Flowering Judas(33)

The young woman came back with his credit card and a large manila envelope. In fact, it was a huge manila envelope, and one of the padded ones, as if somebody had shipped him something from Alaska. Instead, Gregor noticed, it hadn’t even been put in the mail. There wasn’t a postage stamp or postal marking on it.

The young woman handed the two things over. Her smile was in place. It never moved.

“You’re that man,” she said. Then she saw Gregor had the paper and pointed at it. “That man. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. Everybody’s been talking about it for a week, though—the fact that they were going to bring you in. It’s really exciting to have you here at Howard Johnson.”

“It’s not really exciting to have me anywhere,” Gregor said. “I mostly just read through papers and organize them.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do more than that. You’re famous. And everybody wants to know, of course, because everybody knows somebody in the family.”

“You mean you knew Chester Morton?”

“Oh, no,” the young woman said. “I was, I think, six when he went missing. Something like that. I don’t even remember it happening. But he had two brothers and a sister, and the youngest brother was in my class in school. John Bishop High School. That’s over on the West side, near Sherwood Forest. You probably think I sound crazy. Sherwood Forest is a part of town. A nice one. The Mortons live over there. So do I.”

“I’m sure it’s very nice,” Gregor said. He wasn’t sure what else he should say.

The young woman got the computer card keys out and put them on the counter. “And, of course, there are the billboards.”

“‘Billboards’? Plural?”

“Oh, yes. Didn’t you know there was more than one? His mother put them up everywhere. There’s even one on the interstate near the exit to downtown Mattatuck. I grew up with those signs. My mother says the first thing I ever read out loud was one of those signs. You pass them all the time. Makes you wonder why he chose that one to hang himself from, or for somebody else to—well, you know what I mean. It makes you wonder.”

“I suppose it does,” Gregor said.

“She’s been all over the news lately, too, you know. His mother, I mean. You have to admire her. She never gave up hope of finding him. It had to be awful, finding him like that, though. Don’t you think? Oh, and the restaurant is open until ten. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

2

There were messages for him, and the big manila envelope. Gregor took the messages and the manila envelope himself and let Tony Bolero bring the luggage upstairs.

“I feel like an idiot,” he said, when they were both in the elevator. “I feel like I should be in one of those movies where everybody is a movie star.”

“I don’t see why,” Tony Bolero said blandly. “Movie stars don’t usually stay at the local HoJo.”

This was true, but beside the point. Gregor let it go. They got to the floor and then down the wide, carpeted hall to the rooms. Gregor found himself wondering why hotel corridors always seemed to be not just empty, but dead empty, as if nothing lived there. They got into Gregor’s room and Tony put the luggage at the bottom of the closer of the two enormous beds. Gregor threw the messages and the manila envelope on the little desk and thought about a friend of Bennis’s who had come to visit for the first time from France, and who had been absolutely astounded at the size of the beds in ordinary American hotel rooms.

Tony Bolero looked around and nodded, Gregor didn’t know at what. “That’s okay for the moment,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go to my room and get organized.”

“I don’t mind at all. You should get some rest. We’ve been driving for hours.”

“Not even two,” Tony Bolero said. “It’s right over the state line. I didn’t like those mountains, though, I can tell you that. And I hated that damned tunnel. But never mind. I just want to unpack.”

“Go unpack,” Gregor said.

“Don’t forget I’m on your phone,” Tony said. “Speed dial nine. Just press the nine and hold it down—”

“I really do know how to speed dial.”

“Mrs. Demarkian seemed to think—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gregor said. “I know what Mrs. Demarkian thinks. Go unpack. I’ll call you when I need you.”

Tony Bolero shrugged, and went back out into the hall, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Gregor spent half a second thinking that if this were a slasher movie, it would be Tony he’d be wise to be afraid of. Then he sat down at the desk and looked through the messages.