Read A Hard Bargain for Free Online

fees, pageant clothes, travel to different cities. Some people even hire coaches. The expenses can really add up.”
    Now he looked doubtful. “Guess we’d have to work on that.”
    If I didn’t change the subject, I was going to start having flashbacks to the horror that was Backstage At Little Miss. “Mister Grimes, do you know anything about Kirby Willet?”
    “Kirby Willet. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.” He took a few puffs on his pipe. “He tried to fix the hose on Number Seven once. Thought we’d never find all the pieces. Tall fella, skinny, kind of absent-minded. Used to work here, I think.”
    “Can you recall where you last saw him?”
    Grimes shook his head. He called to the children. “Toby! What’d I tell you about no spitting? Don’t spit water at your sister. Sorry, Madeline. Maybe Tilda can help you.”
    “All right,” I said. “I enjoyed meeting your grandchildren. I hope you have a nice visit.”
    “I might be calling on you later if we decide to enter Jenny in a pageant.”
    And I might be way out of town if you do.
    The owner of the Wayfarer Motel, Tilda Sorenson, a large untidy woman with unnaturally red hair, was more excited about the possibility of Lance Henderson staying at her motel. She didn’t have a lot to say about Kirby Willet. She leaned her meaty arms on the front desk.
    “He just worked here a few months, cleaning up, mostly. Took out trash, vacuumed. Didn’t cause any trouble.”
    A younger woman in a maid’s uniform was cleaning out the ashtrays in the lobby. Her long brown ponytail was tied with a rubber band. I could see a large wad of pink gum as she chewed. “Well, he worried me,” she said. “Always taking things apart.”
    “Yeah, well, he did that.” Tilda chuckled. “Got the drink machine all screwed up. Wouldn’t give out nothing but diet sodas and the occasional bag of chips.”
    The young woman came up to the desk, popping her gum. “And he’d get me all upset about room sixteen. Said it was haunted.”
    “He just didn’t want you going in there.” Tilda Sorenson turned to me. “See, I let him stay in sixteen ’cause it wasn’t one of my best rooms. Needed a lot of things done to it. He said he’d fix it up.”
    The young woman wasn’t going to let go of her story. “He said somebody died in there. Killed themselves, he said.”
    Tilda gave a snort. “Well, now, that’s a bunch of bull. Nobody’s died in my motel. Don’t you think I’d know it? Just some of Willet’s stories.”
    “Could I see room sixteen?” I asked.
    “Nothing to see. It’s just like the other rooms.”
    “There might be something that could help me find him.”
    “Go show her, Sue Ann.”
    Popping and smacking, Sue Ann led me outside to room sixteen and unlocked the door. The room was a typical motel room, two beds, a long dresser, curtains in an ungodly shade of plaid.
    “Watch this,” she said. She flipped the light switch and water ran in the sink. “You have to flush the toilet to get the light to come on, and the TV won’t play unless the air conditioner’s running, too. He’s got this room completely messed up, and I haven’t even started on the peanuts.”
    “The peanuts?”
    “Dry roasted peanuts. He ate them all the time, so I found them everywhere, on the floor, behind the cushions, even in the shower. I told Tilda it would attract mice, but she never did anything about it. He’d only eat Blue Ribbon brand. It was really stupid.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    She pulled out a long strand of gum and tucked it back in her mouth. “Because one time I was trying to be nice and bought a big old jar of Planters for him for Christmas, and he wouldn’t even open them. He was weird.”
    “Or just extremely loyal to Blue Ribbon peanuts.”
    She looked skeptical. “Maybe. Anyway, we got to hire someone to fix this room, and I still say it’s haunted.”
    “When was the last time you saw him?”
    She tugged on the curtain cord and