Chapter 5: Down by the Bay

"Nancy Drew! I texted you five times last night!" Bess yelled across Main Street. Nancy, who was seated at one of the cafe's outdoor tables, waved her friend and her family over.

"Sorry," she called. "I had a bit of car trouble."

"And you were, what? Rebuilding your engine all night?" Bess asked sarcastically. She pushed her stroller under the shade of the table's umbrella and sat down across from Nancy, reaching for the fries on her plate. Nancy swatted her hand.

"This is the first meal I've had since lunch yesterday. Get your own."

"Why haven't you eaten?"

"Well, I've been busy all day. I woke up late and had to pull a few strings to get my car towed on a Saturday."

"Bess, I'm going to take Myra up to get an ice cream. Want anything?" Bess's husband, Tom, asked, leaning in to unbuckle the toddler from her stroller. Bess sighed, as tempted as ever by her sweet tooth.

"No, thanks. I have a leftover eclair at home." Tom walked off with Myra. Bess looked Nancy over appraisingly.

"You were wearing that t-shirt yesterday."

"So I got a little lazy this morning." Nancy took a bite of her hamburger and tried to avoid her friend's gaze. Bess looked impeccable, as always, and her formidable instinct for gossip never took weekends off.

"Your hair, sweetie..."

"A lot lazy."

"Nancy."

"Bess."

"Spill."

"I did have car trouble. And I forgot my cell phone."

"So you spent the night in a ditch somewhere?"

"Not exactly." Nancy smoothed her red-blonde hair. She had been optimistic that it looked presentable enough for her purposes. Callie had left a brush in the Hardys' bathroom, so it was at least untangled. "I know it's a little bed-head-y, but is it really that awful?" she asked.

"Sweetie, that's not bedhead. That's sex hair. And until you tell me who helped style it, I am not only going to withhold that cheesecake recipe I promised to give Hannah for your birthday, but I am also going to assume that you slept with Ned."

Nancy looked horrified. "How weak do you think I am? Bess, no. It was Joe. I was stranded in that storm, he just happened to be driving by-"

"And your clothes just happened to fall off? And you just happened to trip and fall on his-"

"Bess!" Nancy said, in her sternest tone. "Bess, don't. It wasn't like that. It was...it was different. I can't explain." Bess looked at her friend and dropped her teasing manner. She knew Nancy, and right now Nancy was both elated and scared. "It was real," Nancy said slowly, and Bess nodded.

"I'm happy for you," she said.

"I'm not sure what to do with it. Where to go from here, I mean. I wasn't looking for a relationship right now. But it's Joe."

"You know what I think? I think this has been a long time coming and you should just enjoy it," Bess said.

"So you'll give me that cheesecake recipe, right?" Nancy grinned and scooped up a french fry.

"Maybe," Bess said, adjusting her sunglasses. Suddenly she stood and waved to a thin blonde pushing a stroller down the sidewalk.

"Amber! Over here!" she called.

"Hi!" The young woman called back, deftly steering her way over to them.

"Nancy, this is Amber. Her son Ryan goes to preschool with Myra. Amber, this is my good friend Nancy."

"Nice to meet you," Amber said.

"Likewise." Nancy leaned over. "Hi, Ryan! It's nice to meet you, too." The little boy stared at her for a moment before offering her the stuffed cat he was clutching. Nancy smiled. "What a nice cat."

"Cat," Ryan echoed.

"He doesn't talk much," Amber said. "I'm sorry I can't hang out but I'm dropping him off with his babysitter in half an hour."

"Ooh! Do you have a date?" Bess asked.

"Something like that," Amber said lightly. "See you Monday, Bess. Nice meeting you, Nancy."

"Bye!" Bess called. She turned back to face Nancy. "Nan, please don't do your Sherlock thing," she said.

"My what?"

"You know. That thing you do where you meet someone and then tell me all the suspicious things about them. Amber's really nice and she's been through a lot lately. She needs some friends in this town."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Bessie girl. I have too much else on my mind right now."

As an amateur sleuth, Nancy had relied heavily on the assistance of her friends. As a professional private detective, she worked alone. Her friends were adults with lives and pursuits of their own, now; and they were all old enough to realize that detecting wasn't a game, but a serious business. Succeeding meant hard work, long days, lonely hours, tedious travel. The life was not as glamorous as the movies portrayed it. Today, that lack of glamour manifested itself as a long drive in a cigarette-scented loaner car rather than the hot shower and change of clothes Nancy was craving. Still, her search of Sebastian Walker's home had turned up nothing, and it was time to investigate Rowena Walker's hotel room.

"What can you tell me about the Bay View Motel in Bayport?" she asked Bess as her friend buckled a chocolate-stained little girl back into her stroller.

"Sleazy," Bess said.

"They have bedbugs," Tom chimed in. Both women looked at him and he raised his hands defensively. "What? It's common knowledge. My former boss used to meet his secretary there on her lunch break and her best friend liked to gossip."

"I have to run out there this afternoon. Don't look at me like that, Bess. It's for a case."

The Bay View Motel was a tired-looking brown building sandwiched between a Wal-Mart and a bar. Nancy doubted its dingy windows afforded much view of anything at all, least of all of the bay. She downed the last of her soda from lunch, ran her fingers through her hair, and stepped out of the car.

The lobby was decorated in the same drab brown tones as the outer doors and siding. Before her eyes could adjust from the sunlight outside Nancy tripped on the peeling linoleum, managing to catch herself before she hit her head on the counter. She stood up, feeling a little shaken, and found the desk clerk staring at her impassively.

"That's a hazard," Nancy said breathlessly.

"I told Jimmy 'bout it last week," the man said, his tone implying that he had gone beyond the call of duty already and could not be burdened with further action.

"You need to put a cone or a sign over the area. Someone could be seriously injured."

"I told Jimmy. He knows what to do." The clerk yawned, adjusted his round-lensed glasses. "Rooms are $30 a night, miss."

"Is room 23 available?" Nancy asked. The man behind the desk stared at her for a moment.

"Room 23," he repeated, sounding as though it were a personal affront. Moving entirely without haste, he pulled a computer keyboard out of a desk drawer and plugged it in. His computer worked even more slowly than he did. Nancy passed the time while his program loaded by trying to decipher his name from his scratched and faded name tag. Jimmy, she decided. No. Wait. That would mean he was talking about himself in the third person. Maybe it says Timmy. Or maybe he's insane. It definitely looks like a J. Why does he even bother wearing that thing?

"Room 23 is not available," Jimmy-or-Timmy announced, cutting through her musings.

"What name is it booked under?"

Jimmy-or-Timmy sighed and clicked to another screen. "Jimmy don't like when I tell people that. But you're pretty, so I'll tell you. It says here 'Rowena Walker.'"

"Rowena Walker is dead," Nancy said, surprised.

"Nobody checked her out." Jimmy-or-Timmy laughed, suddenly, an unpleasant sound that made Nancy's skin crawl. "Ha! I guess she checked out. all right, but she never checked out of the Bay View Motel."

"May I have a look at her room? I'm a detective." Nancy pulled her credentials out of her purse and slid them across the desk at him. Jimmy-or-Timmy frowned.

"No. Absolutely no. That room is not available."

"I'm not going to take anything. You can supervise me the whole time."

"I can't let you into a customer's room. You don't have a warrant."

Nancy took a deep breath. "Your customer has passed away. She no longer requires the use of that room. And I may learn something valuable from taking a look before it gets cleaned."

"We don't like detectives around here and we don't let anyone into anyone else's rooms. Till someone comes to settle up the bill with us, the room stays locked."

"If that's all you need, I'll pay her bill. How much does she owe you?"

Jimmy-or-Timmy shook his head, his eyes gleaming slyly behind his glasses. "Lady, all I have is your word that she's dead and I don't know you from Adam. Or from Eve. Ha! So nothing doing."

"All right," Nancy said, unwilling to expend any more energy on the situation. She doubted the Bay View had room in its budget for any serious security measures. She would simply have to return later on and find out exactly how rusty her lock-picking skills had become.

One more errand lay between Nancy and home. She bumped into the parking lot of Swift & Morton Automotive just as Jay and Chet were closing up shop.

"How's the old girl?" she called.

"Bad news, Nancy," Jay Swift told her. "We had to order some parts. She won't be ready for you till probably Thursday."

Nancy's face fell. "That is not what I was hoping to hear."

"Sorry, Nan," Chet said, wiping his hands on a rag. "That's the downside to driving a classic car. You put a lot of miles on her and it takes its toll."

"And I'm hoping to put a lot more miles on before I have to retire her," Nancy retorted. "Don't think you can talk me into selling. I'm not falling for it."

Chet grinned. "It was worth a try."

"We'll give you a call when the parts come in. You can help out with labor if you want, save yourself a little off the bill," Jay offered.

"Thanks, Jay. I appreciate it." Nancy shook hands with both men and returned to her loaner car, which communicated via malfunctioning air conditioning and terrible suspension that it liked her about as much as she liked it. Fortunately, home was only a few minutes away. Nancy rolled down the windows and disregarded the speed limit, more ready than ever for a shower and some rest.