Page 60 of Solid as Steele
He patted his dashboard. “I don’t let just anybody drive my baby.”
She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled.
“Ready?” he asked.
“For a pit stop, definitely.”
“I’m sure they have a restroom you can use.”
“Let’s hope so.”
They stepped into the nippy but dry desert air and climbed the rustic wooden steps to an old door with splotchy green paint. An aged copper bell chimed above the door. The dark and shadowy place held a hint of a musty smell. Two desks sat in the large front reception area, and a table held refreshments, including a pot of coffee, which Mackenzie eyed with longing. It would be her first stop after her restroom break.
They moved deeper into the space to the desks and stopped next to one with boxes piled on top that were filled with personal items like picture frames. The other desk was empty and covered in a fine coating of dust.
Owen tapped the boxes. “Their receptionist used to sit at this desk. Wonder what happened to her.”
“Their business could be slow during the off-season, and they lay her off.”
“Could be.”
A man came barreling out the doorway in the back wall. “Help you—” He caught sight of Owen. “Oh, it’s you again.”
Mackenzie wasn’t surprised that the man remembered Owen from his earlier visit. Owen was very memorable, and a visit from a police detective would be as well.
“Hello, Mr. Hatch.” Owen eyed the man. “Mind if we use your restrooms? Then I’d like to ask a few follow-up questions.”
“Better make it quick. I’m run off my feet right now. My receptionist quit, and the new one doesn’t start for a week.”
“Won’t take long.” Owen turned toward the other wall where a faded restroom sign jutted out from the logs. Mackenzie didn’t want to miss any questions, so she hurried into the ladies’ restroom. She did take a moment to straighten her hair that had tangled into a frightful mess in her sleep.
How could she have slept for most of the drive? Embarrassing. But it helped. She was more alert and ready to grill a suspect. That had to count for something.
She stepped out, and neither Owen or Mr. Hatch were around. She fixed a cup of coffee with a liberal dose of creamer and sugar, then went through the back doorway to a small office. The door stood open, allowing her to see inside. Hatch sat behind a neat and tidy desk in the middle, his back to her with his phone to his ear. Two chairs were placed in front. Animal heads and fish filled the log walls.
The desk nameplate read,Owner, Heath Hatch.
“Chill out, Ned,” he said into his phone. “I don’t know what he wants this time, but I’ll call you as soon as he leaves.”
Was he warning Leach about Owen’s visit? Likely.
She leaned against the doorjamb and sipped her coffee as she waited for him to finish his call.
“I don’t know. I gotta go. They’ll be out soon.” Hatch lowered his phone and turned. “Oh, you. You’re out. Thought it might take longer.”
“Obviously,” she said as Owen came up behind her. She looked over her shoulder. “Mr. Hatch was just on the phone telling Ned about your visit.”
Owen glared at Hatch. “You called Leach?”
Hatch shoved his phone in his pocket. “Who I called is none of your business.”
“It is if you’re impeding a murder investigation.”
“Murder?” Hatch came to his feet. “You never said anything about murder.”
“Didn’t I?” Owen sounded innocent. “So you were talking to Leach. Did you call him the other day when I was here too?”
Hatch’s eyes flashed like a hunted wild animal. “I…well…yeah. I did.”
