The Ink-Stained Trail - Chapter 10

I awoke the next morning in my room with a dull throb. it's placement near the back of my skull said it was from whatever knocked me out, and not the high octane hooch. I made my way slowly to the bathroom, and while I splashed some cold water from the sink on my face, debated my next move. I knew what I wanted to try, I just wasn't sure it was a smart idea. But when had that ever stopped me before?

After I cleaned up a little more, I made my way to the diner for some breakfast with Bill, wearing yet another flannel shirt. At least he had more than one. We watched the Cowbirds make their usual rounds, but Maggie was nowhere to be seen. I guess she's trained them enough they don't need constant supervision. I walked back to the boarding house to get my car, and my best bottle of liquor. I wanted to have a real conversation with Maggie, shake the trunk a bit, see what fell off the branches. Once I saw the best bottle, I decided to stop at the store before I reached the hotel out by the highway. Not many cars there, guess it isn't the tourist season.

Once there, I explained to the thin, pinched face clerk behind the desk that Ms. Duncan had helped me recently, and I wished to give her a gift as a thank you. He nodded and without a word, picked up the phone to his right and placed a call. A few sentences were exchanged, he hung up and told me, "Room 13, end of the hall, on your left."

Maggie was waiting with the door open by the time I got there. Her hair was down, not far, since it's short, but covering her ears. She was wearing a plain white shirt, buttoned to the neck, but with the cuffs undone. It looked big on her, but I figure that meant it would breathe a bit. She wore an equally plain set of dark pants, those too, looking a bit large. Still haven't quite got used to dames wearing pants. "Ah, it's you. I thought you were only sociable one night a month?"

"That's right, and this is my one midday to be sociable. Sometimes they line up right."

She moved aside, and I stepped into the room. Standard hotel decor. Two beds, only one that showed signs of being slept in. A plain table in the corner, with a chair on either side. Curtains drawn. Maggie took one chair, nodded to the other. "Like the stars, then. Were you able to have your car fixed?"

Quite a shift between sentences there. I can't tell if it's natural, or a deliberate attempt to throw me off. "Nah, can't really be fixed, just have to live with it. She's a good car, mostly. Just temperamental, sometimes."

A knowing smile, the Cheshire Cat if its face was partially paralyzed. "And you place a certain emotional value on her. You boys, always so sentimental."

"Sentiment is for joes who can spare it. I'm cheap."

The smile reappeared. "Of course. I told you last night, it was hardly necessary to thank me for assistance."

"I know, but it seemed a good thing to do. Even I can spare sentiment sometimes. And since you aren't playing, I thought we could have a drink." I set the bottle on the table. "This might not have the kick of the stuff at Charlie's place, but you're less likely to go blind from it, too."

She raised a thin eyebrow. I wondered how hard it was to keep them that neat. "It's a little early for a drink, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "It's only too early if you think it is. But we can wait, pass the time." I leaned back a little more, let my eyes drift over the room, take in the faded watercolor of cobblestone street in a distant city. Reminded me of Italy. Without looking at her directly, I asked, "What brought you to this sleepy little burg?"

"When I was younger, all I wanted was to get away from home. After some time away, all I wanted was to go back. Have you ever felt like that?"

Now I was making eye contact. "Not particularly, but none of the places I called home were very homey. Why not go back home?"

I expected her to look away, maybe evade the question, but her eyes took on a distant look, instead. "My family wouldn't welcome me. This town at least is a lot like home." Best kind of evasion, one with a little truth in it. I just wasn't sure which part. "And what brought you here, Mr. Curtis? Sleuthing?"

I shook my head. "No, it was for my health. Doc's orders."

"Ah, the pollution in the city was getting to your lungs."

I laughed. "It'd have to fight the cigarette smoke first. No, Doc told me if I didn't get outta town it was gonna be bad for my fingers, toes, and face." Doc was one of Johnny Two Left Shoes enforcers. Fortunately, one I got along with, and one willing to offer warnings, before he started in on you.

"It's difficult, living under the constant threat of violence." Bit of a forlorn line to her mouth, that distant look creeping back in.

"None of that here," I agreed, "unless you count your boys marching around town, spooking everyone."

She looked at me, startled, or appearing so. "What do you mean?"

"They act like an occupying army. Always making sure people know where they are, always making people detour around them."

Now she was glaring. "They're just exploring. Keeping busy. They miss their homes as well."

I wasn't sure when I'd decided to press the issue. Maybe I was getting frustrated I couldn't get a read on her, when she was being genuine. But now that I had, no sense doing it halfway. "Maybe you need to find more stimulating activities for them. Like a coloring book. Maybe painting classes. One of them has an artistic touch?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"All those signs at the recent heists. The raccoon prints. Someone likes to leave their mark."

Are you saying I'm involved in those thefts?!"

Her voice was rising. The anger, I was sure was genuine, but I wasn't sure if she was angry about being accused, or angry about someone catching on to her scheme. "I never said you, just one of your boys. But now that you mention it, I figure they're taking orders from you, sure."

"And what business would it be of yours if I were involved?"

That almost felt like an admission, but nothing you could take to the bank, or to the cops, for that matter. And she was already getting herself back under control. I hadn't managed to shake her as well as I'd hoped. So I changed tack again. "None. I'm not getting paid by anyone. Don't even know why I brought it up. Let's forget the whole thing. What are your long-term goals? Farming?"

She sat there for a moment blinking, like I started speaking in tongues or something. Then she smiled. A little friendly, a little amused. "No. I had enough time on the farm. Shipping might be good. An exporter. It's obvious people around here need another option. The Charlanes' regular shipments being raided on the road, or before they even leave. Total incompetence, but an opportunity. And you, what are your plans?"

"I never plan long-term. Every time I've tried it's gone south. Stay here until it's safe to go back to the coast, see if I can pick up where I left off. Have to rent a new office, I'm sure my old one has been taken back."

"I wish you success in those endeavors." She rose, the sign our conversation was over. "If you don't mind, I have some business that needs attending to. Perhaps we can have the drink another time. Will your afternoon to be sociable happen soon?"

"Hard to say. It doesn't like to plan long-term, either. Keep the bottle. It was a gift after all. Or consider it an apology for my rude manner earlier."

"What rude manner? I'm sure I must have forgotten whatever you mean." Well, she'd enjoyed herself, at least. And so had I, even if it hadn't been as productive as I'd liked. I shook her hand lightly, placed my hat back on my head, gave her a slight nod, and stepped back into the hall.