His eyes were clear and intelligent. I wasn't expecting that. He reminded me of a crafty, intelligent weasel for some reason. Maybe I was about to find out. Dykes opened up his jacket with this right hand to show his badge.
"Detective Dykes, homicide," he said.
I watched the guy behind the counter. He didn't say anything. He put his magazine down and pushed himself away from the counter a bit.
"What's your name?"
"Barry," he said, and I called bullshit on that. Dykes wasn't buying it either.
"What's your real name, Barry?" he asked.
'Barry' cocked his head up towards the ceiling in defiance.
"I ain't done nothing," he said. "I don't have to tell you my name."
Dykes stood there for a moment looking at him. I wanted a go.
"You're eating breakfast food for lunch," I said. "Where I come from that's a felony."
I wasn't playing with him either. I was itching for some action. 'Barry' stood up and leaned over his side of the counter towards me. He was a tall drink of vinegar alright. Probably taller than Dykes.
"And where's that from, old man?" he asked. "Bumfuck, Missouri."
It was the opening I'd hoped for. Firstly, I wasn't that old. Forties is the new twenties so they tell me. And secondly, I'd never heard of this place called Bumfuck. 'Barry' was sneering at me as he leaned in. I wasn't sure where he got off being such a smart ass in front of three men, two of whom were carrying handguns. Leaning in was perhaps his biggest mistake though. I grabbed him round the back of the neck really quickly and brought his head down onto the higher part of the counter that was on our side.
It wasn't that hard. He was off balance, like I said, that was his error. I also caught him by surprise. The edge of the counter caught the bridge of his nose. As his face bounced off I knew he was gonna need stitches. I wasn't hangry anymore, but I was still pissy. I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was the wind in Chicago. Wind always wrecked a half decent day, and Chicago had been windy since I'd arrived. It was probably that goddamn whistling wind in my ear the whole time.
The noise of his face bouncing off the counter was a louder crack than I was expecting. He pulled back and instinctively reached for his face with his hands. Blood didn't start coming out of the cut on the bridge of his nose right away.
"What the fuck," he said, "you've busted my nose."
I hadn't busted any noses yet in my trip to Chicago. I hadn't planned on it either, but this put me in a spot. We were likely gonna have to call an ambulance for this douchebag to get his nose stitched up. That was gonna take some explaining.
"Your nose isn't broken, Barry," I said. "But if you don't give me your real name I'm leaning towards breaking it for you."
He looked at me through watery eyes. That happens when you get smacked on the nose hard. Can't be helped. I didn't consider him a wuss for it.
"Dorian Bronitt," he said.
"That wasn't too hard now, was it?" I asked.
Dykes tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to look at him. He nodded at the far corner. The three of us walked over to the bank of windows close to the entrance door. To our right were a couple of wooden, cushioned chairs and a table between them with news magazines.
"You've put us in a spot here, Anthony," said Dykes. "Dorian's nose is going to need stitches you realize?"
I nodded.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm just in a pissy mood. Didn't mean to ring his bell that loudly."
"Listen, I get you're not a cop, but still, you're with us and it's not gonna look good if Lane hears about this."
I nodded again and looked outside at the traffic going by. Jackson tapped Dykes on the shoulder.
"I can probably take care of that," he said. "I bet there's a first aid kit here. A bit of butterfly tape and some gauze and it'll heal better than with stitches anyway."
Dykes looked over at Jackson and sighed. He nodded slowly, reached for a mint and popped it in his mouth. He didn't offer us any.
"Okay," he said.
We walked back to the counter where Dorian was swabbing at his nose with a clump of tissues and trying to open up a red first aid kit.
"Let me help you with that," said Jackson, helpfully.
Dorian nodded at him. Jackson went through the swiveling door to the side of the counter over to Dorian's side and opened up the first aid kit and found what he was looking for.
"I'm gonna complain to IAD," said Dorian.
"Won't help you," said Jackson, looking at the nose. "He's not a cop. I'm going to dab it pretty firmly here to clean up the blood. Then I'm going to tape it shut and put some gauze over it, okay."
Dorian took his clump of tissues away from his nose. Jackson cleaned away the wound with an alcohol swab and then dabbed at it with some tissues. He then taped it shut and covered it with a small piece of gauze and taped that over the wound.
"Then I'm gonna sue the bastard," said Dorian.
Jackson turned round and looked at us. He was sitting on the waist high side of the counter, next to Dorian.
"That's not gonna help either," he said. "What I recall was you tripping over your chair as you got up to greet us when we came in and you banged yourself pretty good on the edge of the counter here. Good thing I was a medic in Fallujah."
Dorian looked over at Dykes. Dykes nodded at him, unwrapping some more of his Lifesaver tube.
"Yup, sounds about right to me," said Dykes.
"Assholes," said Dorian under his breath.
Dykes walked up to the counter and I joined him. Dykes offered a mint towards Dorian. Dorian took one. He offered one to Jackson and then to me. We both accepted. I decided to step back and let the police do some questioning, now that I'd warmed the man up for them.
"Listen," said Dykes. "We're here to ask some questions. We're not interested in you. But if you're gonna be a dick I can always make a call and see if there are any outstanding warrants on you."
Dorian shrugged, which probably meant he was clean. That also explained his bravado.
"Alternatively," said Dykes, "the book of law is a thick book, and I bet if I look hard enough I can find something to take you downtown for. I bet your boss would like that. What do you think, Jackson?"
Jackson came back round to our side. He looked at Dorian.
"Yeah, that book of law. Sure is thick. Lots of nuance and interpretation there too. I bet that knife in his pocket is probably not legal. Maybe the blade's too long. I dunno, but I sure do believe we could find something."
Dorian looked at them uneasily.
"Jesus," he said. "Alright, what the fuck do you want?"
"Tell me how this place works," said Dykes. "You do hourlies?"
Dorian shook his head.
"Nah man, we're not a place like that."
Dykes looked around.
"Shit, well excuse me for not mistaking this place for a five star Sheraton."
Dorian smiled a little at that. He was sitting back in his chair. It was a cheap office chair with a back that tilted. He touched the edges of the gauze tenderly. It was taped pretty good. Jackson knew what he was doing.
"Take some Tylenol and you'll be alright," said Jackson. "Though your eyes will swell a little and bruise."
Dorian nodded and put his hands back on his thighs.
"So how does this place work?" asked Dykes.
"Minimum is one night. We have deals for weekly and monthly. We have the cheapest rates in the city, so we attract a certain clientele."
"What are your rates?" asked Dykes.
Dorian didn't have to look at any notes.
"Twenty-nine ninety-five a night. One ninety-nine ninety-five a week and seven ninety-nine ninety-five a month."
"How many on monthly right now?" asked Dykes.
"Nobody. Monthly's not that popular on account that we take their ID if they want monthly. For nightly and weekly we take the cash up front and a deposit if they don't want to leave a credit card."
"How much
is that?"
"Hundred bucks deposit in case of incidentals. Sometimes we get the wrong sort here who makes a mess."
"Sometimes?" asked Dykes ironically.
"Poor folk aren't always criminals," he said. I nodded to that. "If somebody looks high or wasted we won't rent to them."
Dykes nodded, then he turned to Jackson.
"I forgot the photo in the car."
Jackson nodded and walked out. He returned a few moments later with a manila envelope in his hand.
"So you don't keep tabs on who's renting?"
Dorian shook his head.
"Nah man, not usually."
Dykes leaned in towards Dorian, putting his elbows on the counter.
"So you're telling me that you have no idea who rents a room from night to night unless they're monthlies. Am I hearing you correctly?"
Dorian looked down and around at his workspace. The plate of eaten eggs was still there. We'd passed a Denny's close to this joint. I figured that's where he'd gotten them. Dorian looked back up at Dykes.
"Nah man, we don't ask for ID unless they want to pay with credit. Most folks don't want to pay with credit. We're discreet like that." He paused for a moment. "But I take down the license plates of the cars they drive in on, you know, just in case we have an incident and need to go after them. It happened before so that's why I do it."
Dykes nodded and looked over at Jackson. Jackson grinned.
"That's smart thinking, Dorian," Jackson said.
Jackson took the photo of skinny, scraggly Jesus from inside the folder and put it on the counter facing Dorian. Dorian leaned in and looked at it.
"You seen this man recently?" asked Dykes, pushing his finger onto the man's face.
Dorian looked up and nodded.
"Yeah man, he was a weekly for a couple of weeks. Just left today. Drove a Crown Vic maroon in color."
Dykes nodded. I liked where this was going.
"I don't suppose you got his name?"
Dorian shook his head.
"Nah, but he didn't cause any problems."
"But you got his license plate right?" asked Dykes.
"Yeah, but I threw it out, I don't keep it forever. Like I said, we try and offer some privacy here. We did a walkthrough not long ago. Everything was in order. I gave him his hundred back and he went on his way."
"So you just threw it out?" asked Dykes.
Dorian nodded.
"Well, in that case, why don't you look for it?"
Dorian reached under his side of the desk and pulled out a black plastic open faced wastebasket. He rifled through it. It was filled with papers, some cigarette butts and ash, bottles and old wrappers of food. He found what he was looking for. It was piece of paper about four by six inches that looked like it'd been torn off a spiral notebook. It was crumpled up and stained, still damp in parts. Dorian straightened it out and put it up on the counter by the photo.
It had the date. Monday the twelfth of October. That was Columbus Day. The time was next to it at three thirty-seven pm. This was underlined. Underneath was the room number. One oh two. Under this was the guys description. Five ten, one fifty, scraggly hair brown, unshaven, maroon Crown Vic nineties, Indiana plate 042HGG. Jackson jotted this info down on the back of the manila envelope.
"Did he give you a name?" asked Dykes.
Dorian smiled at Dykes and looked at him. He tapped his fingers on his knees.
"I try to be social," said Dorian. "Sometimes just getting the license plate isn't all that helpful. We've had more than one asshat come here with a rental or worse, a stolen vehicle."
"And I thought you said poor folk aren't criminals," I said. I couldn't help myself. He looked over at me with anger hot in his eyes.
"I said not all poor folk are criminals."
He looked back at Dykes.
"But you know, the kind of rates we offer, the privacy, that attracts a certain person."
Dykes nodded.
"You don't suspect him for that murder of James Ensor do you?" asked Dorian. He was smarter than he looked. I had picked up on that earlier. Dykes smiled at him again, he was no longer leaning on the counter. Dykes was standing straight and tall.
"We're following leads. Can't be sure who's involved yet or not. It's not like in the movies."
Dorian nodded.
"You were telling me how social you like to be."
"Right," said Dorian. "I like to ask folks a bunch of questions and see where they're at. It's sorta like a background check."
Dykes was nodding.
"I get where you're coming from. How about we get down to brass tacks."
"Okay man, shit, you don't have to be such a dick. I'm trying to help you out here."
Dykes didn't say anything. Jackson had walked over to the glass door we had walked in from. He was looking outside towards the motel's rooms. A black sedan with tinted windows drove in and parked in front of one of the rooms towards the far end. A hispanic man got out wearing a bandana and a carrying a brown paper bag that probably had a quart of beer in it. He walked towards the stairs on the far side of the motel and took them up to the second floor. He opened a door to a room on that level that was unlocked and walked in. He was oblivious to us.
"I asked that dude his name, where he was from, what he was in town for, that sort of thing."
"Yeah, I'm surprised you aren't that busy considering the championship starting tomorrow," I said.
Dorian shrugged.
"We're steady most of the time, things like that don't affect us much. Our customers have more immediate concerns than watching overpaid athletes."
I nodded and took a step back to let Dykes get where he was going.
"So?" asked Dykes.
"So he tells me his name was Jonathan Frakes..."
Dorian grinned at that. I got it. I looked at Dykes. He stared at Dorian not getting it. He shrugged his shoulders.
"So you figure that wasn't his real name?" asked Dykes.
Dorian was still grinning.
"No man, geez, Jonathan Frakes? Number One?"
Dykes stood and stared at him.
"Frakes played Commander Ryker on Star Trek, The Next Generation. He's an actor," I offered, trying to be helpful.
Dorian looked at me grinning. He nodded his head and offered me his fist. I gave it a bump. I guess we were Trekkie pals now. Dykes looked at us.
"Really?" he asked, shaking his head like a disappointed father. I grinned at him.
"So anyways, I told him I was LeVar Burton."
Dorian stopped and looked over at me. I nodded.
"LeVar Burton," I said, getting cut off.
"Is an actor on the same show," said Dykes, showing slight frustration as he turned to me.
"Yeah," continued Dorian, "but he's a black dude man, he played the blind Geordi La Forge on The Next Generation. See, I'm not black or blind. This guy got it. This 'Jonathan Frakes'."
Dorian was grinning. I offered him another fist bump and he took it. Nodding his head vigorously as we bro fisted.
"Alright," said Dykes, "can we finish with the Star Trek Convention and get to it."
"Well, he's obviously a Trekkie man. He knows his Star Trek stuff," said Dorian.
"That's not helpful," said Dykes.
"Okay, maybe this will be more your style," said Dorian. "I asked him where he's from. He told me Indiana. I said, oh yeah, I've been to Indiana, whereabouts? He told me it was a small place I wouldn't have heard of but he wouldn't give me any deets about it."
"Deets?" asked Dykes.
"Details, man, details."
Dykes nodded.
"And what did you make of that?"
"I figured that was the truth. I knew he was from Indiana after I took down his plates so that much was true. Maybe he is from a small town there."
"What else?"
"I asked him why he was in town. Was he here for the game? He said no he wasn't, he was here to look up an old friend. But he wasn't real chatty. Couldn
't get anything else out of him after that. He got frustrated, just wanted me to show him his room."
"Did he request a particular one?"
"Nah, but one of the first things he asked was if he could pay cash. He wanted to know that right off the bat."
"Did he say how long he'd be staying?" asked Dykes.
"Nah, I asked, but he said he wasn't sure, maybe a week or two. He paid a week upfront with the deposit and then he paid for another week this past Monday."
"So he got change back this morning?"
Dorian nodded, and looked down at a ledger on the table in front of him. He flipped back a couple of pages. The ledger appeared to be based on room numbers. He drew his finger down the page.
"Uh huh, yeah, so that first week he used up, the second week he didn't. But because he didn't use the second week up I deducted three day rates off the weekly and then gave him the change. Two ten back. One ten for the refund from the weekly and then the hundred back for the deposit."
"Anything else?"
"Nah, I thanked him for his patronage and asked if we might be seeing him again soon. Said it's always nice to have folks from outta town. He said he didn't think so. But he seemed a little agitated. He was in a rush to get going. Even told me to keep the deposit and not bother with the walkthrough, but I told him it wouldn't take long. But he bailed as soon as we got done. No pleasantries as he left."
Dykes nodded.
"Anything else you can tell me about him?"
"He signed the forms with his left hand, and he was married," said Dorian, "but when I asked him about the wife and kids he didn't say anything. Just ignored me. Obviously, his wife wasn't with him. Didn't see any kids either. But his wedding ring was odd."
Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 68
