Triple Threat

stabbed to death. We think the killer was surprised. He started to drag him to one of the caves nearby, but somebody showed up nearby and he fled That tells us there was a witness. Either of you happen to see anyone around there then? Parked vehicles? Hikers, fishermen? Anything out of the ordinary?”
    Hannah shook her head.
    Pellam thought back. “This was in the Devil’s Playground?”
    “South of there. The victim was looking over some land he was thinking of buying.”
    “Where that spur to the interstate’s gonna go?” This was from Rudy, who’d wandered up, doing more grease rearranging. He nodded a greeting to his brother-in-law.
    “That’s the place, yeah,” the trooper offered. Werther said he didn’t know.
    “Well, that’s what I heard. Connecting Fourteen to I-Fifty-two.”
    Ah, the infamous State Route 14. He looked at Hannah Billings again. Her cool eyes and grim mouth didn’t make her any less attractive. He’d never see her again after today, of course, but he wondered just how married was she? Women like that, that was a natural question. It asked itself.
    Hannah said, “I wasn’t in the park. I had a flat about a half mile south. It was near a café.”
    “Duncan Schaeffer’s place.”
    She looked at the mechanic with a gaze that said, And why the hell would I know who owns it?
    The trooper said, “And the fellow who helped you with the flat? The hitchhiker? He might’ve seen more, since he was on foot.”
    “Could be,” she offered.
    “Where is he now?”
    “He was downtown. He’s supposed to meet me. Should’ve been here by now, I’d think.”
    The trooper took down their information and said he’d get an update while he waited until Taylor Duke returned. With ramrod-straight posture, he returned to his car, sat down, and began to type onto his computer. Sheriff Werther finished a conversation with Rudy, who headed back to the shop. The sheriff started up the cruiser and headed off.
    Pellam spotted a convenience store fifty yards up the dusty road. He could get a frozen dinner to nuke and curl up with a whiskey and a map of southeastern Colorado to find a shooting location for
Paradice.
He’d get something, but he was pissed he’d been denied Devil’s Playground. It was perfect.
    Stepping away, Hannah lit another cigarette, having some trouble getting the tobacco lit in the stream of wind. He caught a glimpse of her pale eyes, her dark eyebrows, jeans tight as paint, as the flame flared. She snapped the lighter shut—a silver one, not disposable.
    Madam, I’m Adam…
    She ambled in his direction, as a fierce gust of wind pushed her starboard a few inches. As she closed in, she hung up. “Don’t get married,” she muttered. “Ever.”
    This intelligence about Ed was interesting. So was what she said next. “We go inside?” A nod at the camper.
    But when he responded, “You bet we can,” he wasn’t flirting. The damn wind had chilled him to bone.
    # # #
    Once they were in the confined space, Pellam noted immediately that they both smelled of service station—a sweet and ultimately unpleasant astringent smell, courtesy of Rudy and Gurney Auto Service, We Fix All Makes and Models, Foriegn too!! Dump your Oil HERE.
    Hannah noticed this as well and smelled her leather sleeve. “Jesus.” She settled into the bench seat behind the tiny kitchenette table. “Kind of homey.”
    “I like it.”
    Eyeing her beautiful face, to gauge if she was bored by his narrative, he told her about life on the road, what appealed to him. She did seem more or less interested. She rose, went to the cupboard. “Vodka?”
    “Whiskey.”
    “Headache.” She seemed to pout.
    Pellam was amused. Hurrying off into the windy afternoon to buy her vodka was just the sort of thing that the straight guy, the innocent, the mark would do for a femme fatale in a noir movie like
Paradice
. And it was generally a bad decision on all fronts.
    Hannah looked him over carefully once more and then sat down on the bed, rather than the banquette. Her head dipped, her eyes locked onto his.
    He asked, “Grey Goose or Belvedere?”
    # # #
    Ten minutes later he’d shelled out big bucks for the premium and bought himself an extra fifth of Knob Creek, just to be safe. Two Stouffer’s frozen lasagnas too. They were both for him. He didn’t think Hannah would stay around for dinner.
    Don’t get married. Ever.
    At first he’d thought that was a warning, not an invitation. But seeing her on the bed he