here now.”
Letty picked up her phone to call the motel owner, but her call went immediately to voice mail.
“Ava’s probably still in the dentist’s chair,” Letty said. “Hang on.” She walked into the supply room and returned with the plunger and a plumber’s snake she’d spotted earlier while looking for a roll of Scotch tape.
“Good Lord,” the woman said, pointing to the long hand-cranked drain-cleaning tool. “Do you know how to use that thing?”
“Hope so,” Letty said. She held out her hand to Maya. “Come on, doodle, let’s go.”
“What’s your name, by the way?” the woman asked, as they walked toward one of the larger units on the south side of the property.
“I’m Letty.”
“And I’m Arlene Finocchia. Sorry to be so panicky, but the carpet in my unit is new, and I don’t want to lose the security deposit if it gets ruined. What’s your little girl’s name?”
“Maya.”
“Such a sweet face,” Arlene said. “This is me. Unit thirteen.”
She was pointing to a mint-green concrete-block unit with a deep blue front door. A thin stream of water trickled out onto the concrete doorstep.
“Oh shit,” Arlene said. “Sorry,” she said, glancing down at Maya. “Excuse my potty mouth.”
“Unfortunately, she’s heard it before,” Letty said. Arlene opened the door and they followed the water into the bathroom, which had a powder-blue ceramic tile floor and matching powder-blue fixtures.
“Stupid me. I left the water running while I ran to the laundry room to switch out the machines … and when I got back, I saw this mess.”
Damp towels were piled up on the floor, which held more than an inch of water.
“Uh-oh,” Maya said, pointing to water splashing over the top of the tub.
Letty sat down on the edge of the tub, ignoring the resulting gusher.
“I’ll just take Maya into the other room while you work,” Arlene said, holding out her hand to the little girl. “Okay if I give her a snack? I’ve got some tangerines from the produce stand.”
“She’d love a tangerine,” Letty said.
Ten minutes later, Letty emerged from the bathroom with a triumphant smile. She was soaked from the knees down and held out a paper cup with what she estimated was a good four-inch-thick blob of matted jet-black hair caked with what looked like cream rinse.
“All done,” she said, holding out the paper cup for inspection. “Here’s the culprit.”
Arlene Finocchia’s face turned pink with embarrassment. “Oh my God.” She clutched her head. “I knew my hair was thinning out, but not that much. That’s disgusting.”
“These old pipes are probably kind of corroded inside,” Letty said. “I used to live in a building where this happened all the time. You ought to buy a gallon of white vinegar and pour some down the drain every day or so to clear out the gunk.”
“I will,” Arlene said.
“Have you got a mop and bucket handy?” Letty asked. “We should get that water up before it has a chance to sit.”
“You’re amazing,” Arlene said, as Letty prepared to leave. “An honest-to-God lifesaver. Wait, I have something for you.” She disappeared for a moment, and when she came back, she pressed some bills into Letty’s hand.
It was two ten-dollar bills. “Oh no,” Letty said. It was her turn to be embarrassed. “That’s not necessary, not at all.”
“Sure it is,” Arlene said, waving away Letty’s objections. “My security deposit is five hundred bucks. And I’m pretty sure Ava didn’t hire you to do plumbing work.”
“I’m here to do whatever needs doing,” Letty said, trying to hand the money back. “Please, I can’t take this.”
“Maya,” Arlene addressed the little girl. “Hold out your hand.”
“Okay.” The girl grinned as Arlene closed her chubby fingers over the cash. “You two run along now. And thanks a million.”
Letty had devised a system for completing the flyer mailing. She folded each flyer in three, inserted the rate card, affixed a preprinted mailing label to the front, then handed it off to Maya, whose sole responsibility was stapling the flyers together. The little girl chortled gleefully each time she mashed the glossy paper beneath the stapler.
Letty was so absorbed in her task she lost track of time until the door chimed again and Joe walked in, carrying a large cardboard carton. He glanced around the room. “Where’s my mom?”
“She had a dentist’s appointment and a coffee date. She said she’ll be back before lunch,” Letty said.
He walked around and joined them behind the counter, setting the box on a console table and ripping it open with a box cutter. He lifted out a bulky package wrapped in a plastic foam cube.
“I picked up her new printer,” he said, cutting away the foam. “I’m just gonna go ahead and set it up now, because otherwise I’ll have to come back and do it after I get off work tonight.”
“You’re on duty?” Letty asked. “Isn’t that against the rules or something?”
“We’re a small department. My sergeant knows where I am and he knows how to find me,” Joe said. He cleared a stack of file folders from the console top, set the printer up, and began plugging cables into the back of the printer, and then into the wall socket.
He tapped some buttons on the printer’s control panel and nodded in satisfaction when it lit up. “There’s paper on the shelf in the supply room,” he told Letty. “Grab a stack and let’s see how it works.”
She found the paper and inserted it into the printing tray. Joe sat at the computer monitor and typed, and a moment later the printer whirred to life.
“Good,” he said, nodding. He looked down at Maya, who was trying out the stapler on the discarded blocks of foam. “Hey, I recognize that table and chair.”
“Ava said they used to be your sister’s.”
“But they were mine first,” Joe said. “She used to sit me there while she worked. I watched a lot of television sitting at that table. Ate a lot of baloney sandwiches there too.”
“How nice,” Letty said. She picked up a stack of flyers and began folding them, hoping he’d get the signal that she was very, very busy.
“Where’d you grow up?” he asked. “I swear, just now when you said ‘How nice’ I detected a Southern accent.”
“We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Tennessee and West Virginia, places like that,” Letty said, being deliberately vague. “Could you hand me those rate cards over there?”
She wished he’d go.
“Were your parents from the South?”
“She was, but he wasn’t. They split up when I was little.”
“My old man took off when I was seven,” Joe volunteered.
Despite herself, Letty found herself curious about this cop’s background. Maybe if she asked the questions he’d be so distracted he’d forget to interview her.
“Your mom told me your folks bought this place when you were a baby. What was that like? Growing up, living in a motel?”
“Until I went to high school, I thought everybody lived like this,” Joe said, gesturing around the small office. “Especially after my old man left, there was always a lot to do around here. I started off emptying garbage cans, cleaning the pool, sweeping the breezeways. When I got a little taller, Ava had me mowing the grass, painting, washing windows.”
“Had your family always been in the motel business?”
“No. My dad sold cars for a living. The folks came down here from Michigan on vacation one January, Mom said they thought they’d found paradise. The water was blue and the sun was shining. My dad told her he never wanted to see another snow shovel for as long as he lived. According to her, he was always full of big ideas. They were staying at a little tourist court up the road from here, and one day he spotted the for-sale sign out front of the Murmuring Surf. Without consulting her he borrowed money from his folks and hers, did some fast talking to the previous owners, the Doughertys, and next thing Mom knew, they were in the motel business.”
“And she stayed on, running the place, after he split?” Letty asked.
“She didn’t have much of a choice. My old man met a cocktail waitress over at Derby Lane, that was the local greyhound track, and the next thing Mom knew, even though she’d always been a housewife until they moved down here to Florida, she was running a motel and raising a kid.”
“Must have been tough,” Letty said.
“She’s a tough lady,” Joe said. “But she’s a soft touch for a sob story. Which is why I try to run interference when I can. Because people take advantage.” He gave her a hard stare.
Letty stared right back. “I don’t have a sob story. I’m just trying to live my life and take care of my niece. Is that some kind of a crime?”
“You tell me,” he said.
The door chimed. Ava breezed in with an armload of grocery bags. “I’m back.”
She looked from Letty to her son. “Everything okay here?”
“I met Mr. and Mrs. Maples,” Letty said. “They came in to tell you they want first dibs on the Sheehans’ unit.”
“Here we go,” Joe said. “Musical motel units.”
“I also met Arlene, the lady in the mint-green unit? Her tub was stopped up, but I took care of it.”
Joe looked skeptical. “What’d you do?”
“I got a plunger and the plumber’s snake and I extracted a huge hairball from the drain,” Letty said.
“Good work,” Ava said, beaming at her new employee.
“Speaking of work, I gotta get back to mine,” Joe said. “I hooked up your new printer.”
“Did you show Letty that new software, so she can teach me how to use it?” Ava asked.
“No time today,” Joe said.