Fugitive Nights(56)

"What's his name?" Nelson blurted, and Lynn said, "Easy, Nelson."

The clerk looked through his register. "Mister Ibanez, Francisco V. Residence address is . . . let's see . . . Las Palmas . . . de . . . Gran Canaria, wherever that is."

"I know exactly where that is!" Nelson said to Lynn. "I been studying the atlas! The Canary Islands! A Spanish possession across from the Sahara!"

Nelson was so excited he barely listened when Lynn wrote down the scanty register information, complaining to the young man that the guest had failed to fill in the automobile data.

The young guy apologized saying, "The man was in a big hurry and said he'd fill it in later. We always try to get that information."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Lynn said. "Why'd he only stay one night? Any problem?"

"That I can help you with. Said he was attending some kind of seminar or conference. Only staying one night with us because there was a problem with the hotel he'd booked. His room wasn't available till Wednesday."

"Which hotel?"

"He didn't say."

Lynn said, "There's dozens a seminars and conventions this time a year. Did he look like a businessman, a professional man? What?"

"Tell the truth, I didn't pay much attention. The phone was ringing like mad and I was trying to train my assistant. I just remember the mustache and the red bag. He blew his horn for service when he first drove up, like he thought we did curb service. Never took off his hat so I don't know if he was bald or not."

"And it was a baseball cap, right?"

The young man paused, thought about it, and said, "I can't say for sure if it was a baseball cap."

"Was he pretty scruffy?" Lynn asked. "Like he coulda slept in a car all night? Something like that?"

"Yeah, he was grungy all right. Said he'd been on an airplane eighteen hours."

"Did he speak good English?"

"Real good."

"Could his accent a been, like an Arab accent instead a Spanish?" Nelson asked.

"Gosh, I don't know," the young man said. "He spoke real good though, with a slight accent."

"Did he have any other bags, like maybe in the car?"

"I don't know. Becky took him a feather pillow later. She might know."

"Where can I find Becky?"

"She's back in room D changing linens. That's where he stayed. She didn't get to it yesterday like she shoulda. We're kinda slow right now."

They found a young black woman in room D, watching a soap and having a smoke. She jumped up when they entered.

"We're police officers, Becky," Lynn said, showing his badge. "What can you tell us about the Spanish gentleman that checked into this room on Tuesday? He had a mustache and carried a red bag. You took him a feather pillow, remember?"

"Spanish?" she said. "I thought he was Eye-ranian."

"Whatever," Lynn Cutter said. "Did you see his car?"

"No."

"What kinda hat did he have on?"

"I don't remember," she said. "Did he have a hat on?"

"Was he bald maybe?"

"He was old enough to be bald, but I dunno if he was bald."

"How old was he?"

"As old as you almost."

"Anything else you can tell us? Did you see him later when he came or went?"

"No. When I came by with the feather pilla he was crawlin on the floor when I opened the door."

"Crawlin on the floor?" Nelson said.

"Yeah, I figured he lost a contact lens," Becky said. "That's all I seen. He said thanks for the pilla."

When they got out to the Jeep, Nelson was practically hyperventilating. His blue eyes pulsated when he cried, "You know as well as I do! He was praying to Mecca!"

"Calm yourself, Nelson," Lynn said, "or I'll have to give you mouth-to-mouth. And with the women I been seeing lately, you don't wanna kiss me."

He'd been saving Serenity Markers and Memorials till last. He was discouraged, but he was also superstitious. The word serenity had a pretty sound, and few English words sounded pretty to his ear. If this was not the correct place he was finished, and might as well begin his trip home.

This one was in a Cathedral City industrial park on Perez Road. On both sides of the street there were dozens of shoe-box buildings with overhead metal doors. Some had the business names stenciled or painted on the office window. This one had a large wooden sign up near the roof on the face of the building:

SERENITY.

He was wearing the Panama. It was too hot to put on the gaudy blazer. He was hungry and wanted a beer, but wouldn't have a drink while he was working. When he entered the office, he found a workman dressed in denim, using the phone in the office. The workman's black hair was covered with pale dust, and a pair of goggles hung on a strap around his neck. This company obviously made their own memorials rather than stocking mass-produced plaques like the others he'd visited.