No One Else to Kill (Jim West Series) by Bob Doerr Read Free Book Online Page B

to head back inside.
    No one was at the bar, either in front or behind it.   Two women on the hotel staff were comforting
a female colleague who sat softly crying on a couch in the lobby.   I looked into the deserted dining room.   I placed my empty coffee cup on a table and
went back to my room.

 

 
Chapter 7

 
 
 
    B
    y one o’clock, I had my fill of
television and sitting around.   I didn’t
feel hungry, but habit is a hard thing to break, so I headed back to the
lodge’s restaurant. Despite Geri’s comments about my being so calm in the midst
of all this, I felt the anxiety setting in.   It bothered me that I hadn’t been interviewed yet.   I didn’t like being held until last.
    The dining room and bar were empty.   In fact, other than one poor soul behind the
registration counter, the whole place seemed abandoned.   I walked to the hallway that led down to the
crime scene.   The police had taped off
the end of the hall, and a lone deputy stood guard outside the room.   I could hear sounds of activity coming from
the room.
    In the absence of anything better to do, I went outside
and walked around the lodge until I was outside the window that belonged to the
room in which Cross was shot.   I looked
at the ground below the window.   Nothing
seemed disturbed or gave me an indication that anyone had crawled in or out of
that window in the past day.   A normal
person would have needed a ladder to access the window from the outside.   The bottom of the window was about seven feet
off the ground.
    I decided to walk the rest of the way around the
lodge.   The backyard included a large,
covered concrete patio with an immense brick barbeque pit set off to one
side.   A handful of metal tables with
chairs sat on the patio, and a few benches were scattered around the lawn. A
few tall pines had been left near the lodge.   Further out the forest became thick. On a warmer day it would be
pleasant out here, I thought.
    I continued my trek around the lodge. All in all, my
journey provided minimal exercise but nothing else.   I didn’t see anyone and didn’t develop any
clues or opinions on what had happened to Cross.
    Two deputies walked out of the lodge as I went up the
stairs onto the front porch. They ignored me as they walked by.   I paused and watched them as they got into
their old Crown Vic and backed up.
    “Hey!” I shouted at them as they nicked the back bumper of
my Mustang. They didn’t hear me, or chose to ignore me and drove off.
    I walked out and inspected my car.   I was certain I saw the Mustang move slightly
as the rear of their cruiser backed very close to my car. A small dark scratch
looked new among the other older abrasions.
    “Idiots!”   The damage was minor, but it irritated me to
think that they probably felt the slight bump and chose to ignore it. Too bad I
didn’t get a better look at their faces.
    “Mr. West!”
    I turned and saw a man whom I had not seen before standing
at the lodge’s entrance.
    “Yes.”
    “If you’ve got a minute, I’d like to speak to you now.”
    “Sure.”
    He reached out and I shook his hand.
    “I’m Detective Randall Bruno.”
    “Nice to meet you,” I said out of habit.
    “You look cold.   Mind if we talk inside?”
    “I’d prefer that, too.”
    “Follow me.   They
gave me a small office to use.”
    He looked nearly as old I was. His brown hair had some
gray that he didn’t try to hide.   He had
a slight paunch, but who didn’t these days?   His white shirt had enough wrinkles in it to make me think he might be
single.   Not that I expected all wives to
iron their husband’s shirts, but those who don’t usually aren’t too shy to
point out that a shirt is wrinkled.   I
have also found that most men would be content if wrinkled clothes became
stylish.
    “Cup of coffee?” he asked when we were settled.
    “No, I’m good.”
    “Do you mind if I call you Jim?”
    “That’s fine.”
    “Do you have any idea who