The Stopover Inn looked like it had been run over and Grace scowled as she made her initial survey of the dump. The office was at right angles to the units and made a perfect shield for her to pull in and speak to the desk clerk. She parked her car and stepped carefully over the cracked paving to the office door.

An OPEN sign hung at an angle and flapped against the glass as she pushed through the door. She paused inside looking with distaste at the grubby tile floor and the stained arborite counter then saw that they were a perfect accent to the clerk.

"You wanna room?" The eyesore asked, shoving a large ledger around on the counter.

"Never in this lifetime." Grace approached the counter but avoided touching it. "I'm looking for someone with apparently low standards. You have a guest driving a rental car staying here?"

"Don't give out nuthin' on the guests, lady."

"How about now." Grace produced her Beretta and aimed it squarely at eyesore's face.

"Room six. Checked in yesterday. Paid for the week."

Grace smirked and slipped the gun back in her purse. "Not a peep about this, right?"

"Absolutely. You bet. Not a peep. Won't say wor-"

"Okay, okay. Fine." She gave him a cocked eyebrow as a final warning and left.

******

The Roasting Pitt lived up to its hype and Grace complimented the owner, Howard Pitt, who found himself at her table comping the wine.

"The chef is truly talented, Howard." She smiled over the rim of her glass and one foot bobbed up and down brushing his pant leg.

"He is, yes. Studied in Paris at Le Cordon Bleu."

"Well, now I need a recommendation for a good hotel for one night. Can you recommend someplace, Howard?" The bobbing foot halted against his shin.

"Uhm- ah the ah, Gerrard is probably your best bet, a little expensive but . . . " he cleared his throat as the foot moved against his shin.

"I'm sure I could manage one night. You wouldn't happen to have the number would you?"

"Oh- I think so . . ." He sat still not wanting to move and called to the waiter to fetch the number for him. "You should ask for Stanley and mention my name."

"How gentlemanly. Thank you, Howard." Grace shifted as the waiter brought the number and Howard passed it to her. Her foot moved a little higher and she afforded herself a smug inner smile as she felt pressure in return.

"Here," he said, "let me make that call for you."

Grace sat back and picked her wine back up, sipping while Howard made magic on the phone with his friend at the Gerrard.

******

The aisle was crowded with stands advertising specials expertly cutting off all convenient access and Parker grumbled the entire time as he shoved the cart along behind Des.

"Is there a point in having wide aisles? Why not just another row of shelves and give everyone a shoehorn at the door."

"You against enterprise, Parker?" Des asked, placing a box of cereal in the cart.

"No. Where would I be without it."

She laughed and put a few more items in the cart. "Closest answer wins a prize."

He leaned on the handle pushing the cart with his chest. "For someone who trashes my stuff you sure come up with some real bombs."

"When I've seen you dance you can critique my material."

Parker grinned and watched her peruse the stock, reading labels and wrinkling her nose at the contents of some. They rounded the end of the aisle and Parker slammed into another cart held by a skinny looking guy in jeans and a golf shirt.

"Sorry, pal. I was just complaining about the width of the aisles a second ago."

The man stared at Parker and then at Desdemona and he seemed to suddenly be out of breath.

"You okay? I didn't hurt you or anything did I?"

"Nu- no. No, I'm good." He backed up a bit and then raced around Parker and down the next aisle.

"I think you scared him, Des,"

She gave him an ingratiating smile.

******

Grace rolled over and picked up her phone. "Lester, is something up, you don't usually call when I'm working."

"Did you find him?"

"Oh Lester, you know I don't do blow by blow reports. I'll call you when it's over."

"Yes but-!"

"I'm really busy at the moment, Lester. Please don't call back." Grace shut off her phone and rolled back to face the exhausted countenance of Howard. "Sorry, Howard, can we start over?"

Howard's groan was a mix of accession and fatigue.

Grace kissed his cheek and thanked him again for his generous offer to pay for her night at the Gerrard. She got up from the bed and took a quick shower, dressed, kissed a bewildered Howard one more time before leaving the room and taking the elevator down to the lobby. She dropped her key at the desk and told them that she had to leave but Howard would be staying a while longer.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay, Miss Purcell." The manager, unctuously.

"It was just the pick up I needed." She gave him a wave and departed, retrieving her car from the valet.

She headed back to the Stopover Inn calculating time and how she would start riding herd on the Grandcastle family when she got back. Grace pulled into the Stopover lot and cruised slowly down to unit six, making a three point turn facing back out. She killed the motor and gathered up her purse as she climbed out of the car. The door to the unit opened and the man froze in the doorway as Grace approached.

"Mister Tabor." The smile was scary.

Tabor backed into the room and she followed.

"Can't say much for your taste in accommodation." She sniffed and glanced about for a place she might sit settling for the edge of the still made bed.

"You're Grace Purcell."

"Thank you, I know that. How do you know?"

"Lester sent you. How did you find me?"

"Need to know I'm afraid and aren't you a fountain of information . . . and all correct. An inside source perhaps?" Now who could that be?

"Listen, I- he wasn't giving me any time. I messed up with the car I know but I traced him and the woman to her place . . ."

"And?"

"Mickey started getting all over my case. He threatened me with you."

Grace stiffened and drew her lips into a tight line. Son-of-a-bitch!

"And so you came all this way to stay in this-" Her hand indicated the place with an air of disdain.

Tabor reached back for the bottle on the dresser, "I know your rep." he said, sloshing a healthy amount into a paper cup, tossing it back and choking slightly.

"You want any?"

"I don't think so. I came for something else."

She reached into her purse and took out the Beretta and the silencer.

"Aww God, no." Tabor put up his hands, pleading.

"You and only you can connect Lester to Earl's killing so I'm afraid it has to be this way."

"No, wait! That's not true! Mickey made the arrangements. He knows."

"He works for Lester."

"So do I! Did."

Grace pursed her lips and thought about that a moment. "That's right."

"I know, see!" Tabor began urging an advantage.

"I mean, you did."

His jaw dropped and Grace shot him in the throat. The bottle fell and bounced on the carpet, spraying some of the contents around, some of which landed on Grace's skirt.

"Oh damn!" Annoyed, she took the gun apart and put it away then swiped at the spots on her skirt. Another string of angry comments then she took her phone and snapped a photo of Tabor lying in a pool of blood trailing from his throat.

She left the room, locking the door after her and got into her car. At the end of the drive she saw the manager, in the rear view mirror watching her from the office window. Grace slowed the car and bit her lip then sighed and backed up, getting out and going into the office.

"Hello again," she said.

"I never said nuthin'."

"I'm sure you didn't." She opened her purse and took out her gun, fastening the silencer on once more, marveling at how people just stood and watched the activity rather than run or something. Like deer in the headlights. She pulled the trigger and the manager folded down against the counter then slid off onto the floor.

"Sorry that was necessary but it was." Out to her car again and back onto the highway and home. Her thoughts now on the nephew, Mickey.