The Last Motel (29 page)

“I know.”

“You know?” Briggs said, frowning.

Wilkes breathed a deep sigh. “The woman who owned this motel, she was one of the bodies that was on the ground, her husband used to be a police officer. He was killed twenty years ago. He was stabbed by a madman while he was in the station bathroom.”

“I’ve heard about that,” Briggs said.

“Anyway, Madge kept the gun. As a reminder of her husband. And also for her own protection.”

“So that was her gun?”

“Yes.”

Wilkes could tell what was going through Briggs’s mind.

She didn’t kill these people. It wasn’t Madge, you arsehole
.

“Well, that was all I wanted to speak to you about.”

“Okay,” Wilkes said. “I’ve got something for you to do. Inside the cabin that had the smaller fire, there are a lot of cigarette stubs and empty drink cans. I want you to bag them all.”

“You think whoever did this was in there?”

Wilkes shrugged. “Maybe.”

Briggs nodded. “Is that all, Sir?”

“Yep.”

Briggs turned around and hurried away.

Turning to look at the fire, Wilkes saw that the blaze was out. The firemen still had water rushing on the pile of rubble. He guessed so that no small fires started up. Thick smoke drifted endlessly from the ruins. Wilkes felt a small sense of relief that the fire was out. It was one less thing that he had to worry about.

He turned and headed back into the cabin.

Roger and Bullet had the bodies on the stretchers, in the body bags. Blood and bits of mushy brain and bone and muscle covered the back wall. The bed was drenched in pale yellow.

“All set,” Bullet called back when he saw Wilkes.

“Okay. You can go, Adams. I’ll stay in here.”

Adams nodded. “What about the rifle? Are you going to bag it?”

“You bet,” Wilkes sighed. “Can you do it?” he asked him.

“Sure.” He quickened out of the cabin.

“Quiet guy,” Bullet said. “Has a weak stomach.”

“He hasn’t seen many things like this before.”

Bullet nodded.

Wilkes stepped out from the doorway to let the two paramedics through.

“See you around,” Bullet said, carrying the body of Edward Worchester outside.

Wilkes nodded.

“Nice seeing you again,” Roger said.

Wilkes smiled shortly. “Take care. Say hello to Jessica.”

“I will. Same to Pam.”

Roger vanished and so did the body of Morrie Prescott.

Not long after, Adams came back with a large plastic bag. He put the rifle and all its contents into the bag, sealed it up, then left.

Inside the quiet cabin, Wilkes wandered over to the table and sat down. He now had to wait for forensics to come and dust the Bluebird that was parked outside.

Jason had gone with that man, John, to the hospital to tend to the bullet wound. And to get a statement on what happened.

Jason had told him his suspicions about the man. But then Jason was suspicious of every damn one.

He had also told him that when forensics arrived, they were to dust the car and that no one was to touch it until they arrived.

“Hey, Harry.”

Wilkes jumped. He turned around and shook his head. “Fuck, Mike. You scared me.”

“Sorry”

Wilkes stood up as Mike entered the cabin. He immediately winced and wrinkled up his nose. “Christ, how can you stand being in here? Reeks like God knows what.”

Wilkes shrugged. “Get used to it I suppose.”

“Can we talk outside?”

Wilkes followed Mike out into the morning air. Smoke filled his nostrils. “See you guys put out the fire. Well done.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Harry...we have to wait until things have cooled down a bit, but...”

“What?” Wilkes said. “Did you find something?”

Mike nodded. His face was grimy with soot and sweat. Where it wasn’t black, Wilkes could see that his face was flushed.

“It looks like a body.”

Wilkes felt his stomach drop. He shook his head and sighed. “Just the one?”

“Well we can’t really tell until we sift through the remains, but it looks like just the one.”

“That’s something at least,” Wilkes said. He looked over at the firemen and the remains of the cabin. They were standing around, pointing and gazing at the mound of debris.

“What the fuck happened here, Harry?”

Wilkes turned back to his long-time friend. “God only knows.”

With the sky now an ashen grey and sun-up quickly approaching, Harold Wilkes put his arm around Mike Powell. “We’ll find out, though. Now come and show me this body.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

8:23 a.m.

Wayne had his eyes closed and was enjoying the rest, when somebody knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

He opened his eyes and saw Jason MacDonald. The Inspector was still wearing the same old jeans and jacket, and he had yet to brush his hair. His eyes looked heavy and tiny white stubble covered his fleshy face. He closed the door and approached the bed. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Can’t feel a thing,” Wayne said. “Great thing those pain killers.”

The Inspector nodded. It was obvious that he hadn’t been home to clean himself up. His breath reeked of stale coffee, now, instead of alcohol.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Inspector, but you look like shit.”

The Inspector smiled. “Thanks. I haven’t had a chance to sleep. I’ve been over at the motel, searching around the mountain.”

Wayne felt his heart begin to pound. He wondered if they had found the bodies. “So what can I do for you, Inspector?”

“You were lucky,” he said as he sat down in the chair beside the bed. “As we thought, the bullet went clean through. No bones were shattered. Doctors say that there shouldn’t be any infections.”

“Yeah, I know,” Wayne said. “They say I should be as good as new in about a month, maybe a bit longer.”

“Be able to have a good rest. Lie in bed and relax for a month,” the Inspector said.

“Yeah. I’ll hopefully be able to get back to my work soon, though. Want to get back to it, you know? I miss it.”

The Inspector nodded. “Have you had a chance to listen to the radio or watch TV? It’s all over the news, of course.”

“I bet it doesn’t say much, though. They can’t know what happened.”

“Do you know what happened, John?”

Wayne grinned. “Not much.”

The Inspector reached into his pocket and pulled out a pad and pencil. “Mind?”

Wayne shook his head. “Not at all.”

The Inspector started writing on the pad, but then sighed and scribbled furiously. “Wrote the thirty-first instead of the first,” the Inspector said as he wrote the day’s date on the pad.

Wayne smiled politely.

 “Now, John. Tell me what happened.”

“Is this, like, on the record?”

Wayne could see that the Inspector was becoming just a little impatient, but he spoke in a calm manner. “Yes, John. This is official. On the record.”

“Okay. I was driving along the Maroondah Highway at around...five-twenty this morning, when I saw a big ball of light in the mountains, just as I was passing the motel. Figuring that it could be a fire, I quickly turned onto the road and drove up to the motel.”

“Why didn’t you drive to a petrol station and call triple zero?”

“I didn’t know how far it was to a public phone or a town, so I figured that I had to see if I could help. You know, maybe rescue a trapped person or something. Call the fire service from the motel.”

“Okay, so you decide to drive up to the motel. What did you see when you arrived?”

“What do you think? I saw the cabin in flames. I parked far away, near the office and hopped out.”

“Did you see anybody at this point?”

Wayne shook his head.

The Inspector stopped writing and looked up.  “Can you please answer either yes or no, for my sake?”

“Sorry, Inspector.  No,” Wayne said. “I didn’t see anybody at that point.”

“Continue,” the Inspector said.

“Well, I hopped out of my car and saw one of the cabins with its light on. I was walking over to it when all of a sudden these two people come running out. The first one was a large woman, I’d say mid-to-late thirties. The woman behind her was an old woman. Well, at first I thought there was another fire starting up, but then I saw that the old woman was holding a gun.”

“What? She was carrying a gun?”

“Yes. And that’s when I realised that the first woman was screaming. I know it sounds silly, but I didn’t hear her right away. Anyway, I soon guessed that she was being chased by the old woman.”

“And they didn’t see you standing there?”

“No. But you gotta remember, this all happened in about two seconds. As soon as they came out of the cabin, the woman screaming, the old woman shot her in the head. Just like that.”

The Inspector stopped scribbling and took a moment before he asked, “So what happened after the old lady shot the woman?”

“I ran up to them, to try and stop the old lady.”

“But she had already shot her.”

“Yeah, I know. But I figured that as soon as she saw me, she wouldn’t hesitate in shooting me. I was a witness.”

“So you didn’t try and run away?”

“Why? She would’ve just shot me in the back. I figured my best chance was to try and get to the old woman before she had a chance to fire at me.”

“It didn’t occur to you that maybe the younger woman was a criminal or something and that the old woman was protecting herself?”

“No. Why should it? When two people come running out of a cabin in the early morning, high in the mountains, with a fire blazing away just behind you, and one of them shoots the other in the fucking head, what would you think? That the shooter is the innocent one and doesn’t intend to kill you as well?”

“Okay,” the Inspector said. “I’m not saying what you did was wrong. I’m merely trying to get all the facts.”

“Sorry,” Wayne said. “I’m just a little emotional. I’ve never seen a person killed before.”

“I understand,” the Inspector said. “So you decided to try and get the gun away from her, right?”

“Yes. Now, I was only about four metres away, so it wasn’t that big of a distance. But in that time, the old woman managed to shoot at me. And you know where she hit me.” Wayne huffed.

“Where? For the record, John.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. I was shot in the left shoulder.”

“Okay, then what happened?”

“I was shocked to say the least, but I kept on running towards her, and before she had another chance to shoot again, I was at her and managed to grab the gun from her. Well, she kept on wrestling with me even after I had the gun, and while we were fighting the gun just went off. And she fell to the ground.”

“So you didn’t mean to shoot the old lady? It was an accident?”

“Correct. I had never held a gun before, so I guess I forgot to keep my hand away from the trigger. Trust me, it was just as much a shock to me as it was to her when the gun went off.”

“I doubt that,” the Inspector muttered.

“That’s about it,” Wayne said. “I think I dropped the gun as soon as I shot her.”

“You think?”

“Right. I don’t actually remember letting the gun go. I don’t know how long I stood there, in shock, I guess. The next thing I can remember was hearing the sirens and then you guys arrived.”

“So that’s the whole story? You can’t think of any other details?”

“That’s it. It all happened so quickly. I go up there to see if I can help, the next thing I know I’ve shot a woman in the head and I, too, have been shot.”

The Inspector pocketed the pad and pencil.”Thanks, John.”

“So is that all?”

“For now, yes.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, Inspector, but I’m feeling very tired. Do you mind if I get some rest?”

The Inspector nodded. “Sure.” He stood up. “You know that old lady you shot, the one you say went crazy and shot the woman?”

“Of course,” Wayne sighed.

“She was a friend of mine. I had known her for about thirty years. She was the wife of an old detective.”

“So?” Wayne said.

The Inspector shrugged. “I just can’t believe that Madge would do something like that. She was one of the nicest and most gentle people I knew.”

“Well she obviously wasn’t too gentle and kind.”

The Inspector nodded. “Guess not.” He gave a quick smile. “Well, rest easy, John. I’ll be in touch soon.”

He turned around and headed for the door. “You’re a lucky man. Got yourself your own hospital room.”

“Aren’t I lucky,” Wayne said.

There was a knock at the door. The Inspector opened it and stuck his head out.

Wayne cocked his head but couldn’t quite make out who it was.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” the Inspector said and left, closing the door after him.

“Fucking pig,” Wayne muttered.

He looked at the sling that held his left arm and shoulder. He smiled. His story had worked. He was free.

Damn I’m brilliant
, he thought.

He heard the faint murmur of talking. He wondered what was going on out there.

Soon the door opened and the Inspector slipped back in.

“Sorry about that, John.” He held up a set of keys. “One of my men has just dropped off your car.”

He wandered to the bed and handed them to Wayne.

“Great,” Wayne said. “Thanks for that, Inspector.” He placed the keys on the side table.

The Inspector nodded, then headed for the door. He had one foot out in the corridor when he turned back around. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

Who the fuck is this guy, Columbo?

The Inspector dug into his jeans pocket. “I believe this is yours.” He hurled an object at Wayne. It landed on the bed.

The Inspector grinned. “I’ll be seeing you soon...
Wayne
.”

He left the room.

Wayne stared at the door, grinding his teeth together until his eyes watered and he felt the gritty sensation of broken teeth in his mouth.

He eventually pulled his eyes away from the door and gazed down at what lay nestled in the bed cover.

He had found his knife.