“Glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart,” she said. “You should come back when the pool’s open next summer. We keep it heated.”
“I definitely will. By the way, I noticed my new friend in unit eleven isn’t here at the moment. She didn’t check out yet, did she?”
“No, they’re still around. Guess they must have gone for food. You gotta eat, as they say.”
It was spoken with more of a chuckle than a snicker, but her tone definitely suggested that the jogger and the owner of the Beemer had been keeping carnal company over the past couple of days. Clearly they hadn’t come to the area simply to relish the limpid blue lake water and scent of wood smoke in the air. But why travel in separate cars? I wondered. Maybe they resided in different areas and met up here periodically. Maybe one of them—or both—was married, and they were here for a clandestine fling, which would explain why the jogger had been trying to keep a low profile.
At least she was still here and Killian would have a shot at speaking with her soon.
Two minutes later I pulled out of the lot and aimed my Jeep north toward the Lake Shore Motel rather than south toward town. I knew Killian would be speaking to Terry Dobbs today, and I was sure he wouldn’t like me tramping on this turf and possibly eliminating his element-of-surprise card with the motel owner. But the morning had left me so frustrated that I felt the need to dosomething. I’d decided on the spur of the moment to take a crack at him myself.
I would be careful, though. I’d avoid any mention of Alice, and would instead chat with Dobbs about Shannon again to see how he responded.
The parking lot of the Lake Shore looked as forlorn as the Breezy Point’s. Though the temperature had warmed up again, a light breeze was blowing, snapping the tarp that protected the heating unit of the pool.
Dobbs was on duty, as I’d expected. Through the window I saw him glance up curiously from the counter as soon as I’d emerged from the Jeep, and then drop his gaze back to a newspaper until I stepped into the office. His steel-gray tufts of hair were now combed into submission, proof perhaps that he’d been roused from a nap the last time I was here.
“Morning,” he said. It was a few seconds before he recognized me, and I watched his guard go up an inch.
“I’m Bailey Weggins. We met the other day.”
“Sure. I remember.” Friendly enough.
“I wondered if you had a couple more minutes.”
“I can spare a few, but I’m afraid that’s about all,” he said, which was funny. Based on the apparent activity level at the motel, he seemed as busy as a bee in the Arctic tundra.
“I appreciate that. I have a few follow-up questions about Shannon Blaine.”
“I reckon you heard they already found that poor young lady.”
“Yes, and now I’m actually doing a profile of her. I’m interested in anything else you can share about her.”
“Don’t know what more I could tell you than what I said the other day. I saw her run by every morning, but I didn’t know her enough to say boo to.”
“But you knew she went to church each week.”
He twisted his chubby lips. “Wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. She stopped running on Sundays and I saw her drive by instead—around ten to ten each time. Figured she was heading to St. Tim’s.”
“How’d you guess that? I mean the St. Tim’s part.”
“St. Tim’s is the only church with a ten o’clock service. When you run a motel, you gotta have that kind of stuff at your disposal. Guests ask you for it.”
Was I supposed to believe that Dobbs was the kind of considerate motel owner who rounded up details like this for his customers? Or had he simply beenwaytoo curious about Shannon’s comings and goings?
“Do you go to St. Tim’s yourself?”
“Nope, not my thing. But I never fault anyone else for travelin’ that road if it makes them feel good.” He glanced down at the counter at something out of my view. “Now since there’s really nothing more for me to contribute, would you mind letting me attend to some business?”
“Of course, thanks for your help.”
Driving south afterward, I assessed Dobbs as a suspect. He gave off a creepy vibe for sure, and it was clear he’d seemed a bit fixated on Shannon and her routines. I’d seen him hanging out at the volunteer center, including on the day I’d chatted with Nolan. He was familiar with Alice because she’d interviewed him for the paper following Shannon’s disappearance. And last, but hardly least, I’d given him my cell number on the day I’d arrived.
But if he was the killer and Alice had figured it out, I had no clue what she could have possibly found online to point her in his direction. I would have to be on the alert for anything else I came across about him or the motel.
I didn’t expect to check in to the Courtyard until at least three, but they ended up having a room ready. It was spare, done mostly in grays and beiges, a far cry from the funkydecor of the Breezy Point, but I already felt safer. I set up shop at the desk in the room and resumed my Internet search, but again without any luck. “Alice,” I pleaded out loud. “What did youfind?” Was the clue so subtle that I was missing it? It couldn’t be if it had alarmed her that much.
Of course, Alice had been very familiar with the area and knew a ton of people, so it was entirely possible that a piece of info that had spelledclueto her seemed utterly insignificant to me.
