The Fat Innkeeper Read Online Free PDF

Bette Davis voice, whose real name was Norma, “not what I expected. In the middle of a bunch
     of serious questions he asked me, ‘Now, how many fairies do you think can dance on the head of a pin?’ And when we finished
     up, he said, ‘Does anyone else in your family besides you suffer delusions, or visions?’ I kind of figured he’d be a stuffed
     shirt, but he wasn’t.”
    If you could forgive the anticlimax of Norma’s eyes (they were close-set and dishwater brown—the antithesis of Bette Davis’s),
     she was rather attractive, an athletic-looking forty with a quick smile. “Do you think he was flirting with you?” asked Am.
    “I would hope so,” she said, flashing a smile. “He mentioned to me in a very professional voice that there were tangible and
     consistent changes with those who had had near-death experiences, changes that didn’t seem to be gender-related, except in
     the preferred manner of dying. Men, he said, almost universally professed to wanting to go out with a bang, and I don’t mean
     dynamite.”
    “And that’s not a female goal?”
    “Not according to Dr. Kingsbury,” she said, being purposely ambiguous.
    “So you thought his observation was inappropriate?”
    “I didn’t say that,” said Norma. “I’m just saying he raised a flag. When men talk about sex, no matter what the guise, I think
     there’s often an ulterior motive.”
    Am didn’t know how he should respond. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. “So,” he said, “at the risk of sounding like
     a pickup line, just how did you die?”
    She laughed. “The pickup line would have been: ‘Didn’t we meet once? Wasn’t it at Saint Peter’s gate?’“
    “I’ll have to remember that.”
    “Car accident,” she said.
    How, wondered Am, had Kingsbury died? Heart attack, probably. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one interested in that question.
     He could hear McHugh questioning several people, among them T.K. Why was the detective taking such an interest in this death?
     And how was it that McHugh had arrived at the hotel so soon after Kingsbury’s death?
    As if to emphasize that riddle, McHugh announced, “I want all nonessential personnel to clear the room.”
    That’s the tone of voice, thought Am. That’s it exactly. The one that says, police business, goddammit.
    “See you later,” said Norma.
    “In this life, or the next?” asked Am.
    The room rapidly cleared, leaving only McHugh, T.K., two uniformed officers, and Am. The detective offered Am a less-than-hospitable
     side glance that clearly signaled he was not one of those considered essential to the case. For several seconds Am stood his
     ground, time enough to realize he was in an untenable position. He couldn’t force McHugh to tell him anything, and he wasn’t
     about to truckle. If the detective didn’t want him there, then he would have to gather information in a roundabout way. Slowly,
     and with what he considered dignity, Am began his exit from the room. His departure didn’t go unnoticed.
    “Do me a favor, Caulfield,” said McHugh, walking up to him.
    Willing to be wooed, Am stopped to listen.
    “I understand two of your staff tried to revive Kingsbury,” said the detective. “I’d like to talk to them.”
    Gofer, thought Am. Glumly, he nodded.
    “Oh, and Caulfield?” asked the detective. Am stopped in the hallway, just outside the door to the room. He looked at McHugh
     with what he thought was the appropriate disinterest, but the detective, intent on applying some plastic coverlets to the
     doorknobs, spoke to Am without even looking at him.
    “The next time there’s a murder at this hotel,” he said, “do me a favor and secure the crime scene.”
    “Murder?” asked Am, but he was too late. The door had already closed on him.

Chapter Five
    McHugh’s announcement was an effective attention-getter. Am wondered whether his remark was a hateful joke, a way for the
     detective to get back at him by playing with his