The Front Range Butcher

by R Weir

Since I had mentioned omelets to Simon, eggs sounded good and there were choices galore. Breakfast for lunch was a favorite of mine.

  “Nice bike you were riding,” said Torey. “Ever been in an accident or laid it down?”

  I wasn’t sure why he was asking. “No, not yet,” I answered slowly.

  “Good to hear. Those things are dangerous. Never know when someone will run you off the road.”

  I took it as a threat. They were piling up on this case. “Interesting way to start a conversation.”

  “I know. I always seemed to steer off on a gloomy tangent. A tagline for the business we are in. Probably no different for a PI.”

  I wasn’t certain how to respond, but the waitress returned with our drinks and to take our orders as a welcome interruption. I requested the lumberjack breakfast, passing on the omelet, though it did come with eggs and sausage, while he went with the steak breakfast burrito. His coffee had a lot of foam on top, with a big pile of cream. He stirred it up and took a long sip, then wiped the foam from his upper lip.

  “My, that is good. I need my caffeine to boost me up.”

  He seemed plenty boosted to me.

  “Torey, it is awful nice of you to buy me breakfast and give me motorcycle riding advice, but can we get down to why you wanted to talk with me,” I said bluntly.

  “Sure thing. I’m here to offer you a job. We need a PI on retainer for our law firm. You may have heard of it, Whitelaw & Associates. We have lots of big clients, many wealthy and of the most elite here in Colorado. I could name many of them, but name dropping seems so elitist.”

  “What is the job you need me for?” I said inquisitively. But I had a pretty good idea where the offer was headed.

  “Nothing right now. But we’ll put you on a retainer, say five grand, to cover any future work we throw your way.”

  “What kind of work are we talking about?”

  “PI work. The usual stuff. Following people, taking pictures, catching cheating spouses…those types of things.” He stirred his mocha brew absently.

  “But no work at this moment?” I sipped at my juice.

  “Not yet, but there will be.”

  “And you will pay me five thousand on the spot, without even interviewing me?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “No need to. We know all about you. Know your reputation.”

  This was obviously the same White-something or other, Clark had mentioned when looking at Simon’s old house. I leaned back in my chair, juice in hand, taking a long sip, mulling over what he was saying. I knew it was a crock and a payoff for something.

  “Who are some of your clients?”

  “As I said, some elite names here in Colorado.”

  “Name one.” I was daring him now.

  He stopped for a minute, sipping his coffee. “Confidentiality prevents me from telling you. But rest assured these are top notch people.”

  “You’re going to pay me all this money to do nothing. There has to be a catch.”

  The food was brought, and he dug into his burrito with his knife and fork, a napkin tucked into the top of his collar. He took two bites before answering.

  “One small one, though it’s a simple request.”

  I didn’t speak and worked on my meal instead. I started with my eggs and sausage, finding them delicious, providing the nourishment I needed. The pancakes always came last for me, the icing on the cake.

  “We want you to stop talking with Simon Lions. Don’t visit him anymore at EverCare.” He said it without looking up from his food.

  “He doesn’t say much. Hardly talks from his physical limitations.” I swallowed some sausage.

  “We know, and you know, that isn’t true. He may not be able to walk, but talking is not an issue with him, when he is motivated,” he said, smoothly.

  “Is there more?” I asked.

  He didn’t take long to think about it. “Leave Belinda Woodley and her son alone.”

  “Simon says he doesn’t know them. Why does it matter if I talk with them?”

  “It’s complicated. And she is not well and needs to be left in peace. She may not have long to live.” He put on an air of grief and sympathy, or maybe it was another threat.

  I was now working on my potatoes. So much food and so little time to fill my stomach and clog my arteries.

  “I know they are connected,” I said. “And he is likely the father of her son. Why can’t you all admit it?”

  “Jarvis, you need to understand where we are coming from. This is a powerful group you’re messing with. Walk away now, five thousand dollars richer and the world will go on.”

  I was down to the pancakes, adding lots of butter and syrup. IHOP could learn a lesson or two as these were great, even with only one syrup option. Two big bites and I put my silverware down. I was done with pussy footing around.

  “No!” I said firmly. “I don’t walk away. Not for five grand, or fifty grand, or because of some unnamed power group.”

  Torey’s mild manner was fraying. The good-old Englishman was about to show his true self.

  “You will be sorry!” He didn’t say it loud, but it was firm and threatening.

  “Why? Because you won’t be paying for lunch?”

  He laughed. “That will be the least of your concerns once we are done with you. Take the deal, or you will be visited by men who will not be so generous.”

  “Sounds like a threat.”

  “It is. Walk out now and maybe you do find yourself run off the road on that sweet ride of yours. The choice is yours.”

  Threatening me is one thing, but I’ll be damned if he threatens my Harley. A gift from my sister-in-law, a bike ridden by my brother who has passed on. I got out of my chair, wanting to slug him, but there were too many witnesses. I walked out the door leaving behind half my pancakes with some regret. Once outside, I took the large buck knife from my bike, and slashed the sidewall of his rear driver’s side tire and drove off.

  Chapter 30

  Arriving home in one piece, which always makes my day, I made a quick call to my lawyer Barry to see what he knew about Whitelaw & Associates. Talking with two lawyers in the same day didn’t thrill me, and even though Barry was on my side, he still had the lawyer mentality. Though he at least didn’t threaten me with bodily harm. It took five rings and even with caller ID he answered.

  “You realize I’m about to leave the country on vacation,” he said. “And I don’t need my trip delayed because of some mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “The Cayman Islands for two weeks.” He sounded happy, but who wouldn’t be.

  “Checking on all your money?” I joked.

  “Funny. You realize I’m charging you by the minute.”

  “Good luck collecting.”

  “Story of my life with you. I’ve got to finish packing. What do you want!”

  “Grumpy Gus, but I’ll get to the point. What do you know about a law firm, Whitelaw & Associates?”

  “They make more money in an hour than I make in a day. Why?” He sounded interested.

  “Made me an offer today to leave a case alone. Five thousand in cash. When I refused, they then threatened violence against me.”

  “Nothing new there. Everyone seems to want to punch your lights out. There are times when I do as well.” He laughed at his joke. “What is it in relation to?”

  “Case I’m working on. The Front Range Butcher. I was hired by Jonas Diaz.”

  “Melissa’s father?”

  No doubt he was surprised, I know I was when Jonas first called.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re being your usual pain in the ass self, I suppose?” He sounded pleased to point this out.

  “Everyone has a skill set they can sell. Do you know who their clients are?”

  There was a pause on the other end, though I heard breathing.

  “Politicians and some corporate heads. No real names I can come up with off
the top of my head. They are a big firm. Right there with Bristol & Bristol.”

  Barry had connections and could run down anything with the proper motivation.

  “Any chance I can get some names?” I asked knowing what his answer would be.

  “Is this a paying job or are you doing it for free to get back in Melissa’s good graces?”

  “I got a check up front. Though it doesn’t hurt with Melissa, I’m seeing April now.”

  He let out a large puff of air. “I know you, Jarvis. If it was offered up, you’d hit that again.”

  “Gross Barry. You can be a crude S.O.B sometimes.”

  “Admit it, I’m speaking the truth.”

  I ignored him, even if he had a point. “Can you help me?”

  “It will cost you. I want the money sent over tomorrow and my legal assistant will get you the info once the check clears.” He gave me the amount. It was a reasonable cost, but still not free.

  “You’re all heart Barry.”

  “Right now, I’m thinking about the Caymans and spending time on the beach. Find me a female native and enjoy some carnal pleasures.”

  “I thought you were going to count your money.”

  “That too. Maybe toss some on the bed and the lovely lady and I can roll in it, naked.”

  “Gee, thanks for the image, Barry.”

  “You’re welcome. Get the check to my office by tomorrow and you’ll get your information. Bye. And don’t call me.”

  I found my checkbook and wrote out the amount and then placed it on my kitchen table so I wouldn’t forget. I was tired and decided to take a nap on the sofa. It had been ten days since I’d seen April and I missed her. We had barely talked during this time, since her shifts were long, and she would want to unwind on her own. It was how I felt after extended hours of work, so I understood. Her lengthy work stretch was coming to an end and I looked forward to our moments together. My work was still ongoing, but I’d take the time to see her, touch her and enjoy her pleasures. Still Barry had a point, that if Melissa had come back to me wanting to start up again, I would be tempted. She had a strong place in my heart, as well as my bed, a place I hadn’t quite shaken off. Maybe I had taken the job to get back in her good graces, not that I deserved it after cheating on her. I’d not seen her much lately since she was still busy with work and school. April sensed those feelings, maybe even accepted the possibility of it happening. She was an understanding woman, but I didn’t like myself because of the conflict I felt over the both of them.

  I nodded off with confusing thoughts, but slept, dreaming of each woman, both bringing joy to me, yet never finding the completeness I was searching for. I tossed and turned on the sofa, until my phone rang a few hours later. I answered still half asleep.

  “Jarvis,” said the female voice. “I’m scared.”

  “Who is this?” I asked groggily, the voice unfamiliar to me.

  “Milani. The waitress from Boone’s.”

  Immediately I sat up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize the voice. What is going on?”

  “I have your card. You said you’d help me.” She sounded out of breath. “That guy I dated called me and said he is on his way over. I’m afraid of what he will do.”

  “Be sure you lock your door and call the police. Where do you live?”

  She gave me her address.

  “That isn’t far away. I can be there in about ten minutes. Don’t let him in.”

  “Oh…my…he’s here…”

  The line went dead. I grabbed my jacket and helmet and headed outside. It was dusk, the sun starting to set. I fired up the bike and took back roads trying to avoid traffic.

  It was an apartment complex on the third floor east of me, not too far from DU. There was an outside metal fence, but no security to prevent anyone from coming in the building. I ran up the stairs once I figured out the numbering system of the complex. I made it to the third floor, when a man came out her front door and bolted towards the other stairwell. I ran after him until I heard Milani say my name. He was too far ahead of me, so I returned to make sure she was ok.

  Once inside the apartment I found her on the ground and quickly went to her side, her glasses broken on the floor. Helping her up and onto the sofa, I discovered a welt under her right eye. Finding the kitchen, I grabbed some ice and put it in a large freezer bag, before placing it on her cheek. She winced but grabbed the plastic once she got used to the cold.

  “He hit you?” I asked gently, feeling anger and fury building inside me.

  “I tried to stop him and he pushed me. I was worried he was going to trash the place.” Her voice shook and she trembled.

  He had started alright. Besides the glasses, there was a chair on its side, a broken plate on the floor and a flower pot knocked over, leaving a mess of potting soil on the tan carpet.

  “I could have caught him,” I said.

  “I know you could have. I told him you were on your way. He feared you and ran.”

  “We should call the police.”

  “No please. I want to sit here and calm down. I’m shaking and don’t want to be alone.” She looked like she was about to cry. There wasn’t much I could do. Adrenaline will do that.

  “Do you mind sitting with me for a bit?” she pleaded.

  “Be happy to.”

  I closed the front door and sat down on the sofa next to her. Besides the shaking she was now crying. She leaned into me and I put an arm around her. It wasn’t long before her face was buried into my chest. There were a few things in the world I hated more than a woman crying. Feeling awkward, I sat and waited it out, patting her on the shoulder trying to be comforting, though it was never comforting for me.

  Several minutes passed, before she pulled out, so I could see her tear-stained face.

  “Thank you for coming. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped him.” She sniffed.

  “Happy to help.”

  “You’re so strong compared to him. He wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I remained silent, handing a tissue to wipe her tears.

  “I don’t know how I can repay you…”

  I saw her eyes and there was a fierceness about them. Fiery and passionate. She lunged into me, her lips locked on mine, as if she wasn’t about to let go, her tongue deep in my mouth. I tried to push her back, but she was surprisingly strong, and when I could break the lip lock, she would come right back again. After three tries, I stood up and took some steps back. Somehow her shirt was unbuttoned, and she looked ready to pounce on me for more.

  “Enough!” I said strongly. “This is wrong. You need to stop this right now.”

  “You don’t want me?” She looked disappointed. “Am I not desirable to you?”

  I had to catch my breath and compose myself. I was not the same person I was several years ago. I had gone down this road before with a client and it had not ended well. And I knew this was not the path I wanted to travel anymore.

  “Of course, you’re desirable. But I have someone in my life and it’s not right for me to get involved with a client. You’re confused, with everything going on. Seeing me as your savior...”

  As if pretending she didn’t hear me, she opened her shirt some more, showing her naked chest. She stood up and walked over to me. I gulped and then sighed as I looked her up and down, before I grabbed her shirt and began buttoning her back up.

  “Nothing is going to happen,” I said. “I’ll be leaving now. Be sure to lock the door.”

  I went out into the hallway and took some deep breaths. I wasn’t sure what the hell just happened, but I was proud in my strength to resist. I headed outside, climbed on my bike, regained my composure and headed for home, driving slowly in the darkness.

  Chapter 31

  They were waiting for me when I got home. The parking lot was dark, though bright enough from a security light on a poll and the lamp from my stairwell to see where I was going. A dark sedan, either a
BMW or Mercedes, sat there, the motor running. I parked the motorcycle a couple of spots over from them and dismounted. I had my .38, placing it in my jacket pocket, my right hand tucked inside, helmet in my left. There was someone behind the wheel and another waiting in the stairwell, the smoke of his cigarette trailing up into space easily seen, thanks to the light.

  “May I help you?” I yelled out, still holding my distance, the bike between me and them.

  “Jarvis Mann,” replied the voice from the stairwell. “We are here to talk.” There was an air of confidence in his voice.

  “About?” I had regained my composure after what happened with Milani.

  “A mutual acquaintance.”

  I didn’t care much for riddles. “A name would be helpful.”

  “I can’t say. But you know him.”

  “I don’t like dealing with those I can’t see. Step out where I can see you. The one in the car too.”

  My hand tensed up waiting for any aggression. The man in the stairwell walked up, cigarette still in hand, taking a long draw, before dropping it to the ground and crushing it with his foot. My eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and I could see the outline of his frame, covered in dark slacks and sports coat, his hands tucked into the pockets. When clear, he waited for the other in the car to step out. Both were decent size, taller and heavier than I was. The one in the car was wearing a jacket over jeans, the jacket not fitting him well, a dark ball cap on his head. This could be round two to convince me to leave Simon alone. This time though it wouldn’t be cordial.

  “If you’re here to tell me to leave Simon Lions alone, that isn’t going to happen.”

  “Never heard of the name,” he said. I didn’t believe him.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “It will be apparent soon.”

  With his words, I sensed someone behind me and I turned quickly, swinging the helmet in defense. I caught the man on the side of the head, a loud crack sounded but he didn’t go down. Adrenaline flowing, I fumbled to pull out my gun, as he hit me with something hard on the side of the neck and I hit the asphalt. My head was spinning, and I tried to focus getting my gun out and firing, though I couldn’t see anything. I got off two shots before it was pulled from my hands, apparently missing the mark.