The hotel parking lot didn't have a Honda on it but he knew that didn't mean it wasn't out... if they were here. He'd check that again later. He thought about what they might be doing. What would he do? Change cars again most likely. He hoped not. Food. Everybody had to eat, and gas. Gas would be a good place to start. He went down and asked the bored clerk how many gas stations there were in Hammond and where they were.

Surprisingly few and also surprisingly close to one another—all on the main street. Ted got the car and began at the end he entered from, asking each of the attendants about a man and woman in a Honda. The second station was operated by an older than the earth black man in blue coveralls and a Stank's Beer baseball cap that sat low on his grizzled head. He did remember the car because the woman was driving and the man seemed to be constantly shouting orders at her.

"You know, fill the tank. Clean the window. Check the tires. That kinda thing."

"Did you get any feeling about whether they were just passing through or maybe stopping here?"

"Well the woman complained about bein' hungry and wanted some o' those delicious buns you see over there." He pointed to a rack in the window that contained a variety of buns. "But he just yelled at her again and said they'd get somethin' later."

Delicious? Ted thought not. "And that meant?" Ted asked, puzzled.

"Well later would mean Sable Falls, if they was just passin' through. And that's another two and a half hours from here. The lady'd starve before then."

Ted laughed and thanked the old man.

"You don't want one o' them nice buns then?"

"Maybe another time, partner." He shifted into gear and cruised off the lot into traffic. So, likely they didn't pass through. "Damn!" He slapped the wheel and looked for a place to turn around and headed back to the gas station.

"Hey, figured you'd change your mind. They just looked too darn good, didn't they?"

"Yeah, you're right, old timer. But just one." Ted said as he got out of the car and dug out some money. "I meant to ask you, are there many places to stay around here?"

"Got the big hotel uptown, the Grantly. Got two motels at the west end, the Nite's Stay and the Hammond Inn. Hammond Inn's a dump." He handed Ted a bun in waxed paper and pocketed the money. Not in the register, Ted noted. "There's Daisy Welland's B&B; folks call that the Barf an' Bagel 'cause that's all she serves and that's what you wind up doin'." He grinned and his old eyes shone with delight.

"I'll pass on Miss Daisy's then," Ted laughed with him. "So that's it then, just the four places?"

"'Less you got a tent or trailer with you."

"Well thanks again, old timer." He climbed back in the car.

"Enjoy the bun." He heard the old man call as he left again.

Ted glanced at the item in the waxed paper and gave it a tentative sniff. "Hmm!" He squeezed it and it felt quite fresh so he attempted a small bite and his eyes opened in surprise; it was delicious!

******

Gabe pulled into the hotel lot and got out of the car. He tossed his jacket in the back and locked the car. It would be morning before he would see Mr. Martin again and he had a whole night to kill. The thought made him snort and he looked about wondering how he would spend his time.

The drive-in diner didn't appeal and he walked up the street a way until he found a tiny café that boasted the best crépes in the country. Gabe couldn't have cared less about crépes but it was the only restaurant he found and he didn't feel like driving any more so he went inside and found a small table for one in the cool of the artificial air.

He thought about Sandra and how he would handle her when he caught up with her. He pictured himself confronting Martin and scaring the shit out of him and getting him to take him back to his apartment where he would surprise Sandra and then he would make both of them pay big time. He ordered a beer and the house special of crépes. The beer was tepid and the crépes were crap. Gabe paid his bill and left.

******

Gerald and Zeena took a break from their activities long enough to walk down to the bank and get the necessary cash to pay for the privilege and then back to the hotel dining room for a bite to eat. The room at the Grantly was from another era with heavy draperies around the tall windows and dim lights in tiny amber-shaded lamps stuck on the flocked wallpaper over each table.

Gerald chose an isolated corner with a view of the entry and with his new financial largess, ordered a bottle of expensive wine. They studied the menu and both decided to have early dinner, leaving the evening for their grand finale before having to check out.

"I'll have your money by next week at the latest, Zee. I want to thank you; it made a difficult situation a lot easier."

"I didn't want your mind distracted, Gee." She always called him by his first initial just as he always almost shortened her name—a habit he actually hated but put up with. "That robbery must have been so traumatic. I mean seeing a man get shot dead like that." She seemed to squirm on her chair as if prodding him to describe the act.

"The guy was an idiot, attacking somebody with a gun just to save a few bucks."

Her hand crept across to his. "Yeah but, what was it like? How did you feel?"

"It was strange you know. When you see that kind of thing in the movies or on TV you're really focused on the action. This sorta just happened. There was a bang and the guy fell down. It was very... un- remarkable." Zeena withdrew her hand and sat back disappointed. "The worst part was when they loaded the poor bugger on the gurney. His face was like a squashed tomato. I mean it was just... gone."

"Did he make any noise or anything?" She leaned forward again and felt for his hand.

"Dunno. It all happened so fast."

"So how did the guy who shot him look?"

"I didn't notice... well maybe, he seemed real excited I guess. I do remember he had a strange half smile when it happened."

Zeena squirmed forward on her chair. "Yeah? You think he liked it?"

"What are you asking all these questions for, you getting off on this or something?"

She chewed her lip and pressed his fingers. "It does stoke my fire a little." Her voice grew husky and she shifted again on the seat.

He leaned back as the waiter arrived with the wine and went through the ritual of sampling and pouring. Gerald glanced past him and for a second his heart slammed hard into his chest. He sat up and stared across the room at the man that just walked up to the bar. His back was to him now but that first glimpse when he entered hit Gerald like a brick—it was the shooter from the robbery.

"Something wrong, Gee? Is the wine off?" Zeena turned to see what he was staring at.

"No. Don't look! Turn around!"

"What? What is it? Is it your wife?" She sank a little lower next to the wall.

"We have to get out of here. Get your purse and go straight to the elevators; I'll follow in a minute."

"But—"

"Just bloody do it, Zeena!"

Gerald waited until she left the diningroom then waved over the waiter and told him his companion had taken ill and they wouldn't be having dinner. He paid the bill and added a generous tip, telling the waiter to send the rest of the bottle to their room.

Gabe downed his shot and followed it with a swallow of beer and as he set down the bottle he glanced in the mirror at the man leaving the diningroom and a small alarm went off. He turned for a better look just as the man looked over at him. They both registered different versions of surprise and Gabe dug some cash out his pocket and dropped it on the bar, moving quickly after the man to the lobby.

Gerald pushed the button frantically and stepped back in fear as Gabe stopped the closing door and joined him on the elevator.

"Saw you in the bar, do I know you?" Gabe said casually.

Gerald cringed a smile and shook his head. "I- I don't think so."

"Gee, you sure look familiar." The expression made Gerald blanch and he swallowed hard. "Say, you didn't press your floor button. Which one is it?"

"Two." It came out in a whisper.

"Huh? Two?" Gabe pressed the button and they stood silently until the cab stopped and the door opened. Gerald hesitated and then stuttered forward into the hall. The hand on his shoulder nearly caused his bowels to release and he shrank under the touch.

"You were in the diner, right?"

"I don't know what—"

The grip tightened and Gerald squeaked. "Which room?" He shoved Gerald against the wall and patted him down for the key, then shoving him toward the room number on the tab.

Zeena stood from her chair when the door opened and she was about to speak when Gerald stumbled into the room from a sharp push. Gabe followed, closing and locking the door.

"Well now who's this, the missus?"

"Gee, what's going on?"

"Gee, is that your name. Gee?" Gabe turned Gerald around and took his wallet from his jacket pocket. "Gerald Maxwell... Maxwell? Ha! That's really rich that is." He thought of the astronomical odds of meeting the owner of the one card he and Sandra decided to use. He tossed the wallet back and turned to Zeena. "Purse, Mrs. Maxwell."

Zeena turned to Gerald who avoided her eyes and stood with his head down. "Gee?"

"Never mind old Gee, sweetheart, just hand me the purse."

She did and he rummaged around for her wallet. "Zeena West? Ho, ho. You aren't Mrs. Maxwell. Gee, you naughty boy you." Gabe helped himself to the few bills in her wallet and tossed it back.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Zeena crossed her arms over her chest.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm the guy who robbed your lover here at the diner and I'm here because he recognized me downstairs."

Zeena dropped her arms and took a step forward. "You- you're the one who killed that man?"

"Zeena for God's sake!" Gerald moaned.

"That's me, sweetcakes." He saw her eyes widen with an excited gleam and he licked his lips slowly as he noticed Gerald sag even further into himself.

******************