“Walter, you need this! So knock it off! You’re going and that’s that!”
“The hell I am. You’re insane, you know that?”
Ronald tossed me the clothes but I just let them land on my feet, making no attempt to pick them up.
“Tell you what, I’ll go with you. I’ve let myself go a little bit and could use the exercise myself. Feel better?”
“No, I don’t feel better. And if I needed a chaperone, I’d get me a chaperone!”
Ronald checked his watch. “Well, you better hurry up. We’re going to be late if you don’t change. Now hurry along.”
“NO!”
But I was speaking to his back because Ronald was headed back into the bedroom to change. “You sound like a girl! Get dressed, lover boy. I’ll be out in just a sec.”
I stood, stared after him and then like an idiot, I picked up the clothes and went into the back bedroom to change. My blood was hot and I was fuming at this intrusion into my private affairs. I couldn’t believe the gall he still had. When we were kids, Ronald had always just shanghaied me into his schemes and I had always gone along for the ride. Here we were, twenty-five years later, and he was still dragging me into his pet projects.
A half hour later, we were pulling into the parking lot of the middle school. The dashboard clock said it was 7:00 a.m., which meant middle school kids wouldn’t be showing up for another hour. Marcie’s cruiser was parked near the gates that led to the track. I stared through the windshield of his truck and cursed myself for giving in again to another one of Ronald’s adventures. Running had never been an exercise I had excelled in. In fact, when we were growing up I had hated every track I was forced to run around, including this one. I wasn’t slow but it wasn’t something I went out of my way to do. However, I had to admit the cool, crisp air was the type that made you feel alive. The sky was a hue of blue that I had only seen on the western slope of Colorado. Maybe it was the lack of an industry that kept the skies free from pollution or the ring of the mountain tops that kept it so pure. Whatever the case, I was again transported back to my childhood, where my days were filled with playgrounds and I was free from worry.
Ronald turned the ignition off and then stepped out into the cool morning air. I reluctantly followed suit and then we both walked the short distance over to where Marcie was stretching like a cat. We both admired her form and then I reached over and hit him in the arm.
“Knock it off, you’re married to my sister.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m blind or unappreciative of the female form,” he smiled.
She looked over at us, then waved. We waved back. Ronald’s hands moved a little more enthusiastic than mine. When we reached the grass where she was getting warmed up, she stopped and walked up to me, planting a kiss on my lips. My libido kicked into high gear while Ronald looked on, seeming oblivious to the kiss.
“Hey, you guys.”
“Hey back,” I said. Ronald nodded his hello.
“So, what did you two bachelors do last night?”
“Pillow fights and lots of gossip about girls,” I said playfully.
“Oh, do tell.”
I shook my head, “Can’t. That would violate the bro code.”
Marcie laughed and reached out to hold my hand. Our arms swung slightly; her eyes were playful and her smile gave her added life which made the years melt away. I will admit, my heart was beating a little funny and my head (the one on my shoulders) was airy. In truth, I was smitten with her and if I had to admit it, I probably had never quite let her go, which made me wonder again how it was that we had never wound up together.
For his part, Ronald had wandered off towards the football field, his eyes gazing out over the track and then over to the stands. He seemed to be watching a sedan parked in the LDS church parking lot, which sat across the street from the far end of the track. Then he turned and jogged past us.
“Where are you going?” I hollered as he trotted past us.
“Forgot something in the truck. Be right back.”
I turned and watched him trot back to the truck. When he got there, he went around to the passenger side and reached in for something. The door blocked our view of whatever he was doing.
“What’s he after?” she asked.
I shrugged and then turned to face the far end of the track, my gaze fell on where the sedan had been. “Who knows with him?” I said. Looking back at her I smiled again, but my thoughts were of Ronald and his sudden need to go back to the truck. Then I looked back at the truck and watched him walk back toward us. I noticed the bulge on his right ankle. Glancing over at Marcie, I looked to see if she had caught the outline of the gun. If she had noticed, she gave no indication.
“Ready to boldly run?” Ronald asked us.
“Of all the gin joints in all the world,” I said. He smiled knowingly back at me but said nothing.
Her head tilting to the side, Marcie asked, “What’d you forget?”
Ronald reached into the pocket of his sweats and pulled out his cell phone, which he cradled between two fingers.
“You expecting a call this early?”
“You never know. But I keep it with me in case Jess calls.”
“Wow, the great ladies’ man Ronald Jacobs is one whipped puppy dog. I’m impressed Ronald.”
“Hey now, that’s my sister you’re talking about.” My gaze roved from his ankle to Ronald’s eyes.
He just smiled and said, “The heart knows what the heart wants.” His eyes met mine, but his words never quite made it all the way to his eyes.
“Race ya!” she squealed. Then she turned and took off at a full sprint. The sound of her girlish laughter painted the track, which made my heart beat faster.
“Something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” I said to Ronald now we were alone.
“Nothing comes to mind,” he said as he trotted after her.
I took another moment to look back at where the sedan had been parked and then casually turned three-hundred and sixty degrees, my gaze looking for threats that I did not see.
Chapter 20
Ronald and Marcie turned our fun run into a competition, while I heaved my guts up in the grass and sucked mouthfuls of air into my depleted lungs. I wasn’t in that bad a shape, but the high altitude robbed me of whatever athletic prowess I may have thought I had. Both of them at one point stopped to see if I was alright. I made a point of flipping them the bird and attempted to curse their high altitude elitism, both of which just made them laugh that much harder.
I had forgotten the thin air wasn’t to be trifled with when you spent years at sea level. For the first time in a long time, I understood the gripe professional teams made about playing in the mile high city. But since I wasn’t going to be staying forever, I decided to let it go. When I recovered my ability to breathe normally, I looked up just in time to watch Ronald and Marcie sprint the last one-hundred yards to the finish line. You had to give Marcie her due. She wasn’t as fast as Ronald but he wasn’t in the best shape in the world either. So in the end he won, but not by much and it took all he had to make it across the finish line ahead of her.
Both of them slowed to a walk as they flew past me. Ronald was holding his left side and bending slightly to help him recover. Marcie, however, was doing a great job of making Ronald look like a hack. She trotted in place and was checking her pulse. She showed no signs of being winded, but it could have been an act. Secretly, I hoped it wasn’t. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail that bounced very erotically behind her. Or maybe it was just me.
“Wow, Ronald, good thing you’re an athlete or she would have beaten you.”
He grimaced in pain and then flipped me off. I laughed at him, which in turn made Marcie laugh at him. Ronald, for the most part, played along and let the jokes and laughter at his expense slide off his back. After I had wiped my face clean of vomit and the two gazelles had gotten their breathing under control, we walked back to our cars. We had been here
longer than I thought. I could see kids arriving on foot while others were dropped at the curb by their parents. Marcie’s cop car drew side-long glances but when they noticed our running attire, they stopped looking at us and went their own way.
Marcie had ambled up alongside me and slid her arm through mine, which allowed me to escort her back to her car. A big grin broke out on my face, which in turn made me blush a little.
Ronald chucked me in the shoulder and said, “See, told you she wouldn’t bite, Romeo.”
Marcie slapped me on the shoulder. “You thought I was gonna bite you on the first date? What kind of girl do you think I am anyway?”
“Why, Ms. Reynolds, whatever are you talking about? You would take the word of a known womanizer over me, a well-respected member of the community?”
“Weeell… when you put it like that, I guess I would be foolish to doubt your intentions, sir.”
“Would you two knock it off, the manure you’re shoveling is really starting to smell bad,” Ronald said, laughing.
“Well, I guess this is me,” Marcie said as we stopped in front of her cruiser.
Marcie was now loosely holding my hand, our arms swaying slightly. I leaned against the driver’s front fender.
Marcie moved in a little closer, then backed off a little. “Sorry Walt, but you smell like puke.”
“Hey, you’re not going to hold that against me are you?”
“Only if you don’t call me.”
“How about I do one better? Ronald here has given me the keys to Jessica’s car, so how about I pick you up, say around seven, and we go out for a bite to eat?”
She feigned like she was in deep contemplation before she said, “Only if you promise not to throw up.”
“Deal,” I said. Then we shook on it.
Leaning over and giving me a peck on the cheek, she said, “I have to get home and change, so I will see you tonight.” Then she released my hand and opened her car door to get in. I stood up and moved away from the car. Ronald had wandered off a few steps and was again surveying the street. My gaze followed his, but all I saw were soccer moms dropping their bundles of joy off for school. Marcie turned the engine over, waved at me and then backed out of the parking lot. The engine sounded throaty and I wondered who their mechanic was these days. I waved back at her as the car moved into the soccer mom traffic. I watched her move the short block down the street and then she turned left, driving out of sight.
“So, are you going to tell me about the gun on your ankle or are you just going to lie to me some more?” I asked Ronald now we were alone.
Ronald turned to face me and then said, “Sometimes I’m just paranoid. Jess hates it when I do things like that. She says ‘nobody’s looking, so why should you’.” His head was shaking back and forth as he spoke.
I watched him for a long time before I spoke. “You’re sure that’s all it was, paranoia? Because the way you were eyeballing that car made me think you were worried about another attack.”
He nodded his head and then said, “Yeah, I know, but trust me, if there was a real threat we wouldn’t have gone for a run. Sorry, it’s too many years of doing really ugly things. It makes you a real killjoy at times.”
I made a clucking sound with my tongue and then said, “Well, no harm, no foul. Pretty sure she didn’t notice the piece on your ankle.”
He nodded, “Would have been surprised if she had. In fact, I can’t believe you noticed it.”
“Miami is full of gun-toting shitbags so yeah, I noticed. What is it anyway?”
“Nothing special, just a .380 Hammerless and lightweight. The kind of gun every runner should have on his ankle.”
I just shook my head and didn’t say anything more on the subject. “Hungry?”
“I could eat,” Ronald replied as he moved to open the door and get in the truck.
“Well, you’re the one who lives here not me, so I’ll leave it up to you,” I said as I shut the door.
“Ranchers in Loma is pretty good. Nothing fancy, but they make a real good steak and eggs. Katie the waitress is easy on the eyes and makes good coffee.”
“Huh, well, with a recommendation like that, how could I go wrong?”
Ronald fired up the truck and pulled into traffic. We were just turning west on Highway 6 & 50 when Ronald said, “You know, I’m pretty sure I don’t remember handing over the keys to my car so you can pretend you’re still in high school.”
“I thought a lot about what you said the other day about getting out more. Maybe move on, you know? So dinner tonight and see how that goes.”
“Liar.”
“Oh, that’s rich! Now I’m the liar? That takes some balls calling me a liar.”
“So those stretchy pants she was wearing had nothing to do with it, huh?”
I looked over at him with a feigned expression of personal insult. “Thought never crossed my mind.”
***
Later, after breakfast, Ronald took us the long way back to his house. Our route took us near the car the sniper had left behind. He parked a good quarter of a mile away so we could approach it without being seen. Both of us looked around for anyone who might be lurking in the area before we walked the rest of the way to the car. We both took long concentric paths towards the car, looking for disturbances in the adobe dirt. Satisfied no one had been there since it had been left, we went ahead and got all the way up to it. The inside of the car was just like he had described it. Bags of fast food wrappers were on the floor in the back.
Ronald took out a pair of work gloves and then went about breaking into the car. It was obvious this wasn’t the first time he had picked the lock on a car. The heavy-duty pick set he pulled out looked like it had seen many days of use. I looked over the hood of the car at him and raised my eyebrows. He looked back at me and then shook his head.
A few minutes later, he had the doors unlocked and we were rummaging around looking for clues. We found nothing in the front or the back seat and in the trunk we found more of the same. All in all, Ronald had done a great job of picking it clean of tangible evidence. Satisfied there was nothing left in the car, we walked back to his truck and then drove back to the house.
As Ronald got out of his car, he hesitated for a moment. His gaze wandered out across the adobe floor. He locked in on a spot about five-hundred yards away. I looked where he was looking and saw a lot of useless dirt and ugly scrub brushes. I don’t know if it was his paranoia or the car from this morning. Either way, the hair on the back of my neck started to rise. I got the distinct impression we were being surveyed, but by whom and from where I could only guess. Satisfied we were alone, Ronald turned and headed for the house. I lingered for just a beat or two longer before I also turned and went inside.
Since I was supposed to pick up Marcie in a few hours, I thought it high time I got busy with my wardrobe selection. The only clothes I had were the clothes I brought from Florida and the clothes I had bought using Ronald’s money. Neither selection was good for going out on a date, especially in cold weather. In the end, I chose a light blue button-down shirt and a pair of new jeans. I took them out of the closet and laid them on the bed. The jeans were okay, but the shirt was going to need a quick iron and my new boots could use a polish. So I went in search of Ronald to get polish and an iron.
When that was finished, I took to the shower. Just before I got in, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The image looking back at me was hairy and somewhat unkempt, so now I needed a pair of clippers and a razor. Ronald hadn’t said anything about the iron and the polish, but the razor and the clippers were just too much for him to ignore.
“Wow, clippers and a razor? You’re really pulling out all the stops. Feeling lucky?”
“Knock it off dirty, douche bag,” I said.
He left me standing in the living room while he went in search of what I had asked for. On the kitchen counter I could see pictures and assorted papers, so I wandered over to look. The pictures were of a man who was
dressed in combat gear. It looked like it had been taken in Ronald’s front yard. The papers were computer printouts of names and addresses. The names didn’t mean anything, nor did the addresses. I went back to the picture. The man was slight of build and his face was obscured by one of those floppy jungle hats you see in movies. I couldn’t tell when it had been taken, but it looked recent. I was still looking at the picture when Ronald came back and handed me the razor and clippers.
“Here you go and do me a favor, try not to cut your throat please.”
“This the guy from this morning?” I asked as I handed him the picture.
“No,” he said quickly, his eyes averting to the picture.
“Then who is he?”
“Pretty sure it’s the hitter.”
“Doesn’t look like him. This guy is thin and the guy in the morgue photo you showed me was heavier.”
He shrugged, “Well, it’s him.”
“You know, I keep getting the feeling you’re not telling me everything.”
He shrugged again, his gaze still fixed on the picture. “Don’t know what to tell you. But I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Ronald, if I didn’t know any better I would swear you’re making this whole thing up.”
His cheeks flushed and he said, “You really think I would shoot up my own house and then lie about it to just to get you out here?”
“Well, a few things just don’t add up for me. Like how come now? Not to mention your cavalier attitude since I got here and how hard you’re pushing Marcie on me. Also, why did my sister really leave before I got here? Then there’s her decision to fly to Florida to see Lori and the kids. For a guy whose house is full of holes, you sure seem to be awfully calm about it.”
“That’s bullshit, Walter. Why would I shoot up my own house? Huh? Tell me, super sleuth, why?”
Our eyes were locked but I could see the deception in his eyes. “Because it’s the kind of stupid idea you and my sister would cook up just to get me out of Florida after the divorce.”
On The Devil's Side of Heaven Page 14
