Stranger in the Room: A Novel by Amanda Kyle Williams Page B

really.”
    Someone yelled from the deck for him to hurry up. “Look, lady, my wife cried for two weeks. I don’t want her stirred up again.” Huckabyscratched his head. “Let’s act like we’re done here, and in a couple minutes I’ll excuse myself and go inside and scoop some ashes for you.”
    A long strand of drool hung from one corner of Tank’s wide mouth and stretched toward the ground. I could hear him breathing. “I’d prefer to collect the sample myself, if you don’t mind.”
    “That ain’t gonna happen.”
    “It’s important the sample isn’t contaminated.”
    “You’re big on the contamination theme, aren’t you?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Wait for me out front.”
    Neil had his laptop out when I got to the car. He’d been using Huckaby’s Wi-Fi, he informed me. “You get the ashes?”
    “He’s bringing a sample out. Doesn’t want his wife to know.”
    “Wow. I honestly didn’t think you’d pull it off.”
    “His rottweiler liked me a lot.”
    The kitchen door opened. I met Huckaby in the carport. He’d filled a sandwich bag with grayish-white powder. “If you find out something’s wrong with that urn, you call me directly.” He gave me a piece of paper with his phone number.
    I dropped the sample into another Baggie, sealed it, then closed it in my case. Neil got my boat of a car turned around and eased down Huckaby’s driveway. His hands were side by side on top of the steering wheel. He was sitting erect and close to the wheel like an old person with vision problems. Neil was a notoriously slow driver. He always seemed to be on a sightseeing tour, which made him the worst getaway driver in the world. I attributed this to the elevated levels of THC in his system.
    “I finished checking out Miki’s neighbors like you wanted. Inman Park must be the squeakiest-clean neighborhood in town. I mean, even on social media. They’re all about kids and kittens and shit. No felons, flashers, or jaywalkers. The neighborhood association did generate a few notices Miki’s way about the property. The fence needs to be painted and the yard has to be maintained according to their standards. They remind her she signed agreements on move-in. I forwarded you pretty much everything and whatever I could find on the other guys she dated.”
    “You did all that while I was talking to Huckaby?”
    “I’ve been doing it since you threw all this shit at me yesterday morning. You think I’m always on Twitter or something?”
    “Or stoned.”
    “I really respect the fact that you confined your drug use to huge quantities of alcohol. You’re kind of a role model.”
    I ignored that. “You think you can get the speedometer up over thirty-five? I’d love to get a look at the crematorium before it gets dark.”
    My phone rang. I glanced at the display, an Atlanta number. “Keye Street,” I answered.
    “Ms. Street, this is Milo Stanton from the Georgian Terrace Hotel.”
    Uh-oh
. Milo. Black-blazer concierge with the brass nameplate. Milo—minion to the manager who hates me.
    “We have your cat in our office.”
    “Wait wait wait. Why would you have my cat?” Neil looked over at me. “Pull over,” I told him. “Get Miki on the phone.”
    “She was found by a guest in the tenth-floor hallway,” Milo told me. “To my knowledge, you have the only cat in the hotel. And some of the staff seem to recognize her.”
    “Miki doesn’t answer,” Neil said.
    “I’m two hours away,” I told the concierge. “I’ll call someone to pick her up, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “We really don’t have a place for a cat, Ms. Street. I’ve been instructed to call animal control.”
    “Listen to me, Milo.” Heat ripped through me like lightning. I opened the passenger door and walked around the car. Neil didn’t ask any questions. He got out and gave me the driver’s seat. “You tell that manager if y’all even
think
about turning my cat over to animal control when you