Even the ketchup paused. Ren smiled at Hal. ‘Thanks. This looks great.’ She had never eaten a mouthful of food quite like it.
‘Oh. I’m vibrating,’ she said, standing up. ‘Excuse me.’ She walked outside and rang Bob. ‘Don’t say my name. And don’t look out the window. It’s me. Ren. I’ll give you ten dollars to start eating that burger.’
Bob nodded as she talked. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. But if you can make it in to me some time soon, I can look at an alternative. And we can discuss payment at a later date.’ He put the phone down and apologized to Hal. Ren waited two minutes and came back in. Bob stood up to let her past and put a finger with just enough pressure on the edge of the plate.
‘Oh. I am sorry,’ he said. The burger fell to the floor, followed by a shower of fries.
Hal stood up. ‘Let me go order you –’
‘Really,’ said Ren, putting a hand on his forearm. ‘It’s fine. I … I’m good. We don’t really have the time. Maybe we could just move tables?’
‘If you’re sure,’ said Hal.
‘Positive.’
They took a small table in the corner of the diner.
‘Is there anything else you can think of?’ said Ren. ‘Was Jean checking her watch? Did she look like she was waiting to meet someone?’
Hal paused. ‘Hmm. I can’t be sure, but I wouldn’t say so. And she didn’t seem to leave in a real big hurry.’ He shrugged. ‘It all seems kind of lame now. I mean, you guys came all the way in here, and now I feel, like … whatever.’
Ren shook her head. ‘We got to talk to one of the last people who saw our victim alive. That’s really important.’
‘Thanks,’ said Hal. ‘I kind of hope I remember more, like something will come back to me when you’re gone.’
This is not a movie. ‘Well, if it does, you can call either of us.’
They both handed over their cards. Even though it feels like a movie some times.
As they got up to leave, a group of tourists stood staring through the window, dressed for a nicer restaurant they clearly couldn’t get a table at. None of them looked as if they wanted to be the one to say no and keep the group walking the streets in the snow to find another place that could be full. Do it. Go, go, go. Don’t ruin your night.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Bob when they got out on to the street, ‘was the burger really all that bad?’
Ren paused. ‘It was the kind of meat that brought you on a journey from hairy abattoirs to small-town processing plants where workers play games like Kick the Cows’ Balls into the Grinder.’
‘Bulls’ balls.’
‘Yeah, OK. Because that makes it better.’
‘Why didn’t you just leave it?’ said Bob.
‘I didn’t want to offend the guy.’
‘Politeness could kill you some day,’ said Bob. ‘“Please sir, would you mind not firing that gun into my temple? And really, you are squeezing my waist a little too tight. But I must say, the tattoo on your forearm is beautifully drawn.”’
‘It’s more I don’t like hurting people’s feelings,’ said Ren.
‘Jesus, you’ll go right up the ranks of the FBI with that stony attitude,’ said Bob. ‘Hey, do you think Jean Transom actually ate her meal?’
‘If she did?’ said Ren. ‘That’s cause of death locked off.’
Ren loved the sound, the resistance, the effort of walking through snow. She made her way down Washington Avenue toward Main Street, looking out at the mountains across the lightening, early-morning sky. Four peaks from the Tenmile Range – seven through ten – made up the Breckenridge ski area and were the draw that boosted the population from three thousand to twenty-seven thousand at peak season.
The Breckenridge Welcome Center was at the corner of the Blue River Plaza on Main Street. Ren walked through the small foyer into the first room of the exhibition on gold and silver mining in the area – eight thousand six hundred acres of shiny economy. And when it all dried up, the only thing that rescued Breck from ghost-town status was the fight put up by the residents.
Main Street used to be dance halls and saloons, and the merchants had Ridge Street. Now Ridge Street was lined with restaurants, offices, inns and homes. Ren studied a photo montage of the change – the same building and its different roles, different smiling people standing outside each time.
She went upstairs to find the display on Quandary Peak. It was the highest peak in the Tenmile Range. Jean Transom’s body had been found off the East Ridge trail, which was a recently carved route – less than ten years old. Ren pulled her camera out of her jacket pocket and took photos of the display.
She ran into Colin Grabien on her way out the door.
‘Having a tourism moment?’ said Colin.
‘I’m actually researching,’ said Ren.
‘Researching is great,’ said Colin. ‘Everything is covered. Do you use coffee as a fuel expense?’
‘I’m getting to know Breck, the …’ This sounds dumb.
‘You think Jean was killed by the ghost of an old prospector? Or maybe, like the Brown, a dead madam rose up for revenge against the right-minded.’
Ren frowned. ‘What?’
‘You haven’t been to the Brown Hotel? A madam was shot dead on the attic stairs. She was going to turn the place into “a house of ill-repute”.’ Air quotes. ‘The owner vanished,’ said Colin. ‘You should go – weird shit happens in the ladies toilets.’
They both paused.
‘And can I ask?’ said Ren, ‘while you’re giving me a hard time, what that has to do with solving this case?’
‘I’m not giving you a hard time,’ said Colin. ‘Who said that?’
‘Yeah, like those people who say, “I’m not criticizing you, but …”’ Why am I having this conversation?
‘I was meeting the owner,’ said Colin. ‘I thought if Jean had paid the place a visit, he could have something for us.’
‘I’m not feeling the whole Jean-in-brothel vibe,’ said Ren.
‘But you’re feeling the whole Jean-in-historic-Breckenridge vibe …’
‘I’m feeling the need to keep on working here. Gotta go.’
‘Dinner
