The Motel
The man stepped back into the small motel, leaving the door wide open.
"You say you're not with the Sheriff?" The man wheedled again.
“Then I'll talk to you. My name's Fredrick Walker. New folks around here are always bad news. We need to talk. Come on inside, I’ll put on some coffee.”
The man was good to his word, moving to a small and neat kitchenette. He had a microwave, a tea kettle and a faithful Mr. Coffee. The man set up a 10 pot to brew and gestured to the biggest piece of furniture besides the bed, a card table with four folding dinette chairs. The chairs were good quality - wooden and upholstery. They clashed with the cheap card table that fit the motel. You imagine that Fredrick has furnished his rented motel room on his own dime.
Fredrick moves over and takes a seat in the first chair, giving a grateful sigh as he rests his old bones.
"If somethings gone missing, you ought to go talk to Adam Chen, the night manager. He's a shady character. He's not even supposed to be here at 10 in the morning, but there he is like a bad penny. You ought to keep a sharp ear out for the Sheriff and his Deputy, too."
The man perks and glances towards the door, listening.
"He's not a man to cross. Lets be quick about it."
...
Fredrick listens to Al gravely and then leans forward.
"A woman's gone missing?" He sucks in some air between his teeth, shaking his head.
"I hate to say it, but pretty women shouldn't be around here. There's been all sorts of strange things going on." The man pauses and looks up, organizing his thoughts.
"I hate to hear about the woman, though. That's bad news. I didn't see a woman this morning, but I was doing my exercises. I was just about to do my rounds." Fredrick stated. There appears to me no deceit in him. He's taken the news of a missing woman to heart and seems heart sick. His winkled face is a mass of frown and concern.
"What do you think happened to her? How can I help?"
Justin Cross