Highway 61 by David Housewright Read Free Book Online Page B

sure.”
    “Phony?” Daniel spoke the word as if he didn’t know what it meant.
    “Fake, fraud, hoax,” I said. “Unless—you didn’t find any dead girls in your room and try to cover it up, did you?”
    “Cover up?” They seemed to be additional words that Daniel didn’t know.
    “Mr. Khawaja?” Wojtowick said.
    “I do not know what is happening.”
    “Please look closely at the photograph. Mr. Khawaja? Please.”
    Daniel stepped forward reluctantly.
    “Is this room thirty-four?” Wojtowick asked.
    “It, it could be. Half of the rooms have the same layout, and the other half, it is the same layout only reversed, with the door on the other side.”
    “You said the carpet was damaged by red wine.”
    “I thought it was wine, there, where she…” He pointed at the girl. “It was red wine. I have seen spills before. I was sure it was red wine. The smell. It was red wine. I am sure.”
    “It probably was red wine,” Wojtowick said. “Mr. Khawaja? It probably was red wine. We believe the photograph is a fake. We believe that you are a victim of a hoax.”
    “Hoax?” Daniel asked.
    “We do?” I asked.
    Wojtowick drove the tip of her elbow into my rib cage. Yeah, she could play pro ball, I told myself as I fought to regain my breath.
    “Mr. Khawaja, do you recognize the girl?” she asked.
    He shook his head.
    “Mr. Khawaja, I would like to see the registration form of the person who rented room thirty-four just before you replaced the carpet. Can you give that to me?”
    Daniel nodded and went to his file. He produced the card and set it in front of Wojtowick. It was identical to the card I had filled out. I read it over Wojtowick’s shoulder. It listed the name James Linck on Maryland Avenue in St. Paul. Truhler lived in Eden Prairie, I reminded myself. There was a handwritten notation in the corner of the card: 5/21. I asked Daniel about it.
    “That is when the reservation was made,” he said. “It was made by telephone. The caller, I told him he was lucky because usually I am full for the festival by then.”
    Wojtowick continued to question Daniel while I made a call.
    “Did you contact Mr. Linck concerning the damage of your property?” she asked.
    “I tried,” Daniel said. “I could not get through. The phone number he gave me—it was not in service.”
    “What about his credit card?”
    “It was false as well.”
    “You didn’t know that when he registered?”
    “He gave me the card number to hold the room when he registered over the phone. When he arrived, he paid in cash, so there was no need to check the card. I only ran it after I saw the damage.” Daniel glanced at the photograph again and stepped back. “That is why now I ask to see credit card as well as photo ID. McKenzie knows.”
    “Do you remember anything about this man? What he looked like?”
    Daniel shook his head. “I get many guests.”
    “Could he have been black?” I asked.
    Daniel shook his head again.
    “Do you have security cameras?” Wojtowick asked.
    “We never saw the need.”
    My call went through.
    “Bobby,” I said.
    “Hey, McKenzie, what’s going on?”
    “The guys were wondering where you were Friday night. They think you’d rather spend time rubbing shoulders with felons and miscreants than play hockey with us.”
    “What are you talking about? Half the guys in the locker room are felons and miscreants.”
    “True, very true. So, Bobby, I was wondering if I could ask you to run a Minnesota license plate number for me.”
    “McKenzie, the St. Paul Police Department does not exist for your personal convenience. If you want to run a license plate number, I suggest you contact Minnesota Driver and Vehicle Services. It’ll cost you all of nine dollars and fifty cents.”
    “I don’t have the time.”
    “That distresses me terribly. Honestly, it does.”
    “Bobby, I am standing next to Detective Constable Aire Wojtowick of the Thunder Bay Police Service in Ontario, Canada. You’d