Skip Case (David Dean Mysteries)

Tuesday, May 4th 1:00 A.M.

The man took a deep breath of the hot and salty night air and firmly closed the door marked Room 22. After turning the knob once to confirm it was locked, he paused, somewhat unsteadily, and glanced across the motel parking lot. He looked at his wrist, but then remembered the watch was on the dresser in the motel room. In his right hand he clutched the motel key. A large bath towel was draped across his shoulder. He wore bathing trunks, a Phillies baseball cap and a t-shirt with the imprint "Eastern PA Century Bicycle Tour" and a date four years earlier. The man was about 40. His hair was a tad past barbering time and he wore polished black shoes and black socks, inconsistent with the rest of his attire.

The motel was an independent, adequate at best, barely hold­ing its own against the national chains. It served an occasional thrifty traveler but mostly catered to salesmen, many on a repeat basis. They were given reasonable service and whispered offers to, "Stay three nights, the next one's free, and we'll give you a receipt for four."

The motel consisted of 40 units on two floors, ten to either side of a main entrance that led to the office and restaurant. A red neon sign blinked "Ocean Shore Motel," painting the parking lot and the bathing-suited man in a pulsating crimson glow. A scatter­ing of cars dotted the parking lot but due to the late hour the avenue beyond was nearly devoid of traffic.

As the man turned from his room, a young man emerged from the main entrance several yards away and stepped outside. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt and moved with the swagger of youth, someone without a care in the world. The man in the bathing suit recognized him as Leo, his waiter from an earlier din­ner, and waved.

Leo shook his head and smiled. "Going for a midnight swim, mister?" he called.

The man paused, leaning against a post, and confirmed in a somewhat slurred voice that indeed he was about to take a dip. He added it was too damned hot for this early in May.

"Aw, this is cool weather for Norfolk," Leo replied. "Come back in July if you want to really sweat."

The man muttered a "No, thanks," released his support and continued on his way to the beach across the road.

"You be careful now," Leo called after him, "it's pitch black over there on the beach." The man just waved over his shoulder. Leo thought to himself that with one more drink he'd try to swim across the Chesapeake. He considered warning the Indian night clerk that they had a real winner wandering out on the sand in the middle of the night but discarded the idea. There were better things to do with his time. Francie was waiting and there was cold beer in the fridge. He hurried to his rusty Ford and by the time he pulled out on Ocean View Avenue, the man was out of sight and out of mind.