Michael had booked into the motel located three miles from
the rendezvous. The twin bedded room, paid again using John's credit card, was
substantially more basic than Michael was used to when on DTRU business.
Leaving John in the room Michael returned to the rental car and drove the final
few miles to the address supplied by Karen.
Standing outside the crumbling facade, lit by wall mounted
halogen spotlights all around the frontage, Michael drew a deep breath and
approached the front door.
*
The nursing auxiliary approached the dozing woman, shaking
her shoulder gently.
'Mrs Howells,' she said, 'you have a visitor.' Jack's
mother opened her eyes, a flash of anger flickering in them.
'It's Miss Howells, how many times do I have to tell you
people? Is it my son?' she asked. The nurse shook her head.
'No, he say he knows your daughter-in-law. His name is
Michael Watson,' she said.
'I've never heard of him,' answered Jack's mother
truthfully.
'He said that,' replied the nurse, fussing over the
cushions, 'he has asked to speak with you. Would you like me to send him away?'
'No, I'll see him. Send him in.'
*
Michael looked around the warm, plush sitting room, taking
in the various dozing people dotted around. In one corner, roughly where the
nursing auxiliary had indicated, sat a woman sat upright, glowering.
'Mrs Howells?' he asked. The sudden flush of anger took him
by surprise.
'What is it you want, Mr Watson,' she snapped, 'I
understand you are acquainted with my daughter-in-law,' she continued. Michael
sat down carefully in front of the ageing woman.
'Your son and daughter-in-law are visiting me in Bristol,
on business. I believe they are travelling down as we speak and may even arrive
in the district any time now,' said Michael, desperately hoping that this
battleaxe didn't want him to supply any proof of knowing her son or Karen. He
was acutely aware that he didn't know her son’s first name, where he lived,
whether he had children, the kind of things a mother might well expect their
child's acquaintances to be aware of.
'It's news to me,' she said, rattling the newspaper lain on
her lap, 'but then again I seem to be the last to know whenever they do decide
to call these days. Anyway, if they have business with you, why are you here
telling me?,' she asked.
'I don't think I told them where I would be, I'm from out
of town and hadn’t booked my accommodation last time we spoke,' Michael stated
truthfully, 'I remembered that they had told me that you lived here so I
wondered if you could pass on my contact details when they turn up?'
'Why don't you phone and tell them yourself,' she asked,
'they've both got mobile phones. I've got their numbers somewhere if you need
them,' she said. Michael had expected this.
'I've tried them both, either they're switched off or they
are travelling through a poor reception area,' he said, only lying about
attempting to contact them. 'If I give you the contact details of my
accommodation, could you pass it on when they arrive, please,' asked Michael.
Jack's mother scrutinised the face of the young man
carefully. She had half believed this man to be some sort of confidence
trickster, was certain that he had to have the silver tongue to get inside the
home as easily as he had. Residents had experienced greater problems getting
in, she thought. However, this offer of leaving contact details must be safe,
if they didn't turn up, or if they did but denied any knowledge then she
needn't pass the information on.
'Very well Mr Watson, give me the details and I'll pass
them on when they turn up.'
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011
The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence. All rights reserved
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