Connie Cockrell
Chapter Three
She strolled past the two other people working out. No one she knew. Her buddies were all probably still in bed, like normal people, not up at six in the morning. She studied the sauna controls as she sipped more water. The thing was on and the temperature gauge read 120 degrees. That suited her. She opened the door. A man was sitting inside, a towel over his face. “Hi,” Jean said and stepped in quickly, closing the door behind her. Nothing irritated her more than people coming into the sauna and leaving the door open so long the room lost its heat.
Jean spread her towel on the bench and sat down. She didn’t want to spend a long time in here, her stomach was already growling. She took a glance at the man. He hadn’t moved. That wasn’t unusual. Some people came in and the heat made them sleepy or they just wanted to be left alone. But something was nagging at her.
With her next look, she realized he was barefoot. Most people didn’t go to a gym and walk around barefoot. There was too much chance of getting athlete’s foot. She looked closer, those weren’t gym shorts, those were boxers! This guy was in here in his underwear? Jean stood up, should she leave? Should she say something? This guy hadn’t moved a muscle since she came in.
“Um, sir? Sir!”
No response. Jean’s mouth went dry. “Sir?” Maybe he’d passed out from the heat. She took the two steps to him and put a hand on his shoulder, ready to jump back. “Sir?”
He slowly slid along the cedar wall toward her. She jumped back to the door as the body toppled off of the bench. The towel fell away from the face. His dead brown eyes stared at her feet. Jean burst out of the door with a scream.
“Call security,” she shouted to the two in the gym. “There’s a body in the sauna.”
Worse, it was Justin Romero.
#
Jean sat down on the workout bench and waited. Already the night security guy, the head security guy and the first on-scene Las Vegas police officer had talked to her. EMT’s had already been in, and taken the body away as soon as the investigating officers had taken pictures. It was now after nine in the morning. She was chilled, her muscles were locking up and she was sticky from her work out. Jean wanted nothing more than to get out of this gym and go get a hot shower and something to eat.
Worse, she’d spent the time she wasn’t being questioned wondering who could have killed Justin. They hadn’t been close friends, but he was one of the people she’d served with, been in Afghanistan with. That counted. She regretted not talking to him more last night. Did he have a jealous lover? A business deal gone bad? What?
Another person came up to her. “Ms. Hays?”
This was a woman. She had on a dark blue pant suit, with a white blouse, simple pearl earrings, and flat pumps in shiny black. “Yes?”
“I’m Detective Andrea Voberg, Las Vegas PD. I’d like to ask you about the body. The officers say you knew him?”
Jean sighed, one more time for the detective. “Yes. As I said. We’re here for a reunion, the AG2017. We were stationed in Afghanistan together.”
“You talked to,” she flipped the pages in her little notebook, “Justin Romero last night?”
“Yes, along with and to, many other people.”
“And he didn’t say that anyone was giving him a hassle?”
“No.” Jean shook her head. She was tired of repeating the same thing over and over. “Matter of fact, I never heard what he’s doing now. I know he got out of the Air Force about,” she shrugged,” maybe five years ago. I haven’t heard anything about what he’s into now.”
“What do you mean, into?”
Jean took a breath. “I don’t mean anything. One of the people I know became a travel blogger. Another a nurse. You know, what they’re into.”
Detective Voberg nodded as she took notes. “I understand there’s a social media page?”
“Yes. For the unit, anyone that was assigned to it from its inception until they closed it down are welcome to be a member. Nostalgia, Detective, and a way for us to organize a reunion.”
“You knew everyone in the unit?”
“No. Just the people that were there when I was. Some of them were closer friends than others. We were a tight knit group.”
Voberg nodded. “Anyone you talk to last night say anything about him? Maybe they had a grudge or didn’t like him.”
Jean rubbed an eye. “No, not that I…” She looked up from the floor. “Well. One of my friends said she thought Justin had too much pull. Um, the ability to get whatever the unit needed, medicine, copy paper, anything, really. He was in Supply.”
Detective Voberg nodded as she wrote. “Who mentioned it.”
Jean didn’t feel comfortable. “Well, I don’t know.”
The detective tapped her pen on her pad. “Murder, Ms. Hays.”
Jean drew a deep breath. “Stephanie French.”
“Thank you.” She jotted the name down. “You know where anyone is right now?”
“No. Some people were talking about going to golf. Others,” she shrugged, “I don’t know.”
The detective snapped the little notebook shut and put it and her pen in an inside pocket. “You can go. But we may have more questions for you. How long are you here?”
“I leave Monday morning.”
“We have your information.”
Jean nodded and rose. “Can you find the killer?”
Voberg stopped her turn back to the other officers. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why?”
Jean struggled to put her feelings into words. “I just spoke to that man last night. A man I had served with in a crappy spot on the other side of the world. It would be good to get justice for him.”
“We’ll do the best we can, Ms. Hays.”
Jean sniffed. She seemed to be getting awfully weepy lately. “Thank you.” She left the gym and went directly up to her room. It was eleven before she’d felt fully clean and dressed and ready to leave the room. She went down to the casino buffet. The breakfast items were coming off and the lunch items coming on. After helping herself to mashed potatoes, beef and gravy and honey glazed carrots, she sat down. A waitress brought her water.
Jean stirred her mashed potatoes around the plate, eating little, despite her growling stomach. Who would have killed Justin? Were the rumors Stephanie mentioned true? What was Justin doing now, or, she corrected herself, was he doing? Did he get into something in Afghanistan? Who would know? Maybe Gail? She’d worked with him, and though he was an E6 and she had just been an E3, would she know what he did over there? Jean stood and left her nearly full plate and went in search of Gail.
She stopped at the front desk. “Hi,” she said to the clerk on duty. “I’m looking for Gail Amendola, she’s with the reunion.”
The clerk tapped a few keys on her keyboard. “She’s in room 826. May I take a message?”
“Is there a cell phone? I really need to get ahold of her.”
“I’m sorry, we can’t give that information out. I can give you her room phone to leave a message there?”
“Thank you. Could you write it down, please?”
“Certainly.”
Jean waited while the clerk wrote, then slid the note paper across the glossy counter. “There you go. Thank you for staying at the Silver Miner.”
“You’re welcome.” Jean left and found a quiet corner of the lobby. The sound of the slot machines was incessant. She pulled out her phone and pulled up the social media page with the unit members. The admin had put all of the members in a list, including phone numbers, home addresses, and even websites if people had them. She scrolled down to Amendola. There it is. Jean scribbled the cell number down on the slip the clerk had given her, then found the phone icon. She pulled it up and dialed Gail’s number.
It rang four times before Gail answered. “Hello?”
Gail was laughing and in the background Jean could hear the whack of a club on a ball. “Hey, it’s Jean.”
“Hi Jean! Sleep in late? We looked for you, but we had to leave to catch our tee time.”
“Uh, yeah, I was up but something happened.”
A male voice in the background said something which caused everyone there to laugh. Gail chuckled at whatever it was and said, “Yeah? What happened?”
Jean didn’t know how to say this. Over the phone seemed horrific but what else could she do? “Um, what time did you leave this morning?”
“About six-thirty. We had a seven-fifteen tee time. We’re actually just about done. You want to have lunch?”
There was her opening. “I have some news. That would be great. Who’s with you?”
“Oh, Damon, Fletch, and Norm. We’re going to some place called Copper Bar and Grill. It’s just off of the strip.”
“I can meet you there. What time?”
“How about one? We should be done by then.”
“Great. See you then.” Jean hung up. Gail, Damon, Fletch and Norm. A good start.
#
Jean found the address and called an Uber. She got there first and got a table big enough for everyone. She was halfway through a Pinot Grigio when the gang arrived.
“Great table spot, Jean.” Gail greeted her with a pat on the shoulder.
Jean greeted everyone and waited through the drink and lunch orders. When the waitress left, she broke into the review of the morning’s golf game. “Sorry to interrupt but I have some news.”
“Let’s have it!” Brandon lifted his beer to her.
“It’s bad news. I found Justin this morning in the hotel gym sauna. Dead.”
Everyone went still. Jean studied their faces. Gail’s face went pale, her eyes wide. Brandon put his beer down, staring at Jean. Damon stared at his plate and Fletcher blinked at her.
“What did you say?” Fletcher asked.
“Justin is dead. I found him in the sauna about seven this morning.”
Gail reached out and picked up her glass of water, hand shaking, and sipped.
“There must be a mistake,” Brandon said. He shook his head. “We just talked to Justin last night. He can’t be dead.”
“How’d he die?” Damon asked.
“I don’t know. He was dead when I went into the sauna. I don’t know how long he’d been there. I didn’t see any blood or injury.”
Gail put both hands over her face and rubbed her eyes as though she could rub away the news. Jean felt bad for her. She was younger than most of the rest of them. So far, it looked like it was a surprise to all of them.
“I’m sorry if you knew him well. But the police are definitely looking for a murderer.” Jean picked up her wine and waited.
The others had to process it. They fussed with napkins, drank their beers or wine, played with their cutlery, glancing up occasionally at each other, as though to check that someone else was in the same nightmare. The waitress came with the appetizers and setting them at the proper places, noticed the silence. “Everything okay?”
Jean nodded. “We just received some bad news. We’ll be fine.”
“Anything you need, honey. You just call me.”
Jean smiled at her. “Thank you, miss. We will.”
The waitress left.
“Who would kill Justin?” Gail blurted out.
“That’s the question, now, isn’t it,” Fletcher said.