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Alternate Dwight Story Chapter Eight

He signed in and took a seat. There were several people there from the reunion. As he looked around, just about everyone waiting had the reunion tag on. He turned to the person behind him. He didn’t know them. “Hi, I’m Dwight. You know what’s going on?”

“Hey.” The man held out his hand to shake. “Pete Vertucci. There was a murder.”

“Really?” Dwight thought, so Brandon was telling the truth.

“Yeah. It’s all over the hotel. Some woman found a body in the gym at seven this morning. It’s a thing, man.”

“No kidding. You know who the dead person is?”

“Nah, man. No one’s said.”

“Wow.” Dwight took a deep breath. But somehow Brandon knew. “That sucks.”

“Sure does.” Pete went back to his phone

Dwight turned back around. A sinking feeling hit his stomach. It wasn’t Jean, dead, was it?” He fretted the whole time he sat there. Maybe Brandon got the deceased’s name wrong. Soon Pete’s name was called. He went behind some screens at the back of the room and was out just a couple minutes later. Eventually Dwight was called.

“Hello. Take a seat.” The woman in a dark blue suit motioned him to a chair on the other side of the table from her. “I’m Detective Andrea Voberg. This,” she indicated the rumpled looking guy beside her, “is my partner, Detective Tyler Blackstone. Have you heard anything about a murder?”

“Yeah. Out in the lobby a friend of mine said a body in the gym. Who was it?”

“I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to say,” Voberg answered.

“Your last name is Hays?” Detective Blackstone asked.

“Yes. Dwight Hays.”

Detective Voberg’s eyebrow rose. “Any relation to Jean Hays?”

Dwight’s heart started pounding. “Is she the body?”

“Is she related?”

Dwight rubbed his eyes. “Yes. Well, no. She’s my ex-wife. Is she all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Hays. She’s fine. She found the body.”

Dwight breathed a sigh of relief. Brandon was telling the truth. “We just met for the first time in years last night. I was hoping we’d get over the anger.”

“So, you weren’t in the gym between eleven last night and seven this morning?” Blackstone asked.

“No.” Dwight shook his head. “I, uh, over-indulged last night. Left the lounge just after eleven and went straight to bed.” He didn’t think they needed to know about the puking. “I didn’t get up till nine. Was in the buffet at ten, then went out to the strip to sightsee. I spent the afternoon in the lobby.”

Voberg nodded as she jotted notes. “And do you know many of the people here at the reunion?”

“Some.” Dwight shrugged. “Not everyone.”

“Ever hear of Justin Romero?”

“Yes, he was in Afghanistan when we were. We being Jean and I. Worked in Supply. I dealt with him when ordering materiel for projects.” Dwight nodded. “So it was Justin.” He sighed and sat back in the chair. “A friend of mine told me out in the lobby.”

“Did you talk to Justin last night?”

“Um, yeah, just to say hi. I’m looking for a new job and was trying to reach out to everyone already out.”

“Out of the military?”

“Yeah. You know. Networking.”

“You know anyone that had a grudge against Mr. Romero?”

Dwight shook his head. “No. I just talked to him for the first time in years last night.”

“When are you leaving Las Vegas, Mr. Hays?” Voberg asked.

“Monday morning. I fly back to Massachusetts.”

“We have your contact information, Mr. Hays.” Blackstone stood up and shook hands.

“Thank you.”

Dwight was ushered out of the screened area by a uniformed police officer and walked out of the room in a daze. He found himself at the sports bar and ordered a Crown Royal. As he watched the screens of horse racing, baseball, and soccer, he circled the squat glass around and around in the moisture under the glass. What happened? How did Justin die, the cops didn’t give up anything. And Jean is involved? How did that happen? He was going to have to talk to her again. Justin. Damn. He drank his Crown Royal and ordered another. Thinking of his rough night, he asked for water as well.

Yes. He was definitely going to have to talk to Jean.

#

The evening’s planned entertainment was a dinner theater. Dwight thought the variety show concept a little dated, but the comedian was funny, and the magician had some good card tricks. The food was uninspiring, but it filled his stomach. He’d been hungry, especially since he’d skipped lunch.

He spotted Jean at a table on the other side of the room with Kiko, Brandon, Fletcher and Damon. Soren joined them later, missing the supper entirely. I wonder where he’s been all day? Dwight made sure that every other drink was water. He didn’t want a repeat of this morning. It made his stomach happier and his wallet fuller. Nothing wrong with that.

Dwight made his acquaintance with the others at the table. There were a couple of good job leads. No, he’d told them. He didn’t mind moving at all. Boston winters could be brutal. That got a chuckle from everyone and then the horrible winter stories began. He let them go around the table talking about each one’s worst winter while he pondered the acquisition of ten thousand dollars. Would a bank make a loan? He didn’t think so. They usually wanted to know why you needed the cash. He didn’t think paying off a bookie would qualify him.

When the show was over, Jean rose. It looked like many of the ones at her table were going with her. He needed to get her alone to talk. He followed them into the Starlight lounge. She settled at a table with Kiko and Stephanie, then Brandon followed and joined them. Dwight shook his head as the band started back up. How was he supposed to get near her?

He waited until the set ended, planning to go get her away from the group. As he finished his drink, she got up and left. Bathroom he thought as he ordered another. But the band started back up and Jean never returned. Crap. How am I going to talk to her? At the end of the set, he called it a night and went to his room.

He got ready for bed and leafed through the program. Tomorrow at nine was a chocolate factory tour. That would be something Jean would go on. He set his phone alarm for seven-thirty. He’d get on that tour and try to get her alone. Satisfied, he put the phone on the bed stand and turned off the lights. He tossed and turned for a while, remembering how Duncan had cracked his knuckles as he mentioned, personal attention. It gave him a shiver. He had to get the money before the end of the month. He didn’t want to think about what personal attention meant. Not at all.

Next Chapter: Alternate Dwight Story Chapter Ten