Читать книгу The Mural - Michael Mallory - Страница 6

CHAPTER TWO

The pool area seemed like it was the furthest point possible from his room, forcing Jack to traipse in his swim trunks through every hallway of the motel’s first floor, but the welcoming, warm chlorine smell that greeted him as soon as he passed through the double glass doors leading to the recreation area brushed that concern aside. The Jacuzzi was empty, a situation he quickly remedied. Lowering himself into the hot, steaming, initially stinging water, Jack leaned back, closed his eyes and let it lap up around him. He was getting thirsty again, but was trying to ignore that for fear that more alcohol would bring back the frightening vision of Elley, not drive it away.

He concentrated on other thoughts. This was only Monday (though it seemed like the week should be over already): he could leave first thing tomorrow morning and be back in L.A. by the early afternoon, or he could return to Wood City in the morning, now that he knew exactly where it was, and make a second inspection, just to ensure that there were no structures he had missed. By doing that, he could be on his way by lunchtime and back in town by late afternoon—not soon enough to pick Robynn up from school, but certainly in time for a dinner. Sticking around for another day would also deflect any questions that Marcus Broarty would undoubtedly come up with, all of which would begin with: Since you were already there, and we were paying for you to be there, why didn’t you...? That was Broarty’s way of letting you know what he would have done differently, had he been the type who actually did things instead of talk about them.

Both the soreness in Jack’s backside and the memory of the damp chill that had infiltrated his bones out in the woods were being massaged away by the swirling water. To rid his mind of the image of the pink, piggish face of Marcus Broarty, he closed his eyes and thought instead of Robynn. He missed her terribly whenever he was away, though just the mental picture of her beautiful face brought a smile to his lips.

“Must be awfully good, whatever you’re thinking,” a voice near him said, and Jack opened his eyes.

He saw a woman standing at the edge of the Jacuzzi across from him. She was young—about twenty-eight, he guessed—tanned, blonde, and form-fitted into a satiny blue one-piece. The woman’s freckles were completely disarming. So were her eyes, which were a rich green color. “Sorry,” she said, flashing a perfect smile, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all.”

The woman stepped into the Jacuzzi, her tanned legs melting into the water. “Wow, this is warm.”

“It takes a few seconds to get used to it, but once you do, you won’t want to leave. At least I don’t. I may spend the night in here.”

“I could tell you were having a good time from your expression when I walked up.”

Jack smiled. “Well, it was also because I was thinking about my daughter. She’s back in L.A.”

“What’s her name?”

“Robynn, and I’m Jack. Jack Hayden.” He extended a wet hand to her and she shook it.

“I’m Dani Lindstrom.”

“Danny? Like Danny Glover?”

“D-A-N-I. It’s short for Danica. So, Jack Hayden, what brings you all the way up here from L.A.?”

“Work. I’m a structural engineer and building inspector, and I had to come up to check out an old ghost town a little south of here.”

“Around here? Really? You’re not talking about Glenowen, are you?”

Glenowen, California, was a small, quasi-Victorian village several miles down the highway. “No, this one is called Wood City. It’s the ruins of a company town that was built in the thirties to service a lumber mill that they never got around to opening. I guess if you’ve never heard of the place you’re not from this area, either.”

“I’m from San Diego,” she said. “But I travel a lot. I’m a freelance DJ.”

“For parties?”

“No, on the radio, for smaller towns, mostly. I do vacation gigs, or go in if someone leaves a station altogether and they’re suddenly stuck for a DJ. I stay as long as they need me, and then go onto the next gig. It’s a little like being a temp, but instead of typing or filing, I play songs and talk.”

For the first time Jack became conscious of her voice, which was low and pleasing, and had the promise of sounding sexy as hell. “How does one even get into that kind of work?” he asked.

“Are you really interested or just being polite?”

“I’m interested. It sounds like an unusual job.”

Dani Lindstrom stretched out her legs and leaned back against the rim of the Jacuzzi, so that her breasts appeared to float on the water like twin buoys. Jack tried not to leer. “It’s not that fascinating a story,” she said. “I got an internship at a station when I was in college, and decided I liked radio, except for the politics that always seems to come with it. It’s show biz, so you’re dealing with egos and people who were fixated on their career trajectory, and I have a kind of allergy to that sort of thing. I had just about decided that radio wasn’t for me after all when a little station asked if I’d fill in for a few weeks, and I realized that was it. The regular staff wasn’t threatened by my temporary presence, so I started advertising in radio journals as a professional replacement, then an agent contacted me, and here I am.”

“So you just travel around the country going from station to station?”

“Pretty much. I’m ready to spin whatever they need, classical, country, rock, anything.”

“You must know an awful lot about all music.”

She smiled. “I learned early on that if you read the liner notes in the CD, you can become an instant expert.”

“I don’t think I could take all that travel,” Jack said.

“Oh, I enjoy it. It was Perry had the problem.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Husband.”

“Ah. I can see where constant travel could be hard on a marriage.”

“Not as hard as being married to a total jerk. My marriage was the biggest mistake of my life, but now it’s over, as of last Wednesday. That’s why I’m here. I’m taking two weeks off to celebrate.” She sat up and leaned closer to him, her green eyes shining, and for the first time Jack realized that Dani Lindstrom was not wearing make-up of any kind, nor did she need any to look stunning. “But I’d rather hear more about this ghost town of yours. Where is it?”

“You know where the highway goes to two-lane and seems to be cut through the forest just south of here, before you get to Glenowen?”

“No, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“The remnant of an old access road is right there. Follow it in for a mile or so and you eventually come to Wood City, or what’s left of it. It’s largely ruins. There was one thing that happened that was kind of scary, though.”

Dani slid closer, so close that her hand could have easily touched Jack’s arm. “What?” she asked.

He told her about the exposed mural fragment in the building, and she listened raptly. After he was finished, she said: “I’d love to see that.”

“There’s not much to see, and it’s in a filthy, dilapidated old building. I’d be a little nervous about bringing someone else in there. Besides, you can’t drive all the way in because of the foliage, and once you get out it’s an uphill, difficult hike to the city.”

“Sounds like fun to me.”

Jack shook his head. “Okay, look at it this way. The guy I report to is the type who gives idiots a bad name. If I took you to the site and you got injured, he would fire me immediately for reckless negligence and then sue you for trespassing. I’m sorry, Dani, I just can’t take the risk.”

“Then what about the pictures? You said you took pictures while you were up there. Can I at least see those?”

“You’re really interested in this, aren’t you?”

“You were really interested in my story. I want to see the pictures. Are they in your room?”

“Yes, on my laptop.”

Her smiled nearly blinded him. “Then let’s go.” As she climbed out of the Jacuzzi, Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her body. Dani Lindstrom was slender and amply-breasted, and without a trace of the cellulite that Elley was forever fighting. “Coming?” she asked, looking back at him.

Damn close to it, lady, he thought, watching her nipples rise through the one-piece. When it was no longer embarrassing for him to stand up, he climbed out of the water and reached for his towel.

Halfway back to his room, Jack said, “You know, I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable in your wet swimsuit.”

“Jack Hayden, that’s the cheapest, sleaziest pick-on line I’ve ever heard!” she said. “So what, you want me to go to your room at take it off?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant! Honest!”

She began to laugh loudly at his distress, and Jack now realized that she had set him up. He could not help but grin in response. “Man, a guy’s got to watch his guard around you, lady,” he said. “But just for the record, I’m painfully out of practice with pick-up lines.”

“Because you’re married?”

“Yes, because I’m married. What I meant was that perhaps we should both go to our respective rooms, dry off, and change clothes so that neither of us will be wet and cold.”

She smiled. “How about we hook up in neutral territory, like the lounge? I’ll be there, dry and clothed, in a half-hour. You bring the pictures.”

“It’s a date.”

Jack raced to his room, toweled off, dressed, and then waited the remaining twenty-one minutes before grabbing his laptop and heading down to the lounge, which was dubbed “The Pines.” It was typical of motel watering holes: dark, wood paneled (not pine, Jack noticed, most likely veneer), with a television, permanently tuned to a sports channel, anchored into one corner at ceiling level, but with the sound muted so that those who cared had to rely on the closed captioning crawl. Only four people were in the bar, which made it even easier to spot Dani, who was seated in a booth. As alluring as she looked in a wet bathing suit, she was even more so in a simple white blouse (with no bra underneath, he could not help noticing). She smiled as he approached laptop in hand, and slid in across from her. “Have you ordered?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then can I get you something?”

“Are you on an expense account?”

Jack nodded.

“Great. Then I’ll have the Ridgewood Chardonnay.”

Jack flagged down the waitress and ordered her wine and a microbrew draft for himself, a local kind with which he was unfamiliar. Then he opened up his laptop and powered it up. By the time the drinks had been delivered, he had the photo file up.

“You want to run a tab, hon?” the waitress asked, and Jack nodded. To Dani he said, “Cheers,” and picked up the beer, which at first bite was a bit dark and hoppy for his taste.

Dani, however, appeared to savor the chardonnay. “A dark room, good wine and spooky pictures—do we know how to have a good time or what?” she asked.

Jack smiled. “I hope you won’t be disappointed.” He began clicking through the photos on his screen. “You’re probably not interested in the pictures of the ruins so I’ll cut to the chase. They should be right...hey.”

“Something wrong?” Dani asked.

“They aren’t here,” Jack said. “They have to be here. Shit.”

She took a sip of wine. “I hate computers. They always let you down.”

“This is a first for me. Let me go back and check the directory, they’ve got to be there someplace.” Jack spent the next minute clicking and typing, all of which was mystifying to the woman next to him, and then stopped, his head shaking. “Maybe I managed to delete them when I emailed them to my boss. I guess it’s a good thing I was planning to go back tomorrow morning.”

“Maybe what you need is someone to go with you and help this time.”

“Dani, I’ve already told you, I can’t take the risk.” Jack took another swig of beer, which got better with the second and third swallows. But he lowered the glass from his lips when he saw her puppy dog eyes. “Oh, for god’s sake, Dani, don’t do this to me.”

She actually began whimpering.

Finally Jack began to laugh. “Okay, okay, you can come! Jesus Christ, with your ability, I don’t know why you need an agent. You could just go to the station manager and give him those eyes and he’d give you the drive time slot.”

Dani Lindstrom blinked but maintained the puppy dog look.

“Now what?”

“I was just thinking that some dinner might be nice, as long as we’re here.”

Jack laughed again and signaled for the waitress. He was not particularly hungry, having eaten an early dinner, but he wanted to stay there in the booth in the bar with this woman, yet did not want to simply keep drinking until he was buzzed, or worse. So Jack got the Pines Burger (for which the kitchen cleverly mixed a few pine nuts into the patty) while Dani ordered the California Salad, which consisted of alternative lettuces heaped with avocado slices.

As they picked at their meals they made small talk: Dani about her interest in radio, to the exclusion of any other media (clearly despite her film-and-television looks), and Jack about his dick of a boss. In the process Jack learned that she was older than he had assumed—thirty-three, only five years younger than he—and was interested in art and history. When Jack finally glanced at his watch he saw that it was nearly nine. “Good lord, I should probably be getting back to my room,” he said, killing his fifth beer. “I need to check in at home before turning in, and I have to get up early to get all this stuff done.”

“Well, I’ve enjoyed this evening, Jack Hayden,” she said, sliding out of the booth. Then leaning close to him, she whispered: “I’m in room 207.”

“Umm, why did you tell me that?”

“So you know where to come to tomorrow morning to pick me up so we can head on out to your ghost town. Why do you think I told you?”

“Just that,” he said, too quickly.

“Tomorrow morning, then,” she said, flashing that damned perfect smile before turning around and striding out of the bar like a model in search of a ramp. Jack exhaled loudly and contemplated ordering another beer before heading back but decided against it. Instead he asked for the check. Like most motel bars, the drinks and food weren’t cheap, and Jack had to put it on plastic. He wrote in a generous tip (Broarty could choke on it) and slid out of the booth. Standing upright, he was a little further gone from the beers than he realized. The damned stuff probably had a higher alcohol content that he realized. Nevertheless, he managed to stagger to the door and was almost out the lounge before the waitress hollered after him to tell him that he had left his laptop in the booth.

Once back in his room, Jack dutifully called home to resume the truncated conversation with his wife from earlier in the afternoon. This time he used the room phone instead of his cell phone, which was charging.

“Well, the hives are gone, like they were never there,” Elley told him. “It was pretty much a Chinese fire drill.”

“Still, you didn’t know that at the time,” Jack said, concentrating on his enunciation.

“No. But I had a bitch of an afternoon, and all I want to do now is soak in a hot tub.”

“Go ahead.”

“How can I do that and deal with Robynn both?” she asked.

“Why don’t you put her in with you?” Jack asked.

“What?”

“I said, put her in the tub with you. She’d probably love it.”

“The entire point of a hot soak is to take it by yourself. It’s personal time. It’s the only ‘me’ time I have, Jack, and I have to forego it tonight.”

“Maybe after she’s in bed you can take a bath.”

“Then I’d be laying there in the tub worrying that she’d wake up at any second and call for me,” Elley argued. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Jack hoped his sigh didn’t register loudly on the other end of the phone connection. “I should be home tomorrow early evening. Then you can go to the spa if you like.”

“I just might.”

“Fine. If there’s nothing else exciting, I have to be up and out early tomorrow and go back to the site for some more pictures. The ones I took today somehow got shrewd...screwed up. I should be home by dinner tomorrow, barring any disasters.”

“All right. She misses you, you know.”

“I miss her, too.”

“And me?”

Jack did not answer right away. He knew he was taking too long. He knew the pause between the end of her question and his response was so great that there could be no other interpretation except that he was forcing himself to say how much he missed her. But for some reason, he could not force his tongue to make the words. Say something, dammit, he demanded of himself. “You’ve no idea how much I miss the woman I married.”

“Why do you turn sweet only when you’re away from me?” she asked, oblivious to the irony of his words. “See you tomorrow.” Elley hung up without saying goodbye, as was her fashion.

“Right,” Jack said to the dead phone line.

Room 207. She’s there. She’s there now. Elley will never know. Why else would Dani have given you her room number? That business about knowing where to find her in the morning was just a chess move. Why are you waiting? Jesus, Hayden, that smile, those eyes, those freckles, those legs, those tits!

Jack sighed deeply, then said, “No.” Disappointed or not, he would leave Dani Lindstrom to her business in her room. Most men, he knew, would not. Most men would have torn a leg muscle getting down to the motel sundry shop for a package of condoms, and then be slavering at her door like a wolf smelling meat. Broarty, for instance; he was forever making comments about what he would do, or had done, with women inside if he ever had the chance. So far as Jack knew, Yolanda had managed to deflect any non work-related demands from her horny boss. He also knew, but Broarty didn’t, that she kept journal of all Marc’s dirty little comments and casual pats on the bottom in just in case she ever needed to file a sexual harassment suit complaint.

Perhaps that was why he was staying put, so as not to be like Broarty. It was as good a working definition of “conscience” as any: to act in such a way as Marcus Broarty, Asshole, wouldn’t.

Jack picked up the phone and called the bar, and ordered another beer to be delivered to his room...hell, two beers...and Broarty could damn well pay for the room service charge. Then he set his travel alarm for 6:30, switched on the television and settled in for the night.

Room 207. Just upstairs.

“Shit,” Jack muttered, getting up off the bed and walking into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face and waited for the beers to arrive.