Nick of Time (A Bug Man Novel) (21 page)

“Nick? Be serious.”

Odell shrugged. “Can’t pay attention to everybody—I only notice the ones who look like money. I’m a businessman—I got to prioritize.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular Bill Gates.” The woman seemed to get quiet for a minute, staring at him with a faraway look. “That woman you mentioned . . . Is she staying at that hotel too?”

“Don’t know. I spotted her in town a couple days ago.”

“I thought you only noticed money.”

Odell grinned. “Hey, I’m human.”

“Just barely.”

The woman suddenly stood up and turned toward the door; she snapped her fingers once and the big dog obediently rose and fell in beside her.

“Where you going?” Odell asked.

“I told you—I’m looking for my fiancé. Maybe he’s staying at that hotel.”

“What about me?”

“You answered my questions. You can go.”

“You mean it?”

“A deal’s a deal. And no sense leaving empty-handed—why not take a few things with you?”

“No foolin’? You don’t mind?”

“Hey, it’s not my stuff.”

In a matter of seconds Odell had boxes stacked up to his chin and he was tottering toward the door.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Alena gave the door a shove and it rolled aside, flooding the warehouse with early-morning sunlight.

When Odell stepped out into the parking lot he heard a familiar voice call out, “Mornin’, Odell—look over here.” He looked and saw Charlie Dorfman with a video camera, taping his exit—along with his armload of stolen goods.

21

N
ick waited as the officer unlocked the door to the holding cell. “So soon? It’s only been ten hours—I was just making plans to decorate the place.”

“We just now heard back from the Philadelphia police. Sorry it took so long; we had to wait for the morning shift to come on. A detective named Misco gave us a call back—he explained everything.”

“Misco—I’ll bet he was in a big hurry to call.”

“I imagine he’s got more important things to do.”

“More important than arranging the release of innocent citizens?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call you ‘innocent,’ Polchak. You’ve got an arrest record a mile long—you’ve been arrested in seven states. They tell me you’re supposed to be some kind of forensic expert. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Not the guys who build cell phone towers, that’s for sure. What’s with you mountain people, anyway? Don’t you like staying in touch with the rest of the world?”

“I told you last night, you could use our landline to call your fiancée.”

“And I told you last night, it wouldn’t do any good. I can only call her at nine o’clock, and by the time you people finished strip-searching and delousing me, it was already after ten.”

“Are you always so dramatic?”

“Drama helps me communicate with slow learners.”

“Ever hear of voice mail? Leave the woman a message.”

“Leave a message where? It’s her first cell phone and she hasn’t set up her mailbox yet. My messages just disappear into some nameless oblivion—sort of like this town.”

“Well, why doesn’t she call you?”

Nick abruptly stopped. “I don’t know—I’ve never thought about it before. Maybe because . . . she thinks I’m supposed to call her.”

The officer nodded. “Sounds like a woman to me.”

***

Nick completed the drive back to Pine Summit in less than half an hour. There was no traffic at all at this early hour, and the daylight allowed him to keep an eye out for any more annoying cops with radar guns. As he drove he considered his next move; what he learned yesterday at Penn State was a definite breakthrough, but he wasn’t sure where to go with the knowledge. Yanuzzi was the logical choice, but there were things about Yanuzzi that smelled funny—and Nick always trusted his sense of smell.

When Nick walked into the lobby of the Mountain View Lodge he found Holly already on duty behind the counter. “You get to work early,” he said.

“Oh—um, hi there. Nick, right? Mr. Polchak, I mean. Well—
Dr
. Polchak, that is. Sorry about that.”

“ ‘Nick’ is fine,” he said. “Any messages for me?”

“No more faxes, if that’s what you mean. A fax is a kind of message, I guess. Well—sort of. You got a voice mail—that’s a message for sure.”

“Yes, that qualifies,” Nick said. “Can I take it on the house phone there?”

“Absolutely. You bet—no problem.”

Nick waited. “
How
do I take it on the house phone?”

“Oh, you mean, like,
how
. Well, of course you need to know that. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“Holly.”

“Just dial your room number, then, um—you know. Follow the prompts.”

“Thank you.”
Like a chipmunk with a triple espresso
.

He followed the prompts on the house phone and heard a woman’s silky synthesized voice intone, “You have one new message—received today at five o’clock a.m.” He waited, and a moment later he heard another woman’s voice: “Nick, hi. It’s me—Michelle Keller. Look, I know it’s early and I didn’t want to wake you, so I’m leaving this message on your voice mail so you’ll have it when you get up. You asked me some questions the other night, and I wasn’t completely honest with you. I feel bad about that. I’ve been thinking, and there are some things I need to tell you. Can you meet me at the cabin this morning? Let’s say eight o’clock—I’ll be looking for you.”

Nick hung up the phone. He checked his watch—he just had time to make it.

“Didn’t see you yesterday,” Holly said. “I thought maybe you left, but you weren’t on the check-out list. I looked—well, sort of.”

“I was out all day,” Nick said. “I didn’t make it back last night.”

“How’d those directions work out for you?”

“Directions?”

“You know—the lady? In the boonies?”

“Oh—I found her.”

“Well, good then. Glad to help. Anytime you need directions, you know who to ask.”

Nick started for the door. “I sure do.”

***

Alena pulled into the parking lot of the Mountain View Lodge and immediately saw the difference. The place was beautiful—it looked like the Ritz-Carlton compared to that junk pile she was staying in. What was that sheriff thinking? People have different tastes, sure, but there was no way anyone could put these two hotels side by side and call the Paradise Motor Lodge the “best hotel in town.”
That was no accident
, she thought.
He told me to go home and I wouldn’t do it—he was just trying to make a point
.

Alena released the three dogs from the back of the truck and walked to the lobby. The hotel’s interior looked even better—or worse, depending on where you happened to be staying. Stone fireplace, wood-beam ceilings, soft music flowing out of nowhere—this place even smelled better than hers. She walked up to the front desk and found a young woman with straight brown hair parted down the center just like her own.

“Like your hair,” Alena said.

The woman looked up and smiled. “Really? It’s so, like, plain. My boyfriend, he wants me to change it.”

“No, it’s perfect for you. Change boyfriends.”

She leaned over the counter and looked down at the floor. “Are those your dogs? I just love dogs. Are those all yours? They’re so, like, beautiful.”

“Thanks. I’m Alena.”

“Hi, Alena, I’m Holly—and now I’m supposed to say, like, ‘Welcome to the Mountain View Lodge,’ only we’ve already been talking about dogs and hair. Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m not staying here. I’m just looking for somebody.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe I can help.”

“I hope so. Is there a man named Nick Polchak staying here?”

Holly’s face began to slowly contort, as if she were trying to hold her breath.

“He is, isn’t he?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you that,” Holly said sympathetically.

“I wish I could, really, I do, ’cause you’re so nice and all, but it’s against the law.”

“But you could tell me if you’ve seen him, right? That’s not against the law.”

“No, I guess not.”

“He’s a tall guy, with dark hair and big goofy glasses—”

“—and really handsome, at least if he ever took those glasses off, with sort of chocolaty eyes that you could just
devour
. Is that your fiancé? You are
so
lucky.”

“Then he
is
staying here.”

Holly hesitated. “I saw him come in. Then he went out. Then I didn’t see him all day yesterday, then he came in again— and left. But I can’t tell you if he’s staying here.”

Alena reached across the counter and took Holly by the hands. “You have to help me,” she said. “You’ve got a boyfriend, right? Then you’ll understand. Nick is my fiancé, and we’re getting married on Saturday.”

Holly’s eyes widened. “Saturday? Like in
tomorrow
Saturday?”

“That’s right, only I haven’t been able to get in touch with him because I didn’t know where he was staying. He left a few days ago and I haven’t seen him since. I know he came up here, but I don’t know what he’s doing and I don’t know why he’s here.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Have you already paid for the flowers?”

“Everything’s ready—I just don’t have a fiancé.”

“Doesn’t he call?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Do you want me to tell him to call you—I mean, if I see him again?”

“I don’t want him to call me, Holly. I want to find him. I need to know if he still wants to marry me, and I have to look him in the eye to do that—you can’t tell something like that over the phone.”

“That’s so true. His eyes—they tell you everything. You need to look in those big dreamy eyes of his and say, ‘Now, listen, you.’ ”

“So will you help me?”

“What do you want me to do?”

Alena looked at her with pleading eyes. “Give me a key to his room.”

“Oh, Alena. I’d like to help, but—c’mon now, I told you.”

“He has to come back sooner or later. I won’t touch anything—I promise. I’ll just wait for him, and I promise not to make a scene when I see him.”

“It’s against the
law
”—she lowered her voice to a whisper now—“and I really, really need this job.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute.

“You could wait here in the lobby,” Holly suggested. “He has to walk right by here—um, if he’s—you know—staying here.”

“I
hate
waiting,” Alena said. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“This morning—just before you got here.”

“What? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Sorry. You didn’t, like . . . ask me.”

“Where was he going?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Did you notice which way he drove off?”

“I can’t see the parking lot from here.”

Alena was getting more and more frustrated. She looked at Holly and saw her face slowly beginning to contort again—she was obviously trying to hold something back. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing. I shouldn’t.”

“Holly,
please
.”

Holly’s eyes were squeezed so tight that they were just tiny lines and her mouth looked like a purse with the strings drawn tight. She kept that strained expression until she could hold it no longer, and then she blurted out: “Nick asked me for directions the other night.”

“Where?”