Heartache Motel: Three Interconnected Mystery Novellas (Henery Press Mystery Novellas) Read Free Page B

from her poodle purse and poured a dollop in her palm.
    Ma slung her arm around my shoulder. “Let’s see if we can get us a room, toots. I’m ready for a shower.”
    Together we walked up to the front desk. Ma rang the bell and we waited a couple of minutes. Then she gave it two more dings before a tall, muscle-wrapped redhead stepped out of a closed door and strutted toward us.
    At seven-feet-tall, she was dressed dragtastically in a pair of pink cigarette pants and fuzzy matching sweater. An Alice band held back her long, red waves and a mole dotted the divot above her upper lip. “Hello,” she said in a deep voice. “I’m Man-Margret. How can I help you?” She really did look like an amped up version of Ann-Margret a la Viva Las Vegas. The silver charm bracelet at her wrist jangled softly. Every charm was the same—half of a broken heart with a jagged edge.
    “I get it,” Ma said. “You’re like Ann-Margret, but you’re a man.”
    “Only when I pee, honey.” She waved a hand. “Now, what can I do you for?”
    “We need two rooms with two queen beds in each,” Ma said.
    “You’re in luck. We have a few rooms left.” The drag queen spun on her very high heel and eyed a pegboard of metal keys. She snatched two and faced us. “The Clambake and The Roustabout. Forty-nine ninety-five a night for each. Ask for more towels and it’ll cost you three dollars apiece. No cable, but you might want to check out the bar, Suspicious Minds. We have a special on our Rock-a-hula drinks at happy hour.” Her gaze took in Roxy. “Oh, doll, that outfit is delicious.”
    Roxy tossed a blue braid over her shoulder. The flouncy purple and blue dress, which boasted a white bow bigger than her head, was a little wrinkled. But the plaid was so loud, you hardly noticed. “Thanks.”
    Ma handed over her credit card. “And give us five extra towels. What the heck? You only go around once.”
    The clerk winked her spiky, false lashes. “You know that’s right, sweetie.”
    As we grabbed our bags and headed for the elevator, Ax caught my elbow. “I’m not so sure about this place, Rose. Looks kind of low rent.”
    “What gave it away?” I whispered back. “The drug deal we interrupted in the parking lot? Or the hourly rates posted next to the front desk?”
    We stepped onto the rickety elevator. It reeked of old piss and etched into the green wall paint were obscene, exaggerated drawings. Who knew balls could be spelled with an ‘o’ and a ‘z’? Ma punched the third floor button and the car slowly creaked upward. The fluorescent light buzzed off and on a couple of times, like a scary movie right before one of the actors turns up dead, killed in some bloody, horrific way.
    “Seriously,” Axton muttered in my ear, “we could die here.”
    I shushed him, but he was right. Tomorrow we would find a new place. But in the meantime, we were stuck.
    The elevator doors slowly sputtered open. The whole car lurched, gave a death-rattle shudder, then stopped.
    “Dude, this is like a rollercoaster. But cooler,” Joe said.
    Ma was oblivious. “Girls, we’re in three-oh-two. Boys, you’re in three-oh-one.” She handed Axton a pink keychain in the shape of a heart.
    We walked to the end of the narrow, dim hall and as Ax opened his door, I glanced inside the boys’ room. Clambake, indeed. A fisherman’s net was nailed onto the wall alongside red, plastic clams. The room smelled like old socks and there were so many stains on the carpet, I couldn’t make out its original color.
    “Sleep well,” I said.
    “On to our room, girls. The Roustabout sounds exciting.” Ma slid the key into the lock.
    “Any moron could jimmy these doorknobs,” Roxy said. “We need to make sure we take our valuables with us in the morning.”
    The Roustabout, wallpapered in a dizzying graphic of red and white stripes, featured the face of a hand-painted circus clown covering one entire wall. His sinister smile promised nightmares. The final