Oh, well.
I went back to the Cabins, and Tim was not only still alive but standing there with Jim Chien, on the cellular phone to the police. The cops came, took the report, left. Tim wanted to go looking for his camera, figuring the incident was merely a grudge holdup, and Michael had ditched it somewhere close by. I demurred. Maybe writers are bigger sissies than photographers, but there's something about bullets that scares me. And apparently the gun was loaded; a couple of hours later, the police say, Michael robbed someone and shot him in the stomach.
I went back to the front desk, back to Jim Chien for my $5 room-key deposit. I looked at myself in the bubbly mirror as a five and a ten slid through the slot. I heard Jim, gracious host to the end: "You not stay all night, refund! See you next time.
