Meanwhile, Joshua Moot was heading to Birdtown. It was way north of Chanceville, a tiny spot in the road at the edge of The Region. He planned on finding a cheap motel to hunker down in while he looked through those boxes of books he had taken from the cabin. He had stocked up on supplies, because it might take him a few days to find what he was looking for, which according to Porter Pander, the late Porter Pander, was written down somewhere in one of those damned books. And now that Pander, that crazy bastard, and Bunnington has been eliminated, all he needed was the Quacks formula and he would be well on his way to Easy Street. Joshua Moot did not think of himself as particularly psychic. He might have changed his mind if he knew that was the name of the street where the Loone County Jail was located.
Joshua Moot had tried several other motels on the lonely stretch of highway connecting Indianapolis to the northern regions of the state, and strangely they all seemed to have their no vacancy signs lit up. He got out and went into them anyway, but despite their abandoned look, they all claimed to be full up. So when he pulled his dusty old 1949 Studebaker Champion into the parking lot of The Grouse Inn, he was happy to see its vacancy sign lit up. This place could be just the ticket, way out in Nowheresville he thought as he locked the car, stretched his long legs, and went to register for a room.
Joshua pulled off his sunglasses, but it was so dark in the motel office, he still couldn’t see much. The dust mote filled light coming in through the one grimy window, made him realize that might be a good thing. He banged the rusty service bell on the counter. No response. He thought he could hear radio or TV sound coming from somewhere in the back. He banged on the bell again and waited. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the office, he could see all manner of stuffed birds on rickety looking shelves and a pheasant under a glass dome on a shelf above the Exit sign. Joshua Moot was about to go behind the counter to knock on the door marked Private, when it swung open with a rusty creak.
He moved a couple of steps back as a short owl-like creature emerged from behind the door. She shuffled out looking as seemingly as surprised to see Joshua as he was to see her.
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“Hi, I’m P-tess Ptarmigan, the second P is silent, and that is the only thing silent about me,” she chirped.
“Nice to meet you,” said Joshua as he pretended to be looking for something in his pockets in order to avoid shaking her hand with the pointy nails.
“Can I get a room?”
“Take your pick. You can probably guess by the looks of the parking lot that we’re not exactly chock full. How long will you be with us, er me?”
“Uh, not sure. Maybe a week?” he said, hoping, not too optimistically, that she wouldn’t start asking a lot of nosy questions.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said as she swung a coffee-stained (he hoped they were coffee stains) register around for him to sign.
He had decided to use the name James Morton when he registered and gave his address as the one in Gary where he grew up, never mind that the old house was torn down years ago. He used his own license plate number for now because he thought she just might be nosy enough to make sure the plate number matched what he wrote in the register. Anyway, he planned to ditch that old junker as soon as he got the hell out of Birdtown.
“Here you go, Miss Ptarmigan,” said Joshua as he turned the register back around.
“Actually, it’s Mrs. But you can call me P-tess,” she said as she carefully read the information he had filled in.
“Well, James. This all seems to be in order,” said P-tess, turning her head to one side as she peered up at him through the thick lenses of her glasses. Was he imagining that he heard quotes when she said “James”? He couldn’t afford to let his nerves get the best of him now.
“Now let’s see what room would suit you best,” she said as she turned to peruse the pegboard holding the room keys. The board was a sight in itself. Each key was on a fob made of several feathers, beads, and bones.
“I’d really like your most private room. I’m doing some research for a book I’m writing and need peace and quiet. Too many people in the house I live in at the moment,” said Joshua.
“Well, we have The Fowl Room, The Duck Down Room, The For the Birds Room, The Feather Your Nest Room, and The Come Flock with Me Room, any one of those would be most suitable for your needs,” she said.
“Well, which one is the farthest away from the parking lot and office? I don’t want to seem anti-social, but it seems to me if there were any noise around here, those two places are where they would be coming from,” he said, not holding out too much hope that she would buy any of that story.
P-tess looked up at him and blinked slowly, twice. This trance-like state only served to add to the uncomfortable, but unnamable feeling she gave him. Creepy was the best he could come up with, but that didn’t quite capture it. He just wanted to get to his room, close the door behind him, find the formula, and get the hell out of Birdtown for good.
“Oh,” said P-tess, seeming to come out of her trance. “Then you might want The Cuckoo Cabin that’s behind the motel at the edge of the woods. It’ll cost you more, though. It’s $30 a night instead of $20. It has a kitchen, which you might like since you may be here a few days and the Where It’s At Diner is over in Whatsville, about 20 miles down the road.”
“That sounds like just the ticket,” said Joshua, starting to feel a little more hopeful about things. “Can you give me a special deal if I take it for five days?”
“Hmm,” said P-tess, back to blinking again. “How about $135, cash up front?" asked Moot.
"Okay, but no refund if you leave before the five days are up."
“You drive a hard bargain for someone who seems to be running an empty motel,” said Joshua, and as soon as he said that the room got a whole lot chillier.
“Your choice. That’s the deal,” she said as she turned to go back through the door marked Private.
“It does sound like it’s just what I need, but I thought I saw another cabin out back. Is it any cheaper?” said Joshua.
“Oh, you mean the Rook’s Roost. It would be a little cheaper, but I don’t have a bed in there right now. Mice got into the mattress. We haven't repaired the water pipe that sprung a leak after a hard freeze last winter, so there's no water. Even with those fancy cowboy boots of yours, it’s pretty obvious that you’re a city slicker,” she said as she assessed his get up.
Joshua was over six feet tall, slender and always dressed in black, just like his favorite singer, Johnny Cash.
None of what P-Tess said about Rook’s Roost was true. She wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him if he stayed in that cabin. Big Teddy had made sure the signs for every motel between Indy and The Region except for the Grouse Inn all said No Vacancy, which wasn’t hard to do because he owned them all. This gave him time to send Butch Bird, the great-great grandson of Robin Bird, founder of Birdtown and the guy who ran the Grouse Inn for him, a paid vacation to Florida and put P-tess in place as the manager of that crazy motel.
I guess it’ll have to be The Cuckoo Cabin then,” said Joshua, reaching for his wallet. He still had most of the three hundred dollars that he took off the chloroformed Bunnington before setting his car on fire.
Her mood seeming to brighten,P-tess turned around to get the key marked Cuckoo Cabin.
“Good choice. Pull your car around back to the cabin and I’ll meet your there,” she said. Joshua nodded and went to his car thinking that Little Miss Ptarmigan with the one silent P better be careful not to shit in her nest. He wouldn’t have a problem with silencing both Ps for her.
He parked the old Studebaker in the small parking spot and followed P-tess up the weedy crushed stone path that led to the cabin. The cabin itself didn’t look too bad from the outside. As long as it had a bed and a table where he could work, he would be satisfied. He watched P-tess waddle up the three steps to the cabin’s porch.
Joshua Moot stepped inside the cabin behind her and was immediately assaulted by wall-to-wall ticking and cuckooing clocks at asynchronous intervals. Apparently, this woman had no concept of peace and quiet.
“Isn’t this something?” asked P-tess.
“It’s something all right,” answered Joshua. “Remember five minutes ago when I said I needed peace and quiet to do my research?”
“You mean you don’t find these cuckoos soothing? You know, like you’re in a nice big forest?” asked P-tess, incredulous at this news.
“In a word, no. Would you allow me to silence them all if I promise to start and reset them before I leave?” he asked, knowing full well he would stop them, but would never start them again. He would be long gone before she discovered that fact.
She was back to the slow blinking again. She scratched both of her double chins as she pondered his request, as if he’d asked to cut a hole in the roof to let in more light. While P-tess pondered, Joshua took the opportunity to look around the cabin to see what other treasures it might hold. There was a comfortable looking double bed, a serviceable looking kitchen complete with a fairly sturdy looking table and chairs, which would work just fine for his research.
“Do you solemnly swear to wind and reset every single one of them?” said P-tess when she finally stopped blinking and scratching.
“I solemnly swear,” said Joshua as he crossed his fingers behind his back.
“Deal,” she said.
And at that he turned quickly on his heels to go outside and get his suitcase and food supplies, wanting to avoid another awkward handshake moment.
P-tess handed him the gigantic key fob with what looked like a turkey feather attached to it and began her waddle back to the office, telling him she would be right back with fresh towels. He was a little skeptical about how quickly “right back” actually meant, as she seemed to only have one speed. Slow.
By the time he had brought in his food supplies, put them away, and went back out to fetch his suitcase, he saw her come moseying back around the corner and ran out to meet her and speed up the towel delivery process.
“Thank you very kindly, Mrs. Ptarmigan,” Joshua said as he took the dark brown towels from her. He turned around and headed quickly back to The Cuckoo Cabin to try to avoid another conversation with her, but he didn’t make his escape fast enough.
Suddenly she was able to shift into high gear and was right on his heels, “Sooo, what kind of book are you writing?”
“What? Book? Oh, yeah. Um, it’s a history book about Gary, Indiana,” he answered, hoping that wasn’t a subject she would warm to.
“Oh, I was hoping it would be about birds of Indiana, or some such. Mr. Ptarmigan and me aren’t from around here; we’re from Chanceville, the southern part of the state. We inherited this motel from his Uncle Albert Finch a few years back, so I don’t know much about the area,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment in the subject of his book.
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