The Private Eye Tavern was boringly quiet this October afternoon, which was normal for a Tuesday. Each of the three customers spread out at the bar nursing their drinks and food. Most of my employees leaned against the bar or sat with little to do. Watching one of the many televisions or reading a book to kill time before the inevitable after work rush came streaming through the doors. Paying customers to fill their stomachs and leave the stress of their workday behind.
I sat at a back corner booth reading over the inventory numbers on my notebook computer, while I waited for a visitor I’d not seen in several years. Our first meeting had taken place at a Starbucks. The man being the father of my former girlfriend, Melissa. Back then Jonas hired me for the case of a lifetime, despite his dislike of me for emotionally hurting his daughter. The déjà vu of this moment one I couldn’t ignore, even with the different meeting venue.
It had been about three weeks since I had heard the words come out of the mouth of FBI Special Agent Catalina Alegre about the brutal death of Christina Bowles. A death I didn’t grieve over, for I knew the woman was a monster who had used her brother and nephew to murder those she wanted removed from this world. The fact that she had made a deal to save her life and testify for the prosecution against Simon Lions Junior was one I had a hard time coming to terms with. The case against the man labeled The Front Range Butcher, one not requiring Christina to roll over on her nephew. My iron clad graphic testimony would be enough to put the needle in the man’s arm and end the horror once and for all. But since the killings had started again, it was hard to understand what was going on. It appeared to me The Front Range Butcher reincarnated had taken on a life of its own. The horror seemingly would never end.
I tired of looking at numbers and closed the computer. I thought about that night and how I imagined it might end. Catalina there to see me, the hopes of maybe a small romantic spark between us. The chance for two recently single people to get to know each other. All dashed when the call lit up her phone. The FBI Special Agent was now heavily involved in the latest murder, as I hadn’t heard from her since. Calls I’d made to her had gone unanswered. Messages I left were not returned. A task force likely assembled of those involved with the previous Butcher murders, with hopes of tracking down this new killer, which required all her attention and time. A murder I was happy to remain ignorant about. I had enough memories of the brutal killings to carry me to my grave. Memories I’d have to relive on the witness stand in the coming weeks when the trial was finally presented before a judge and jury after many delays.
Jonas Diaz walked through the front door. I stood and waved him over and shook hands with him. The man now in his early sixties, with less hair. What hair remained, nearly all gray. He was dressed casually in a dark blue, long-sleeved cotton shirt and black slacks. He carried a brown leather briefcase which he placed on the table before he sat down. His skin was dark from a seasonal tan, with many age lines born from his time on this earth.
“Good to see you Jarvis,” Jonas said.
“I was surprised when you called.” I sat across from him at the booth. “I hadn’t heard from you in a couple of years.”
“I’ve been busy in retirement. Or at least sort of retirement. I’ve been working on a project.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever retire.”
“Me, neither. The newspaper industry isn’t the same these days. Physical papers are nearly extinct. Most everything is digital and on the web. I hate it because it’s mostly reactionary click bait designed to enflame people.”
I couldn’t disagree. Clicks were where the money was these days. And misleading, attention-grabbing headlines brought clicks to pay the bills. Which I did my best not to fall for. Whether it be websites or social media, misleading information spread like wildfire.
“I do my best not to read most of the crap out there. The Dan Rather days of news is likely gone for good, which is a shame.” I stopped and held out my hand. “Where are my manners. Would you like something to eat or drink? We have the best chicken tenders and boneless wings in town. On the house of course.”
“I wouldn’t say no to some wings with hot sauce and a cup of coffee. Though I’d like a shot of whiskey to add a little bite to the java.”
I wanted to tell him our coffee already had a bite to it, though not in the same manner whiskey would infuse. I nodded, stood, and poured him a cup at the bar, added a splash of whiskey, and brought it back with some cream and sugar. Before returning to my seat, I put in an order for chicken wings.
Jonas took a sip and groaned. “Damn, I’m glad I had you add the whiskey.”
I smiled. “I was going to warn you, but…” I held up my hands in surrender and changed the subject. “What is the project you’re working on?”
Jonas took another sip. “I should have asked for two shots of whiskey.” He opened his briefcase. He removed a stack of papers and tossed them in front of me. “The beginnings of my book.”
I grabbed the paper and turned it so I could read the title aloud. “‘Murder by a Hundred Cuts: The Story of the Front Range Butcher.’ Catchy title. Isn’t the saying by a thousand cuts?”
“I didn’t want to use the cliché and have the title be unique for the search engines. I think a hundred is more along the lines of how many it took for Simon and son to kill their victims.”
I flipped through the pages. “Is there a chapter in here on me?”
“Only partially. It’s why I’m here.”
I grimaced as if in pain. I wasn’t certain I liked the idea of my name being in the book.
“I understand your reaction and concern. Don’t worry, I’m changing the names of all involved. Other than Simon Senior and Junior. Their names are public knowledge.”
“As is mine, if people look hard enough. Not that I didn’t do my damnedest to keep it off the public record. I’m sure Melissa tried as well.”
“Hard to do when you’re both witnesses.”
“Will Melissa be in the book?”
“Yes…to some degree. I struggled with that, but figured the two of you being held by Junior couldn’t be ignored. And my agent and publisher insisted. Her name will be different too.”
I had a few suggestions, though decided I’d keep them to myself. It was his job to name his daughter at birth and on the pages of the book. Though I might whisper in his ear a couple of alternate names for me. Axel, Blaze, or Thor would sound cool and tough.
“Then what do you have here?” I tapped my finger on the pages.
“Several early chapters on Simon Senior and my interactions with him. It has taken a while with all this COVID crap. I’m a little behind schedule. The publishers gave me a nice advance and wanted it out before the trial. With the trial coming up, they want me to include it in the book. I’m thinking it might end up being a second book, since it might be too long otherwise. But time will tell.”
It seemed to me like a second book, titled ‘The Trial of The Front Range Butcher’ would also have a nice ring to it. Both are likely to be bestsellers with the world being fascinated with serial killers. A notion which I wasn’t certain was a good thing.
“Won’t it be a conflict if you’re called to testify?”
“It is, which is another reason why they’re waiting. My publisher’s lawyers are nervous about lawsuits from Junior, if for some reason he is found innocent.”
“Surely there is no way that will happen.”
My cook, Gus, brought out the chicken wings lathered in sauce and a pile of extra napkins.
“This is my head chef, Gus,” I said. “Best damn chicken you’ll ever eat.”
Gus shook his hand before heading back to the kitchen.
“Smells wonderful.” Jonas grabbed one and took a bite. “Damn, that is good. Tender chicken with the right amount of spice. I hope you pay him well. Someone will grab him up in a heartbeat if everything else he cooks is this good.”
This was true and why he was one of my highest paid employees. Not to mention I provided him with the ideal schedule that worked well for him and his family. Probably took home more than I did since profits had been marginal these last couple of years.
Jonas finished the first wing and grabbed a napkin. “Damn hard not to get sauce all over your face and hands. This outpaces the coffee by a mile.” He cleaned off his hands and mouth. “Back to your question. It’s hard to believe Junior could get away with these murders. But one can never be certain. And now that Christina is out of the way, there is one less witness against him.”
Even though the FBI had done their best to keep the news of Christina’s murder from the front headlines, it wasn’t surprising Jonas had heard. His contacts would have kept him informed as a courtesy.
“I’m sure they have a deposition from her they can use.”
“His new lawyer will work hard to get it thrown out. Find a legal angle to twist and use.”
I wasn’t sure Jonas knew I had a hand in the lawyer change when I got Torey Whitelaw disbarred for sexual harassment. The new legal counsel one I didn’t know, though I’d heard she was a tough female defense lawyer who didn’t often lose.
“Let’s hope not. But still, my testimony and Melissa’s should be enough. Add in the midwife, Abigail Hellmann, and the evidence found at the scene where he held Melissa and I, there should be more than enough to convict. How does Melissa feel about the upcoming trial? Have you two talked about it?”
“She was over for dinner this past weekend and we talked some. Though my wife shushed us about discussing it during the meal.”
“Nice of her to drive up from Colorado Springs to see you.”
Jonas’ eyebrows raised. “I guess you didn’t know. She moved back to the Denver area over a year ago.”
I was surprised to hear this. Though the two of us hadn’t talked for some time now. “Really. Did she get a new job?”
“No. The law firm decided to open a small practice down in Lone Tree. She is one of the junior partners now.”
This was good news. I always wanted the best for Melissa, even if we couldn’t be together anymore. I would think about giving her a call. Though I wouldn’t mention it to Jonas. When it came to his daughter, he didn’t think much of me as a boyfriend.
“Wonderful. I’m sure she is kicking butt in the legal world.”
Jonas nodded and took another wing. Though this time he used a fork, which made it less messy. He swallowed and followed it with a small sip from his cup.
“I doubt I can eat all of these.” He pushed the basket in my direction. “You should have a couple.”
I waved him off and patted my belly. “I already had lunch. And I prefer the sweet sauce.”
“Your loss.” Jonas stabbed another smaller wing and ate it whole. “If you have time now, I’d like to start talking with you about the investigation I hired you for. Get into the meat of the details of what happened when Junior held you and Melissa hostage.”
“You already know most of it,” I said.
He reached into the bag again and pulled out another round of paper and tossed it at me. “You’re right, but I like to make sure I’m accurate. It has been over three years since I hired you.” He tapped his temple. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. Read through this and let me know what you think and if I need to correct anything.”
I took the papers. It was quite a few pages, which would take a while to read. “I may need a little time. Can you give me several days to go through it and make a few notes? Then we can talk.”
“Absolutely. Call me when you’re ready and we’ll set up a time.” He went into his bag again and pulled out a card. “Here is my new cell number. I had to dump the other one. I was getting too many calls, including crackpots. Please don’t share it.”
I tucked the card in my pants pocket. “No problem. I’ve had to change mine a few times through the years.”
Jonas picked up the fork, glared at the boneless wings, then sat the fork down. “I think I’ll take the rest to go. If I have any more, I won’t be hungry for dinner. Leigh Ann will give me grief.”
I got a to-go container, dumped the remaining wings inside.
Jonas took the larger pile of papers and put them back in his briefcase, stood, and put out his hand. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
I shook his hand, hiding my grimace at his vise-like grip. “Like I said, give me time to go through it thoroughly. I’m interested in reading what you wrote.”
With his food and briefcase in hand Jonas walked to the door. “I’m sure Melissa would enjoy hearing from you. Give her a call.”
I was surprised to hear him say this. “Really? I suspected you’d be telling me to steer clear of her after what happened in our past relationship.”
“True. But you did save her life from The Butcher, so I know you have nothing but the best intentions for her.” He walked back over and put a hand on my shoulder. “But if you screw over Melissa again, I’ll punch your lights out.”
I smiled at the threat, though I knew it was real. “I’d expect nothing less.”
The feeling of déjà vu had returned.