Cowboy Alibi. Paula Graves
want to let my friend Doris at the diner know I’m okay.” She buckled her seat belt and looked across at him. “She’ll know about Angie by now, and she’ll probably be worried about me.”
There was a hint of wonder in her voice, as if she was surprised to know someone cared about what happened to her. He recognized the look. He’d seen it on her face when he first met her almost two years ago, as she told him about the way Tommy had taken her in, no questions asked, when she showed up on his doorstep needing help.
Tommy should’ve asked questions.
They all should’ve.
He started the truck and gave a brief nod. “The River Lodge Diner it is.”
“OH, JANIE!” Doris Bradley engulfed her in a bear hug as soon as Jane entered the diner, drawing the curious gazes of the handful of customers who’d opted for the diner’s home cooking rather than the lodge restaurant’s more cosmopolitan fare. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. “I’ve been worried sick about you ever since we heard the news about Angie.”
“I’m okay, Doris,” Jane assured her. “But I’m not going to be able to work for a while. Boyd’s going to have to find two new waitresses, I’m afraid.”
“You can’t work? Why not?” Doris stepped back, holding Jane by the shoulders. She looked her up and down. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, I’m fine!” Jane glanced at Joe, who stood a few paces away, watching her with hard gray eyes. She’d asked him not to tell anyone at the diner about her involvement in the case, and he’d agreed, but she didn’t know if she could really trust him to keep his word.
He’d lied to her more than once already, however good his reasons might have been.
“Is Boyd here?” she asked Doris. “I guess I should really tell him myself.”
“Sorry, hon. Boyd hasn’t been here all afternoon. He got a call from his sister a little after one.” Doris lowered her voice to a half whisper. “I think maybe she’s having another one of her episodes. You know he doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“I guess I’ll just have to drop by tomorrow sometime. I’ll need to pick up my last paycheck anyway.” She gave Doris another hug and turned to look at Joe again.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
She felt Doris’s curious gaze on her, but she didn’t stop to explain. She could hardly tell her co-worker that she was basically under house arrest at the Buena Vista Hotel under the watchful eye of Cowboy Joe. Word about her situation would get around soon enough as it was.
“Episodes?” Joe asked as they headed away from the diner toward the Buena Vista.
“What?”
“Your boss’s sister has episodes?”
“Oh. She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. She does well when she stays on her medication, but she doesn’t always stay on it. Boyd’s all she has in the world, and as big a jerk as he can be, he works himself to the ground to help her have some sort of normal life. So when she calls—”
“He goes running,” Joe finished for her.
She glanced at his profile, outlined by the yellow glow of streetlamps lining Main Street. “Family, I guess.”
He cut his eyes her way. “Family,” he agreed.
The well-lit facade of the Buena Vista Hotel shimmered against the dark blue backdrop of the Sawtooth Mountains as Joe pulled the truck into the guest parking lot. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look at her. “I know I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. About your memory or about what happened a year ago or six hours ago.”
“No! Really?”
“But I don’t believe you were the one who killed Angela Carlyle. The evidence argues against it.”
She felt a ripple of relief. “So you believe me about the man?”
“I believe a man killed your roommate. Who or what he is to you is still a question.”
“For me, too.”
He shot her a sidelong look. “My point is, the man is still at large, and if you’re the only witness to his murder of your friend, he might want to shut you up.”
She tamped down a shudder. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you need a reminder. I know firsthand that you have a tendency to run.”
She opened her car door and stepped out, turning to look at him through the open door. “I’m not stupid. I know I’m not safe out there on my own. That’s why I agreed to this setup.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page.”
She closed the door a little harder than necessary. “We’ll never be on the same page, cowboy,” she muttered.
She followed him into the hotel and waited impatiently while he picked up the key to her room from the desk clerk. “You’re in room 223. It’s an adjoining room to mine.”
“Adjoining?”
“You know, there’s a connecting door between our rooms?”
“I know what adjoining means.” She frowned at him as they entered the elevator. “I just wondered why.”
“Easy access,” he answered cryptically.
“I’m surprised you didn’t request that Chief Trent just put me in your room with you. Maybe supply you with a set of handcuffs to chain me to the bed or something.”
“I did. He nixed it. But I have my own set of cuffs if you’re interested.”
She looked up sharply, surprised at the hint of humor she heard in his deep, gravelly voice. “My God, that was a joke, wasn’t it? Cowboy Joe just told a joke.”
The half smile quirking his lips faded and his gray eyes darkened. “Don’t get used to it.”
She sighed as the elevator lurched and settled on the second floor. The door swished open and she started to step out, but Joe swung his arm out, stopping her.
“Let me check it out first.” Holding the doors open with one hand, he stuck his head out of the elevator and looked both ways. “Okay, let’s go.”
She followed him into the deserted hallway, remembering her earlier visit to his hotel room. What would Joe say if he knew she’d been here already, conned her way inside his room and gone through his things? Check that. She had a feeling she already knew what he’d say.
Joe stopped in front of room 223 and swiped the card key in the lock, opening the door. Jane took a step inside ahead of him and stopped dead in her tracks.
Behind her, Joe uttered a low profanity.
Spread across the bed, in the unmistakable shape of a body, lay hundreds of blood-red rose petals.
Chapter Four
Trinity Police Chief Hank Trent took one look at the rose-strewn hotel bed and uttered a scalding string of epithets.
“We can’t stay here,” Joe said when he was done.
“I’ll find you another hotel.”
“We can’t stay here in Trinity,” Joe said firmly.
“You expect me to just let you waltz out of town with my only eyewitness to a murder?”
Joe glanced at the Jane. She stood a few feet away, her gaze still fixed on the rose-petal effigy posed like a crimson corpse on the pale bedspread. She had said almost nothing since they’d opened the hotel room door, but her distress was evident in her pale face and wide, haunted