Blood in the Water(47)

“How long ago did it happen?” Jane asked.

“Around ten years? I was still in high school at the time. You should talk to the county coroner, Doc Wilkins, if you want the inside scoop. She handled the body and could give you more, uh…details.”

“Appreciate the info.” Byron rubbed his hands together. “What kind of accommodations have you got in town? I suppose a Hilton is too much to ask for.” A life of privilege had given him certain expectations.

“You can get a room at the Love Nest, if there’s one left.”

“What, Heartbreak Hotel was already taken?” It was a bit on the nose for Byron.

“No, Romeo runs it, and he ain’t an Elvis fan.”

Romeo? Fantastic. Byron had a history with him too. “Let me guess, his wife, Juliet, works there too.”

“Naw, his sister’s name is Juliet, and she’s the co-owner.”

“That ain’t right.” Siblings named after lovers made Byron a mite queasy.

“Tell me about it.” Skeeter pulled out a map and circled a building with a black Sharpie. “It’s the next street over. Turn at the Aphrodite statue and make the first left on Lover’s Lane. The coroner works at Sacred Heart Hospital—the morgue’s in the basement.” He circled it as well and handed the map to Jane.

“Come on, let’s go to the Love Nest.” Byron held the door for Jane, who rolled her eyes.

With any luck, he’d get them adjoining rooms and make his move tonight.


***

With a name like the Love Nest, Byron had expected something tawdry.

He’d passed through town before, but he hadn’t taken the ten cent tour. The hotel was in a historical building, probably built in the late 1800s. Not as nice as Beauregard Manor, but not shabby either. It certainly didn’t look like a no-tell motel where lovers could have a quickie on the lunch hour.

“Hello, young lovers. Welcome to the Love Nest.” A young woman standing behind the front desk called out the greeting as they entered, but the smile froze on her face and was replaced by a reserved expression.

Evidently, his reputation had yet again proceeded him.

“We need two rooms.” Jane walked right up to the desk. With a frown, she pushed aside a gardenia topiary shaped like a heart so she could place her briefcase on the desk.

“Do you have a reservation?” The woman crossed her arms over her chest. The look she gave Jane was even frostier than the one she’d given him.

“You must be Juliet.” Byron headed over to the desk.

She sure didn’t live up to her namesake. The girl was a slip of a thing—maybe 5’1” with long hair which came down to her ass. It was twisted into a colorful assortment of braids. He didn’t even know they made dayglow orange hair dye. He figured she was in her twenties. Her black shirt read Bitchin’, and she wore a tartan skirt and knee socks.

Hmm. Somebody’s rebelling.

He recognized the signs easily. His own brothers and sister had gone through similar phases.

“We don’t have a reservation, which is why I asked for two rooms, instead of giving you our names,” Jane said this with a smile. Not realizing it was rude.

“On Dearest Day?” Juliet lips thinned, making her lip piercing wobble. “We book months in advance.”

“So that’s a no?” Byron smiled.

Juliet glared. “We got one room, but not for you.”

“Only one?” From the look on Jane’s face, Juliet might’ve just announced the Supreme Court had disbanded.

“Look, if this is about Romeo, he ain’t here.”

“It’s water under the old bridge, darlin’.”

“For you maybe. The last time you were in town, you broke Romeo’s jaw.” She pointed an accusatory finger.

“Couldn’t be helped.” The asshole had it coming, as he recalled. If Byron hadn’t been in a generous mood, he might’ve shot the bastard in the leg instead. At least a jaw mended, and he wouldn’t have a limp.

“Look, I’ve seen Scorch and we’re copacetic, so how about you lose the attitude and give us a room?”

“Fine, but I’d be gone before he gets back if I were you.”

“I’ll take that under advisement. How much?”

“It’s two-fifty a night.”

“For this place?”

Byron shot a cursory glance around the room to take in all the kitsch. The brick fireplace was decked out with pink and red Xs and Os on the mantelpiece. Not to mention the wall of pink Post-its affixed behind her, arranged into a heart. Even the adjoining eatery, visible through the arched entryway was a horror—hurricane lights filled with conversation hearts, red plates, and doilies everywhere.