Finding Sam

Two ferocious and mildly ticked off Japanese men climbed the stairs. On the third floor, where the hotel rooms began, they stopped and peered along a long corridor with many closed doors.

"How are we supposed to find the right room?" asked Kisho.

"I don't know. We could just start opening doors. Or do you think that they are all locked?" asked Hiro.

One set of doors to the right of the stairs glided open and a slightly tipsy man, leaning heavily on the arm of woman of questionable repute stepped out into the hall. "Elevator," said Hiro.

"Prostitute," said Kisho at the same moment, which at least masked his voice.

"Excuse me ma'am," began Hiro, "we are looking for Sam Shovel. Do you know him and where we might find him?"

"I'm busy here, buster. I ain't got time for that nonsense." And so saying, she moved down the hall two doors and took out a swipe card which permitted her access to the room. The drunk man followed her, smiling.

The two men decided to walk the corridors and seek out hookers who were not busy at the moment in the hopes of finding someone who knew where to find Sam. It paid off on the eighth floor when a woman told them that she thought the man they were looking for was in room 1429.

The two took the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, found the room and began to pound on the door. It took nearly a minute before they heard any sounds from within. Finally a disheveled man with glassy eyes, two days growth of beard, wrinkled clothing, and nauseating breath opened the door.

"Are you Sam Shovel?" asked Hiro.

The door started to close when Kisho shoved past the man and entered the room. It was nearly as messy as the man himself. It was littered with empty bourbon bottles.

"We're looking for Ralph Stevens. He attacked a friend of mine and she wants him stopped." Hiro would brook no protest from this drunken bum.

Sam's head lifted sharply and his eyes focused slowly on the pair of men now standing amidst the trash that was his room and his life. "She okay? The girl, I mean. Ralph is a nasty man." Sam's voice was thick, not just from drink, but from sleep as well.

Hiro shoved Sam into the bathroom and forced him into the shower. He turned the cold water on and stuck Sam under the spray. After a bit of sputtering, Sam tried to escape the cold and Hiro strengthened his grip, forcing Sam back under the spray. After a few minutes, Hiro turned off the water, pulled Sam dripping and swearing from the shower, and handed him a towel.

"Tell us what you know about Ralph," ordered Kisho after Sam got himself partially dried.

Sam glared at the two men, stripped off his wet clothing, and wrapped himself in a fluffy, soft, white robe that had been neatly hung in the closet and had "The Station" emblazoned above the breast pocket. It was the only clean thing in the room.

"He was a medical student – going to be a doctor. He was dating the Governor's daughter. Then things started to fall apart," began Sam.

"What year?" asked Hiro.

"School? That was 1928. His grades started to drop. He was drinking too much. This was Prohibition. He spent way too much time in speakeasies and was not paying any attention to his studies or his girl. So she left him. He had some sort of nervous breakdown and by the middle of 1929 he was in a mental institution." Sam looked at his audience. "This what you guys want to know?"

"Yes. Then what happened?" prompted Kisho.

"After the market crashed, his parents couldn't afford the pricey private sanitarium. He went to some cheaper place. His father's a doctor, too. But after the crash, money was tight all over, ya know?"

"Not really, but we can figure that out later," Hiro assured him.

"Ralph broke out of the crappy mental hospital and began attacking women. His first victim was in my precinct. I'm a cop outside Phoenix, Arizona. Or I was until there were too many unsolved murders." Sam looked up at his inquisitors. "Can I have a drink now?"