“Huh?”
“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
“Besides, it was a long time ago. I suppose I’ll never be over it completely, but…I’m coping.”
“Well…”
“This,” Gorman interrupted, “is probably not the ideal place to talk.” He nodded toward the closed door behind which, he assumed, her parents were busy with other matters. “Why don’t you check us in to our rooms? Then we’ll make arrangements to meet later, after we’ve had a chance to rest up from the drive.”
“Good idea,” she said. She made a shaky smile and licked her lips. “Will you be together or…”
“Separate rooms,” Brian told her.
“Very good.” She snapped a pair of guest registration cards down on the counter. “Would you each fill out one of these?” she said in a firm, practiced voice. Obviously embarrassed by her earlier loss of composure, she was trying to appear businesslike. This delighted Gorman. From the tone of her letters, he’d been prepared to face a rather tough, cynical bitch, an operator. Now, he realized she wouldn’t be the obstacle he had feared. The toughness was no more than a thin shell, easily cracked.
He finished filling in his card.
“All our units,” Janice said, “are equipped with queensized double beds, color TV, and complimentary coffee.”
“Magic fingers?” Brain asked.
A slight frown drew her brows together. She studied him as if trying to figure something out, then seemed to give up. With a shake of her head, she told him, “I’m afraid not.”
“Well, shit.”
A grin split her face.
“I could just shit, couldn’t you, Gorman?”
Now she was softly laughing.
Brian gave her a pitiful look. “I can’t sleep without Magic Fingers.”
“Aw, poor boy.” One of her hands lifted as if to pat him on the head. She caught herself, and lowered the hand behind the counter. “You’ll just have to suffer,” she said. She smiled at Gorman. “Is he always this way?”
“Just around beautiful women.”
Her face went red as if magically sunburned. “Anyway.” She took a deep breath. “How long do you expect to be staying with us?”
“I believe two nights should be sufficient, don’t you?”
“Depends, I guess. What’re you planning on?”
“Why don’t we discuss that in the privacy of our rooms?”
“Yeah, that’d be better.” She glanced at Brian, and quickly looked away. She picked up the two registration cards. “Will this be cash or charge?”
“Do you take Visa?”
“Yes, we do.”
Gorman used his card to pay for both rooms. After he signed the receipt, Janice turned over the card to compare signatures. “I’m no imposter, young lady.”
“Huh? Oh. Just force of habit. I know you’re Gorman Hardy.”
“The paperback edition didn’t have a photo.”
“I saw you on the
“Ah. Am I even more handsome in person?”
“Oh yes. A lot more handsome.”
“Why, thank you. You have an endearing quality about you, Janice.”
She shrugged, muttered thanks, and reached under the counter. She came up with two keys, each attached to a tab of green plastic. “I’ll put you in five and six. They’re together with a connecting door.” She swung an arm out behind her. “Just drive through, they’re the third duplex on the left. The ice machine’s just outside the office here, and there’s a soft-drink vending machine beside it.”
Gorman nodded. Leaning against the desk, he asked in a quiet voice, “When would you be able to join us?”
“I can usually get away. Mom’ll be over at the restaurant most of the time, and Dad’s pretty loose. I just tell him I want to go out, and he takes over the office.”
“Excellent. Now, as I understand it, they know absolutely nothing about our purpose here.”
“Right. Nobody knows but me.”
“It’s imperative that we keep it that way. At least for the present,” he added.
“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Janice said. “Are you kidding? It’s my neck.”
Brian peered closely at her neck. She met his eyes, blushed and looked back at Gorman.
“Would one of our rooms be a convenient meeting place?” he asked.
“Sure. Good as any. I’ll bring in some clean towels, just in case, but nobody’s even gonna notice me.”
“Very good. Say room six, then, in an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
“And bring the diary along.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Just ahead, on the left, was a white-painted adobe restaurant with a red tile roof. The sign in front, hanging from a miniature lighthouse, read Lighthouse Inn.
Tyler checked the rearview. The Mustang was a hundred yards back. She signaled for a turn. A moment later, the Mustang’s turn light began to flash. She swung across the road, into the paved parking lot.
Nora leaned over, twisted the mirror and studied her reflection. She started brushing her hair. Tyler pulled into a space and stopped the car. She waited for Nora to finish, then turned the mirror toward herself. Her blonde hair was slightly mussed, but she thought it looked all right. She checked her face for blood. She couldn’t see any.
The Mustang eased in beside them. Tyler grabbed her handbag off the backseat, and climbed out. The ocean breeze felt cool and good. It tossed her hair. It flipped open the bottom of her untucked blouse as she stepped around the car, exposing her tanned belly to Abe’s stare. She had neglected to fasten the last button. She closed it now, and Abe lifted his gaze to her face.
Not hard eyes, she thought. But probing, maybe a little amused.
“Bet you’re surprised we found a place,” Nora said.
“I was beinning to wonder.”
“Boondocks, USA.”
Jack hurried ahead and pulled open the dark wood door. He held it while the others stepped into the dimly lighted foyer. A blond girl in a turtleneck and kilts came forward, clutching menus to her chest. Abe told her that they’d come in for cocktails, and she led them through a nearly deserted dining room to a table by the windows. Abe pulled out a chair for Tyler. Jack did the same for Nora. “A waitress will be by for your orders,” the girl said, and left them.
“Nice joint,” Jack said.
“We picked it special,” Nora told him.
“Come here often?” Abe asked, raising an eyebrow at Tyler.
“Whenever we’re in the neighborhood.”
“We’re from LA,” Nora said. “How about you?”
“Here and there,” Jack said.
“These are a couple of very evasive guys,” Nora said. “What are you, bank robbers?”
Jack grinned. “Now there’s a thought, huh, Abe?”
“I guess you might say we’re itinerants.”
