Chapter One
Alan Shaw rang a small silver bell in a staccato pattern.
The bell, which usually rested on the check-in desk, was in his hand as he stood by a computer in the office center the hotel provided. He reached over and plugged a USB thumb drive into the side of one of the machines and attempted to turn the computer on. As he waited for it to boot up, he continued to hammer on the annoying little device. Nora managed to smile.
The Meow Meetup, a gathering of cat lovers, would be the first official convention at the Tunie Hotel since Nora had bought a partnership in the business. This man was most likely their first guest for the event. With full occupancy at the Tunie, this little get-together would help Nora and her partner, Marty Reynolds, to stay in the black. Even though she was nervous, having a convention in a forty-room hotel in East Texas was exciting.
Shaw, unimpressed with her dazzling smile, continued to ring the bell.
Nora moved into his line of sight. “Can I help you? I’d be glad to help you at the front desk.” She gestured toward the check-in area. The short, pudgy man was more than a little perturbed and had shown it through his use of the tinny bell.
He followed her over, and then, leaning on the counter, wedged his worn black high tops between his cheap leatherette bags. “Glad to know you could work me into your busy schedule,” he said, his voice crisp.
“I’m sorry for your inconvenience. How may I help you? Are you checking in for the Meow Meetup?”
“The Meow Meetup? Really?” The little man gave Nora a look, clearly disgusted with her and the cutesy name of the convention. “To be blunt, the last thing I’d like to do is check into this fleabag motel to cover a conference with an ill-chosen location, but needs must. Piney Woods, Texas? Who chooses a place like this? Did you know you can smell… livestock out there?”
Nora’s chin rose at his insults. He was typical of someone from a large city who considered anything outside of his area inadequate. Next, he would start asking about bedbugs, and, as for the livestock smell, what did he expect? He was in Texas. She ignored his comment and attempted to put on her best hospitality face. “Welcome to Piney Woods. Let me look up your reservation.”
“Shaw. Allen Shaw. Hopefully, your clerk didn’t write my reservation on his tobacco chaw wrapper.”
“I assure you, sir. We have a state-of-the-art check-in system that doesn’t require chewing tobacco wrappers to document our reservations.” Nora gave the little rat another smile and typed his name into the computer. She waited for the reservation confirmation to come up as she watched the spinning cursor, signifying the computer was busy.
Result not found.
The “state-of-the-art” system didn’t seem to know he existed. Nora typed in the man’s name again, hoping it would appear. Still, the results of her search came up with nothing. Alan Shaw was not registered at the hotel. Maybe it was on chewing tobacco paper somewhere?
“How do you spell Alan?” Nora asked.
The man harrumphed. “A-L-A-N. It’s the standard spelling for the name. Any idiot knows that.” Nora wanted to tell him she wasn’t just any idiot. She was the lucky idiot who had to deal with him. She tried it one more time with alternate spellings. Still nothing. The hotel was booked solid for the Meow Meetup convention.
“When did you make your reservation?”
Alan let out an exasperated sigh, his full lips fluttering. “I don’t know. My secretary made it for me last week sometime.”
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Shaw, but it doesn’t seem there is a reservation on record for you.”
He scowled. “I should have known better staying at a podunk hotel like this. A national chain would have never screwed up a simple thing like a reservation.” He turned his rounded head to the side and spoke to Nora as if she were a child. “Okie-dokie. Make me a reservation. I will be here for the extent of the cat conference, and I would like a room with a view of the street, not the back alley.”
Nora checked her screen one more time to make sure there weren’t any last-minute cancellations. Incredibly, the Tunie Hotel had 100 percent occupancy for the first time in years. Unfortunately, she would have to tell this angry man that he was not on the guest list. “Again, our apologies, but we don’t have any vacancies right now.”
“Great! The only reason I came to this stupid town was because Evangeline Cartwright agreed to be at this two-bit convention for crazy old cat ladies. I’ve been trying to interview her for the magazine. Uh, Cat Lover. If it hadn’t been for her, I never would have signed up.”
The next step in hotel etiquette would be for Nora to find Mr. Shaw an alternative place to stay somewhere close to the hotel. Her cantankerous customer was right. Piney Woods was a small town. His two remaining choices were Nora’s home, which was the Piney Woods Bed and Breakfast, or a seedy motel on the highway called Hickelby’s Motor Lodge. The thought of Allen Shaw staying with her at the bed and breakfast was not something she could deal with, even for a few days. Nora clicked off the details of staying at Hickleby’s Motor Lodge like a telephone operator giving directory assistance. “There is a very economical place to stay, and it’s right on the highway. You could get your interview and be out of town in no time.” The idea of a brief visit for Mr. Shaw was wishful thinking on her part.
“Fine. What’s the name of the hotel?”
“Hickelby’s Motor Lodge. If you would like, I can give you their number and you can call them on your cell phone, or I could call and see if they have any rooms available.”
“You’re going to have to call. While taking the many planes I had to board to get to this godforsaken wilderness, I misplaced my phone.”
Nora glanced at the number she had taped to the corner of the desk in case of emergencies and then dialed it. While she waited for old man Hickelby to answer his phone, she looked back at Alan Shaw. “Is it just you?”
“Just me.” After her brief time with this man, it was no surprise that Mr. Shaw was traveling alone.
Mr. Hickelby answered on the sixth ring, a record for him. He was notorious for not answering the phone. That way, he kept his customer complaints to a minimum. He must have been sitting right by it.
“Hickelby’s Motor Lodge. Stay for a day. Stay for an hour.”
“Yes, Mr. Hickelby, I was wondering if you had any rooms available. We’re booked up here at the Tunie.”
“You’re kidding me. The Tunie hasn’t been fully booked in years. What are you doing? Are you giving your rooms away now?”
“No, we’re actually charging. We have a convention in town this week, and we have a full house. Would you happen to have a room available?”
There was a pause on the other end, and Nora knew he was coming up with his room rate. It would be notably higher now.
“As it just so happens, my brother-in-law recently moved out. We have his room available.”
If this was the brother-in-law Nora knew from around town, he was a heavy smoker. The Tunie didn’t allow smoking in the rooms, but Bert Hickelby’s motel was not as strict about that kind of thing.
“Excellent. I have a Mr. Alan Shaw, who will be renting your room. Hold on, and I’ll let you speak with him.”
As Mr. Shaw spoke and made the arrangements to rent the room, Nora looked up Evangeline Cartwright on the computer. She had seen her name on the promotional materials for the Meow Meetup but hadn’t read the details. This lady wrote mystery novels that featured cats along with delightful, quirky characters in small-town settings. They called them “cozy” mysteries. What a great idea.