Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1 by Jaime Johnesee (libby ebook reader txt) 📕

and these women were stuck living a life where they were used and tossed away. It was heartbreaking when you saw the big picture. When you looked to the future and saw how those children would probably grow up to be drug-addicted hookers like their mom, it was downright grievous.

If someone had given these people a better start in life, any one of Grisly's victims could have been a soccer mom, instead of a whore. I shook the melancholy from my mind and continued to the manager's office.

Sheila and a couple uniforms were in there when I walked in. They were talking to a little bald fellow with a scruffy sandy blonde beard. His face looked tired and worn.

He wasn't happy to have so many cops at his motel, that much was obvious. He was a little jumpy and kept running his hand over his bare scalp. I thought perhaps he knew something he wasn't saying, but then I caught sight of a hash pipe on the desk, slightly covered by a newspaper.

I'm guessing he found the remains, called the cops, and then took a hit or two off whatever was in the pipe to calm himself down. It must've been a while ago as he was looking awful twitchy. I decided I would use that to my advantage. I noted the name on the plaque next to the pipe.

"Mr. Caldon? Hello, I'm Special Agent Samantha Reece."

"I already talked to these agents. Don't need to talk to any others. Y'all need to vacate my motel soon's ya can. I got customers what won't come here with the fuzz all over this place." He squinted hard at me as if I were a magical genie who would grant his wish.

"Hi, Sam." Sheila mustered up a smile for me.

"Sheila, nice to see you." I smiled back.

"Mr. Caldon here is being a mite uncooperative."

"Uncooperative? Uncooperative! You can get right to hell, missy!" He looked at me hard. "I told ’em everything I know. I swear."

"Well, how about you tell me everything you know? I'll even let you step outside and take your meds when we’re done."

"How'd you...?" His face was a mix of puzzlement and terror. I pointed to the not so well hidden pipe on his desk. "Oh."

"I'm assuming you know Carly's law won't cover that?"

Carly’s law was recently signed into being and allowed products with THC oil to be used as medicine. It didn’t cover marijuana itself.

"Look, I need it for my anxiety. You've got to understand!" He looked at me with a mix of fear and anger.

"I do. And I’m not here for a little bit of weed. I am here because a woman was torn to pieces in one of your rooms.” I smiled kindly at him. “Just tell me everything you remember about the guy who rented that room—please.”

I wanted to smack him and tell him to stop being so damned selfish; he may get charged for pot, but there was a woman turned inside out in his motel and that should have been the bigger attention grabber. I was so tired of these people who didn't care about anyone but themselves. Sadly, in my line of work, that was the sort of person I saw the most.

"Well, he were a big boy. Can’t say he were a boy in looks, but in the way he talked and stuff."

"So he was tall?"

"Yes'm. And husky."

"Tall and a little fat?"

"Yes'm. Smelled funny, too. He smiled a lot; it's why I thought he were alright. If'n I didn't think he were okay I wouldn't’ve given him no room." He crossed his arms over his rail thin chest with its protruding ribs.

"Good! So he smiled a lot? Was it like this?" I smiled a big beaming grin at him, "or like this?" I opened my mouth and began flehmening, pulling in all the scents from the room and rolling them across my palate to get a better sense of things.

"The second one."

"Excellent! Can I see the sign in sheet?"

"Ain't got one."

"Do you keep any records of the rooms or who has rented them?" I was trying not to sound as frustrated as I was.

"Not really records, ma'am. I just write down what's been paid and for how long."

"Can I see that?"

"Sure." He produced an envelope from his desk. On the back of it were room numbers, dollar amounts, and times. I followed the one for the room the vic was in. Grisly had paid cash for two days of lodging.

"It says he paid for two days, how long was he here?"

"Dunno. I find spying on the guests a bad idea."

"Oh, come on, Mr. Caldon, I know you're far too savvy a businessman to not keep an eye out on your investment."

"Eddie."

"Huh?" I was puzzled.

Was he telling me what Grisly's name was?

"My name, it's Eddie. You don't have to call me Mr. Caldon no more. I know I ain't quite worth that respect, girly."

"I think it'd be best if I kept calling you Mr. Caldon and you called me Agent Reece." I smiled at him as politely as I could, considering he had just called me girly.

"Oh. Okay. Look, all I can tell ya is that this fellow gave me the willies, even with all his smiling, and I didn't want to deal with him anymore than I had to."

"Can you tell me what sort of car he was driving, or anything he ate, movies he ordered, anything he asked for help on?"

"Sure thing. He came here in a gold Taurus. It had a Mississippi plate on it, but otherwise it was a nice car." The man cracked a grin and chuckled a bit.

"You don't like Mississippi?"

"No, ma'am. I grew up on the border and my high school team used to have to play a ’sippi team. Ain't nothing good over that line, I tell you that." He winked at me.

"Okay, so aside from the gold car what else can you tell me?"

"That fella was asking about pancakes."

"Pancakes?"

"Yes'm. He asked me where the