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?“My…uh…key doesn’t seem to work,” I told her.
?“I’m sorry. What is your room number?”
?She checked my name and information as I reeled it off for her. Then after checking my identification, she took the same key, ran it through a machine, and gave it back to me.
?“It will work now,” she assured, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
?I took the escalator back to the second floor and started across the lobby toward the Marketplace. Only to hear a shout of “Watkins!” in
a voice I knew all too well.
?I stopped, and without looking back said, “Not now, Allen.”
?“Well, well,” Allen gloated, approaching me like a hunter about to bag his prey. “Heard you got arrested. Double homicide, no less.”
?I faced him. “I really don’t have time for this—”
?“I’m surprised. I mean, I didn’t think you had the stones for murder.”
?I exhaled heavily and started to turn away.
?“We know you’re a thief and a plagiarist, but murder? And smothering a guy who is all tied up. Kinky stuff, Watkins.”
?I started walking away. He followed me.
?“Not that I blame you. If I had to kill someone to get into Sheryl Homes’ panties, I would seriously consider it.”
?I kept walking.
?“But, man, you guys must’ve been going at it since the divorce. Always wondered why she wasn’t into me. Now I know. She was grooming a guy to be willing to kill for her. Tell me, was the screwing she gave worth the screwing you’ll get?”
?“You’re a pig, Allen,” I snapped.
?“Yeah, but a pig that isn’t going to jail.” He smirked. “Don’t worry. If you take the fall, I’ll take good care of Sheryl while you’re gone.” He drew close to me and said in a low voice, “I would love to find out if she’s a real redhead.”
?I turned to him with such an angry glare that Allen backed away a couple steps.
?“Ho-ho! Stay calm, Watkins. Don’t make me next on your list.”
?He laughed at his own witticism as I turned away and walked into the Marketplace, trying to control my breathing.
?I found Sheryl at the jewelry booth talking to my acquaintance of the other day, Norm Blake. It was interesting to see the two ginger-haired people talking, with their flaming locks being the most visible part as I approached.
?Is she a real redhead? flashed through my mind, and I turned red, embarrassed as to where my confrontation with Allen had put my thoughts.
?I really did not like that man.
?Norm was in the midst of showing a selection of his wares, which he extracted from one of the plastic bins under his table. As Sheryl talked, he slid out a different bin and began to rummage through it.
?“Here you go,” he said, and pulled out a glass case that was about eighteen inches wide and a foot tall. Inside were cameos pinned to cloth that was part of the display. There were several that showed the unmistakable profile of Sherlock Holmes.
?Each cameo had a small oval sticker with a price tag. They each ran about ten to twenty dollars.
?As I approached, he gave me a nod in greeting.
?“Hey, Norm,” I said. “All alone today?”
?“No, Cliff just went out for coffee,” he explained and returned his attention to Sheryl.
