In a Midnight Wood

by Ellen Hart

  Directly across the highway from the antique shop sat the Avalon Motor Inn, the motel Monty Mickler managed. As she poked through the dishes, she glanced up every now and then to watch the place. What she really wanted was to run over and take a closer look.

  Wilburn Lowry’s van pulled into the parking lot a while later. When he slid out, the pristine coveralls he’d been wearing that morning looked much the worse for wear. Seeing her, he waved and came over. “You decided to check us out,” he said, smiling broadly. For the first time, his head was bare, revealing a bald head with a dwindling halo of gray hair.

  “Looks like you’ve been busy,” said Jane, matching his smile with one of her own.

  “That Mickler place is proving to be a treasure trove,” he said, wiping his face with a blue bandana. “Neither the owner’s daughter nor her son wants much from the house, so she’s giving most of it away. I said I’d help her if she wanted to have a garage sale, but she said I should just take the stuff to the garbage dump.” Stuffing the bandana back into his pocket, he added, “Tomorrow we start on the basement.”

  A woman with curly brown hair and rimless glasses came out of the building. “I thought I heard your voice,” she said, giving Lowry a kiss.

  He put his arm around her. “Jane Lawless, meet my gorgeous, amazing wife, Nancy.”

  “Oh, go on with you,” she said, though she clearly loved it.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Jane.

  “You look tired, honey,” said Nancy, wiping a smudge of dirt off his face.

  “I am. Is there any of my pop in the fridge?”

  “Just filled it with Dr Pepper this morning.”

  “Excellent,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

  After he’d disappeared inside, Nancy and Jane were left alone. “Your husband is a very intriguing man.”

  “He is,” said Nancy, still glowing. “He’s one-in-a-million. I got lucky.”

  “I’m curious,” continued Jane. “Do you know the man who manages the motel across the street?”

  “Monty? Sure, I know him. He does a good business over there, especially on weeks like this. It’s homecoming, you know. And there’s an art fest and a class reunion.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  She crossed her arms. “He’s always been a good neighbor. He’s got this commercial snow blower and usually comes over to help us dig out after a storm. I’ve met his wife and kids—he has a beautiful family. I mean, some people in town call that place the Bates Motel. Kind of looks like the one in that Hitchcock movie, doesn’t it?”

  Jane had to agree.

  “I’m not suggesting Monty attacks women in the shower, though I will say, and this is just between us chickens, he’s not exactly a model husband.”

  “In what way?”

  “He cheats. Women come to see him all the time. I’m not trying to be nosey, you understand, but it’s hard to miss what’s going on. There is one woman in particular that I’ve noticed a lot over the years. She never parks in the lot, but I see her car here and there close to the motel. Sometimes it’s in front of the rock shop down the way. Or it’s at the little strip mall.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “No idea.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Oh, blondish hair. Kind of chunky. Always wears sunglasses. Her newest car is a red Chevy Cobalt. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen it for several days. But like I said, there are other women, too. He uses the room next to the office to … entertain, if you catch my drift. As far as I can tell, he rarely, if ever, rents it. Funny thing though, the women, they’re never in there very long. How fun could that be?”

  “So you see a woman walking up and entering the room, and then he comes out of the office and goes in—or maybe he’s already in there when they arrive.”

  “I’ve never actually seen him go in or out. I guess I’ve always thought he must climb through a window in the back. Probably doesn’t want people to catch on to his funny business. I told Wilburn that old Monty Mickler must be Castle Lake’s answer to Don Juan.”

  “I feel sorry for his wife.”

  “Me, too. It’s sad, you know? A human can be many things all at the same time, some of them good, some of them bad.” She unfolded her arms and looked around. “Well, I better get one of my daughters out here to help me cover the tables for the night.”

  “You leave it all out here?”

  “We’ve never had any problems, knock on wood. We close at nine, so I guess there’s no huge rush. But, if you’ll excuse me?”

  “Of course,” said Jane. She spent the next few minutes leaning against the front of her truck, wondering if the woman Nancy Lowry hadn’t seen recently might be Carli Gilbert. That’s when a crazy idea occurred to her. She went back inside and drew Cordelia away from her jewelry search long enough to explain what she needed.

  “Brilliant, Janey. I love it. And don’t worry, I can do it with my eyes closed and my brain tied behind my back.”

  “Be sure to give me enough time to get it done.”

  “No problem. Let’s hope he takes the bait.”

  31

  Kurt sat on the steps of the VFW hall, playing a game of solitaire on his phone and waiting for Ted to come out. It was a nice evening, with a slight breeze and the hint of fall in the air. The main meeting for the reunion committees would be tomorrow night, but tonight the woman in charge of the reunion wanted to meet with the committee chairs. Ted, as the old class president, had also been invited.

  After winning two more games and losing three, Kurt looked up as classmates began drifting out. He said hi as people came past, standing to engage a few closer friends about how the meeting had gone. Finally, after it seemed as if everyone had left, Ted and Emma emerged, laughing and talking a mile a minute.

  “Hey, you two,” said Kurt, hands in his pockets. “Looks like you had a good time.”

  “Not really,” said Emma. “But getting a chance to catch up with Ted was worth the price of admission.” She slipped her arm through Kurt’s. “I’d forgotten how funny he is.”

  “That’s me,” said Ted. “I should have been voted class stand-up comic.”

  “Listen,” said Emma, her smile fading a little as she glanced from face to face. “I need you two big, strong hunks to walk me to my car.”

  “Why?” asked Ted.

  “Because of Scott Romilly?” asked Kurt.

  She seemed surprised. “How did you find out about that?”

  “Your houseguest, Jane Lawless. She tells me you’ve been dating him.”

  “For a couple of months, yeah.”

  “Jane said that he’s been stalking you.”

  “Stalking?” repeated Ted.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “Yeah, that may be accurate. Whatever the case, let’s just say I have good reason to be a little wary of him.” She tugged Kurt’s arm. “I’m parked in the back lot.”

  Ted took her other arm and together they walked her to the darkest part of the rear lot.

  “Try to find a parking place under one of the lights next time,” said Ted.

  “I won’t be around that much longer.” Opening the door, she added, “Which makes my new headache even worse. I have some electrical problems at the house. Ted offered to come by tomorrow and give me his ideas about the extent of the repair that’s needed, as well as what a fair ballpark price might be. I had a couple guys out today and both said it would cost an arm, a leg, and my firstborn child to fix it.”

  “I think the first one really tried to gouge you with that estimate,” said Ted.

  Kurt took a look around to make sure Scott wasn’t hiding behind a bush somewhere, and then he waited until Emma was safely in the front seat before closing the door.

  “You guys are the best,” she said, rolling the window down. “Don’t forget the bonfire on Friday night.”

  “You mentioned that you had it all organized,” said Kurt. “But if there�
��s anything I can do to help—”

  “Just show up and have a good time.”

  “We’ll be there,” said Ted.

  “Lock your doors and roll up your window,” ordered Kurt.

  “I hate this,” said Emma. “I hate weak women.”

  “You’re not being weak,” said Ted. “You’re being smart.”

  “I suppose. You two enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  As she pulled out of the lot and disappeared down the alley, Ted said, “She’s terrific. I’m really sorry her marriage didn’t work out.” Turning to face Kurt, he continued, “Can I walk you home?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  At the corner, they turned north. They made small talk for a few minutes, but as they approached the baseball field at the edge of Victory Park, Kurt said, “I’m glad we had a chance to talk things out last night.”

  “I’m glad you finally told your parents you’re gay,” said Ted.

  “I didn’t mean to give the impressions that they’re fine about it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, you didn’t.” He gave Kurt a sympathetic look. “My mom isn’t exactly thrilled about me either, though she’s known for many years. The bottom line is, she loves me. It’s one of the reasons I want to move back. She’s been so lonely since Dad died. My sister and her kids are great, but I want to be around for her, too.”

  Ted had earned a BA in philosophy from the University of Minnesota. Exactly one week after graduation, he took a construction job to support himself and start paying off his student debt. He told Kurt that, while he would always love philosophy, he’d learned something important about himself in the four years he’d been at college: He was sick to death of living in his head and wanted to live more in his body. Swinging a hammer for a living felt right to him. After working hard for many years, he became a journeyman electrician, and later, with a friend, opened a construction company, one that proved successful as well as lucrative.

  “Our clients are all over the state now,” said Ted. “I can work from here, or I can go back to Minneapolis and work from there. It’s only two hours away.”

  Kurt had to agree—he felt sure Ted could make it work.

  “But that still leaves us with a problem,” continued Ted. “I want to be out about our relationship. I want us to live together. No more sneaking around. You’ve resisted telling Danny about us, and I understand your reasons, but he’s an adult now. I realize none of this will be easy. This is a small, deeply conservative town. But it’s home. I’m a small-town guy at heart, just like you are.”

  Six years ago, right after his poetry book was published, Kurt had driven down to the cities to do a poetry reading at a library in St. Paul. Ted had been in the audience that night and they’d ended up reconnecting over a beer. A month or so later, Kurt had gone down to the Cities again for a little R&R. He’d gone to the Gay Nineties to have a few drinks with friends and, much to his surprise, had run into Ted again. Serendipity or harmonic convergence, he didn’t know. After a few awkward moments, they sat down at a table and, haltingly, opened up about their lives. Kurt didn’t know it then, but it was the beginning of a new life for both of them. They’d been with other men. Ted had even lived with a guy for a couple of years, but this time, he said, it felt different. As for Kurt’s feelings about Sam—he had no doubt that Sam had loved him, but he also knew that their life paths would have diverged after high school.

  “I’ve thought about it a lot since our talk the other night,” said Kurt. “I’m going to tell Danny about us.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “I know. I mean it this time. But before I do, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Ted stopped walking and turned to face him. “That sounds ominous.”

  “It’s something I should have come clean about a long time ago. If you still want to be with me after I’m done, then I’ll talk to Danny tomorrow.”

  They found a bench and sat down.

  Needing space, Kurt shifted away. He looked up at the stars, took a couple of deep breaths, and then began to tell Ted about the morning Sam died.

  * * *

  As Jane entered the motel office, a bell above the door gave a cheerful jingle. She stepped up to the counter and waited, but when nobody appeared, she hit the bell next to a small American flag on a stand. The door behind the counter opened and Mickler appeared, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

  “Apologies,” he said. “I was just having some dinner.” Focusing on her for the first time, he blurted, “Oh, hi. I mean—”

  She’d clearly caught him off guard.

  “We’ve met before. At the bank the other morning.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Jane. “I remember you.”

  “You’re doing research for a podcast. How’s that going?”

  “Slow,” said Jane. “I’m looking into Sam Romilly’s death. You remember him?”

  “Sure.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “Not really. To be honest, I hardly knew him.”

  “Well, so many years after the fact, it’s hard to find people who remember much. It’s been kind of frustrating.”

  “Yeah, that’s tough. So,” he said, moving a small vase of yellow daisies to the other side of the counter, “how can I help you?”

  “I’m wondering if you might have a room for a last-minute guest.”

  “For what night?”

  “Friday and Saturday.”

  “I’m afraid we’re booked solid. It’s homecoming weekend and there’s also a class reunion, which you must know about. You’re staying at the Granholm place, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Jane tried to act disappointed. “Rats. But … I’m wondering. I was told you usually don’t rent room number one, that it might still be free.”

  “Who told you that?” he asked, looking mildly curious.

  “I don’t recall. I’ve met so many new people since I arrived. Were they wrong?”

  “I don’t rent it very often because it’s so much less comfortable than the other units. The heating and electrical plant cut into the back of it, so it’s smaller. There’s only enough space for one double bed. Most people want two doubles or one queen. And the air-conditioning unit sits right outside the bathroom window, which can get annoyingly loud when it comes on and off, especially during the night. People used to call me at 2 a.m. to demand their money back—pretty annoying for the guy who has to drive back here and deal with it.”

  “Totally understandable,” said Jane. “But here’s the problem: My friend can’t find anywhere else in town to stay. The closest motel with an empty room is in Fergus Falls, kind of a long drive. I think that unit of yours would be more than fine, if you’d be willing to rent it.”

  “Is your friend coming for the homecoming game on Friday night?”

  “No, for the class reunion on Saturday night.”

  “Oh,” he said, offering a smile. “I’m part of that class. I probably know the guy.”

  “It’s a woman,” said Jane. “Becca Hill?”

  His smile faded, but his mouth stayed open.

  “Do you remember her?”

  “Um, I think so.”

  “If the room isn’t already promised to someone—”

  “Well, now, I should probably check on that. My assistant manager sometimes books things when I’m not around.” He turned to the computer screen, tapped a few keys and brought up a page. “Oh, gosh, looks like we do have someone scheduled for arrival tomorrow. It has a flag on it, so that means it’s tentative. I’d have to talk to my assistant to see what it means exactly.”

  He was giving himself a chance to think about it. “I know Becca would be incredibly grateful to find a room here. Listen, could I take a look at it? Just, you know, to see if it’s really as awful as you make it sound.”

  His smile was warm and utterly insincere. “I don’t see any harm in that.” Turning to a box that hung on the wall behind the counter, he pulled a key o
ff one of the hooks. “If you’ll follow me?”

  It was rare these days to find a motel that still used actual keys, especially those with old-fashioned, triangular key tags attached. Jane stood behind him, waiting for him to unlock the door and flip on the overhead light.

  “Oh,” he said, stepping into the room. “I forgot. The TV in here is broken. And we had to remove a piece of carpet because of a grease stain.”

  The small flat-screen had a cracked glass and was resting on the floor against the wall.

  “She’d only be sleeping here,” said Jane, “so it wouldn’t be a problem.” She sat down on the bed, pretending to test it out. “This is nice.”

  “You think so?”

  The room smelled funky. “Absolutely.”

  Hearing a bell jingle, Mickler walked back to the door. “Oh, gosh, I’ve got another customer.”

  “Can I stay a minute more? I want to look at a few things, especially the bathroom.”

  This time, the bell on the counter inside the office dinged. And dinged again. And again. Cordelia had arrived right on cue.

  “Sure, that’s fine,” said Mickler. “Just come back to the office when you’re done.”

  Jane gave it a moment and then rose from the bed and stepped over to the door. Cordelia had left the office door open so Jane could easily hear the conversation.

  Mickler asked if he could help her.

  Cordelia launched. “Yeah, I certainly hope so. My wife and I are thinking of coming back here for hunting season. I like to bag a porcupine or two every year. You know, blow them away and all that.”

  “A porcupine? Your wife?”

  “Yeah. Anyway—”

  With Cordelia keeping him busy, Jane began her search. First, she checked the window in the bathroom, seeing right off that it was much too small for anyone to crawl through. If Mickler spent time with his girlfriends in unit one, the only way in or out was the door. Unless there was a second door.

  With only the top light on, she began to feel along the knotty pine walls. After a rushed search, she came up empty. Opening a closet that stuck out from the wall, she found that the interior was also covered in knotty pine. She ducked under the closet rod. As she pressed her hand to the back wall to steady herself, she heard a click. Pushing again, a piece of the knotty pine popped forward.