A Deadly Shade of Rose Read online

  Miss Bavaria arrived with Marcie’s White Russian and my coffee and asked if we wanted dessert. I said no, and she left a bill on a shiny metal tray, collected the dirty dishes, and headed back to the kitchen. Marcie took a drink.

  I said, “Do you know who did it?”

  “I know who drove the car that killed Carl, or at least I know it was one of three possible men. But they were following orders. The one who gave the order...well, I have a good idea who that might be.”

  “Hold up. Suppose you shift into reverse.”

  “You mean you want background?” She looked amused.

  “Those three men we just missed getting acquainted to this afternoon. Were they the three who killed your Carl?”

  “He wasn’t my Carl,” she snapped, the alcohol getting to her. Someone at the table across the way looked over. Marcie lowered her voice. “And no. I mean no, not completely. Two of them, they might be anyone. The third, the guy in the plaid shirt—”

  “The one with the rifle?”

  She nodded. “That’s right. He was one of the three, but I’m sure the other two with him are capable of murder. They just weren’t the ones.”

  I was a little confused. I think she was too. Her drink of choice was pretty potent, and she was working on the third one. “What about the other two who were involved in Carl’s death.

  “Death is too sanitized a word for it, Granger. Carl was murdered.”

  The fellow at the table glanced over again. Marcie grimaced, her Audrey Hepburn-ish jaw taking a hard set. “I don’t think I should be telling you this.”

  “Probably not. Let’s get out of here before someone pulls up a chair and joins us. There’s at least one pair of ears bent our way. Where is it you said you lived?”

  “Wait a minute.” Her hand came down on my arm and her voice lowered. “There’s too much at stake. I have to be careful. You can understand that, can’t you?” She was trying to sound reasonable, but she was plainly drunk and having trouble pronouncing her words. I believed her. There was something big here at stake, and the bullet that had put a hole in the tailgate of my truck had been very real.

  I said, “I’ll deliver you to whatever address you say. I’ll forget about this morning and everything you’ve told me, which hasn’t been much, and tomorrow I’ll scout out another fishing hole. Preferably one far away from mysterious females running around in the wilderness practically barefooted and pointing rifles at harmless strangers.” I started to stand.

  She put pressure on my arm. “All right. I’ll talk. But youse gots to promise not to tell any-, anyone, person, people.”

  I said, “Should I hold up three fingers and say ‘scout’s honor’?”

  She pushed out her lower lip and giggled. “That’s right out of Saturday morning cartoon shows.”

  “You’re getting corny, Marcie, or drunk.”

  “I prefer to think it’s the liquor. All right. The second of the tree was at the cabin. Don’t knows where turd the man was.”

  “Turd man?” I untangled her sentence and said, “This is getting confusing. Maybe they have names? If you don’t want to tell me that, we can give them each a letter like A, B, and C.”

  “I got names. Firsts, no lasts.. The man in the lumberjack shirt, he’s Alexander. Another, he Jeff. Jeff is a real grade-A asshole creep. Checks his wavy hair ever window mirror he passes. Puts hands place they no belong.” Marcie took another drink.

  “I’m going to have to carry you out of here if you don’t ease off,” I warned.

  She ignored me. “Th-th-third man I see only at a distance. Thin, kinda austere looking. Probably spend his childhood looking at insects through a magnifying glass. Raymond him…err…his name.”

  “Interesting collection,” I said. “What about Carl. If he wasn’t your Carl, who was he?”

  “We were friends...close friends.” She lowered her head slightly and peered up at me in a meaningful way.

  “I see. You were close, but not close enough to claim possession.”

  Marcie looked at the drink on the table, in her hand. “He had a wife.”

  “One of those complicated triangles,” I said.

  “Complicated. Yes, I guess you could call it that. Anyway, his wife is not a part of this.”

  “Except to the extent that she is now a widow.”

  Marcie winced.

  I said, “There was another name. Cockran.” I sipped my coffee.

  Marcie shivered. “What can I tell you about Cockran,” she said, making it a statement not a question. “Earlier I say didn’t know who give…gave the order to kill Carl but suspected who did it. Sten Cockran, he gives the orders. What I don't know is who Cockran takes his orders from.”

  “Cockran is only a link in a chain?”

  “Everyone a chain in a link, got someone over them,” she said unhappily. “He take him orders and like it, or he ends up in a cold hole. Simple that.”

  “Sounds like the company he works for has a pretty good solution to any underfunded retirement program they might have.”

  Miss Bavaria swept by and collected the metal tray with my cash.

  “How do you know these people?” I asked when we were alone again.

  “Work. Sort of. I knows Carl from work, and Cockran too. Him three goons I only see oc…occ…occasionally, lapping their master heels.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a fun place of employment.”

  She sighed. “Honestly, I had no idea what I was get into when I take job at STE. Space Technologies Electronics,” she explained. “In hindsight, I should stayed at that frumpy real estate office with its frumpy gray-suits-and-ties salesmen. It might have been boring work but at least when someone died, it was from natural causes. And they didn’t wear suits with bulges under their arms either.”

  A thought nudged my brain and I peered past Marcie trying to remember what it was. “What?” she asked frowning. “Haven’t you seen a woman ever drown her sorrows in booze?”

  “I’m trying to remember.”

  “What? The last time you see a drunk?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be trying to remember it.” I grinned. “Space Technologies Electronics...Something in the papers recently, or maybe on TV?”

  Marcie laughed drunkenly. “You mean that circus with all those peace freaks marching with their self-righteous signs. A regular three-ringer. Even our illustrious state senator took to the soapbox next to that loudmouth Baptist minister. Those pulpit thumpers cryin’ for peace at all costs turn my stomach.”

  My thoughts were elsewhere as she called down fire on the whole peace movement, damning the Soviet Union and Gorbachev. When she came up for air, I said calmly, “Something about nuclear warheads and a government contract to build them.” I noticed that the table across the way was empty, and that was a good thing as Marcie’s words had gotten heated.

  “Not whole warhead, Ga-Granger” she said impatiently. “Just the electronic detonator. Been redesigned, more sopohisticated, more sensivative, and STE developed them. The government give STE contract to manufacture the RD-35s to retrofit the ICBM arsenal. That’s why those peaceniks swarmed the parking lot like ants at a picnic.”

  “Interesting.”

  “That’s an understatement. These people didn’t organize all on their own. You…you realize how much money involve here, Granger? Special interest groups have their fingerprints all over the demonstrations.” Her view narrowed suddenly. “You aren’t a peacenik, are you?” The topic seemed to have sobered her.

  I wasn’t sure what Marcie’s definition of Peacenik was, however, I did understand what war was. It was no fun, and something I wanted nothing to do with. I said, “There are lots of ways to die, Miss Rose, few of them good, especially on a battlefield. These days I try to remain neutral where religion, politics, and national defense are concerned.”

  “That’s a cop-out.”

  Miss Bavaria arrived with a tray full of change, two candy mints, and a Thank You, Dora scribbled on the
receipt. Dora invited us to come back soon and drifted off across the empty restaurant floor.

  “Shall we continue this discussion in the truck?”

  “Cutting me off already?” Marcie guzzled the rest of her drink. “I better run to the lady’s room again if I’m going to spend another hour bouncing around in that old truck of yours.” She attempted to set her glass back on the table, missed and hit the edge of the metal tray. The coins flew out, wobbled across the table, and thumped onto the carpet.

  “Damn, Granger, I think I’m tipsy.” She looked around the room, embarrassed. Fortunately, we were alone. Marcie got down and began gathering the coins. I helped. “This is all I can find,” she said dumping two pennies and a nickel onto the tray.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, “sure you can make it the little girls’ room on your own?”

  “You offering to hold my hand?” Her brows arched questioningly. “I’m a big girl. I won’t fall in.” She stood unsteadily and steered a zigzagging path through the tables toward the hall, and the restrooms around the corner. I watched her reflection in the tall window. Once out of sight her manner of walking improved dramatically. She passed the door with the skirted stick figure...and out of the range of the window’s reflection.

  She staggered back into the eating area two minutes later, swaying a bit. She gripped the back of her chair to steady herself. “Ready.”

  “Feel better?”

  “Should be good for the trip home.” She gave a lopsided smile.

  “Let’s get going then.” I took her arm in a show of concern and aimed her toward the door. As we made our way outside, I glanced over toward the restrooms and the pay phone on the wall there. Its long, coiled cord was still gently turning ever decreasing circles.

  Chapter Five

  My breath hung in the cold air as I zipped my coat, took Marcie’s arm, and started for the truck. All at once Marcie stiffened and held back. Even half drunk, she was alert—more so than me and I was sober.

  “What?” I asked, glancing around the dark parking lot.

  Her reply was a whisper. “Someone in the shadows, other side of your truck,” and then she added loudly, “Damn! I left my lighter on the table. I’ll be right back,” she spun on her heels and dashed back into the restaurant.

  Whatever she’d seen, I’d missed it. Maybe it was only a mountain ghost from the past? Marcie was already halfway across the eating area by time I caught up with her and grabbed her arm. She turned on me, rattlesnake quick, a wild look in her eyes.

  “What?” I asked again.

  “You didn’t see him?” Neither one of us cared who heard us.

  “See who?”

  “You weren’t looking, Granger. There’s got to be a back door to this place.” Marcie yanked her arm from my grasp and pushed through a swinging door into brightly lit kitchen.

  A rotund cook in a dingy apron looked up from a grill he’d been scrubbing. “Hey, you can’t come in here.”

  “Where’s the back door,” she demanded, cutting him short.

  “I told you. You can-”

  The revolver suddenly in Marcie’s hand caused the man to gulp back his words. “The door!”

  “O-o-over there, lady.” A plump finger pointed down a dim hallway.

  “I grimaced, gave the man an apologetic grin and followed Marcie. She paused at the door and gave me a worried glance. She cracked the door and peered outside.

  “Don’t see them here,” she whispered, clear relief in her voice.

  I said, “Did you really see something out in the parking lot?”

  Her view narrowed angrily. “I’m not that drunk, Granger. I didn’t imagine at least two pairs of feet by the back corner of the truck.”

  “If you’re right, what are you planning to do about it?” I’m not sure I wanted to hear the answer to that, but I was too involved to back out now.

  “Get far away from here.”

  That didn’t sound like much of a plan. “On foot? It’s cold out there.”

  “You don’t like it, go back to your truck and see for yourself. Let them work you over for a couple hours. See how you like it.”

  I ignored the anger. “They’ll be getting suspicious about now. It doesn’t take five minutes to retrieve a lighter.” I looked out the door, along the dark backside of the building, then took her wrist and hauled her after me. I sensed she didn’t approve of the sudden change in command, but she was smart enough to know this was not the time or place to argue the point.

  It was darker back here, with a few scattered lights from Woodland Park showing through the trees. We made for those lights.

  A husky voice from beyond the corner of the building shouted, “There they are!”

  Two black silhouettes appeared in the glow of the parking lot lights. I tugged Marcie toward a dark stand of trees. They closed behind us as we plunged through the forest, seeing our way by the faint moonlight pushing through the treetops. We stumbled over unseen rocks, caught our feet on deadfall branches, making our way deeper into the woods.

  I had no sense of how far we’d gone. Crashing around in the dark distorts time and distance. What felt like a quarter mile might easily be only a few hundred yards. But at least we were on equal terms with the two men somewhere behind us; they couldn’t see any better than we could.

  I stopped abruptly and went to my haunches, pulling Marcie down low with me. She was breathing hard. I was too.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Quiet,” I whispered, straining to hear past the pounding of blood in my ears.

  “They’re still out there,” she whispered. “I hear them talking back and forth.”

  “Yeah. I hear them too.” I looked at her. “Someone must want you pretty bad.”

  “It’s us now, Granger. Someone wants us pretty bad,” she whispered.

  I gave a wry smile, which I don’t think she could see. “How did a harmless fishing trip turn into a cat and mouse game like this?”

  “I know how these people think. If they catch up with us now it won’t be a simple drive to an isolated mountain cabin and not-so-friendly questions and answers. It will be the big send off this time.” She pointed a finger on her head and snapped her thumb down in a meaningful way. “Tomorrow or the next someone will find two frozen bodies.”

  “Maybe.” My thoughts were somewhere else, somewhere a lot warmer and just as dangerous. That once-familiar tightness filled my chest again, sharpened my senses, focused my thoughts.

  The revolver was back in Marcie’s hand.

  I said softly, “There’s two of ‘em out there somewhere. You shoot at one, you better get both or you’ll give away your position.”

  “Okay. We take them out quietly, one by one.” A bit of sarcasm came to her voice. “You wouldn’t happen to have a big knife handy.”

  I glanced at her. “You’re a bloodthirsty woman, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a pragmatist. The fact is, we can’t spend all night playing hide and seek.”

  “I don’t intend to. Ever do any night hunting?”

  “It’s illegal,” she reminded me.

  “Geeze lady, you sure you’re not a cop?”

  She glared at me.

  I said, “Stay close and try not to make like a herd of buffalo...well, bison if you want to get technical.”

  “Spare me the biology lesson, Professor Granger. What’s the plan?”

  “Let see if we can create a diversion, to get a bead on their location, and then work our way up behind them.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I did too. They were getting closer, their soft back and forth talk clearer now. They weren’t trying to be sneaky.

  “See anything?”

  “Naw, they’re gone...or gone to ground.”

  Twigs snapped.

  “Keep looking.”

  It’s cold out here.”

  Working out a rough triangulation on their voices, I leaned to Marcie’s ear and whisper
ed, “You get to be the rabbit.”

  “Thanks. Which way does this bunny run?”

  I pointed. “As fast as you can without tripping or crashing into a tree. Keep low. When a person shoots blindly, they tend to aim high. Hopefully you won’t give them anything more solid to shoot at than some sound.”

  “Hopefully?” I heard a genuine lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

  The crunch of their footsteps was drawing nearer, an occasional word between them sketching their location pretty clearly in my brain. I felt the ground and found a stone that fit nicely in my hand. “When I give the word,” I whispered.

  A rock was a pretty poor match for a gun, but it was quiet, and didn’t give off a muzzle flash.

  “Ready?”

  Marcie nodded.

  Nearby shapeless shadows moved.

  “Ready...ready...ready...” I whispered as a sort of mental pacing. Marcie picked up on it. I was aware of her tensing.

  One of the shadows took on form.

  “Now.”

  Marcie sprung to the left. I moved right at the same instant and glimpsed her vague shape darting away, hunched over. A gunshot rang out and a bright orange muzzle flash pinpointed the shooter. He fired again. The blast covered the sound of my leap. I came up behind him and swung the rock into his skull. He went down hard and stayed down.

  Only in movies does the good guy clobber the bad guy, and then runs off without availing himself to the bad guy’s gun. In this case it was a compact automatic with checkered grips. That was about all I could determine in the dark. I guessed it to be a nine-millimeter, or .380. That’s the usual caliber for automatics of this diminutive size. I’d already determined it was larger than a .22 from the muzzle blast.

  “Walt! Walt!” A rising note of concern marked the second man’s voice as he crashed toward us in the dark. His heavy form took shape, drew to a halt, and bent over near enough for me to hear labored breathing. Running plainly was not an activity he did often.

  He straightened. “Walt, where are you?” He swung about, waving a pistol carelessly as he came forward again. Something moved in the dark, close by. He saw it and wheeled about. “Walt?”

  Something like an explosion of arms and legs burst from the shadows. What followed in the next three or four seconds happened so fast that by the time it took me to realize I wasn’t watching a Bruce Lee movie being acted out here in a cold Colorado forest, it was all over.