‘Great. Well, if needed I’ll book in there.’ Joe said.
‘But...it might be full.’
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Joe said. ‘We are two hundred miles from anywhere and in the middle of winter and you think your hotel might be full?’
Peake tightened his lips. His eyes appeared to darken a touch. Joe raised his eyebrows in a ‘well?’ gesture.
‘I’d better go and check. See what I can do.’
Peake turned and marched out of the surgery. As he opened the door the wind pushed at it and swung it wide, it howled through the surgery.
Joe watched with grim resignation. He was here for the night. He hadn’t been so sure of anything for the whole journey. There was little to nothing he could do about this now. He went back to the records and recommenced his photography.
Joe’s estimate had been good. The last record was copied within an hour of the Doctors visit. He had tried to keep his mind free of worry as he worked through them but the girl hung around his thoughts.
He had decided that she was attractive, not in the way that Mary Burgess had been, polished and professional, slim and having that perfectly spoken American accent. Melanie was pretty in a less obvious way. Her clothing was from the seventies, her hair was amazingly wild and on anyone else he thought it might just appear untidy but on her it was sensual and provocative. She clearly had a curvy figure but he didn’t think was carrying any weight that detracted from what he considered a sexy physique.
‘I have hidden shallows.’ Joe mocked himself.
She was a little scary though. When she had pressed her hands against him he had almost toppled over with fright. He thought Melanie was strange and quite possibly a little dangerous.
Within the time it had taken to get to the last record Joe realised he had developed quite an interest in meeting her again. He wondered what it was about the women in Scotland that had this effect on him.
Once he was finished he returned the documents to their respective boxes and packed away the iPad. It was now fully charged. He pulled on Kevin’s big coat and felt the weight of the pistol and bullets in each pocket. He hadn’t decided whether to just bury them in a field on his way home or return via Roscregan and hand them back to Kevin. Either way he wanted the thing out of his possession as soon as possible.
He took look outside, making his way to the front door, opening it carefully in case the wind blew it wide again, and peeking through the gap. It was a wise move, the wind had picked up to true gale proportions and the snow was dancing insanely outside and visibility beyond a few feet was to all intents and purposes zero.
He pushed the door shut and returned to the desk. He was now one hundred percent certain of being here for the night. Which was shit. There was a plus side now however, slim but possible. Staying over entertained the possibility of meeting with Melanie again, which he felt had something going for it.
He wondered what her problem was with her father. Weren’t girls supposed to be Daddy’s favourite? Maybe she wanted to escape the small town life and head to the bright lights. He could imagine Doctor Peake being a bit of a killjoy. He didn’t think there was any immediate family resemblance, ‘thank god’ he thought.
As he mused over what the evening might bring the front door finally swung open again and Peake walked in, closely followed by the towering Macgregor. Both were wrapped up with thick hats and scarves and they were covered from head to foot in snow.
The Doctor entered the surgery while Macgregor waited in the reception.
‘Well there is already a foot of snow on the ground and no sign of it letting up, so it looks like you are here for the night.’ Peake said with obvious displeasure. ‘There is a room for you at the Tall Pines Hotel. Macgregor will walk you to it. I need to attend to some personal matters but I’ll see you off in the morning.’
‘Ok thanks.’ Joe replied. He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. ‘I’ve returned all of the records to the correct boxes and they are in the proper date order.’
Peake looked at him blankly. ‘What?’
Joe gestured to the boxes. ‘I’ve put the records back, tidy, in order.’
‘Oh right.’ Peake replied. Joe could see that the man had absolutely no interest in the records.
‘I probably could have just burned them as far as he is concerned.’ He thought.
Joe started for the door where Macgregor stood, watching him. ‘Well I’ll see you tomorrow.’ he said. ‘And thanks for sorting out a room for the night.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Peake said dismissively.
Joe carried on towards the entrance. Macgregor pulled open the door and stepped out ahead of him.
Once he was outside properly Joe could feel the strength of the wind. It buffeted him from different angles, it was like being in an icy pillow fight.
‘Come on.’ Macgregor said impatiently and started to march away.
Joe had to take longer strides than he felt were safe in the thick snow to keep up but he didn’t want to ask Macgregor to slow down. He suspected that the big man thought very little of him as it was.
He quickly realised that they were walking along the road that curved down to the harbour. At one point he almost walked into a lamppost as the snow became so thick that even their glowing tops were hidden. A couple of times he fancied he saw the shadowed outlines through the snow, other people braving the storm, but no one came close enough to be seen properly.
The road began to level and straighten after a few minutes and Joe reasoned that they must now be in the harbour area. Some of the buildings here were quite tall and helped to block a little of the winds ferocity and in turn lifted visibility a little. He could make out warehouses and other large structures. A few of them had ageing signs. ‘Macready Fresh Fish,’ ‘Denton’s Motor and Engineering,’ and one in the shape of a swordfish that said, ‘Supplies – All waters.’
MacGregor came to a halt outside a set of double doors. He pushed at one and entered the building. Joe followed and found himself inside a hotel lobby.
‘Another fucking reception.’ He looked around the place. It appeared to be practically derelict.
‘Jesus.’ He said under his breath.
A single unshaded light bulb dangled from the ceiling and was all that lit the area. Against two of the walls were plush but dusty looking chairs, one had a table in front of it with an ash tray sat in the middle. Joe couldn’t recall the last time he had seen an ashtray in a public building. The carpet he stood on showed signs of wear and near the door where he had entered there was no protective mat. Strands of bare carpet cord were visible.
On the far right was a set of stairs that led up to the first floor. The reception counter took up almost the entire wall in front of him and was made of dark wooden panels. Behind it a man stood looking at him, a pen in his right hand that he tapped repeatedly onto a large open book.
Joe finally saw the look that Kevin had been talking about. He thought the man to be around thirty or so but it was difficult to be sure. His hair was sparsely allocated to his head revealing a pallid and blotchy skull. He had the wide spaced eyes that Kevin had described and a similarly wide mouth with razor thing lips. His nose was not particularly flat but it seemed almost out of place on that broad, chinless head.
‘He looks like a fucking frog,’ Joe thought, ‘or a Guppy.’ He tried not to stare. Macgregor went over to the counter.
‘This is the lad. Sort him out for the night, he’s leaving tomorrow.’ Macgregor said in his no nonsense manner.
The receptionist, ‘the guppy man’ nodded and reached down under the counter, his hand returned with a key attached to an oval wooden fob. ‘Room eight,’ he said in a voice that was deep and guttural. Joe thought he spoke as though he had a chest problem, as though his throat was blocked with phlegm.
Macgregor took the key and tossed it to Joe and he snatched it from the air,
‘Cheers.’ Joe said.
‘Aye.’ Macgregor said and then turn
ed back to the guppy man. ‘Send him up some supper.’ He looked at Joe, ‘You eat bacon, potatoes beans, that sort of thing?’
‘Sure.’ Joe replied.
Turning back to guppy man Macgregor grunted. ‘You got that?’ Guppy man nodded and uttered, ‘Yes,’ with a gargled voice.
Macgregor turned back to Joe and fixed his gaze on him. ‘Don’t leave the hotel.’ He said. Joe thought it sounded as close to a threat that Macgregor could give without him actually producing handcuffs. ‘The storm is heavy and you don’t know your way around, you could end up in the sea.’ He added by way of explanation.
‘Right, yeah of course.’ Joe replied. ‘To be honest I just want to get some sleep and see the back of today.’
‘Good then.’ Macgregor murmured. He strode past Joe and exited the hotel.
Joe looked at the receptionist and pointed to the stairwell. ‘Upstairs?’
Guppy man nodded.
‘Cheers.’
Joe and headed to the first floor.
At the top of the stairs he was met with a long corridor with pale wooden doors on either side. The first door on his left had a little white disk screwed in at the top that indicated that it was ‘Room 5’. He walked a few yards until he saw ‘Room 8’ on the right. He inserted the key into the lock and it turned easily, the mechanism made a ‘Clunk’ noise as the lock slid back.
Joe entered the room and took it in. It was smaller than he had anticipated. There was a single bed, a chest of drawers with a mirror on top of them. A tall but slim wardrobe stood near to the room’s only window. There was also a table near to the bed with a single chair under it.
There was no TV. There didn’t appear to be a bathroom but there was a dank and musty smell. Joe fingered the sheet and blankets on the bed, they at least appeared to be dry and clean. He supposed that the dampness lay in the walls and the carpet.
He stepped back outside and walked down the corridor until he came to a door with a small sign that read ‘W.C.’ He tried the handle and the door pushed open. Inside was a grim, ceramic toilet with a pull-chain flush and a sink. Joe couldn’t see any soap or towels.
He left the toilet and went back to his room. Sitting on the small bed he looked at the window. The snow danced and whirled outside.
‘What a shit hole.’ He said, grimacing.
He opened up his bag and withdrew the iPad. As he powered it on realised he had left his travel case back in the car.
‘Fucks sake.’ He mumbled. There was no chance on earth that he was going to walk all the way back up the road to the street he was parked on. As abrupt as Macgregor had been he was right, stumbling about in this weather, right next to the sea, was not a good idea.
He took off the big coat and hung it in the wardrobe. He considered taking the pistol out and putting it into his bag but decided to leave it where it was for the time being. Having taken off his coat he felt the cold in the room envelope him. A small radiator hung by the side of the sink. Joe went over to it and laid his hand onto the surface. Cold. He shook his head.
A quiet knock sounded at the door. Joe stepped away from the sink.
‘Hello.’ Joe said.
A whispered but familiar voice asked, ‘Mr Clarke?’
‘Yes.’ Joe answered. ‘Melanie?’
The handle moved down and the door slowly opened. Melanie’s face appeared and upon confirming that it was Joe she stepped in to the room, easing the door shut behind her as she had done in the surgery.
She was wearing a large waterproof jacket this time, the same denims he thought but now they were tucked into a substantial pair of wellington boots. Joe thought that this girl would look good in anything she decided to wear no matter how unfashionable it might be. What a shame she was probably crazy.
‘Why did you stay Mr Clarke?’ She asked.
‘Look first thing.’ Joe raised his hands, fingers spread wide in a ‘stop’ position. ‘Please call me Joe, my dad is Mr Clarke.’
Joe dropped his hands down and Melanie stood silently, her mouth pouted slightly as though she was about to say something but had decided against it. ‘And second, what the fuck is up with this place? It’s like the town that time forgot.’
Melanie took a step forward ‘Please, keep your voice down.’ She said calmly. ‘We can’t let anyone know I’m here.’
Joe made to speak but stopped. He paused while he thought out what to say next. Melanie waited.
‘Ok, look I don’t know why you are so keen for me to leave but I can promise you that I’m not here for anything other than to collect some data for my job.’ Joe indicated the iPad on the bed, ‘Which is done by the way, I’ve finished. And come tomorrow I’ll be on my way home...Ok?’
‘I know why you are here Joe.’ She said.
Joe liked it when he heard her say his name. He stuck mental pins into his hands to help him keep some focus.
‘I told you. I heard my father discussing it with Billy Duggan.’ She took another step closer. ‘I want you to leave because the longer you are here the more dangerous it is going to be for you.’
‘Dangerous?’ Joe gave a short nervous laugh. ‘What do you mean dangerous?’
‘Winter Falls isn’t like any other town Joe. There is something horrible here. The whole place is...’ Melanie paused, she looked down as she struggled to find the right words then returned her gaze back to Joe. ‘The town is rotten. It’s a cursed place and its people are evil.’
Joe had no response. He raised his eyebrows and stood with his mouth open. His mind raced with possibilities. The girl was having a laugh at his expense. She was disturbed, a mental case of some sort or maybe seeking attention having fallen out with her father. Should he just ask her to leave? He didn’t want to do that. She was the only thing about the place that was attractive, but he couldn’t envision this conversation going anywhere comfortable. Melanie broke the silence.
‘The only reason they let you into the town is because you work for the government.’
‘Let me in?’ Joe said, puzzled and added, ‘and look, I don’t work for the government directly, I’m just doing some contract work that they need.’
Melanie bought a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God! Do they know that? She said, and quickly followed up. ‘No, they can’t know that, they wouldn’t be this cautious if that was the case.’
‘Cautious? What are you talking about? Why? Is this a problem?
‘Yes. Look, that’s complicated Joe...it’s all complicated. The important thing is that you have to convince them that you do have important government connections, can you do that?’ She said with an expectant tone.
‘Why?’ Joe said. ‘Why, would I want to do that? My request is completely legitimate I’m not breaking the data protection act or anything.’
Joe could tell that Melanie had no idea what he was referring to. He wondered if her reaction to what the iPad could do would be like showing an Amish farmer holographic movies.
‘Because then they won’t kill you Joe.’ Melanie said flatly.
Joe’s wry thoughts about the situation came to a halt. They turned to instead to something numb and grey. She had said the words with a deadly earnest and her eyes, the big hazel orbs that Joe had almost sunk into were nothing other than honest.
‘Why would anyone want to kill me Melanie?’ He asked nervously.
Melanie pulled her sleeve back a little and revealed a watch, an old tarnished thing with a worn brown leather strap. She took a look at the time.
‘I can’t go through all of it with you now Joe, my Dad won’t be at church yet. I think he’s gone to see Billy Duggan. I need to get back before he does.’ At that she made for the door.
‘What the fuck!’ Joe exclaimed. Melanie turned. ‘You can’t just hit me with all that shit and then leave.’
‘I’ll come to you in the morning, early, they won’t rise until at least eleven and the snow should keep the others at home.’ She turned back to the door and opened it.
‘Look just wai
t...’ Joe said
‘I’ll be early.’ Melanie said quietly. ‘Wrap up, we will need to leave the hotel.’ She gently closed the door as she left.
Joe’s head spun. He sat down on the bed and ran the last hour through his mind. Not much of it seemed real. The incredible storm, the shit hole hotel, the fit doctor’s daughter who had a screw loose, the hotel receptionist that would be at home in Deliverance. None of it seemed to stick. Every time he tried to form an opinion on the matters they drifted away into a fog.
He wasn’t sure how long he had sat on the bed before there was a knock on the door. This was solid and deliberately loud. He doubted that it would be Melanie. Joe stood and approached the door. ‘Hello.’ He said through the wood.
He could barely make out the words but it sounded like ‘Mr Clarke I have food’. He surmised that ‘Guppy Man’ had brought up the meal that Macgregor had ordered. Joe opened the door. It was Guppy Man. It took Joe all of his reserve not to pull his nose at the rank odour that appeared to emanate from the receptionist.
The man stood with a tray bearing a bowl of soup and a plate that had a pile of potato and beans, topped with rashers of well cooked bacon.
‘Thanks.’ Joe said taking the tray.
Guppy Man said nothing. He turned and made his way, with a peculiar waddle, down the corridor to the stairs. Joe watched him go and then shut the door with his foot. He placed the tray onto the table and pulled out the chair. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and as he sat at the table his stomach growled.
Before he ate though he had to put the gun away, he shuddered a little when he thought about it.
‘Fucking thing,’ he thought.
He took it out of the coat pocket and examined it. It looked like a pistol from a police film, the kind the tough old cop would use rather than some ‘fancy gun the kids used,’ where was that from he thought, Lethal Weapon?
He shook his head. ‘Kevin, you mad fucker.’
The food actually smelled reasonable once the receptionist’s unique odour had left his nostrils. He tried a spoonful of the soup. It was tomato, thick and sweet and almost certainly out of a tin but it tasted good. He tried the mashed potatoes, they were made from powder and were bland but the bacon and beans were Ok if a little salty.
Winter Falls Page 8
