Fire Lake by Jonathan Valin Page B

from the pool I was standing in over to Jenkins's chair,
where another dark puddle had formed by his feet.
    "Jesus," I said softly, knowing already
what it was. Knowing but not believing it.
    Then I began to smell it, over the burned-coffee
smell, the stale urinous smell of old cardboard boxes, the ozone
smell of the blazing TV. I covered my mouth with one hand, and with
the other, I pulled the Gold Cup out of its holster.
    Glancing quickly behind me, to make sure I was alone,
I walked over to Jenkins's chair. The front of his white dress shirt
was open, his black pants were unbuckled and unzipped. The rest of
him was all red, from neck to thigh. A sock had been stuffed in his
mouth. When I looked down at his feet, I realized it was his own
sock. One of his feet was naked. It was red, too, from where the
blood had dripped down his legs. The fact that the blood had stopped
dripping registered somewhere in the back of my mind, although if
you'd asked me, at that moment, what it meant, I wouldn't have been
able to tell you. I wouldn't have been able to make a sentence.
    I didn't look at Claude's face for very long. Rigor
had begun to set in and his mouth was beginning to stretch into a
gruesome, yawning smile. It was a particularly horrifying sight with
that sock still wedged between his teeth. I could see from the rope
burns on his wrists that he had been tied to the chair. I turned off
the TV, stuck the gun in its holster, and walked back into the
office. My shoes left bloody imprints on the linoleum. I sat down
behind the wooden desk and stared blankly at the telephone on the
desktop.
    I'd just picked up the phone--to call the cops--when
I saw Lonnie's driver's license sitting on the desk. I stared at the
dried blood spots on its frayed plastic surface and felt my heart
sink. Putting the phone back down, I picked the license up and
slipped it into my coat pocket.
    Outside, on the highway, a semi passed by with a
rumble that made me jump. Its headlights flashed through the blinded
windows, making barred shadows fly up the office walls and across the
ceiling.
    Unnerved, I got up and walked quickly across the
room. I knew I was leaving a trail of bloody shoe-prints behind me.
But nobody could connect them up with me. Nobody could connect the
murder up with Lonnie, either, I thought grimly. Not as long as I had
his license in my pocket. Only that wasn't true. Nothing short of a
thorough search of the office and storeroom could guarantee that
there was no other evidence linking Lonnie to the crime. And I just
didn't have the heart to make that search.
    I stepped outside and walked across the lot, dragging
my shoes through the dirty snow to wash off the blood. I glanced at
the motel cottages when I got to the car. They looked as deserted as
they had the night before.
    Getting in the Pinto, I sped out of the lot.
 

    11
    I stopped at the Frisch's Mainliner in Fairfax and
phoned Station X from an icy phone booth outside the restaurant. I
told them to check the office storeroom at the Encantada Motel in
Miamiville. I didn't tell them what they'd find. After hanging up on
the desk sergeant, I dug another quarter from my pants and called the
Clarion. It was almost four A.M., but what I'd found at the Encantada
wouldn't wait.
    Karen answered the phone on the sixth ring. Her voice
was shot full of anxiety.
    "It's me," I said. "Harry."
    "Christ, what time is it?" she said.
    "Late. Karen . . ."
    I suddenly realized that I didn't know what to say to
her. That I didn't know what any of it meant. I only knew that Lonnie
was in deep, deep trouble.
    "Harry?" Karen said with concern. "What
is it? What's wrong?"
    "A man's been killed," I said. "The
clerk at the motel."
    I heard her suck in her breath. "And Lonnie?"
she said, still holding her breath.
    "I don't know," I said. "I found his
license on the clerk's desk."
    "Oh, my God," she said with horror. "You're
not saying that Lonnie murdered him, are you?"
    "I'm saying that I found his license