Page 29 of All You Want
“That concerns me, too.” I scratch the five o’clock shadow on my chin. “But I think her plan is to turn this side of the creek into a themed amusement park.”
“Not going to happen.” He shrugs and picks another beer glass to wipe. “Folks aren’t going to drive all the way up this way for amusement parks. As for new shopping centers, she’s way behind the times. People order stuff online nowadays, and no one likes to get in their cars and go anywhere.”
“What do you think she should do with the property? She put a ton of money into it.”
“Use it for town meetings and try to get conference business. Maybe themed holiday getaways and destination weddings.” He sets the glass down with a clink on the countertop. “Any other free advice I should give her?”
“I just hope we get through this Halloween weekend without any disasters. She’s booked solid with out of town guests and looking to create a buzz.”
He snickers, shaking his head with a superior smirk. “What she needs is a disaster that goes viral. Gawkers, looky-loos, rubbernecking. Viral hashtags attract onlookers and the curious. The macabre. Maybe one of those ghosts should kill someone. Or find someone hanging from the balcony.”
“Not on my watch.” I take the basket with the burger and onion rings from him and amble to a table near the door. Looking back, I wonder about Paul and the events from this past summer.
He was put on watch to catch the arsonist but claims he knew nothing about the gunshot wound or the trail of blood that stopped at the side of the road. Someone drove the arsonist away, and I doubt it was a random person picking up a bloody hitchhiker. I still don’t know why a man who has all that money and connections would stagnate in an out-of-the-way bar in an out-of-the-way town. Why is he here, and who is he waiting for?
I’m so engrossed with my musing that it takes me a few seconds to respond to the alert ringtone on my cell phone.
“CCPD,” I respond for Colson’s Corner Police Department. “How may I help you?”
“Todd, it’s me, Linx! You need to come to Tami’s hotel. There’s blood all over the place. It’s horrible.”
“Is Tami okay?”
“I don’t know. She’s freaking out and screaming. Come quickly.”
Twelve
~ Todd ~
I throw money on the table to cover the food I don’t have time to eat. A couple of guys I know from high school look over at me and the food.
“Here, have at it.” I pick up the basket and set it on the table they’re sitting at. Both of them are underemployed and have that hungry look all the time—preferring to spend their nickels on beer and girls than saving for a rainy day.
“You’re leaving?” Dillon Van Dirk, the guy I used to share a paper route with, asks. He scrapes his dirty-blond hair from his face. His fingers are always blackened from working underneath a car, and he’s got grease spots and oil stains on his mechanic’s shirt. I should have kicked him off my paper route because he was smudging fingerprints and dirt onto the papers he delivered.
“Yeah. Have at it.” I gesture at the uneaten burger and onion rings and try not to wince at the grubby fingers he uses to split the burger in half.
“So proud of you, man, our big sheriff, out fighting crime.” Justin Jameson, the guy who used to be the class valedictorian, says while examining the sesame bun. He, at least, keeps his hair and beard trimmed, but he’s lazy at heart and would rather hang around with the town losers than go to college and get a desk job. He licks his teeth and takes a dainty, for a man, bite from his share of the burger while dipping a thick French fry into a cup of ketchup. “You look like it’s a serious call. Big emergency?”
The last thing I need are looky-loos. Being a cop means calming people down instead of fanning excitement. “Every call is serious, but I have it under control.”
I amble to the exit, but my heart is racing, and my palms are sweating. Tami’s hurt and in a state of shock. Linx is not a medical expert. She wouldn’t have any idea what to do.
I lengthen my stride and run toward the hotel. It’s not far from the saloon, just catty-corner on the other side of the solitary street light.
Screams and cries come from the half-open front door. I pull out my service revolver and march up in position to clear the area.
Rushing into a dangerous situation headlong is for amateurs, and no matter how worried I am about Tami, I have to assess the scene first and take out any threats.
“Police,” I announce. “Come out with your hands up.”
“Todd! It’s us,” Linx says, emerging from the doorway.
I nudge it open wider with my foot and peer inside.
Tami is sitting in a pool of red, covered with what looks like blood. She’s wiping it and smearing it and squealing about how yucky everything is.
I sweep the area with my flashlight, keeping my gun out. The lobby is clear, and I don’t see movement in the gallery or up the staircase.
