On the Run 2

by Paul Westwood

  On the Run II

  by Paul Westwood

  Copyright 2013 Paul Westwood

  Published at Smashwords

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  I thought that she loved me, but that was a mistake. It was the sort of mistake any man can make – from a lovelorn teenager to the wisest man in the White House. But I had to found out the hard way. When I got back to the little hotel room, she was gone. Her van outside had also disappeared, leaving me with no wheels and no easy way out of Las Vegas. Even though I had managed to get rid of the mob boss who had been after me, I knew that respite would be brief. They would keep trying to get the evidence that tied their operation to a popular politician. And this time they would shoot first and ask questions later.

  I opened the door to the hotel. On the rumpled bed, the place we had spent wrapped in heated passion, there was a folded note. Setting down the bag of hamburgers I bought from the fast food joint, I reached for the paper and opened it. The ink was smudged with tears. It said:

  James – I’m sorry to leave you. But this was just a terrible mistake. I know you will do okay without me. Please forgive me. You will always be in my heart – Beth

  Beth had saved my life, so I couldn’t feel that much animosity toward her. Anyway, the past hours I detected a strain between us. She was worried about our future together. She was the sort of girl who wanted a little stability, especially after her tumultuous years as a dancer in Broadway. I wasn’t the right kind of man for her and she knew it the day we met. I was a two-bit detective and she was a girl with a future. We were never meant to be.

  I sat down at the desk and ate a hamburger. It tasted like sawdust but it killed the pangs of hunger I felt inside. The cold of the air-conditioning swirled around me, making the outside heat disappear until it was nothing but a memory. After I was done eating, I poured myself a drink from the bottle of whiskey on the bathroom sink. I dropped in two ice cubes from the ragged little cardboard bucket that the hotel management provided. After belting back the drink, I poured myself another. This second one would be for sipping and thinking.

  Ambling over to the bed, I sat on the edge and reviewed my options. Except for a few bucks, I was out of cash. If I used my credit cards, the mob would learn of my location in just a few hours. They had connections. Nonetheless I needed to move on. I needed to do something other than let the clock hands sweep through the day. After I finished my drink, I put the glass on the lamp stand. I turned off the light and put my head on the pillow. I listened to the muted roar of the nearby traffic, the howl of the tires barely muted by the hum of the AC. Without even trying, I fell asleep.

  When I woke up, the sun on the shades was gone. Instead the neon light from the large sign seeped through the cracks with a faint orange glow. The whir of traffic was diminished, but I could feel a crackling energy in the air. There was movement outside, the awakening of the night in a city that never slept. I felt myself drawn to the excitement – the clicking and rattling of the slot machines, the shuffling of the playing cards, and the orgy of indecency that made Vegas the place to be.

  After a quick shower, I changed, slipping into my last set of clean clothes. This was a dark navy suit with only a few wrinkles. A white shirt, a red silk tie, and my pair of black shoes finished the ensemble. I looked in the mirror and saw a man with brown hair, a face that only held a few wrinkles, a strong jaw, and a plenty of hair. I studiously ignored the trace of gray around my temples.

  Knowing the pictures I carried were safely hidden away in the air-conditioning grate, I stepped outside. I took a quick look around and then locked the door. Pocketing the key, I started walking. We had picked a hotel close to the action. All of the rooms faced a large pool that was surrounded by a low chain-link fence. A few customers were swimming, enjoying the warmth of the water that had only recently been heated by the baking sun of the day. Now that it was night, I could see people walking on the nearby sidewalk. Like lemmings they were heading toward the glitter of the neon streets. Couples were laughing as they walked hand-in-hand. It all made me feel a little lonely. I joined the flowing course of humanity. It was a perfect place to be. I would go unnoticed here.

  I stopped at the first casino on the strip. It was a sprawling affair with enough light and flash to light up a Broadway show. Cat would have liked it. The two heavy-sett security men didn’t pay me any attention as I strolled inside. The clang and rattle of the slot machines was deafening. There was a stage nearby where some musicians were playing with all the heart of an aged spinster. No one paid them any attention. Instead their interest was drawn to the empty flash of money and the possible chance of winning a few bucks from the tightfisted gambling house.

  I sauntered over to the nearest bar and sat down on the only available stool. To my right was a young man, his whole attention on the scrawny girl next to him. She was laughing, nothing but a wide open jaw and a maw of yellow teeth. When she finally closed her mouth, it improved the view. I could see she wasn’t bad looking, but nothing I would want to show off to the boys at the office.

  To my left was a woman of a different sort. She was wearing a simple red dress that let me see the v of her back. It was a lovely sight, nothing but pale alabaster skin. She had long black hair that fell past her shoulders and had a rich sheen that would make any Asian girl envious. From the side the view was good – a straight nose, a flutter of long eyelashes, clear skin and a tall cheekbone. Her legs were long, sexy, and the hem of the dress stopped mid-thigh. Her makeup was well applied without the normal overdone gaudiness that seems to infect modern fashion. A black leather purse with a long strap hung over her shoulder.

  The bartender came over. He was wearing a red vest with gold embroidery. I was glad I didn’t have to wear a monkey grinder outfit when I went to work. I ordered a gimlet. He gave me an odd look as if the drink was some foreign concoction.

  “It’s gin and lime juice,” I explained, having to shout over the noise of gambling to be understood. “Mix it fifty-fifty.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said with very little enthusiasm.

  The woman next to me suddenly said, “And make me one too, okay? I wouldn’t mind trying something different.” The voice matched her appearance – husky and sexy. It sent a shiver down my spine.

  The bartender nodded. He then stalked off as if personally offended by our drink choices.

  After I had edged in closer, I said, “Do you come here often?”

  Turning her head, she gave me a cockeyed look, the sort of stare as if I had just fallen out of the sky and said something stupid. “Do you find that sort of pickup line still works?”

  “I’m not the one ordering the same drink as a complete stranger,” I shot back.

  “True,” she admitted. She smiled. It was the sort of little smile that made a man feel good to be alive. It was also one of those rare moments where I felt an instant connection to a woman. The sort of feeling one had when one was young, innocent, and absolutely girl crazy. “Tell me,” she continued on, “what do you like about this gimlet?”

  I gave a little self-depreciating laugh. “Maybe I’ve read too many detective novels. It’s an old-fashioned sort of drink, but still good for beating the heat. By the way, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is James Warren.”

  “And are you a detective?” she asked with a slight t
race of sarcasm.

  “Why yes I am,” I answered. I felt like I was telling a lie even though it was the truth.

  She raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing a word I said.

  I shrugged as if trying to ward off some spell. “Look, I’ve been on the run. I’ve been chased clear across the country. I’m not trying some smooth line to impress you with. I’m just looking for a kind word.”

  She offered me her hand. We shook. Her skin felt like an electric shock that coursed through my body.

  “I’m Elizabeth Hamilton. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. The name Elizabeth sounds awfully formal. Are you a Betty, a Liz, or a Beth?”

  “Beth will do,” she replied.

  The bartender took this ill-timed moment to bring us our Gimlets. I reached into my breast pocket, dug out my wallet, and paid for the drinks with cash. There was only a few dollars left, the remainder of what little I borrowed from Cat. That thought made me feel momentarily guilty, but any thought of that departed woman was quickly swept aside. Here I was talking to a lovely creature, so why should I worry about a flame that had quickly come and gone?

  Beth was already sipping at hers.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “It’s not bad. A little sweet though. It’s Not something I would make a habit out of, but I could see drinking this every once in a while.”

  I nodded. “Tell me, what are you doing here at a casino? I don’t see a bucket of change or a stack of chips, so you aren’t gambling.”

  Her eyes became hard as rocks. “I’m working.”

  It took a moment to realize what she was talking about. She was an escort, to use a nice term, working the tourists for a suitable mark. I gave her a grimace. “I should have guessed,” I said. “Why haven’t you worked your act on me? Is it my innocent face?”

  This made her laugh. “Are you kidding me? I bet you’re a devious little bastard when you have to be. But to be honest, I can tell you’re not exactly rolling in the dough.”

  “How’s that?”

  She took another drink before asking. “By the state of your clothes – they’ve been packed away for some time. Anyone with a few coins to rub together would have sent them out to be cleaned. Instead they’re wrinkled and your shoes are dirty. Anyway, I only look for the high-rollers, someone who can afford me. A night with me will cost a small fortune.”

  “You would make a good detective. So why do you even bother talking to me?”

  Beth looked intently into my eyes, making me feel acutely uncomfortable. “Because I’m bored and you’re interesting to talk to. But I have to get working again, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving. I hope you don’t think I’m being rude or I lead you on in any way.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s quite the contrary. I enjoyed meeting you.”

  “Did you? I’m happy to hear that. Too many gentlemen suddenly get all moral when they meet a hooker. I’m glad you’re not that sort of man.”

  “No, I’m not that sort of all. I like direct women like you. Anyway, we all got to make a living somehow.”

  “Thank you, James” Beth said with a quick smile. With one large swallow, she finished the last of the gimlet. She then brushed past me, trailing a single finger along my left thigh until it hit my waist.

  The touch gave me thrill of excitement. Swiveling the bar chair, I watched as Beth made her exit. I noticed that I wasn’t the only one watching. It was only natural that such beauty would draw appreciative stares. Her hips swung in exaggerated fashion. Before she was lost in the crowd, I saw her glance back at me, giving me a secret smile that made me wish I was a richer man. With a shake of my head, I returned my attention to the drink sitting in front of me.

  Even though the lime juice was sweet and sour, the booze still tasted bitter. Perhaps it was the thought of a moment lost; a chance to bed someone so beautiful. After a few more sips, I slid off the stool and began walking around the casino. I went over to the gaming tables and watches as the house raked in the money and the gamblers lost more often than they won. They had a fevered look, like a sinner finding salvation or a groom on his wedding night.

  After a few more minutes of wandering around, I noticed that Beth was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had gone on to greener pastures. I slid past three more bars located inside the rambling building and still didn’t see her. I felt a little silly, like a school boy checking up on his girlfriend, so I eventually gave up and decided to head back to the hotel.

  Outside, the world was lit up like Christmas and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one. The crowds, if anything, were getting thicker and thicker. I joined the mass, feeling the eager bodies jostling up against me. The traffic of cars was a steady stream of honking and red lights. Above I could make out the faintest glimmer of stars. They looked cold and lonely, much like I felt inside.

  A good detective will have a sixth sense – a feeling that something was wrong. It’s the kind of intuition that had saved me many times. While striding past a darkened alleyway, I saw a flurry of movement and a flash of red. I immediately thought of Beth’s red dress. I stopped and took a step back so I could look down that unlit space between a restaurant and a gaudy little wedding chapel. There was Beth alright, but she looked to be in a heap of trouble. There were two men there. One was holding her by the hair, tugging hard on those black locks. The other had a knife out and was brandishing it in a threatening manner, as if he was about to slice into her lovely throat. Both of these men were heavyset and dressed in dark suits with black shoes. Their expressions were cold and lifeless, sure signs of professional killers.

  I slipped into the alleyway, wishing I had brought my gun with me. Instead my Browning was safely tucked away in the bag of luggage back at the hotel.

  The man with the knife said, “We saw you talking to that Warren guy. Why?”

  “Who are you talking about?” Beth asked, her eyes locked on the knife.

  “Don’t lie to me. We were following him. We saw him sit right next to you and start talking like you were old friends. What did he say to you?”

  “I don’t know him,” she protested. “We were just talking about nothing. I thought he was a tourist trying to pick me up.”

  “I should cut your face for lying,” the man said.

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea,” I said, trying to keep my voice cool and composed. The two men turned their heads to look at me. I took a few steps forward until I was a few feet away.

  The man with the knife gave me a smile that revealed a set of teeth stained by tobacco. He said, “Well, well, if it isn’t the private detective. My name is Lou Boca. If you don’t know me, you’re about to find out who I am. You’ve been hiding out, but this is the wrong town to pull that kind of stunt. You see I’ve got friends here. Everyone likes me, unless I give them good reason not to. The moment you stepped into that hotel room, the owner gave me a call. You see there’s a price on your head, but we have to get our hands on those photos first. We already searched the room you’re staying at but came up with nothing. Why don’t you tell me where they are before I cut your friend here?”

  “Why don’t you go to hell?” I spat out.

  The knife went right for my heart. I would have been skewered if it wasn’t for my quick reaction. I turned to the side and slammed my right fist into Lou’s face. He went sprawling and the knife clattered to the pavement.

  The other man, who had a thick neck and was wearing tinted glasses, let go of Beth. He reached inside his jacket as if reaching for a gun. I couldn’t give him that chance. Instead I charged at him, pushing his thick body into the brick wall behind. He let out a gasp and then clocked me in the side of the head. I saw stars. My knees momentarily buckled. He was a strong bastard.

  “Get him, Danny!” Lou shouted.

  I took a step back from the big man named Danny. He took this opportunity to come at me, his fist raised. As his arm extended, I let the blow come. It missed me. I stepped aside, grabbe
d the shirtsleeve, and use his momentum to pull him along. The motion was so quick that he lost his footing, stumbled, and crashed face first into the wall on the other side.

  Spinning around, I saw that Lou was scrambling on the ground for his knife. I went into kick him but stopped. With a high arc, Beth swung her purse on to the man’s head. There was something heavy in there since the blow caused Lou to drop to the ground, motionless.

  “Come on!” she said as she grabbed my arm. She pulled me out of the alleyway and into the crowd. We were heading deeper into the city, away from my hotel.

  “Where are we going?” I asked after I had caught my breath.

  Beth answered, “Don’t worry, I know a safe place. They won’t be able to find us there.”

  I could tell she was scared stiff. But still, she was a brave one for getting mixed up with me. It was a few blocks later when we turned onto a street. This was a residential area, a place for the rich to rest between bouts of gambling and drinking. Stacks of high rise apartments were here, each more gaudy than the next. We went to the lobby of one of them. After pulling a security card from her purse, Beth opened the door. We went inside and took the elevator up.

  “Is this your place?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, it’s just a place where a friend lives. He said I can use it whenever he’s out of town.”

  “Is he out of town?”

  “Of course he is. I drove him to the airport myself. He’s a long-term customer of mine.”

  The elevator door opened. We stepped into the hallway. The carpet here was a plush burgundy. The swirl of wallpaper had gold trim. The few doors indicated that the apartments here were of a luxurious size, not the normal hole-in-the-wall places I rented.

  “Here it is,” Beth said. This time there was a normal lock which was opened by a key taken from her purse. She hustled me inside and locked the door.