At the Bide-A-Wee motel, Harry Peterson stared at the copy he’d made of the registration slip for probably the twentieth time that day. He still wasn’t sure what to do. He knew the guy was a phony, but Harry had been brought up to mind his own business. On the other hand, he had also been brought up to do the right thing. On top of that, he’d gone to school with Ollie Bakken and had liked him. So if someone was going to do something and blame it on the Bakken family, that bothered Harry. A lot.
He scratched the back of his head and looked at the phone. He’d written the number of the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension next to it, but hadn’t been able to make the call. He didn’t want to cause trouble for someone if he wasn’t really doing anything. Maybe the guy’s name really was Ricky Bakken and he was just making up a relationship with Ollie to make himself seem more important by pretending he was related to the great hockey goalie.
But what if it was more than that? Harry could see a several huge pine trees just outside his window and he stared at them now, as if he would see the answer to his dilemma in the branches still dripping from last night’s downpour. The needles were starting to glisten, which meant the sky was finally clearing. It also meant the humidity was going to make an appearance, followed by hordes of blood-sucking, hungry mosquitoes. Harry sighed. There were a lot of things he liked about Minnesota. Humidity and mosquitoes weren’t on that list.
After the guy who said his name was Ricky Bakken had left, Harry had made a copy of the registration slip and put it on the wall over the phone where he could see it. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what the problem was, which is why he’d held off making the call. If he could figure out what the guy was up to, then he’d know what to do. But it had now been nearly three weeks and winter was a heck of a lot closer than the solution.
He made a face and looked back at the phone number. Part of his brain heard his wife come in, but he was still mesmerized by the sight of the registration slip and didn’t look up.
“Is that damn thing still hanging there?” she asked.
As if she couldn’t see it taped to the wall just about as obvious as the chair under his butt.
“No honey,” he said, still not looking at her. “You’re seeing things now. Guess that’s what comes from spending time in California. Next time you come back maybe you’ll see the flying saucer hovering off Storm Point looking for sunken treasure.”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes he had to be careful when he made cracks like that. Most of the time it was fine and she took it the way it was meant. But on occasion, like those once a month occasions, her temper skated a bit closer to the edge and she’d get all pissy on him. And one thing Harry didn’t enjoy experiencing even a little bit was Molly going all icy like a Minnesota winter storm.
He was in luck, thought. She merely swatted him with her towel.
“More likely, you’ve been seeing that UFO while I’ve been gone,” she retorted. “Likely along with one of those few beers you keep having up to the Lodge.”
“Could be,” he said, returning his attention to the slip. “So what do you think? Should I or shouldn’t I?”
She looked at the slip and then back at him. “Well, hon,” she said finally. “You already know what I think. Piss or get off the pot.”
He nodded. He’d known that was coming. Couldn’t be married to her for all this time without knowing that.
“Yeah,” he said, but still looking at the slip. Knowing darn well what was coming next.
“For pete’s sake,” she added, her voice exasperated now. “Don’t just sit there like a turd on a log. Make the call or I’m going to toss the damn thing.” She stopped in the doorway. “Once you make that call, you could go look for flying saucers out at the Point. Beats looking at that damn thing all day.”
With that, she was gone and Harry smiled slightly, one side of his mouth lifting at the jibe. One thing he could count on from his wife was a nice pail of cold water when he needed it. In any event, he figured she was right. It was long since time for him to do something. Either make the call or toss the slip.
He sighed again, wishing someone would drive up. At least then he’d have an excuse for putting off the decision until later. But, of course, no one did. The only time a customer seemed to show up was when he was either on the pot or in the middle of a Twin’s game. It never happened when it was convenient.
Harry sighed one last time. A big long one designed to let the powers that be know how put-upon he felt about right now. Then he picked up the phone and dialed the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension.
“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing here,” he said when he finally got to a real person. “But a guy came to my motel recently and I think he used a phony name. I only know ’cause he claimed to be the brother of a friend of mine and I know for a fact that the guy doesn’t have a brother. Now I don’t know that he’s up to something, but figured I’d better make the call just in case he is, ya know?”
He held while he was transferred, gave the particulars and hung up.
After staring at the phone for another long minute, Harry decided he felt a bit better. At least he didn’t have to think about it any more. He put the copy of the registration slip in the desk drawer just in case the BCA was interested.
That done, he checked the time. Maybe he would just pop on down to the bar at the Lodge. They’d have the Twins game on and he was pretty sure they were up against Oakland tonight. Now that might be a good one. One of the few times he’d gone to a live game at the Humpty Dome, he’d seen the two go head to head in a nail biter that went fourteen innings. Best game he’d ever seen. Probably not going to happen again tonight, he thought morosely, but then you never know.
He ambled back to the living room that was just behind the registration desk, told Molly where he was going and headed out the door before a customer drove in. He supposed he should be grateful for the business, but there were some things that just weren’t easy to give up.?
