No One Else to Kill (Jim West Series) (4 page)

“This steak is good,” I admitted.
 
I wanted to add that my water wasn’t bad
either.

The server returned to our table
..

“Hold on,” he instructed.
 
“Jim, do you drink wine?”

“Sure.”

“Well, you need to try this.
 
Discovered it myself at the
Heritage Oak Winery out in the Sacramento area.
 
It’s a Zinfandel, but all their wines are
excellent.
 
Can I offer you a glass?”

“Sure,” I said to him, and after he instructed the server
to bring us another glass of wine, I asked for another glass of water.
 
Cross had no reaction to my request for
another water, but the waiter looked at me quizzically and then at Cross’
original table.
 
He smiled to himself and
walked away.

“Last year, I saw that they carried this line of
wine.
 
I told them to keep it on their
wine list.
 
I’m glad to see that they
did.”

“How long are you all planning to stay here?”

“Four nights.
 
We’ll head back south on Monday.
 
This trip is always stag, no spouses.
 
The spring is with spouses, so we make a full
week out of it.
 
Did a
cruise out of Galveston this year.
 
Fun, but seems like when the spouses are along there’s a lot more
stress. We have one husband and five wives that make the spring trip. You’d be
surprised; we get as much whining from the one husband as we do from all the
wives.”

“I believe it.”

“One rule on the fall trip, though.
 
What goes on in this trip, stays on this
trip.
 
I don’t mean to
imply we’re a very wild group, because, believe me, we’re not.”

From the looks of Cross, closer to seventy than sixty, and
not in very good shape, I wondered how wild they could get.

“A good rule to have,” I said, not meaning it at all.

“It’s a good group.
 
I’ll have to introduce you to Randi.
 
She’s the one without a husband.
 
Although just between you and me, you might have just as much luck with
Geri.”

I assumed Geri was another woman, but ignored his comment
anyway.

His dinner came out and our conversation dwindled while I
finished my meal and Cross attacked his.
 
I had to admit the wine tasted excellent.
 
I ordered a second glass without any
prompting.

All in all, Cross wasn’t bad company.
 
We drank coffee and discussed the current
woes in the commercial real estate business after our plates had been taken
away.

“If you’re shrewd,” he said, “there’s still money to be
made out there.
 
Just not as much as
there was a few years ago,” he paused, and I thought he had finished with his
comment. Then he said softly, almost to himself, “but you still have to watch
your back.”

The rest of his group entered the dining room.
 
They were loud and unsteady. More than
likely, they had come directly from the bar.

“I had to give up everything but a little red wine.
 
It’s probably a blessing,” he remarked in
response to seeing his companions.

For him or them, I wondered.

“Doctor’s orders, you know,” he said.

I nodded, but of course I didn’t.

“And, my wife’s quite the enforcer.
 
Goes overboard if I simply look too long at a
glass of scotch, but I have to admit that I feel a lot better now that I’m off
all that stuff. Are you married, Jim?”

“Not anymore,” I didn’t elaborate.

His turn to nod.
 
Give him credit for not asking me about it.

“Hey Cross, who’s your new friend here?”

I had watched her break away from the rest of the group
while they were being seated and come our way.
 
She had a medium build, medium height, and medium looks. Her mid-length
cut brown hair was closer to a true brown than seemed normal for hair.
 
Not too dark or too light. She wore brown
slacks and a tan pullover sweater. Yet in the middle of this blandness, she had
painted her lips a glaring red; almost a scary red against her pale skin.

“Randi, how’s it going?”

“Great.”

“This is Jim West.
 
I only met him this evening, but I already like him.”

He reached over and gave my shoulder a friendly slap. She
simply smiled at me.

“Yeah, we even shared water,” I said to her lips. Somehow,
I knew my comments confused them, and I even wondered why I said it. I forced
myself to take my eyes off her mouth. “I meant some wine.
 
Cross gave me a great recommendation for the
wine.”

He beamed.

“How’s the food this year?” she asked.

“Great,” he said.

“It really is,” I seconded.

“Well, I better get back.
 
I just wanted to say hi.
 
You both
enjoy your dinners.”

“Nice meeting you, Randi,” I said.
 
She smiled and left.

“A hard worker, that one is.”

“What does she do?”

“Marketing.
 
Smartest thing I ever did was to hire her away
from her brother.”

We talked a little more after we finished eating. He had a
wealth of knowledge on the local area despite being from El Paso.

“What do you think was the largest town in North America
some four hundred years ago?” he asked.

Figuring it had to be a local city, I said, “Santa Fe.”

“No but good guess.
 
It was the town of Pecos.”

“Pecos?
 
You mean the small town up the road?”

“Not quite.
 
The
original Pecos is just a bunch of ruins now, but also nearby.
 
Coronado, the early Spanish explorer used the
small Indian town as a stopping point and the Spanish stayed.
 
It became quite the mission and regional
hub.
 
It kind of died away over time and
by the mid 1800’s was totally abandoned.”

“Disease?”

“No more than elsewhere. It was pretty much destroyed
during an Indian uprising in the late 1600’s.
 
Disease, drought and more Indian raids had their toll after that.
Another big factor was that the Spanish government had moved their governing
apparatus to Santa Fe and then lost control of the area all together. The city
withered away. The ruins are still an interest to archaeologists and
historians.”

“What Indian tribes were here then?”

“Different ones.
 
The Spanish referred to them as Pueblo
Indians because they lived in small towns, or pueblos.
 
I think the Hopi and Zuni tribes were the
largest up here, but you know over the years the Indians seized
each others’
lands.
 
Hell, the white man didn’t do anything different than the Indians had
done to each other over the centuries.
 
It’s just that we were able to hang on to it. By we, I don’t mean the
Spanish either. The strong have always taken from the weak. It’s nature’s way.”

“I know,” I said.

“What I find interesting, though, is that we accepted most
of the Spanish names for the area out here rather than create new ones, like
the Spanish did, or why we didn’t go back to the original Indian names. For
example, we still call the mountains out here the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.”

I knew the Sangre de Cristo Mountains were part of the
Rocky Mountain chain but not much more.

“And, did you know the only significant Civil War battle
in New Mexico happened near here?”

“Yeah, now that you mentioned it, I do recall it took
place around or near the
Glorietta
Pass. I’m
impressed with your knowledge of the local area, Cross.”

“It’s a hobby.”

Cross did most the talking, but after a while, I noticed
that he had already glanced a couple of times at his group, and I figured he
was ready to join them. I made an excuse to leave and thanked him for the
conversation.
 
I hadn’t expected to, but
I had actually enjoyed his company.

While I made my way out of the dining room, I looked over
at Cross’ group.
 
Randi smiled and gave
me a little wave. Her camouflage blended in so well with a large cabinet behind
her that when I saw her smile it reminded me of those Disney animations where
the Cheshire cat smiled and all you saw was the smile.

She might have made an interesting painting, but if her
aim was to be provocative, she shot past that to the spooky category.

I stared at her a little too long and almost ran into
Frick and
Frack
, the two men wearing the Steelers
sweatshirts.

“Excuse me,” I said and eased around them at the
doorway.
 
They both stared at me like I
was the one wearing the fire engine red lipstick. Neither said a thing.
 
If I hadn’t heard them talking to each
earlier in the parking lot, I might have thought they were mute.

I contemplated having one last drink at the bar before
retiring to my room. Bev gave me a flirtatious wave which excited the usual
conflicting emotions.
 
A buzz from my
phone saved me from having to make a decision.
 
I waved back at Bev and walked out to the front porch.
 
A gust of cold wind ripped through my
clothing and took away any warmth I had dared to bring outside with me.

“Jim,” the female voice in my phone said to me.

“Hey Angie,” I said.

“He’s still here.
 
He didn’t go.”

“I know.
 
I guess he
got cold feet.”

“That’s no excuse.
 
He needs to move on with his life.”

I didn’t say anything.
 
What was I supposed to say? I waited her out.

“I’m worried about him,” she said and paused again.

I gave in.
 
“You
need to let it go, Angie, or you’ll get as obsessed about him as he is about
his loss.
 
He doesn’t appear to be
willing to let anyone else help him, so he’s going to have to work through this
himself.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“That’s all right,” I lied.

“Are you at the lodge?”

“Yes.”

“Let me pay the hotel bill.
 
It’s the least I can do.”

“No.
 
I can cover it
easy enough. I’m just staying the night anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

“Me, too.”
  
We said our goodbyes.

I returned to my room.

y toilet flushed.
 
Not usually a very noteworthy event, I
admit.
 
However, the only light in the
room came from the radio/clock on the night stand next to my head.
 
It read three o’clock, and I was supposed to
be alone.
 
I could barely see through the
darkness to the bathroom door or to the door that led out to the hallway. They
both appeared shut.

I scanned the rest of the room. It appeared empty. I
climbed out of bed still holding my pillow.
 
Not much of a weapon, but it was all I had.
 
The sound of the water filling the toilet
tank finished and silence once again reigned. I crept to the bathroom door and
listened.
 
Nothing.

In the movies, they always show the door being opened
slowly. Not my style, and unless you’re absolutely sure you can do so without
making a sound, which is almost impossible, it’s a risky way to approach a
possible threat in such a small place. I took hold of the door as quietly as
possible, and then in one swift movement, opened it, and bolted inside
determined to surprise, if not scare, the person inside.

Empty.
 
I switched
on the light and walked around my entire room.
 
I even looked in the closet.

“Now that’s weird,” I said out loud.

I turned off the lights and climbed back into the
bed.
 
Could it have been the toilet in an
adjoining room?
 
I didn’t think so.
 
The silence in the room almost had me back
asleep when I again heard something.

I sat up.
 
The sound, barely audible,
crept in from somewhere
outside the room.
 
I recognized the sound I heard right
away.
 
Somewhere in the hotel, someone
was crying.
 
Not a loud wailing cry but
rather a low soft sob.
 
It sounded like
it came from a man, although I couldn’t be sure.
 
I rolled over and tried to ignore it, but it
didn’t go away.
 
It suddenly dawned on me
that the crying sounded like it came from above me, and that
didn’t make sense. The third floor was closed off
for construction.