“‘You’re kidding!’ ‘Best I could do at short notice.’ The motor hotel stood in an expanse of crowded carpark. It was long, three stories high and as functional as a tool box. Henderson ordered Bryant to stay in the car while he ‘checked’ their reservation. The lobby was carpeted in worn orange sunburst pattern, with matching curtains. Underfoot it felt vaguely adhesive. It was ideal. By the reception desk was a little noticeboard. THE SKAGGSVILLE MOTO HOT WELCOMES THE DELAWARE FIBRE-GLASS CURTAI...N WALLI G CONVENTIO ‘Welcome to the Scaggsville Motor Hotel,’ echoed a small plump receptionist. ‘Are you with the convention, sir?’ ‘Me?’ Did he look like a fibre-glass curtain-walling contractor, he wondered? ‘No, no. I just want a room for the night.’ He put down his credit card on the desk. Two! rooms.’ She looked at a chart. ‘We don’t have two rooms left, sir. The convention.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘I have a junior suite.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘It’s like an extra large room with two double beds, some armchairs.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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