betting on it being my parents calling me. They should be up by now. I retrieved my phone and to my surprise it was Detective Bernhardt.
"Detective?" I answered.
"You've been busy haven't you? Interrogating people. Looking for Hoyt." He uttered.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The streets are talking. Some guy running around with bloodshot eyes appearing out of nowhere and pressing people out. Dunkin' heads into toilets? Breakin' into people's apartments?" He conveyed.
"You have the wrong person."
"No no no, I'm no rookie. Don't insult me. I've been doing this for twenty years. You also match the description of a mugger who slashed someone on the subway. They said you stole their wallet." He disclosed. Those lying bastards tried to rob me!
"I'm sorry detective. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Leave the cop stuff to us. You understand that!" He barked. I slapped my phone shut.
Just as I exited the subway station, I caught sight of a narrow seven story brick building across the street. It has a vertical red neon sign fixed to it that displayed "Meridian Motel." Through the windows I noticed the rooms were illuminated with red lights. There were dark silhouettes of busty women erotically gyrating their hips inside them. On the sidewalk before it was a line of prostitutes wearing scantily clad skirts and tube tops. "You look'in for-rah date sweetie?" They badgered as I stepped past them towards the entrance.
A middle-aged scrawny clerk sat on a stool inside a Plexiglas booth gawking at an adult magazine. He sported a bad comb-over that made me feel a little sorry for him. A pair of vintage black glasses frames, probably from 1960s or earlier, rested just above the tip of his pointy nose. The thick lenses magnified his eyes. Adjacent to the booth is a six foot three, two hundred fifty pound burly security guard posing a tough guy facade with his arms crossed. There’s a stand in the corner of the lobby displaying several key chains resembling the one in Hoytsworth's pants pocket.
"Yes!" The clerk agitatedly greeted when I fronted the booth.
"I'm looking for a guest by the name of Hoyt or Hoytsworth." I inquired.
"You a cop or sum'in?"
"No."
"C'mon, get out of here." He blurted brushing me off.
"Excuse me."
"You wanna room or not? I'm busy."
"I'm looking for..." I started to say before he interrupted me.
"You stupid or sum'in? You wanna room or not?" The clerk barked. Speaking to him through this window wasn't getting me anywhere.
I bustled around to the door and gripped the knob. It was locked. "HEY... HEY... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The panic-stricken clerk barked. I paced back a couple steps then charged the door with a sturdy kick. The flimsy door is on the brink of giving way.
Just before I delivered a second strike, the security guard clenched me from b ehind in a bear hug. His grip was firm and I couldn’t free myself. He then lifted me off the floor and pitched me into a wall. Before I could get back to my feet, I was snatched up by my sweater and pinned against it. The security guard held me with his left hand while cocking his right fist back. I couldn't allow him to deliver the knockout blow. I've come too far to get caught now. Just as his hand came forward I had enough slack to elude the punch by tilting my head to the side. The security guard's fist cracked against the wall behind me. After a lengthened agonizing moan, he staggered back a couple of steps then faltered to his knee. He clenched his right hand. It appeared to be broken.
I turned back towards the Plexiglas booth. The clerk snatched a vintage red rotary phone, shaped like a high heeled shoe, off a desk then rested his back against the door. He frantically dialed a number. It didn't take a brilliant mind to figure out he was calling the police. I raced towards the door and bashed it
"Detective?" I answered.
"You've been busy haven't you? Interrogating people. Looking for Hoyt." He uttered.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The streets are talking. Some guy running around with bloodshot eyes appearing out of nowhere and pressing people out. Dunkin' heads into toilets? Breakin' into people's apartments?" He conveyed.
"You have the wrong person."
"No no no, I'm no rookie. Don't insult me. I've been doing this for twenty years. You also match the description of a mugger who slashed someone on the subway. They said you stole their wallet." He disclosed. Those lying bastards tried to rob me!
"I'm sorry detective. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Leave the cop stuff to us. You understand that!" He barked. I slapped my phone shut.
Just as I exited the subway station, I caught sight of a narrow seven story brick building across the street. It has a vertical red neon sign fixed to it that displayed "Meridian Motel." Through the windows I noticed the rooms were illuminated with red lights. There were dark silhouettes of busty women erotically gyrating their hips inside them. On the sidewalk before it was a line of prostitutes wearing scantily clad skirts and tube tops. "You look'in for-rah date sweetie?" They badgered as I stepped past them towards the entrance.
A middle-aged scrawny clerk sat on a stool inside a Plexiglas booth gawking at an adult magazine. He sported a bad comb-over that made me feel a little sorry for him. A pair of vintage black glasses frames, probably from 1960s or earlier, rested just above the tip of his pointy nose. The thick lenses magnified his eyes. Adjacent to the booth is a six foot three, two hundred fifty pound burly security guard posing a tough guy facade with his arms crossed. There’s a stand in the corner of the lobby displaying several key chains resembling the one in Hoytsworth's pants pocket.
"Yes!" The clerk agitatedly greeted when I fronted the booth.
"I'm looking for a guest by the name of Hoyt or Hoytsworth." I inquired.
"You a cop or sum'in?"
"No."
"C'mon, get out of here." He blurted brushing me off.
"Excuse me."
"You wanna room or not? I'm busy."
"I'm looking for..." I started to say before he interrupted me.
"You stupid or sum'in? You wanna room or not?" The clerk barked. Speaking to him through this window wasn't getting me anywhere.
I bustled around to the door and gripped the knob. It was locked. "HEY... HEY... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The panic-stricken clerk barked. I paced back a couple steps then charged the door with a sturdy kick. The flimsy door is on the brink of giving way.
Just before I delivered a second strike, the security guard clenched me from b ehind in a bear hug. His grip was firm and I couldn’t free myself. He then lifted me off the floor and pitched me into a wall. Before I could get back to my feet, I was snatched up by my sweater and pinned against it. The security guard held me with his left hand while cocking his right fist back. I couldn't allow him to deliver the knockout blow. I've come too far to get caught now. Just as his hand came forward I had enough slack to elude the punch by tilting my head to the side. The security guard's fist cracked against the wall behind me. After a lengthened agonizing moan, he staggered back a couple of steps then faltered to his knee. He clenched his right hand. It appeared to be broken.
I turned back towards the Plexiglas booth. The clerk snatched a vintage red rotary phone, shaped like a high heeled shoe, off a desk then rested his back against the door. He frantically dialed a number. It didn't take a brilliant mind to figure out he was calling the police. I raced towards the door and bashed it
Similar Books
