The Sun Bonnet Motel was stuck out in the middle of nowhere, a one-story stucco building that was plain, shabby at the seams, but allegedly clean. My room was the kind you’d be wise to avoid examining with a black light after dark because the stains illuminated-bedding, carpeting, furniture, and walls-would suggest activities you wouldn’t want to know about. It was a family business, Mr. and Mrs. Bonnet having owned the place for the past forty years. Its single virtue was that Mrs. Bonnet-Maxi-owned and ran Maxi’s Coffee Shop, which was attached to one end. Oh happy day. In the morning, I could intercept BW within a hundred yards of my bed.

Daisy had been apologetic that she couldn’t put me up at her house, but that’s where Tannie was staying, and she had only the one spare room.

“Sorry ‘bout that, but I got dibs,” Tannie injected, clearly pleased with herself.

“You could sleep on my couch,” Daisy said.

“Oh no, not me. I’m too old for that stuff. Maybe some other time.”

After I checked in, I left the registration desk and returned to my car. Mrs. Bonnet had put me in 109, which was down at the end of the line, the second to last of ten rooms. All the other rooms were dark, but there was a car parked on each side of the slot for 109. I left my car in front of my door, only slightly worried by the sight of the drapery sagging off the hooks. I unlocked the door, went in, and flipped on the light. The room was small, the color scheme leaning toward cantaloupe and peach. A double bed was centered on the wall to my right. The pillows looked flat, and there was a trough down the middle of the mattress where my body would just fit, thus saving me needless tossing and turning. The bed tables and the chest of drawers were paint-grade wood with a wood-laminate veneer. The easy chair didn’t look that easy, but I didn’t plan to sit.

I went into the bathroom, floor squeaking as I walked, and pulled my toothbrush, toothpaste, and a change of underpants from my shoulder bag, where I keep them for such occasions. My only serious lament was that I hadn’t brought a book, but I’d expected to drive up and back without any opportunity to read. I checked all the drawers, but there wasn’t so much as a Gideon’s Bible or a stray paperback. I stripped off my jeans and brassiere, and slept in the very T-shirt I’d worn all day. During the night, I could hear-like the sound of a train passing- thunder in the walls as the guests in rooms on both sides of mine flushed their toilets at random intervals. My bedspread smelled musty, and I was happy I didn’t see the article about dust mites until the following week.