‘Sure, no worries.’
Outside the air was cooler than it had been since he’d moved to Barrabine, so Dave decided to walk the two blocks to the Federal Hotel. He nodded to a few people whose faces he knew and thought how nice it was to be able to do that. In Perth, when he’d walked down the street there had only been blank faces, averted eyes and the roar of buses drowning out the possibility of any conversation.
He jogged up the steps of the pub and pushed on the door, noticing the peeling paint as he did so. The whole building looked old and tired, as did a lot of the shops in the main street. An overhaul wouldn’t go astray, he thought. It’s not like there isn’t any money around.
The moist air-conditioning hit him in the face as he entered the bar, as did the smell of stale beer and vomit. Didn’t seem to matter how clean these pubs were, they still stank.
‘G’day, Charlie,’ said Dave, nodding at the middle-aged man standing at the end of the bar, watching a horserace on the TV.
‘Dave,’ Charlie answered without taking his eyes off the screen.
In the reception area he was glad to find Ginger behind the desk. Thanking his lucky stars it was someone he knew, Dave hit her with a large smile. He was sure he’d be able to talk her into showing him Glen Bartlett’s room without a warrant.
‘G’day, Ginger. You’re looking busy there.’
She looked up and returned his smile. ‘Hello, Dave. Always busy. Keeps me off the streets! How’re you?’
‘Fine, fine. You?’
‘Under the pump, as always.’ She indicated the paperwork spread across her desk. ‘Trying to get everything ready for the accountant. I’m a bit late. Like about six months!’
‘Can’t be on top of everything all the time,’ he said. ‘You booked out at the moment?’
She shook her head. ‘Nah, only got nine rooms filled out of thirty. Not the busy time of the year. Too hot for tourists and school holidays are over.’ She narrowed her eyes as she glanced at the folder he was carrying under his arm. ‘But I’m guessing you haven’t come to enquire about booking a room.’
‘You’d be right there, although I’m still very grateful you found Melinda and me a nice room when we first arrived. Trying to put our bedroom together that night would have been a disaster!’
‘Ah, go on with you,’ Ginger said with a wave of her hand. ‘What can I help you with?’
‘Have you got a Glen Bartlett staying with you?’
‘Not now. He checked out about a week ago. What do you want with him?’
‘Can’t tell you that right now but could I have a look at the room he stayed in?’
‘Sure, although it’s been cleaned. I don’t think I’ve had anyone in it since he left. Hang on…’ She flicked through the register book and found the right page. ‘Hmm, nope. Haven’t had anyone in there since.’
‘Excellent. Do you know why he checked out? Was he on his way home?’
Ginger reached under the desk and pulled out a key before turning the desk sign toBack in five minutes. ‘I don’t rightly know. He didn’t say he was on his way home. I did notice on the morning he checked out his hire car was loaded with camping equipment, which I thought was a bit strange. He’d said he was from Victoria and he’d never mentioned he was going to drive home. I would’ve thought he had to return the hire car to where he hired it from, and he did tell me he flew in to Barra. Oh, listen to me, I’m rambling. This way, room twenty-one,’ she said and led the way outside to the units at the back of the hotel. ‘But you know what this town is like, Dave—everyone holds their secrets close to their chests and no one asks questions.’
‘Yeah, tight-lip syndrome, we coppers call it! Can you remember much about him?’ Dave asked as they walked across the asphalt.
‘I only saw him a few times. He was very friendly when he first checked in and I spoke to him a couple of times on the phone when he rang for room service, but that’s about it.’
‘Did he say what he was doing here?’
Ginger brushed her long red hair away from her face and scratched her elbow. ‘He was looking for someone, from what I recall. He didn’t say who, just that he was hoping to catch up with an old friend. Here.’ She indicated a door and put the key in the lock.
Inside there was a sagging double bed and grey walls. Towels were arranged in a fan shape on the end of the bed, and there was a TV on the bench next to the mirror.
Dave looked around slowly. He took in the smell and atmosphere and checked to see if there was anything disturbed. Nothing. He put his hand between the mattress and bed base, feeling to see if anything had been left behind. Then he opened drawers and cupboards and checked the bathroom.
They were all empty and clean.
‘My girls would have put anything they found in the lost property,’ Ginger said. ‘I don’t remember anything from this room, but I can check when we go back.’
‘That would be good. Cheers.’ He was just about to leave when he saw a scrap of paper poking out from underneath the curtain. He pulled out the pair of rubber gloves he had in his pocket and put them on. Bending down, he drew it out and looked at it. There were numbers scrawled on it and Dave recognised the handwriting from the Avis forms.
‘Bloody hell,’ Ginger snapped, drawing back the curtain to reveal a few dead flies and a lot of fluff. ‘I’ll be having a word to the cleaners about this. They should pull the curtains back to vacuum. That’s disgusting.’
Dave stared at the piece of paper, wondering what the numbers meant.
