He asked me what I looked like and I told him I am six foot tall, about one hundred eighty pounds, and at the time, I was twenty. He asked me what I w...s looking for and I told him I was in need of a good massage and that I was sore from working and playing on the slopes. He said that he was a professional and specialized in therapeutic massage and that he has an office at his house that he works out of. He told me he was forty-five and lived alone and that I could come over this evening if I. Voluptuous. Jet black hair. Dark brown eyes. A beautiful face that a movie watcher would compare with Paz Vega. The men cleaned him up, and dressed him in coarse white cotton overalls and laid him out for whatever procedure she would give him for his shoulder. He was unconscious but breathing after they had pumped his lungs. They prayed that he didn't stay in a coma, but they wondered if it was too late for prayer. Nothing they had done had awoken him. They'd found a bracelet on his right hand. He was obviously the loser of the shooting incident, and his shooter was nowhere to be seen leaving me with the conclusion that he had been bushwhacked plain and simple.It didn’t appear that any other bystander was inclined to get involved and I figured that the shooter was well known to them, and they wanted to avoid any confrontation with him or his kin or friends for involving themselves in something that was none of their business.I knew that the sheriff had recently been buried up on boot. What the hell was she playing at? He wasn’t bad looking, and in spite of only taking the job at the hotel because of the opportunity to keep up his own interest in outdoor sports for free, he was doing pretty well for himself. He brushed down his black waistcoat, fiddled with his expensive tie, and grabbed the freshly pressed apron from the board. He attached the silver metal ‘Hospitality Manager’ badge to the waistcoat, and headed out from the apartment, shouting a half-hearted goodbye to Sam.