Free The Last Motel by Brett McBean Page B

body ceased to twitch. It seemed he had fainted.
    Wayne checked his pulse, just to make sure he hadn’t died of shock. He was glad to find it still pulsating.
    The boy’s legs were now a useless pair of dead weights. They were covered with shiny blood, as were the sheets and carpet.
    He won’t be doing any more kicking , Wayne thought. Or escaping , he added. That part had never entered his mind. Now there were two reasons to be proud of himself. He had the boy all to himself.
    Wayne headed into the bathroom to wash the knife and his hands, and also to find some bandages. He hoped that a seedy place like this kept some sort of first aid kit. Sure enough, after his knife and hands were clean, he found some bandages and antiseptic cream in the cabinet under the sink. He didn’t want the boy to bleed to death. He didn’t want him dead.
    Not yet, anyway.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    “Thank you,” Morrie said as Madge handed him a glass of whisky. He took a long drink. “Ah, my favourite.”
    Madge sat down beside him.
    “Are you positive I’m not intruding?”
    “No, not at all,” Madge said. “It’s nice to have the company.” She sipped her drink.
    “The fire’s lovely,” Morrie commented.
    Madge gazed over at the open fire that was set in the wall next to the TV, and nodded. The TV was on low volume, so the relaxing sounds of red gum burning filled the small residence. Intermixed with the sweet smell of whisky, Madge breathed in the woody aroma of smoking wood.
    “Magnificent smell,” Morrie said.
    Madge smiled. “I’ve been meaning to fit the cabins with open fires, but I just haven’t gotten around to it. I’m sorry.”
    Morrie chuckled. “Let me know when you do and the wife and I will have to come back.”
    “I hope she won’t panic if she wakes up to find you gone.”
    “I left her a note,” Morrie said. “But she was extremely tired. I don’t think she’ll wake till morning.”
    There was a comfortable silence as they both enjoyed their drinks and the sounds of the fire.
    “Did you hear the news?” Morrie asked.
    “I heard a broadcast earlier on the radio. Other than that, I’ve been in here, watching the idiot box.”
    Morrie smiled, nodding.
    “Why do you ask?”
    Morrie shrugged. “Conversation.”
    Madge looked at his pudgy face, and smiled. She liked Morrie. He was honest and down to earth. A real man’s man. She felt safe knowing he was staying tonight.
    “It was the usual depressing stuff, wasn’t it?” Madge said.
    Morrie chuckled. “That it was.”
    “From what I can remember, there was a shooting and a quick update, if that’s what you’d call it, that police are no closer in catching the serial killer.”
    “That was about it,” Morrie said.
    “Melbourne really is becoming the serial killer capital of Australia, isn’t it? The one running around now has killed, how many, six?”
    “Seven, I believe,” Morrie said.
    “Seven, really? And then there was that business last year. The murders of five women.”
    “Oh yeah, I remember that,” Morrie said, tipping the last of the whisky down his throat. “The killer was never caught, was he? The murders just stopped.”
    “I believe so,” Madge said. “Another drink?”
    “Please. I’ll get it though.” Morrie stood up and headed into the kitchen.
    “Just bring out the bottle,” Madge called.
    Morrie strode back into the lounge carrying the bottle of Black Douglas. He topped up Madge’s glass then poured himself another. He sat back down in the tan leather chair with the glass in his hand.
    “I heard a scream earlier,” Morrie said. “What was that all about?”
    Madge shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Oh that. I’ve had quite a night so far. Those two guys in cabin three make me nervous. They’re acting very suspicious.”
    “I met one of them earlier. Eddy, I think. Seemed like a nice enough guy. Wanted to buy some smokes off me.”
    “Eddy?” Madge said.
    “Yeah, average height, short scruffy