Part 3 (1/2)
Mama nodded. ”You said there was another reason that Ruby checked into your inn.”
”She came to meet her a friend.”
”Do you know Ruby's friend's name?” Mama asked quietly.
Golick shook his head. ”I've only seen the man a few times as he slipped in and out of her room. I couldn't tell who he was.”
Mama nodded again. ”Tell me something about the last time that Ruby checked into the motel. Was her friend with her that night?”
”Friday night beforea”” His voice broke. ”The Friday night before Ruby died,” he continued gruffly, ”my gut feeling was that she wasn't checking in to meet her friend.”
”What made you think not?” Mama asked.
”Ruby's eyes were puffy like she'd been crying. I suppose if I had given it some thought, I should have known she'd try to hurt herself. The woman looked like she'd just thrown on her clothes without thinking, just to get away from whatever it was that was chasing her. I mean, it was a hot night and she was all bundled up in a thick black sweater and a scarf.”
”A scarf?” Mama asked as she took out a small notebook from her purse and began making notes.
”Yeah, a reddish brown scarf that struck me as being particularly ugly,” he replied.
”What did Ruby say to you?”
Jeff s.h.i.+fted in his chair. ”Nothing, not a word, but like I told Abe, she had a good bit of money on her. When she opened her purse to pay for the room, I saw a roll big enough to choke a cow!”
Mama seemed to ponder what she'd just learned. ”I was wondering why it was you that checked Ruby into the motel that night and not your front desk clerk.”
”It was Maria's dinner hour,” Jeff said, looking surprised. ”Maria is my clerk. I always take care of the check-ins between eight and nine o'clock.”
”Were there many people staying here that night?”
”It was a slow night. Just a trucker who stays here from time to time and an old couple from New York on their way to Miami.”
Mama smiled appreciatively. ”I'd like to talk to the cleaning woman who found Ruby.”
Golick raised his eyebrows. ”Inez isn't here. Although she's only been working here for three weeks, she asked for this weekend off. Something about some business she has to take care of.”
”Perhaps you can tell me where Inez lives,” Mama suggested.
Jeff took a deep breath, clearly aggravated by an interview he felt was going on too long. ”Two miles past the interstate, turn left, cross the railroad, first dirt road on the right, third house on the right. Her last name is Moore.”
”Thank you, Mr. Golick,” Mama said, standing. She thought for a minute. ”Did Ruby happen to make any phone calls while she was here?”
”I've given that list to the sheriff.”
”It would be helpful if you could check the number of times she stayed at the motel in the past six months, as well as any phone numbers she might have called during that same period,” Mama told him.
Jeff let out an exasperated sigh. ”I don't see any reason for that.”
Mama looked confidently into his eyes, her smile gentle. ”I was just thinking that if Abe called you and asked for such a list, it would be nice if you would have already had it made up.”
Jeff shrugged, his eyes angry, his face impatient. We thanked him and left the office.
”We're off to find Inez's house?” I asked.
”Exactly,” Mama said.
Inez Moore's house was three miles away from the Avondale Inn on a dirt road that runs every bit of a mile from the paved turnoff. It was a road filled with so many potholes that the drive felt like a roller-coaster ride. We ended up in the yard of a tiny unpainted house that had a porch that ran its length. From the outside, it appeared that there were no more than three rooms to the shack. The roof was rusty tin, the yard was dirt. There wasn't even a patch of gra.s.s.
All around the yard were six or seven dilapidated cars surrounded by mounds of car tires. Behind the house were trees and what looked like more old, rusty cars. The smell of burning rubber was a stench in the air.
”This must be where everybody in the county abandons their automobiles,” I told Mama, looking around and wrinkling up my nose.
”It looks pretty bad, doesn't it?” Mama agreed.
”If Sarah Jenkins knew about this place, she'd stir up the County Council to put an end to the burning of those tires.”
”She'd probably tell them that the fumes aggravated her chest condition so much she felt like she wasn't going to take her next breath.”
”Burning tires can cause respiratory problems. Come to think of it, isn't there a county ordinance against burning?” I asked.
Mama nodded. ”It's against Otis County's ordinances. But nothing in Otis gets enforced unless somebody complains.”
Just then a young woman of about twenty-five walked out onto the front porch.
”Jeff phoned and told me to be on the lookout for you,” she called, her voice cold and hard. ”I don't know what I can tell you, but since you've gone out of your way to find me, come on up and take a seat.”
Mama glanced at me, and headed for Inez Moore's front porch.
By the time we'd climbed the rickety wooden steps, Inez had gone back inside and brought out another chair. ”I always thought that fool Ruby would go and kill herself. She was just that crazy!”
”You knew Ruby well?” Mama asked.
Inez was a short woman, less than five feet. She had large hips and legs but a small waist and bosom. Her face was shrewd, her eyes close to each other. At Mama's question, she nodded. ”Ruby and I worked at the sewing room in Bartow together.” She hesitated. ”Three weeks ago I heard there was an opening at the Avondale Inn, so I was the first to ask Jeff for the job. He gave it to me and I said good-bye to sewing piece goods at that factory.”
”I see,” Mama said.
”Ruby had no need to look for another job. She coulda stayed there at the factory as long as she wanted because she was in the boss's pocket.”
Mama's brow crinkled. ”You're saying that Ruby's job was secure because she was a good worker?”
”She worked but I know for a fact that her work wasn't what kept her job secure!”
”So what did?”
Inez shrugged. ”What does it matter? She went and killed herself and I'm stuck making beds.”
”What do they sew at that factory?” Mama asked.