‘How many times were you away from the front desk?’

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, holding the ledger like a shield.

‘I’m not questioning your work ethic,’ Darby began.

‘Then why are you –’ Laurie Richards cut herself off, blood draining from her face. ‘Oh my God, are you saying the Red Hill Ripper was inside the hotel yesterday?’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘Why else would you be asking me these questions? Oh my God –’

‘Ms Richards –’

‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

‘The Ripper was not inside the hotel,’ Darby lied. She needed to keep that information contained; it couldn’t be allowed to leak all over town. ‘These are routine security questions.’

‘You think the Ripper is going to attack Agent Hoder? Is that it?’

‘I’m concerned about reporters. They like to sneak into hotels.’

Richards puffed up her chest a little. ‘Not on my watch.’

‘Is there a service entrance?’

‘There is. Or was. It’s chained up.’

‘Inside or outside?’

‘The chain is inside. Padlock. I don’t have the combination, if that’s what you’re wondering.’

‘When you were off cleaning and what have you, was the ledger by the phone?’

Richards’s anxiety increased, her expression changing into that of someone who had just been handed a live grenade.

‘Ms Richards?’

‘Yes. Yes, it was there.’

‘Last night, after I checked in, did you receive a phone call that you forwarded to my room?’

Laurie Richards swallowed, her eyes glistening with tears. She blinked them back and inhaled deeply through her nostrils.

‘Ms Richards?’

‘I don’t understand what I did wrong.’

Darby tried to hide her impatience. ‘Please, just answer the question.’

‘He asked to speak to you. I forwarded the call.’

‘He,’ Darby said. ‘You’re sure it was a male voice.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you recognize it?’

Richards considered the question, her gaze sweeping across the cracked sidewalk.

‘No. No, I didn’t.’

‘What did his voice sound like?’

‘Like a … Like a man’s voice. You know, older. Deeper.’

‘Did he ask you anything else? My room number?’

She shook her head again, lips pursed, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘I haven’t once suggested you did, Ms Richards. Yet you keep on asking me that question. Is there something you want to tell me?’

‘I can’t afford to lose this job. If I do, I’ll be out on the street.’

‘You’re not going to lose your job. After you finished cleaning my room, did you leave the curtains open, or were they closed?’

‘I won’t have nowhere else to go.’

‘Ms Richards, I’m simply asking whether –’

‘I won’t have nowhere else to go. If Charlie Baker thinks I did something wrong, he’ll fire me. You don’t understand. You don’t understand.’

Darby tried to speak to the woman, but it was pointless. Laurie Richards was no longer listening; she had turned away, sobbing.

Darby put her arm around the woman’s shoulder, about to escort her into the hotel, when a sheriff’s car turned the corner, Lancaster behind the wheel.

30

Deputy Sheriff Lancaster worked a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket as he moved around the front of the cruiser and stepped on to the sidewalk. He wore a Stetson and a pair of mirrored sunglasses that seemed too big for his small face.

He was about to put a cigarette into his mouth when he saw the sheets of tear shining on Laurie Richards’s cheeks and froze. His gaze darted between her and Darby.

‘Everything all right here?’ he asked.

Laurie Richards straightened and almost stood at attention, like a weary foot soldier who suddenly found herself in the presence of a colonel. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said, and used the back of her hand to wipe the wetness from her face. Then, to Darby, ‘If you don’t have any more questions, I’d like to go back to work. I got a busy day ahead of me.’

Darby nodded. ‘Thank you for your time, Ms Richards. Before you go, can you give me directions to Cindy’s Diner?’

‘Go straight up Main and take your second left on to Cranmore Avenue. From there, it’s about three, maybe four blocks, right across from Gilly’s Hardware.’

‘Thanks.’ Darby slipped on her sunglasses, wanting to leave. But she’d be damned if she was going to slink away.

Lancaster waved his hand at Richards, who had started towards the door. ‘Hold up there a sec, Laurie, I actually came here to see you.’

Richards perked up.

‘I need three, maybe four rooms,’ he said with avuncular affection. ‘Think you could accommodate me at such short notice?’

Richards brightened. ‘Yes. Yes, of course, Sheriff. Absolutely. Anything you need. You want them right now? I only ask because I’d like to air them out, give everything a good and thorough cleaning.’

‘Don’t need ’em till later this evening, so you take your time. If there’s a problem, just give me a call. Otherwise I’ll be back here around five or so with the boys.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder as he handed over his card. He winked. ‘Thanks, hon.’

Laurie Richards was either the world’s loneliest woman or she had completely bought into Lancaster’s aw-shucks corn-pone sincerity. The woman blushed and, smiling, shuffled away, the ledger cradled against her chest. She glanced once over her shoulder.

Lancaster didn’t notice; his attention was on Darby. With his head he nodded towards Richards, who had already disappeared inside the hotel. ‘What was that about?’

‘I had some questions about what happened last night. Why you staying here?’

‘With gas prices the way they are, it’ll be cheaper than me and my people driving back and forth every day from Brewster. Laurie see or hear anything?’

‘No.’ And even if she did, I wouldn’t tell you, Darby added privately.

‘So what did you say that made her burst into tears?’

‘She was afraid she’d done something wrong. She thought she was going to lose her job.’

‘You always conduct your interviews outside?’

‘I like the fresh air.’

‘Well, you’ll get plenty of that here, although the view’s for shit.’

Lancaster was telling the truth. Downtown Red Hill looked even more depressing in the daylight. Abandoned and forgotten. The movie theatre on the corner had the word CLOSED in crooked letters on the weathered marquee. The tallest building, made of brick, had a clock with a broken hand and OUT OF BUSINESS signs plastered on soaped windows. It was an old Sears building, the faded letters still visible on the rotted sign hanging on the roof.

‘Laurie’s got a right to be scared,’ he said. ‘Man who owns this place is one mean prick. Takes a certain delight, maybe even pride, in it.’

‘Charlie Baker.’

Lancaster nodded and removed a cigarette from his pack.

‘You know him?’ Darby asked.

‘Well enough to know he’s the type of guy who wakes up with a haemorrhoid and looks for someone to blame. So he goes to the pool of people who work for him. Woman like Laurie, he knows he’s got her painted into a corner and he takes full advantage of it – of her. She don’t hop-to the right way he’ll shitcan her and she’ll be out on the street.’

‘Like the way you shitcanned Nelson last night?’

Lancaster looked into her eyes as he lit his cigarette with a Zippo. He inhaled deeply.

‘I know what you think happened last night, the version Nelson fed you,’ he said, tendrils of smoke drifting from his nostrils. ‘Truth is, the second you left he went into the house to take pictures with a disposable camera. Why would he do such a thing? Glad you asked. Mr Nelson, like every other cop in Red Hill, is looking for ways to supplement his income. There’s a tabloid website and supermarket rag-mag with the oh so original name of Crime & Punishment. You familiar with it?’

Unfortunately, she was. The popular website for true-crime fans had posted a lot of articles about her over the years, the majority of which were filled with bullshit quotes from a ‘close pal’ of hers and ‘a source close to the investigation’.