Smith's Monthly #16

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  For a week before that he had learned more about her than he wanted to admit. But to learn about a target was his job, what Duster Kendal had hired him to do for some reason.

  He hadn’t let her see him in all the time he had been following her and researching her, but now seemed like as good a time as any to get a little closer. In another day or so he was going to report back to Duster his findings and get home to Valley County.

  There was nothing at all unusual about Kelli Rae that he could find. She worked too hard, did more research than anyone ever needed to do, and seemed to enjoy her life from moment to moment. She had two doctorate degrees in various aspects of historical research and a number of masters’ degrees along the same lines, including one in library science.

  She was as Duster had hoped she might be. A really, really good historian. Why Duster was interested was beyond Jesse, but he made it a practice to not ask clients why there were interested in researching someone. Just better that way.

  He was really starting to miss his big log home and all the openness of the land and mountains around it. Even though the Oregon Coast was beautiful and rugged, he was going to need to get back to the real mountains.

  Kelli Rae was a bestselling writer of true historical crime books, with the multiple degrees in history and criminology to back her up. Her books and research all focused on crimes that had occurred in the past in the western part of the United States. A strange thing to focus on and write about, but it had made her millions, and from what Jesse could tell, her research was unimpeachable. At least that’s what all the critics said. Considering how much time she spent at it, there was no wonder.

  He had no idea what she was researching on this trip. He hadn’t gotten into her notes to find that out. He had snooping limits.

  She was twenty-eight, lived alone in Las Vegas and had no family. She didn’t drink or gamble that he could tell, and she also had more money than Jesse bet she even realized, considering how little she paid attention to her own finances.

  Finances he had snooped into. And sadly, as most people, she had made his job very easy on that regard. But from what he could tell, no one was taking any money from her. She seemed to have an honest accountant.

  She was twenty-eight and had no love interest of any type past a few brief one-night-stands. Considering how much her research and writing seemed to eat up all her time, that didn’t surprise Jesse in the slightest. The woman was flat driven.

  Not at all like Jesse, who had the attitude of his favorite character, Travis McGee written by a writer by the name of John D. McDonald. Jesse worked when he wanted to or when something interested him or when a favorite client asked for a favor. Duster and his wife, Bonnie, were his friends, and paid him far, far too much when he had worked for them before.

  This time they had asked him to help on looking into Kelli Rae’s past. He had said yes without even asking why. For Bonnie and Duster, he would do damn near anything.

  In fact, about five years before, Duster had suggested that Jesse get a long oil-cloth duster like Duster wore no matter the heat or the cold. Jesse was doubtful at first, but after a few times wearing the long and very light coat, Jesse couldn’t imagine being without it.

  He had gone out and bought four light brown dusters and wore a light brown cowboy hat as well. Duster wore darker coats and hats. But since Jesse was almost as tall as Duster at six-one, they looked like a formidable pair when together. Like two sheriffs right out of the Old West.

  Early on, right out of college, Jesse had built a reputation of being the best private investigator in the west. He had helped keep a very rich man out of jail on a crime he didn’t commit, and on another he had found an online stalker’s real home address for a rich client to get that stopped.

  Those two things, along with hiring a great computer crew for his office in McCall to do basic background searches on new hires for about a hundred different companies and organizations from around the west, had made his name.

  And his fortune.

  And every so often he worked for Duster researching other historians and mathematicians. He had no idea why. He just did what Duster asked.

  The small town of Whale Port, Oregon, appeared as he came around a sharp corner in the highway. The town consisted of maybe fifty buildings, at most, on a ledge between high tree-lined mountains above it and sharp rocks and pounding surf below it. The town existed at all because just on the other side of town was a small bay and river coming into the ocean. Jesse knew it was deep enough for some fishing boat docks.

  Most of the fishing was gone now, but the town hung on with a two story white historical hotel, a few bed and breakfast buildings, a general store, some antique stores, a small grocery store, and two restaurants. All looked like they could use a good coat of paint, but considering the weather here, more than likely they had all been painted just last summer.

  Kelli Rae’s blue BMW sat in front of one of the restaurants that looked like an old diner and was clearly well kept up.

  At least she had good choices in places to eat. So far, in all his research, Jesse had found very few things he didn’t like about the woman, including her looks. If he didn’t have such a solid rule about getting involved with a target, he would have been interested.

  He pulled in and parked between her car and a State Police car. Time to get a little closer to his target before heading home to Idaho. And besides, he was hungry.

  He slipped on his cowboy hat and then slipped into his duster as he climbed out. Might as well not try to hide at all. She would remember him from this point forward.

  And he liked the idea of that for some reason.

  CHAPTER THREE

  July 14th, 2016

  Oregon Coast

  KELLI HAD JUST finished her clam chowder when the door chime rang behind her. The chowder was just about as good and rich and thick as she could ever remember having. Melted butter floating on the top and the spoon just stuck straight up in the chowder when served. If she hadn’t seen it and tasted it, no amount of convincing would have told her chowder could be that good, that thick, that melt-in-the-mouth rich.

  She pushed the cup that was closer to the size of a bowl forward, wiped her mouth, and glanced around at the new arrival in the diner.

  The man looked like he had stepped out of a western novel. He wore a long tan oilcloth duster, a matching cowboy hat, and jeans and cowboy boots.

  He took off his hat and then slipped out of his coat. He moved like a well-oiled machine, with no extra movement at all. He hung both the coat and the hat up on a coat tree near the right end of the counter.

  He had shoulders that seemed to be solid muscle and his hips and legs were long and thin. Wow, two stunning men in the same diner at the same time. On the Oregon Coast in the middle of nowhere.

  She was really, really going to need to think about staying here a little while. Maybe grab a night in the old hotel if she could get one of these men to buy her a late drink after dinner.

  She must be getting horny, since she clearly hadn’t had thoughts like this for some time. Too much time on this research trip, more than likely.

  Then the new arrival hunk-of-a-man turned and sat down on the second counter stool from the right.

  Two seats from her.

  He glanced over at her and smiled.

  And their gazes locked and she was lost in those incredible green eyes and wonderful grin.

  That shocked her. He clearly was very smart. And she had an attraction to him that went a lot farther than just a one-night jump in the sack.

  Wow.

  He seemed shocked slightly as well as he stared at her for a few counts too long.

  She didn’t care. She wanted this stranger to keep right on staring. As long as she could catch her breath at some point.

  She couldn’t remember a man having that kind of impact on her before. Never.

  Not at first glance at least.

  Maybe it was the ocean air.

  At t
hat point the large woman came from out of the kitchen carrying a big plate with Kelli’s chicken-fried steak, corn, and roll. It smelled wonderful and Kelli turned and smiled at the woman.

  “Anythin’ else?” the woman asked.

  “I don’t think I could eat even half of this,” Kelli said, laughing and shaking her head at the massive plate full of food in front of her.

  “Save a little room for da pie,” the woman said, smiling and moving down in front of the handsome man.

  “What can I get for you, stranger?”

  So the handsome man was passing through as she was. Interesting.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said, his voice deep and sexy. “That looks amazing?”

  “I’ll let you know in just one bite,” Kelli said.

  Then as the woman and the handsome man watched, she cut a piece of the chicken fried streak that seemed far more tender than it should be, then making sure it had some white gravy on it, she put it in her mouth.

  Warm temperature, pepper taste to the gravy, and an explosion of tastes as she bit into the meat. How was this possible? The best clam chowder and now the best chicken fried steak. She had found heaven.

  It might take her a couple days on the treadmill at home to work this meal off, but she didn’t care. It was worth it.

  She gave a two-thumbs-up sign and both the handsome man and the woman behind the counter laughed.

  Damn, Kelli liked his laugh as well.

  “Drink?” the woman asked.

  “Coffee,” the man said. “Black, and a cup of the chowder.”

  Kelli ate while the handsome man checked his phone for messages, then put it away as the clam chowder was brought to him.

  “The spoon is sticking up in the chowder,” the handsome man said, sounding stunned, “and the chowder is cover in melted butter.”

  “It gets even better when you taste it,” Kelli said, glancing at him.

  And it was right at that moment, right as she was about to take another bite of the chicken fried steak, she knew she was looking at a ghost.

  Holy crap, how was that possible?

  She never forgot a face and a name, especially a handsome one. It was one of her many talents that helped her in her research.

  She glanced at the duster and hat hanging on the coat tree as the handsome ghost worked at the chowder.

  “Excuse me,” she said, trying her best to smile at him. “Can I ask you your name?”

  He nodded, wiped the chowder off his lips, and extended his hand. “My name is Jesse Parks.”

  She shook his hand, could feel the attraction, everything, except she knew somehow she was either looking at a ghost, or a man who had lived a very, very long time.

  Or she had just uncovered an amazing fraud.

  “Kelli Rae,” she said.

  “The writer?” he asked.

  She nodded and let go of his hand, even though she didn’t want to. She wouldn’t have minded holding that hand and other parts of him for some time.

  Then she slid off her stool and pointed to the steak. “Don’t let her take that. I’m far from done. I just need to get my laptop.”

  Jesse Parks looked puzzled, his green eyes suddenly filled with worry.

  She laughed. “Don’t worry. I just have to show you something. You remind me of someone is all.”

  With that she went out the door and to her car and quickly fished out her laptop.

  There had to be a logical explanation for what was happening. He wasn’t really a ghost or a very long-lived man. She knew that wasn’t possible. Maybe he had a family member or something along those lines.

  But this was really the strangest thing she could have ever imagined. She just hoped this didn’t get in the way of jumping that handsome man’s body in a hotel room somewhere around here.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  July 14th, 2016

  Oregon Coast

  JESSE INSTANTLY WORRIED he had done something wrong as Kelli, in her short jean cut-offs and light shirt, went out the door. The state cop sitting in the booth working on a sandwich watched her out the window, just in case she was some sort of nut case who was running on her meal tab.

  Jesse knew that wasn’t the case, since he knew how rich Kelli really was. And taking anything was not in her make-up at all. She investigated historical crimes, not committed any.

  The woman came out of the kitchen and glanced at the back toward the restrooms.

  “She went to get her laptop,” Jesse said. “Warned me to not let you touch that, but it looks so good I’m tempted to sneak a bite.”

  The woman laughed. “Ya got your own coming.”

  At that moment Kelli came back through the door carrying a laptop computer without a case or anything. Jesse knew she had a black case for that, but more than likely had just left it in her car.

  She put the black computer down on the counter between them, opened it up and while it powered up, she took another bite of chicken fried steak.

  After a moment she expertly opened up a file and looked at it, shaking her head.

  Then she looked up at him. “You said you name was Jesse Parks?”

  Jesse nodded. What had she discovered about him.

  “You have family that were here in the Pacific Northwest back around 1908? A great-grandfather or something?”

  He shook his head. “All my family are from the east and Canada. I’m the first one out here. I live in central Idaho.”

  “How central?” she asked, looking up. Her dark eyes were intense and focused.

  “Valley County,” he said. “Near McCall.”

  “I got this picture from the Idaho Historical Society,” she said, indicating a picture on her computer. “I confirmed it to be authentic and from the archives of the photographer who was working in central Idaho mining towns around the turn of the last century.”

  “Okay,” he said, feeling very puzzled.

  “I have a perfect memory for faces and names,” she said. “That’s why you startled me when you introduced yourself.”

  She swung the laptop around so he could see it and slid it toward him, then went back to her steak.

  The picture was captioned “1908 Roosevelt, Idaho.” It showed three men in conversation and a woman with her back turned slightly to the camera looking at something behind the group.

  The photo was black and white and actually fairly clear. The three men were standing on a plank sidewalk and the main street of Roosevelt stretched beyond them.

  Roosevelt looked like most mining towns of that time, with some single-story buildings next to two-story buildings. There were signs on the buildings, but he couldn’t read any of them because of the angle of the photo.

  Clearly the men did not know they were being photographed since the woman was slightly blurry as were the hands of two of the men.

  Jesse was standing on the left of the picture, wearing his duster and cowboy hat.

  Along the bottom of the photo his name was printed there.

  And even more shocking was that beside him were Duster Kendal and Madison Rogers, with their names printed on the bottom of the picture as well. Duster was wearing his long coat and dark cowboy hat. Madison was wearing period clothing.

  Jesse knew Madison because Jesse had done the same kind of research he was doing on Kelli on Madison a few years before.

  Then Jesse looked down the counter at Kelli, at her short black hair, her size, and so on, and then back at the woman in the picture. In the weeks he had been studying Kelli Rae, he had seen photos of her from a hundred different angles.

  The woman with her back slightly to the camera was Kelli, dressed in riding clothes of the period. Of that he had no doubt.

  What the hell was going on?

  The picture had to be a fake, but how or why?

  And who would do something like this?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  July 14th, 2016

  Oregon Coast

  KELLI WORKED AT the fantastic chicken fried ste
ak, but her attention wasn’t on the steak as much as she would have liked. It was on Jesse Parks’ reaction to the photo.

  At first he looked puzzled, then his handsome face turned white.

  Completely white as he stared at the photo. Shocked white was not a good color on his rugged, handsome face.

  Then, as she was taking another bite, he had glanced at her, then back at the photo.

  “This has to be a fake,” Jesse said, pushing the laptop back to her as his plate full of chicken fried steak arrived.

  “Besides the fact that you couldn’t be in 1908, why do you think that?” Kelli asked, smiling and glancing at the picture.

  “Take a close look at the woman in the picture,” he said. “That’s you.”

  Kelli started to open her mouth, then actually looked at the woman half turned in the photo and knew instantly he was right. It was her in period clothes.

  “I know your books,” Jesse said. “Enjoyed them, actually. Someone must be pulling a publicity gag on you. Or trying to discredit your research in some way.”

  “Wow,” Kelli said, staring at the photo. “That is some fine work because I have fifty other pictures of the man beside you in this photo from other times and places throughout the west. That’s part of what made me think this was legit. And the style of the photographer who took it as well.”

  She started to close her laptop, shaking her head that she had made such a boneheaded research mistake when Jesse said, “Hold on, what do you mean you have other images of the other man?”

  “A lot,” she said. “He pops up from about 1880 to 1930 as a marshal in many western towns. He was a real person and his identity is authenticated in numbers of ways. He never got any publicity and has never been investigated. But he was an interesting man, of that there was no doubt.”

  Again the handsome Jesse Parks’ face had gone almost as white as the gravy on the chicken fried steak and he sat there, shaking his head. “Marshal Duster Kendal?” he asked.