Seaweed Under Water Read Online Free Page B

above the same chair, was a copy of the photograph I’d first seen at the house on Welling Terrace—the one of a smiling yellow-haired mother, standing on a tropical beach with a little copper-skinned daughter. I went over for a closer look.
    Karl said, “That’s Janey, and I guess her kid. Only Janey don’t look that way now. See her in the morning before her makeup’s on, she’s like death warmed over.”
    I heard footsteps moving around upstairs. “You told me the hotel was empty.”
    â€œIt is, except for you and me.”
    â€œThere’s somebody downstairs.”
    Karl shrugged.
    â€œThis is a missing-person inquiry,” I said. “Until I tell you differently, this room is off limits to everyone. That includes you, Karl.”
    â€œJaney is missing?”
    â€œShe may be.” I looked Karl in the eye. “When was the last time you saw her?”
    Karl shrugged. “She comes and goes.”
    â€œCan you be more specific?”
    â€œThe last time I definitely saw her was about three weeks ago. But there’s no telling how many times she’s been in or out since. I don’t pay no attention to her.”
    â€œFine, but remember. This room is off limits.”
    â€œThat’s okay with me.”
    Twin diesel engines revved up outside. We looked out of the window—the Mayan Girl was leaving the wharf. I asked, “That’s not Harley Rollins’ boat?”
    Karl laughed. “No, it belongs to the boss’s sister, Tess Rollins.” He watched the yacht pull away and said wistfully, “I wish I had the money she paid for that tub.”
    â€œIf wishes were horses.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    To provoke him into telling me something he might prefer I didn’t know, I said brusquely, “That yacht’s worth millions and you make what? Thirty grand a year, plus tips?”
    â€œScrew you,” Karl growled, jutting his chin. “Managing this motel is just a sideline.”
    â€œFrom what—delivering pizzas?”
    Relaxing with a visible effort, Karl shrugged and said, “That’s a dirty crack.”
    â€œNo, I’m interested. Just what do you have going for you, apart from muscles?”
    Karl was a piece of work, all right. He clenched his fists and for a second it looked as if he might swing at me, but he controlled himself and gazed stupidly out of the window. I opened the room’s small refrigerator. It was empty, except for a carton of milk and a pound of cheddar cheese. Karl moved his weight from foot to foot, opened his mouth as if to speak, thought better of it and started to leave the room.
    â€œHold it,” I said sharply.
    Karl stood in the open doorway, his eyes narrowed.
    â€œYou told me initially that nobody was staying here. Why?”
    â€œNobody is staying here regular , that’s why.”
    â€œYou’re a liar. If you want to save yourself unnecessary trouble, start telling me the truth.” I pointed to the fridge. “There’s fresh milk in there. Cheese. If Jane Colby didn’t leave it, who did?”
    â€œI told you already,” he snarled. “She comes and goes, has her own key. How can I keep track of people who have their own keys?”
    Karl was at the tipping point of exasperation. I gazed at him calmly and inclined my head toward the door. He went out, slamming it behind him.
    The milk smelled fresh and the cheese had no mould. That was a hopeful sign. Jane might have been here three, four
days ago. Perhaps there was no cause for alarm, after all. I spent a few minutes checking closets, drawers, cupboards, boxes and pockets without finding anything interesting, except for evidence that Jane was living a squalid drunken life. I closed the blinds and the window, left the room and went down to the lounge. The fire in the hearth had burned itself out. I poked among the ashes without finding any legible