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She looked at him curiously. “What sort of statement?”
“Maybe a fatal one, for both of them. Who would have thought it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I haven’t finished thinking about it, that’s why. It’s just the way I do things.”
Michelle threw up her hands in frustration. “God, you are so maddening.”
“Thanks, I really work at it.” King looked out the window for a while and then finally stirred. “Okay, this is a small town, and we’re bound to attract suspicion, particularly with so many cops around. Let’s head out and find a place to stay. We’ll wait until late tonight before we hit it.”
“Hit what?’
He looked at her. “I can be as nostalgic as the next person.”
Michelle scowled. “Do lawyers always find it impossible to actually answer a question directly?”
“Okay, I think it’s about time I paid the Fairmount Hotel a visit. Is that direct enough for you?”
CHAPTER
27
THEY APPROACHED THE HOTEL from the rear, careful to stay close to the thick tree line. The two were dressed identically and moved in tandem. They waited a bit at the edge of the trees, scanning the area ahead for signs of anyone. Satisfied, they moved out, quickly covering the ground between the forest and the fence surrounding the hotel. Scrambling over, they dropped on the other side. One of the pair pulled a pistol, and then they made their way down the rear face of the hotel. They found a side door that they forced open. In another moment they disappeared inside the dark space.
King and Michelle parked a good distance away from the Fairmount Hotel and covered the rest on foot. As they approached the building, they ducked back into the woods as the chopper, its searchlight racing over the ground, shot across overhead.
“This is actually exciting,” said Michelle as they emerged from the trees and threaded their way to the hotel. “You know, sort of being on the other side of the badge for a change.”
“Yeah, it’s a thrill a minute. Just think, I could be at my house with a nice glass of Viognier in front of a blazing fire reading Proust instead of skipping merrily through the environs of Bowlington, North Carolina, while dodging police choppers.”
“Please tell me you don’t actually read Proust while drinking wine,” she said.
“Well, only if there’s nothing good on ESPN.”
As they drew near to the hotel, King ran his gaze along the jumbled facade. “This place always struck me as something Frank Lloyd Wright might have designed if he’d been strung out on heroin.”
“It is pretty ugly,” agreed Michelle.
“Just so you understand Clyde Ritter’s sense of aesthetics, he thought the Fairmont was beautiful.”
The gap in the fence Michelle had used on her earlier visit had been sealed. So they were forced to go over the fence. King looked on a little enviously as Michelle clambered over with much greater ease than he would probably demonstrate. He was right. He almost fell on his face coming down the other side when his foot caught in one of the links. She helped him up without comment and led him down the side of the building. They entered through the same place she’d used on her first visit.
Inside she pulled out a flashlight, but King held up a warning hand. “Wait a minute. You said there was a guard.”
“Yes, but I didn’t see him around when we came through.”
King looked at her strangely. “Actually as I recall, you said the second time you came you ran into the guard, but the first time there wasn’t anyone.”
“He could have been making his rounds on the other side. They probably just patrol the perimeter.”
“Yeah, probably,” said King. He nodded for her to turn on the flashlight, and they made their way toward the lobby.
“The Stonewall Jackson Room is just down this hall,” she said.
