I knew that the resort had been thoroughly checked by the Sedona Police Department that afternoon. It was as safe as anywhere if Jason were still in the area. I drove down the steep road that led to the resort, and parked next to the resort’s small gift shop. The parking lot was mostly empty because we were having dinner so early. The attentive staff seated us immediately and we ordered the fixed price four-course dinner. It was a relative bargain at $75 a person. With wine and a tip, we probably spend about ten times the cost of dinner at my favorite Thai restaurant.
The meal was delicious and the dinner was truly relaxing. After the waiter took our orders for dessert, Margaret excused herself to go into the restaurant to the ladies room. My apprehension of having her out of my sight was too great to resist. I followed her into the bar area where the restrooms are located.
I kept my eye out for anyone who was similar in height and build to Jason. A Hispanic maintenance man was doing something to a cabin next to the restaurant, but he took no notice of us. The hostess, the wait staff, and bartender were the only other non-customers around the restaurant. There were no single men or women seated in the bar or the dining room. It looked safe.
We watched a family of ducks swim and dive in the clear water as we enjoyed coffee and chocolate walnut fudge cake. The evening sunlight highlighted every ripple in the fast moving creek. The creek’s refreshing babble and the heavy dose of sugar from the chocolate cake made me contented and lethargic. Not a good combination when danger was nearby.
It happened quickly. As we walked around the back of the restaurant to the parking lot, I noticed the same maintenance man was now bent over next to the sidewalk doing something to an electrical outlet. I noticed he held a hammer in his right hand. I remembered Jim Otto. I remembered that Jason had substituted for Garland Pickney as a maintenance man on the morning that the body of Margo Jordan was found. I remembered that Jason had purchased makeup and work clothing at the Flagstaff Wal-Mart.
I went for my pistol as Jason leaped up with the hammer already in his hand. He was damn quick. He brought the hammer down missing my head by an inch as I dodged. The hammer smashed very hard on my right shoulder. I could hear my clavicle break. The pain was astonishing. My numb hand released the grip on my pistol. Jason had the hammer raised for another blow when a cloud of pain engulfed us both. It was agony to my eyes, nose, and lungs. I fell to the ground coughing. Margaret had blasted us with her bear pepper spray.
I couldn’t see what happened next. Jason was still swinging the hammer at me, but he was also blind from the bear spray. One forceful hammer blow hit my back as I tried to roll away. The pain was minor compared to the agony in my eyes. I heard a shot. I felt Margaret’s arms around me and heard her sobs. We were both alive.
Margaret had retrieved my Smith and Wesson and put a single bullet through Jason’s forehead. He was dead instantly.
EPILOGUE
I had my arm in a sling for two months and the hammer blow to my back took a couple of weeks to heal, but otherwise I wasn’t hurt. The state crime lab was able to prove that Jason had used the shower in the Tami Sue Harris Uptown apartment. That was the only murder with strong forensic evidence that connected Jason to the crime. We had no conclusive proof that the women at the Grand Canyon had been murdered. Sheriff Taylor chose not to mention those deaths in his press release. It stated that Jason was suspected of killing Jim Otto with a hammer at the Colter House and Tami Harris with a sandstone rock at Cathedral Rock.
It was three months before the body of Muhammad al-Quatan of Dallas, whose car was found at the Cathedral Rock Trail head, was discovered buried in a shallow grave about twenty miles west of Flagstaff. He’d been killed by several blows from a hammer. It was probably the same hammer that Jason had tried to use on me.
Margaret spent weeks trying to understand what motivated Jason. She’s read for hours about the nature vs. nurture controversy. How Jason got to be a serial killer is an issue that can’t be resolved by a smart bank teller in a small town in Arizona. Academics and theologians can’t agree. Margaret has talked with the authorities in Australia, and she has spent hours talking with our parish priest, Father Garcia. She’s studied reams of published information about other serial killers, but she has not found an answer.
My answer is too simple for Margaret. Jason was evil. If Margaret hadn’t saved my life by shooting the slime ball, he would have continued to kill until he was killed by some law enforcement officer or died from a lethal injection at the state prison in Florence. If I spent time trying to understand criminals, I’d have no time left to bring them to justice. Margaret and I don’t discuss Jason anymore.
Our lives in Sedona have returned to normal except that Margaret will not eat at L’Auberge de Sedona or hike the Cathedral Rock Trail. Margaret ordered another can of bear spray on the Internet, and we now set the security alarm every night.
THE END
Also available by Charles Williamson on Kindle are: The Dead Priest of Sedona: Book One of the Mike Damson Mysteries The Dead Chef of Santa Fe: Book Two of the Mike Damson Mysteries Temporal Foam: A Novel of Accidental Time Travel
The Argonauts of Phoenix: The Second Adventure in the Temporal Foam Black Dot: Jack Dunn, Cyber-Detective
Coming in July 2015:
Green Glow: Jack Dunn, Cyber-Detective Volume Two
The Victim at Vultee Arch: Book Four of the Mike Damson Mysteries
The Murders at El Tovar Page 24