Time Enough To Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

corridors that opened off the lobby. March glanced at his watch and hurried up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
    Ashley looked through a nearby doorway—oh, the bar. Down a short hallway two other doors opened onto a sitting room and the dining room. Another corridor led past the cloak and computer room to a closed door labeled, “Private.” The lobby itself was only an open space holding a couple of chairs, a potted palm, and the students’ suitcases and backpacks piled in front of the reception desk. Mr. Clapper, who seemed like a friendly sort of guy, was handing out their keys. “Five? Right. Twenty? Righty-ho."
    Ashley was sharing number forty-two with Jennifer and Courtney. The three girls lugged their bags up the stairs and with some casting around among the convoluted corridors found their room. It was small and tidy, with three twin beds and a sink in the corner. They distributed their stuff among a wardrobe, a dresser, and a single glass shelf above the sink.
    Jennifer slammed her suitcase and shook her head. “Wait until I write home about this place. Nothing wrong with a nice Holiday Inn, but no, they put us in ye olde quainte inne where you need a ball of string to find your way back from the bathroom."
    "I think it's great,” Ashley said. “Much more character than a Holiday Inn. All the blocked-off doorways, funny little flights of steps, unexpected niches in the halls, like hiccups—it's like walking around inside an archaeological mound."
    "It's not like home,” said Courtney.
    Ashley was about to tell her, “That's the point,” when a soft rhythmic thumping emanated from the wall. The faded prints of nineteenth-century shepherds slid askew. “Ghosts?” Jennifer asked skeptically.
    "That's Jason's room next door,” said Courtney. “Guess he and Caterina couldn't wait until tonight."
    "He was really itching to get Caterina out of that dorm.” Jennifer imitated a bloodhound on the scent, tongue lolling, breath panting.
    Courtney giggled. “Wonder what he did with Bryan? Locked him in the closet?"
    From beyond the wall came a banshee-like moaning. Courtney and Jennifer responded with whoops of laughter and catcalls.
    "Get a life,” Ashley told them. She slammed out of the room, down the corridor, and past the door marked W.C., to what might once have been a staircase landing but that now contained a red fire bucket. Through a bay window she saw Bryan leaning on the fence beside the bowling green. His baseball cap hid his face. From his body language Ashley figured he was as disgusted as she was. Jason and Caterina could do whatever they wanted to, they just didn't have to get in everyone's face with it, like sex was something special....
    Ashley had uttered a few banshee moans of her own, back when she and Chris were going at it. Since then she had wondered whether she'd really felt that good, or whether she'd been so desperate for him to like her she'd put on an act that had fooled even herself. It was because she'd been so needy, he said, that he'd left her. He'd told her to “get over it."
    "Sour grapes?” she asked Bryan's slouching back. “Yeah, me too."
    Turning away from the window she took a deep breath, tasting the uninspiring flavors of mildew and bathroom cleanser. In the distance dishes clashed. The sitting room downstairs was stocked with books and a television set, wasn't it? Ashley set off toward the main staircase.
    She was just about to push through a second set of fire doors when she saw a movement through the safety glass window. The police constable she'd seen earlier emerged from a room. “Well then, Sir, that's the lot. Enough to be going on with, I reckon."
    Gareth March stepped out into the hallway and shook the bobby's hand. “Thank you, Watkins."
    The constable walked off down the hall, his helmet tucked beneath his arm, and disappeared around a corner. March ducked back into his room and shut the door. Ashley waited a moment, then shoved the fire