Black Diamond Death

By

Cheryl Bradshaw

To Justin for believing I can do anything

And to Kylie for the miracle that you are in my life

And to Grandpa Butch––I miss you

You can fool all the people some of the time,

and some of the people all the time,

but you cannot fool all the people all the time.

––ABRAHAM LINCOLN

PROLOGUE

The air was calm, but I was restless. I had a decision to make so I did what I always do when push comes to shove––I shoved back, but not in the way one might think. Skiing had always been my release. There was something about being surrounded by fresh powder in the clean, open air that reminded me what it felt like to be alive. I could stand on a mountaintop with a world of trouble on my mind, and it didn’t matter. Every care I had dissolved just like the snow soon would and the mountain would be reduced to tiny patches of white, mere remnants of a ski slope that once provided the town’s entertainment for the season.

In a few minutes I’d get together with Audrey for lunch and do something that didn’t come easy––tell her the truth. It wasn’t that I lied to her; I was a master in the fine art of keeping things to myself. I always thought it was better that way. But I was wrong to allow her limited access to my life, and I wanted to change that. So I’d explain it all to her, and once I finished I would reveal my plan and hope she’d understand. She just had to.

I rounded the last narrow pass on the slope and traveled downhill through the trees. My tongue had gone numb over the past couple hours and every time my teeth hit against it I felt nothing, like it wasn’t even there, and my throat felt like a strand of lit matches were pressed hard against it. I wondered if I was getting sick. That would explain the unrest in my stomach. The flu had made its way around town so it made sense that it would make it to me, but if it was the flu, why had I lost all the feeling in my face?

I ran my gloved hand across my goggles, but it didn’t help––even when I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again the trail in front of me was a blur. With what little force I had left, I jammed my poles into the snow and tried to stop, but the slope was too steep and I couldn’t bend my hands or even move them for that matter. My fingers felt like long shards of ice and in one simultaneous motion they launched a mass of frozen liquid throughout my body.

What was happening to me?

In a panic I gasped for air, but there wasn’t any. I tried to cry out, but I was alone, and in my hysteria it hit me. I had felt a similar feeling before––like my body was giving out on me, and I knew what it meant.

I was dying.

15 MINUTES LATER

CHAPTER 1

The car skidded across the road making an rrrt sound, the kind of sound that propels people from their chairs and to the window to catch a glimpse of the train wreck taking place outside. Only I was on a lonely stretch of road with nothing but the spinning of pine trees as they swirled around me. In desperation I struggled to remember the words my grandfather told me: Don’t slam on the brake, tap it. Don’t turn the wheel in the direction of the skid, rotate away from it. Or was it to turn into the skid, and why couldn’t I remember?

The wheels gripped the road in an attempt to regain traction. I tapped the brake and fought off the urge to slam both heels into the pedal. The car lurched from side to side and then steadied and then it was all over. I regained control of the wheel and continued to wind around the tortuous road. A minute later I glimpsed the wrought iron entrance to the resort and breathed a sigh of relief.

A boy outfitted in padded black trousers, a black and white ski jacket, and gloves waved me over when I drove in.

“Hello ma’am,” he said. “Welcome to Wildwood. Valet?”

I nodded.

He lifted his gloved hand and pointed toward the resort.

“Drive around this corner to the round-a-bout and give your keys to Phil at the front. He’ll take good care of you.”

Wildwood, Park City’s newest ski resort, attracted a diverse group of guests from locals to celebrities. I entered through distressed cedar doors with hand forged pinecone door pulls into a marbled foyer. A chandelier cascaded over my head that mimicked the style of the door pulls. I glanced around the room and felt a sense of familiarity to the place. Sepia tone photographs adorned the walls of the Daily Mining Company circa 1890 and Historic Main Street before the fire scintillated in 1897 and destroyed over 200 businesses and homes. In other towns, a fire of that magnitude left a ghost town in its wake, but not here. Parkites were strong and proud, and they remained to build the city back up again.

In the corner of the room a fire beguiled me to absorb its warmth. I removed my gloves and stuck both hands inside. Across the room groups of skiers hustled back and forth through the hallway eager to reach the lift and soar to their destinations. I allowed time for my fingers to thaw and then fell in line at the front desk. After a short wait, a girl held up two fingers and summoned me. She wore a fitted red suit coat accented with little bronze buttons to match her little bronze nametag. Her not-so-natural bleach blond locks were pulled back into a tight bun and fastened with silver hairclips. She looked like the female version of a nutcracker. A couple bright pink circles painted on her pale cheeks were all she needed to complete the look.

“Well hi there,” she said. “Welcome to Wildwood Resort. What can I do for you today?”

“I’m here to see Marty Langston.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

I nodded.

She batted her false eyelashes at me and smiled.

“What’s the name?”

“Sloane.”

“And the last name?”

“Monroe.”

She picked up the phone receiver and pressed a few buttons and waited.

“Mr. Langston? There’s a woman at the front desk to see you by the name of Sloane Monroe. What’s that––oh, sure. I’ll tell her.”

“He’ll be right with you,” she said. “He’s in a meeting and said for you to sit tight. He won’t be more than a minute or two.”

I sat in an oversized leather chair and waited.

Marty emerged from a corner office a minute later dressed in a fitted suit and a loosened necktie. His rimless glasses matched his squared off jaw line. He extended his arms and pulled me close.

“Sloane my dear, it’s good to see you,” he said.

I reached for his tie and straightened it.

“How’s the new CEO?”

“On about two hours of sleep a night and all the coffee I can stand.” He ran his hand through his hair and turned his head back and forth a few times. “How do you like that? It’s more salt than pepper every day.”

“It looks great on you,” I said.

His eyes angled downward.

“You’ve got a coat on large enough to stow a small army in, but flip-flops, on a day like this?”

“Shoes are overrated,” I said.

He extended his hands out to both sides.

“So what do you think? Have you checked the place out at all since you got here?”

I shook my head.

“What about lunch, are you hungry?”

“I’ll take some tea if you got it,” I said.

“Let’s grab a couple drinks and I’ll show you around.”

The resort café included three sections: a quaint bar area, a much larger open dining section with tables and chairs in varied sizes, and a more intimate section with arched windows that was lined with tables for two. On the opposite side from where I stood were some angled windows that overlooked part of a ski run. From my vantage point I watched a skier schuss her way downhill.

“Black tea if memory serves?” he said.

I nodded.

He handed me an empty cup and signaled the waiter and then glanced out the window.

“Spectacular view isn’t it?” he said.

“Fantastic,” I said.

“So how about it?”

“How about what?”

With his finger he indicated in the direction of a group of people outside who appeared to be on skis for the first time.

“Say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

I laughed.

“I’m much more of a beach bunny than a snow bunny,” I said.

“It’s never too late to change.”

The bunny slope wasn’t my idea of a good time. It made no sense to me why anyone subjected themselves to zero-degree temperatures when they could appreciate the mounds of white from indoors while they nestled by the glow of a stoked fire. Cold was my kryptonite and yet I liked it here. Hell, I loved it even. From the moment my feet brushed the soil seventeen years earlier something inside me changed. It was like I had been transported to another place in time where I could leave the past behind and bask in the tranquility the ski town offered me.

The café was deserted except for one other person, a woman seated in the open dining section. She had long blond hair and knockers the size of grapefruits, my guess DD. Her shirt was tight enough to bounce a quarter off of it.

The waiter returned with our drinks.

“How’s Kate?”

“Don’t think for a minute I can’t see what you’re doing,” he said.

“And what’s that?”

“Deflecting.”

A few more skiers whizzed by and I drank my tea and deflected in silence.

“Kate’s good,” he said. “I don’t get up there to see her much, but I try to give her a jingle now and then.”

“You’re still my favorite client, you know.”

“And why’s that, my rugged good looks?”

I laughed.

“You were my first,” I said.

He smiled.

“Indeed, and for that I am forever grateful.”

Marty was adopted at birth. When he aspired to and later became mayor he experienced a sudden urge to dig up his roots and find his birth mother. That’s when he contacted me. It took me almost six months to find Kathryn which was the equivalent of two years in detective time.

“How goes the PI business these days?”

“I haven’t found a case I can sink my teeth into at the moment,” I said. “But I can’t complain.”

He shot me a wink.

“No one threaten your life this week, eh?  How boring.”

“The week’s not over yet,” I said.

“Can’t convince you to go back to basics even if I wanted you to, right?”

“And risk the thrill of the chase, never.”

DD glanced at her watch and rapped her manicured nails in sequence on the table. A waiter approached her and paused a moment to say something. She shook her head and he walked away.

Marty polished off the last of his coffee and rose from his chair.

“Ready for the grand tour?” he said.

I intertwined my arm in his.

“You bet.”

We walked out of the café but didn’t make it far before the rapid succession of footsteps approached us from behind. A tall male with a resort name badge tapped Marty on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt. Mr. Langston, there’s an urgent phone call for you,” he said.

“I’m sure it can wait,” Marty said.

“You should take it sir.”

“Why?” he said.

The man glanced at me and then back at Marty.

“I’d rather not say.”

“You can speak in front of Miss Monroe,” he said. “She’s like family to me.”

The man grimaced but realized he had no options.

“We just got a call from snow patrol. Something’s happened on one of the ski runs and it sounds serious.”

Marty shifted his gaze from the man to me.

“I better see what’s going on,” he said. “Can you wait here for a minute––I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I nodded and Marty followed the man down the hall.

With nothing left to do, I turned my attention to DD. She twisted her already curly blond hair into perfect spirals around her finger and then looked at her watch and frowned and let out a deep sigh of frustration. She then stood up and slung her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder and walked out of the room.

Marty returned a few minutes later with a stern look on his face.

“Forgive me my dear, duty calls. Rain check?” he said.

“Is everything alright?”

His jaw tightened and he shook his head.

“There’s been an accident.”

CHAPTER 2

I lingered around for a few minutes before leaving Wildwood. Marty left without the slightest hint about the accident and I wanted to know more. I finished my tea and took one last look-see out the window, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Time for me to go.

I pushed through the entrance door and was met with a forceful tug that launched me forward and brought me up close and personal to a familiar face on the opposite end.

“Well, well, if it isn’t little miss nosy,” he said. “Let me guess, you just happened to be in the neighborhood at the right time. Sound about right?”

“Give it a rest Coop.”

Detective Drake Cooper stood 6’5 and used every inch of his stalwartly physique to browbeat anyone who stood in his way, and that included everyone. He had an oval-shaped head and a jacked up nose that he owed to the various altercations he endured in the line of duty, most a result of his less than agreeable nature. For a man with senior citizen status his body retained a great shape. Even through his sports jacket anyone could see he packed two tickets to the gun show.

“Look,” I said, “I know about the accident.”

I figured I was already there, why not do some fishing.

“And you came by this information how?” he said.

“Marty told me.”

He grabbed the door and swung it all the way open.

“Why don’t you run along now and let the big boys do their job,” he said.

It looked like the fish weren’t biting today.

Coop squinched his eyes and waited for me to make my move.

“Anytime sweetheart,” he said. Only it sounded a lot more like schweetheart.

To say Coop walked around with a chip on his shoulder was a gross understatement. He had been the thorn in my otherwise lovely side for the past several years. He had an old school mind and practiced old school ways. Change wasn’t part of his vocabulary, and he had zero tolerance for my kind. In his eyes I didn’t deserve the role of detective. I was just some menial PI who nosed around and stood in the way of the real police work. Except this PI had earned the right, and on more than one occasion. I expect this fact made him resent me all the more.

Three years earlier Coop lost his dream of Park City’s next chief of police to Wade Sheppard, a detective with half the experience. Life dealt him an unfair hand and everyone else had to pay the price. And they did, in spades.

I went to my office, returned some calls, and drove home. Lord Berkeley, A.K.A. Boo, spun around when I walked through the door and did his usual welcome dance. Then he stood on his two hind legs with his paws up in an attempt to greet me as civilized people do. I scooped him up and carried him with me to the kitchen.

“And how’s your day going Boo, hmmm? Miss me?”

His deep black eyes stared up at me and he tilted his head to the side and wagged his tail.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said.

I stroked him a few more times and then set him down. He trotted off to the sofa and then jumped up on it and waited.

I fished through the dishwasher for my favorite mug. It was white with brown letters on the front that said Man cannot live on chocolate alone, but a woman sure can. I reached for my kettle, filled it with water, and turned on the stove. I couldn’t get the look on Marty’s face out of my mind so I picked up the phone and gave him a call. He didn’t answer. I left a message.

A few minutes later the teapot let out a familiar whistle. I poured the water and joined Lord Berkeley on the sofa and the two of us sat back and took in the stillness of the lake through the window. In the summer month’s water skiers, boaters, and fisherman filled the lake, but in winter it turned solid white and was ensconced with snow.

 My phone rang to Louis Armstrong’s A kiss to build a dream on.

“Well good evening Detective Calhoun,” I said.

“I wanted to say thanks for last night.”

“It’s me who should thank you,” I said, “for the lovely evening, and the lovelier ending.”

“While we are on the subject, do you want to talk about it?”

“I thought we just did,” I said.

“You know what I mean.”

I sensed the disappointment in his voice and wished I could avoid the subject all together.

“Come on Sloane, you know how I feel.”

“And you know how I feel,” I said.

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized I said the wrong thing.

“Are you serious? Every time I try to have the us talk, you shut down. To be honest, I have no idea what to think.”

“I don’t know what to say or what you want from me.”

“I’m ready and I thought you were too.”

In truth, Nick convinced himself that I was ready because that’s what he wanted. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about my feelings; he just thought he knew what was best for the both of us.

“You still there?”

“I’m here,” I said.

“Try something for me, okay. Quiet all the chaos in your head, stop finding a reason to poke holes in everything, and give me an honest answer.”

In a world full of men who would rather shoot themselves with a nail gun than converse about the current state of affairs in their relationship, Nick was the one exception.

“I suppose you’re right,” I said. “We should talk it out.”

“When?”

“I need some time,” I said.

“How much?”

“I’d like to at least sleep on it.”

“How about we meet tomorrow night for dinner and you can tell me where you’re at with everything.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

If only I meant those words. We set up a time and said our goodbyes.

The next step in the relationship consisted of cohabitation. The pooling together of two separate universes combined into one solid entity. Mi casa es su casa. Nick only saw things one way, point A to point B. In his mind, point B should have happened a long time ago. He made it clear that he wasn’t going to wait for me forever. It was crunch time, the bottom of the ninth, and I had exhausted all of my reasons about why we shouldn’t, and he had exhausted all his reasons about why we should. Nick always said he considered himself a why not person and that I was just the opposite, I always asked why––why did we need to take the next step in our relationship and why couldn’t things stay the same way they always had. He was right; I did poke holes in things.

Lord Berkeley woke suddenly and barked at a rather large shadow out the window. The night had blanketed the sky, but it was too dark for me to see what ailed him. I tiptoed over to the window and peered out. In the soft glow of the street lamp I saw a mother moose and its baby cross the yard. She took a few steps and then turned to make sure the little one was still in tow. I watched them continue on their way until I couldn’t see them anymore and then turned to Lord Berkeley.

“It’s okay Boo,” I said, and I patted him on the head.

We sat back down together and I grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. My phone rang again, but this time it was Marty.

“I’ve had you on my mind all day today,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

He paused for a time before he uttered a response.

“Actually my dear, it isn’t. It’s been a long day, and a tragic one at that.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “What happened?”

“It’s one of the skiers, she’s dead.”

CHAPTER 3

The morning sun shone its rays through the trees and melted away pieces of fallen snow that had rested on its branches. It was a mere eight degrees outside, and I was en route to my office. Nina Simone belted out a familiar tune, but my thoughts centered on my conversation with Marty the night before. The skier he spoke of died instantly, running chest first into a tree. To make matters worse, Marty knew her. Not in an intimate way, but enough to regard her as a friend. She was a local and an experienced skier, which didn’t make much sense. A tree should have been easy for her to avoid. Marty said she loved to go out alone first thing in the morning to take advantage of the fresh powder. A married couple found her motionless body beneath the tree and called Ski Patrol. When they reached her, she wasn’t breathing. The husband administered CPR until the paramedics got there, but it was too late, she was already dead and there was nothing anyone could do.

I switched gears and thought about Nick. My iPod changed songs and Nina sang just for me now, Don’t let me be misunderstood. Nick wanted an all access pass into my life. I knew what that meant and how it would change things. First move in together, followed by marriage, and then what, babies? Of course he wanted babies, but how many––and what if I couldn’t provide them?

 My office sat on the North end of Park City’s Historic Main Street. I parked in my usual spot and noted the temperature on the console of my dash which had risen by a single digit. Nine whole degrees, yippee. I fumbled with my keys until I found the one to my office and eyeballed Lord Berkeley.

“Come on then,” I said.

I reached out for him, but he didn’t move. He looked out the window and then back at me and then out the window again.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” I said. “Come on, we’ll hurry. Promise.”

That did the trick. I snatched him up and made a mad dash for the door.  Once inside I stripped off my scarf, gloves, and coat. I kicked my flip-flops over to the corner and tried to decide what I wanted to drink. Hot chocolate sounded good. With no appointments for the day walking around the office in my bare feet seemed like a wise choice. I squished my toes into the thick shag rug in the center of the room and breathed in the warmth of my office, all seventy-six degrees of it and then walked over to the thermostat and cranked it up a couple notches. Lord Berkeley made a beeline for his dog bed and settled in.

I sat at my desk and pressed play on the message machine. The first two were solicitations. A male caller reminded me I needed to take some time to consider advertising in the local phone book again. He listed the various sizes they offered along with their corresponding prices. I deleted it. The second caller was a female. She gave me a spiel about a great opportunity she had for me. I deleted it and then pressed play on the last message.

“Hi,” the caller said, “my name is Audrey Halliwell. I’m trying to reach Sloane Monroe. If you could please return my call, I would appreciate it.”

I jotted down her name and number and then picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end said.

“This is Sloane Monroe. Is this Audrey?”

“Thanks for getting back to me so fast,” she said.

“No problem, what can I do for you?”

“I got your number from Mr. Langston,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I’d like to hire you,” she said.

“What can I do for you?”

“I don’t want to get into it over the phone if you don’t mind.”

“Why don’t you stop by my office and we can talk?”

She paused.

“That would be…that would be great,” she said.

“When would you like to come in?”

“Would today work?” she said.

“I can do that. Is two o’clock alright?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect, see you then.”

I put the phone down and interlaced my fingers behind my head and leaned back in my chair. I wondered how she knew Marty and why she sounded so uptight over the phone. My questions would be answered soon enough.

CHAPTER 4

At one forty-five I changed from my bare feet into a pair of brown suede pumps I kept around as a backup for occasions like this one. The door jingled when it opened and in walked DD dressed in a pair of bootcut jeans, a long white tunic sweater, and white lace-up snow boots. She concealed her eyes behind a pair of sunglasses which she swept over her head when she entered. Her eyes were puffy and a reddish color. She gave me a half smile and then pivoted on her heel and shifted her gaze to the exuberant Lord Berkeley, who sprung from his bed and ran circles around her feet.

“Oh, what a cutie,” she said. “Maltipoo?”

“Westie.”

Lord Berkeley noticed her sentiments toward him and put his best paw forward. She bent down and picked him up.

“Sorry about that,” I said, “normally I don’t bring him to the office when I meet with clients.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about it. He’s adorable.”

She ran her fingers up and down his body a few times and nuzzled his nose and then placed him back down in his bed. Lord Berkeley, the perfect icebreaker.

I motioned to the chair opposite my desk. She sat down and rested her hands on her jeans.

“Can I get you anything?” I said. “Water, tea, coffee?”

“Water’s good.”

I grabbed one out of the mini fridge next to my desk and handed it to her.

“I’m not sure what I’m even doing here.”

“I recognize you from Wildwood,” I said.

“That’s right, I saw you with Mr. Langston. I really should apologize. It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, but I gathered from your conversation that you were a private investigator, and after what happened yesterday, I thought maybe you could help.”

“Were you there when the accident took place?” I said.

The color drained from her face. She twisted the cap off the water and took a sip and then another. For a moment she didn’t say a word and just gazed at the wintery view out my office window. I sat in silence and waited until she was ready.

“The woman who died yesterday, Charlotte Halliwell…”

Tears welled up in her eyes and her hands quivered. I reached for a tissue and handed it to her.

“She was my sister,” she said.

I thought of my own sister and for a moment the past flooded back to me and flashes of memories filled my head. I pressed my eyes shut and then opened them again and tried to focus on Audrey.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea,” I said. “Take all the time you need.”

She angled back in my chair and turned to the side and dabbed her eyes with the tissue.

“I need a minute to get myself together.”

I nodded and waited.

A few minutes went by in silence and then she calmed down and displayed much of the composure she exhibited when she first entered my office. When I felt she could handle my questions I continued.

“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” I said.

“You mind if I smoke?” she said.

I did mind, a lot in fact. But I also realized if she had a cigarette it might allow her to keep it together, for the moment anyway. My office was devoid of ashtrays, but I managed to find a small glass dish in one of my drawers. I took it out and slid it toward her side of the desk.

Audrey reached into her bag and pulled out a narrow cigarette and rested it on the edge of her lips. She cupped the lighter in her hands and lit up. She took a long drag, cocked her head to one side, and spewed forth a stream of smoke. I resisted the urge to plant my fist under my nose and instead cracked the window.

“I went to Wildwood yesterday to meet my sister for lunch. We had talked on the phone the night before, and she said she wanted my advice and needed to talk to me about something and suggested we get together after she finished skiing for the day, but she never showed. After you left, Mr. Langston called me into his office and told me what happened.”

“I see.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’ve experienced a shock. It’s understandable that things don’t make sense right now,” I said. “I know what you’re going through.”

And I did.

She took another drag from her cigarette and then smashed it into the plate.

“You don’t understand. Everyone says it was an accident, but what if it wasn’t?”

She looked me in the eye and gauged my reaction. I tried not to look perplexed, but in truth, I couldn’t believe what she’d said.

“Do you have reason to believe otherwise?” I said.

“I thought so, but now I’m confused. It’s hard to separate my head from my heart right now, you know?”

She sunk down in my chair and tapped her finger on the side of her face.

“Oh to hell with this,” she said, “you want the truth? I’m going to say it like it is. And if you want to believe I’m a nut job, that’s up to you. But I need to get it off my chest before I explode.”

“Go on,” I said.

“I don’t believe it was an accident. In fact, I know it wasn’t. My sister was murdered.”

CHAPTER 5

Audrey’s alleged murder declaration piqued my interest. I mulled it over for a few minutes before I constituted a response.

“Forgive me, I’m not trying to discount what you are saying,” I said, “but from what I understand your sister ran into a tree while skiing and the cops said it was nothing more than an unfortunate accident.”

“I know how it looks,” she said. “I discussed this with the cops already and they laughed it off like I’d just escaped from the loony bin. My sister wasn’t some newbie. She started skiing at the age of two.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but even experienced skier’s crash now and then,” I said.

“Did you know when she was around twenty she went to the World Championships, twice? Twice! She has a silver medal in downhill for heaven’s sake. Charlotte was familiar with the terrain at Wildwood; she skied there almost every day.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

She took her hand and gestured toward the window.

“Look out there,” she said.

I turned toward the window and saw nothing. Maybe she was crazy.

“Take a good look. Nothing but blue skies all week. Now you tell me, how does someone with her experience run into a tree on a clear day?”

She bounced her shoulders up and down.

“I guess that doesn’t point to murder though,” she said. “You probably agree with the cops.”

In all my years as a PI, no one had ever presented a case like this to me. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Can I ask you some questions?” I said.

She nodded.

“Did your sister ever sustain any skiing injuries that might have caused her enough problems to have an accident?”

“A broken arm a couple of times when she was a teenager and a broken leg once.”

Her eyes flashed like she’d just recalled a memory.

“Now that I think about it,” she said, “Charlotte fell out of the back of our dad’s truck when she was a kid and hit her head on a boulder. She almost died. It knocked her unconscious and when she came to, she said she’d been to the other side, you know died and all that. It was weird. She even said she talked to our grandfather who passed away ten years earlier.”

“I wonder if that would––”

“It wouldn’t. When the doctor checked her out he said she was fine, and she never experienced any issues after that. She was in perfect health the day she died.”

“Did she take any medications of any kind?” I said.

She shook her head.

“You said before that she wanted your advice.”

“That’s right.”

“Any idea what she needed to discuss with you?” I said.

She fidgeted with the bottom of her sweater. It rolled up at the end and she smoothed it back down with her fingers and then it rolled back up again.

“She didn’t say. I tried to ask her on the phone, but she said she wanted to wait and talk to me about it in person. I figured I’d find out later so I didn’t push it.”

“What about her tone of voice during the conversation, did it seem like anything was wrong?” I said.

“She sounded nervous and that wasn’t like her. My sister had a glass half full approach to life, even when she had a good reason not to. That’s just the type of person she was.”

Sometimes the aloof ones had the most to hide.

“How were things at work?” I said.

“She liked her job, but she wanted to transfer to another agency.”

“Any idea why?”

“Money, I guess. She was offered a better commission somewhere else, and she was ready for a change of scenery.”

“What about her co-workers, any problems there?” I said.

“From what I know, she got along fine with everyone.”

“Did she tell anyone she planned to leave?”

“Her partner, Vicki, and her assistant, Bridget, of course. I assumed the three of them were going together.”

“So if it wasn’t a problem with work, then––”

“Let me save you some time,” she said, “I want you to check out her fiancé, Parker Stanton, or ex-fiancé I should say.”

“Why him?” I said.

“A couple months ago she broke off their engagement.”

I took a sip of my hot chocolate. It was cold, and spitting it back into my cup in front of the client seemed an indecorous thing to do so I swished it around and swallowed hard.

“What was the reason for the break up?” I said.

“Parker spent a lot of time away from her. He traveled to New York and was always in meetings and stuff for the family business. They kept him away three, sometimes four days a week. Then he would fly back and spend the rest of the time with Charlotte. Toward the end of their relationship, he only came home about once a week for a day or so and then he flew back out again.”

“And that’s why she ended it?” I said.

I felt like a therapist engaged in a game of twenty questions.

“She acted like it didn’t bother her, but I could tell it did. One weekend we went on a girl’s trip together, just the two of us. She called him several times and he didn’t answer. Then on Sunday night he called and blamed it on phone problems and said he didn’t get any of her messages. He talked to her maybe five minutes and then made some lame excuse about how he needed to go meet with his dad.”

“How did she react?”

She leaned forward and rested both elbows on my desk.

“That’s when she ended it. She broke off the engagement and said she was done.”

“What about Parker?” I said.

“He called all the time, sent gifts, and even booked two tickets to Hawaii. He said he would do anything, all he wanted was a second chance.”

“And did she give him one?” I said.

“She told him she didn’t ever want to see or hear from him again.”

“I guess she meant it.”

A cold chill swept across my face and I realized the window was still open. With the smoky smell out of the room, I reached over and closed it.

“What did you think of him?” I said.

“Spoiled rich kid who spends his life doing daddy’s grunt work. In my opinion the only reason he involved himself in the business in the first place was to convince everyone he could make it on his own. But everyone knew he was daddy’s lackey.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “Parker played nice. He treated my sister like a princess, showered her with gifts, and showed her what it was like to have money––lots of it. But there was something off about him. I don’t know how to explain it, but the guy gave me the creeps.”

Her face wrinkled up when she said the word creeps like a baby does the first time they take in a spoonful of creamed peas.

“How so?” I said.

“I dunno, I didn’t trust him. He’s the only man I’ve ever met who could sweet talk his way out of anything.”

“Until she dumped him and called off the wedding,” I said.

She slumped back in the chair.

“He called me.”

“When?”

“A few weeks ago. He asked if we could get together to talk about Charlotte and said he wanted my help to get her back. He refused to accept that it was over.”

“And did you?” I said.

“I told him he could go to hell.”

“Point taken,” I said.

 “Look, I wasn’t privy to all the details of their breakup, but she called it quits. That was good enough for me. Parker flipped when I said I wouldn’t help him and yelled all kinds of things at me. He said he would get Charlotte back with or without my help and would do whatever he needed to do to change her mind.”

“And you think Parker would kill Charlotte over their break up, like if he couldn’t have her, no one could?” I said.

She paused and thought about it for a moment.

“That’s what I want you to find out.”

I thumped my pen on the notepad on my desk and considered what she’d said. Audrey shifted in her chair and awaited my verdict.

“Please Ms. Monroe; I can’t stop thinking about the urgency in her voice the last time we talked. Something was off. I know there’s more to what happened to her than what everyone thinks.”

“Let me see what I can dig up,” I said, “but you need to understand I might not find anything.”

“It’s a start. It means a lot that you are willing to look into it for me.”

We went over the necessary fees and she signed the paperwork. I stuck my hand out and she gave it a firm shake.

“I’ll be in touch,” I said.

She shielded her eyes with her glasses again and said, “Thanks for not treating me like I’m crazy.”

“For what it’s worth, you seem normal to me, and I’m sorry about your sister.”

“There is one more thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“I requested my own autopsy, but they’re backed up right now and I don’t know how long it will take for the results to come back from the lab. They won’t return my calls.”

“I might be able to help with that,” I said. “Let me see what I can do.”

For the first time since laying eyes on her, Audrey Halliwell smiled.

“I appreciate it, I really do.”

“I would need access to Charlotte’s body,” I said.

“She’ll be transferred to the funeral home today. Will that work?”

I nodded.

“And now I need a favor from you,” I said.

“Name it.”

“I’d like to take a look at her place.”

Audrey stuck a hand into her purse and pulled out a key ring. She tinkered with it until the shiny silver one broke free.

“1233 Powderhorn Street,” she said, and tossed it to me.

CHAPTER 6

Charlotte Halliwell was a celebrity in Park City. Locals adored her for her athletic achievements and tourists respected her even more for her unyielding and tireless effort in finding them the perfect vacation home of their dreams. Her slogan, you can ski in, but you won’t want to ski out made an impression on people. To prove her death wasn’t an accident wouldn’t be an easy task. But in my line of business just because it walked like a duck and talked like a duck, didn’t make it one, and for the first time in a long while I was faced with something new––a challenge.

The time on my watch displayed a much later hour than I hoped. I sized up my shower for a brief moment, but there was no time for a quickie. I caught my reflection in the mirror. The hair looked decent but the make-up needed a refresher. I fiddled around for a washcloth, washed it off and reapplied, and then made a mad dash for the door.

I arrived at Moll’s Tavern at 7 pm. Right on time. Moll’s was my favorite spot for a late night rendezvous, or an early one on this particular night. I looked around, but there was no sign of Nick who ran on his own time. I waved myself past the hostess and paused to order a drink at the bar before I wandered over to my usual spot.

Moll’s offered two main dining areas, one for family and the other for fun. Tonight fun served up a live band and an open bar. Life was good.

I sat at my favorite table and tried to concentrate on my drink, but all I noticed was the haphazard arrangement of the silverware before me with the spoon to the left of the knife and the salad and dinner forks to the right. I picked up the pieces and reorganized the flatware in its correct position and then reclined back, amazed in the satisfaction that came from a little silverware organization.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?”

I looked up.

“You’re late,” I said.

“No more than usual,” Nick said.

I shot him a wink.

“About ten minutes, but who’s counting.”

He glanced at my martini.

“I see you went ahead,” he said.

I took a sip and held my glass up high.

“Cheers!”

Nick looked handsome tonight. His button-down shirt was tucked into a pair of dark denim jeans which were snug and showed off his toned physique. He had a hint of a five o’clock shadow which complemented his buzz cut. Aside from the lack of a uniform, he looked like he belonged in the military.

“Sloane, how wonderful to see you,” a woman’s voice said.

I shifted my focus to the redhead who stood next to me.

“And you, Claire.”

Claire was somewhere around her mid-fifties and of Irish descent. She had a roundish head which harmonized with the plethora of freckles scattered throughout her body. She wasn’t much taller than the pub table we sat in and entirely stocky.

“How’s the martini?” she said.

“Perfect, as usual. How’s business?”

“Can’t complain,” she said. “Ski season brought me a lot of business this year, thanks to everyone coming in to check out that new resort. You know the one.”

“Wildwood.”

She nodded.

“That’s it. Between the fancy shmancy grand opening and Sundance, I’ve got no complaints.”

“Glad to hear it. We wouldn’t want my favorite place going out of business now would we?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “You want your usual?”

I nodded.

“I’ll tell your waitress,” she said, “if I can find the silly thing. As useful as a lighthouse on a bog, that one.”

“Is anyone interested in what I want at all?” Nick said.

Claire let out a full-bellied laugh and turned around.

“Why Detective Calhoun, I didn’t see you there,” she said.

He rolled his eyes.

“Sure, sure, you ladies finished yet, because I’m here to eat.”

“Aw, someone feels left out.” She patted him on the arm. “Give us girls a minute and we’ll get you all taken care of, alright? Keep your alans on.”

She turned toward me again.

“It was nice to see you Sloane, but I better get back to it.”

She gave Nick a civilized nod when she walked away.

“Detective,” she said.

Nick shrugged.

“What about my drink?” he said.

He sized my martini up from top to bottom like he wanted to frisk it.

I waved over the waitress.

“He’ll have a Bulleit Neat.”

“A bull what?” she said.

My first impressions were seldom wrong, and in this case my instincts told me two things––she was the one Claire referred to earlier, and tonight was sure to be her last.

“Bourbon on the rocks,” I said. “Ask the bartender, he’ll know.”

She still looked confused. I gestured toward Nick.

“And he would like to order,” I said.

Nick placed his order and the waitress headed for the bar.

“Now where were we?” he said.

“Somewhere between OCD and my day, I think.”

“Right,” he said, “tell me about it.”

“You won’t believe––”

“Oh boy. Here we go,” he said.

“I haven’t even come to the good part yet.”

Nick folded his arms and rested them on the edge of the table.

“Better get started then.”

“What do you know about the accident at Wildwood?”

“Same as you, I’m sure. Girl died of blunt force trauma,” he said.

“Her sister Audrey came to see me today.”

“About?” he said.

“The accident, or should I say alleged accident.”

The smile on his face vanished.

“What do you mean alleged?”

“She hired me to look into her sister’s death and find out what happened.”

The waitress returned with Nick’s drink and our salads.

“Another martini?” she said.

I handed her my glass.

Nick took a swig of his drink and swallowed hard.

“We already know what happened,” he said.

“Audrey suspects it might not have been an accident.”

“Let me get this straight. The woman smacks into a tree on a black diamond trail and her sister thinks it wasn’t an accident?”

“You got it.”

“Based on what?” he said.

“The fact that Charlotte Halliwell was an experienced skier. The woman won a silver medal in downhill. And before you chime in, I already know what you’re going to say. That in itself doesn’t prove foul play, and you’re right.”

“You know family members aren’t always in their right mind after losing a loved one,” he said.

“I don’t know what to think. But she’s hired me to look into it so that’s what I’m going to do. I don’t see how it can hurt.”

“You didn’t take this case because of Gabrielle, did you?”

I picked at my salad and tried my best not to stab it.

Nick reached over and wrapped his fingers around my wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

“She was your sister. It isn’t nothing.”

“Maybe, but that’s not why I took the case.”

And that was true, for the most part.

Our dinner arrived.

“Another ummm, drink?” she said to Nick.

He nodded.

Nick cracked his lobster. I sliced and diced my steak. Nick finished his drink. I finished mine.

“So what’s the plan of attack?” Nick said.

“The usual. Talk to people she knew, check out the ex-boyfriend, take a look at her place and see what turns up.”

“Let me know what you find out,” he said.

“Always.”

The check came and I stood, or tried to stand, and in the process I noticed my vision had changed since I first arrived.

“Where do you think you’re off to little lady,” Nick said.

“Home,” I said.

“You don’t plan to drive yourself.”

I smiled and shook my head.

It took a moment, but somewhere in Nick’s head a light went on.

CHAPTER 7

The next morning I exercised my options and phoned a friend.

“I’m calling in a favor Maddie,” I said.

“Big one or little one?”

“Not sure yet,” I said.

“Well girl, it’s gonna cost ya.”

“How about a ladies night out?” I said. “Just the two of us, I’ll pick up the tab.”

“Throw in a weekend in Las Vegas and you’ve got yourself a deal. Although, I should ask what I’m getting myself into first.”

“I’m not sure I even know the answer to that,” I said. “I took a case and it’s on the unusual side.”

“My favorite kind.”

The phone made a distinct cracking noise. At first I blamed it on a bad connection until I recognized the sound of Maddie chomping away on a piece of gum like a cow chewing its cud.

“Did you hear about the skiing accident at Wildwood a couple days ago?” I said.

“Nope.”

I filled her in on the details and got her up to speed.

She popped a bubble into the phone. At times it was hard to believe she graduated college at the top of her class.

“Do you believe her? I mean, that sounds kind of far out, you know.”

“I don’t know what to think yet. But there’s a disgruntled ex so I already have a good place to start.”

Maddie laughed.

“Isn’t there always?”

“Can I count on you to help me out then?” I said.

“What do you need and how soon do you need it?”

“They’ve transferred her body to the funeral home. Your team can do the autopsy there.”

“Didn’t the ME order one?”

“He did and so did she, but no one knows when the results will come back, and let’s just say weeks don’t register in her vocabulary.”

“Not the patient type, eh?”

“Not in the least,” I said.

“You two should get along famously then.”

“I figure I’ll poke around and see if there’s anything that can back up her suspicions, and if I don’t find anything, at least I can give her some closure.”

“Did they find anything on the body?”

“Right now it looks like an accident,” I said.

“I’ll get my boys over there right away.”

“The funeral is in two days,” I said.

“We’ll work it in, no worries.”

“You’re the best Maddie.”

She popped another bubble into the phone.

“Don’t I know it.”

“Listen, I need to run, but let me know what you find,” I said.

“Will do,” she said, “and give Mr. Studly a big kiss for me.”

CHAPTER 8

Marty stood at the front desk and looked out into the parking lot. His eyes had deep-set bags under them and he looked tired, but he did his best to muster up a smile when I came through the door.

“Thanks for seeing me,” I said.

“Not at all, I always have time for you my dear.” He gestured toward his office. “Let’s sit for a minute.”

Marty’s office resembled the rest of the place. I sat across from him in a chair that was designed more for its looks and less for comfort.

“I wanted to talk to you about Charlotte Halliwell,” I said.

He nodded.

“When Audrey came to me and asked for your number, I expected I’d hear from you again.”

“I met with her yesterday,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“She wanted to talk about what happened to Charlotte.”

“It’s a shame, really. Charlotte was such a sweet girl. I’ve known the family for years. Her father was a big supporter when I ran for mayor and donated to my campaign. Not long after that he passed away from cancer.”

I transferred the weight from one of my butt cheeks to the other. It didn’t help.

“That’s what I came to talk to you about,” I said. “Audrey believes Charlotte’s death wasn’t an accident.”

Marty’s eyes broadened. He leaned all the way back in his chair and hung there for a brief time before he moved his body forward again.

“I don’t understand. What happened here was a tragedy, a horrible accident. What proof does she have to suggest otherwise?”

“That’s what she hired me to find out,” I said.

“Do you think she’s just in shock and doesn’t want to accept what happened to her sister?”

“It’s hard to say,” I said.

He shook his head back and forth a few times.

“I don’t know what to say. What can I do?”

“Can I take a look at the crash site?” I said.

“I doubt it’ll do much good.”

“Did Charlotte keep a locker?”

He nodded.

“Her sister will be in later to gather Charlotte’s personal effects.”

“I’d like to take a look at it too before I go,” I said.

“Alright.”

“And I have one more request. I would like to talk to your staff and find out if anyone interacted with Charlotte the day she died.”

Marty ran his forefinger and thumb across his jaw a few times. He examined a picture that hung on the wall of a skier plowing his way through the trees. He stared at it for a minute and then looked back at me.

“Can you hold off on that last request for now?” he said.

“I suppose, it sure would help me though.”

“I’d like to keep your investigation under wraps for the moment. We opened not long ago and I don’t want a bunch of different stories going around about this place before there’s proof about what happened. I don’t believe you’ll find she died any other way, but for the sake of your investigation, I don’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily. You understand Sloane, don’t you?”

I was disappointed, but he had a good point and I agreed to hold off––for now.

Marty escorted me out of his office and toward the gondola lift. The sun peeked through the trees and did its best to accommodate me. I bundled up like a stay-puff marshmallow, but the pricey snow gear designed to keep me warm did a half-ass job at best. Marty threw a thick black jacket over his suit and changed out of his dress shoes into a pair of snow boots and followed me out the door. And we were off.

Charlotte’s crash took place near the bottom of a steep ski run. We took the lift most of the way down and then trudged through the snow on foot to the area where the accident occurred. A new batch of fresh powder concealed any indication that skiers had been there before us.

“Here we are,” he said.

“Impossible to tell anything happened here.”

He shrugged.

“Snow groomers came around last night and flattened it all out,” he said.

I turned my attention to the tree. The exact spot where Charlotte hit appeared unharmed. I found it odd that she ran into it at all. From the center of the run, it stood twenty plus yards away. There were a few other trees in the immediate vicinity, but it was sparse at best.

“What about possible problems with her equipment?”

“None that I know of,” he said.

“And no one was around to see it happen?”

“Not a soul,” he said.

I threw my hands up in the air.

“I guess I’m done here then.”

We returned to the main entrance and Marty retrieved the key to Charlotte’s locker.

“It’s through those doors,” he said. “133.”

“Did she rent this for the day only?”

He shook his head.

“Charlotte came in about two or three times a week, sometimes more. I gave it to her for the season, but told her she could have it longer than that if she wanted,” he said.

Locker 133 was separated into two compartments. The top shelf contained a pair of jeans. I checked the pockets and found nothing and then pulled out a black studded belt, a red sweater, white socks, and a pair of black boots which proved just as exciting. The second shelf contained one item, an oversized handbag. Inside was a real estate book of some kind. I flipped it open. On the left was a pocket that included a small monthly planner with the names and numbers of all her appointments. I flipped to the back of the book and checked the other pocket. It was empty. The rest of the bag had all the usual items: a brush, hand mirror, lipstick, and her cell phone. I took it out and slid it open. There were three phone messages and two text messages. Two of the calls were from her missed appointment that day. A husband and wife with the last name of Duchene called to find out why she was late and then tried back a second time thirty minutes later. The third call was from her assistant Bridget who said the Duchene’s got in touch with the office when she failed to show up and Vicki went to meet with them and not to worry. I checked the text messages. Both were sent by Parker Stanton. The first came at 9:15 AM that morning and contained three simple words, I miss you. The second message arrived ten minutes later and said, why are you ignoring me––return my call! You’ll regret it if you don’t. I shoved the cell phone inside my jacket and closed the locker and took the key back to Marty.

“Any luck?” he said.

“I don’t think so.”

Marty was like a father to me, and I didn’t want to worry him if I didn’t need to.

“I almost forgot,” he said. “I wanted to give you something.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two tickets for the Jazz vs. Lakers game.

“I planned on taking the Mrs., but she’s tied up for another two days in Houston,” he said. “And there’s never a dull moment around this place. Besides, I know if there was a team you wanted to see….”

CHAPTER 9

I woke the next day to the sound of my cell phone. It was Nick.

“Chief wants to see you,” he said.

“What about?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say. He wants you here right away though.”

I recalled a time as a child when my mom forced me to sit at the table for hours after I refused to eat the last few pieces of mushrooms on my plate. I didn’t care how long I sat there or how cold the mushrooms became. The hours ticked by and I didn’t budge. I wasn’t going to eat them no matter how much she coaxed me. Driving to the station I had a similar feeling of disdain. Except this time I felt like it was my duty to go whether I liked it or not.

A year earlier when Wade Sheppard became the new police chief he suggested I learn the ropes and become a cop. I declined. After working for myself for so long I couldn’t imagine going through all the training just to be put on beat for several years before someone deemed me worthy enough to make detective. I preferred life on my own terms without all the red tape. Sure, I stepped on a toe or two now and then, but I only answered to one person––myself. And freedom like that wasn’t worth giving up, at any price.

Coop was perched by the entrance when I walked in with his body hunched over the coffee machine.

“Well, well, Miss Monroe.”

“Coop,” I said.

“Hear you got yourself a new case.”

“That’s right.”

“Do yourself a favor.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“Quit while you’re still ahead.”

Before I had the chance to respond, Chief Sheppard took one step out his door and lined me up in his sights.

“Sloane, my office, now.”

Coop sounded off in the background.

“Good luck, you’ll need it.”

The chief’s office was in its usual disheveled state. The drawers to the file cabinet were open to various degrees and files were strewn across his desk. In the center on top of a heap of paperwork rested the day’s paper. He paced back and forth and then grabbed the paper and hurled it in my direction.

“What in the hell is this!”

Plastered in the middle of the front page was a picture of Charlotte and the headline, LOCAL GIRL DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT.

“Well?” he said.

I tossed the paper back on the desk.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

He took the paper and placed it in my hands and stabbed at the article with his index finger.

“Read it, all of it.”

The article offered the usual information. It cited the date of Charlotte’s death and where it took place followed by a brief mention of her career and her stint as a professional skier. It sounded like the usual hum drum until I reached the end. The cause of death, while accidental, has not yet been determined. Audrey Halliwell, sister of the deceased, had this to say. “I don’t believe my sister’s death was an accident. She was an experienced skier. I tried explaining this to the local police, but they didn’t take me seriously, and in my opinion there’s some kind of cover up going on. The cops had a good laugh at my sister’s expense which left me with no choice but to take it on myself to see that justice is served.”

I folded the paper and placed it back on the desk.

“Tell me you’re not involved with this unbalanced woman,” he said.

“I assume you know I took her case since you called me here. She believes there’s more to it than just an accident.”

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and I braced for impact.

“More to what? How does a damned accident make the front page as a possible homicide?”

“She hired me to do a job and I intend to see it through, whatever the outcome.”

“I want you to drop it.”

In all the time I knew him, he had never interfered with my work.

“May I ask why?” I said.

“My phone hasn’t stopped ringing all day. I’ve got reporters crawling all over me for an interview about what happened to this woman.”

“I didn’t speak to the media.”

“But your client did,” he said. “She’s a loose cannon who can’t deal with the fact that her sister is dead. Talking to the press won’t change that.”

“I’ll talk to her,” I said.

His expression relaxed a little.

“So you’ll tell her you can’t proceed?”

“Not yet.”

“It was an accident Sloane, nothing more.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem if I check it out,” I said.

He clenched his fists in a ball and slammed them down on the desk. The coffee in his cup splashed into the air and dispersed liquid in every direction.

“Damn you Sloane, and damn your client too! I’m giving you an order.”

“With all due respect Chief Sheppard,” I said, “I don’t work for you.”

He pressed both hands into his face with so much force I thought it would pierce his skin and then he grabbed a file from his desk and waved me out of his office.

“We’re done here, you can go.”

On my way out I glimpsed Coop in the corner with his fellow officers. They were all in hysterics. He broke from the huddle and looked over at me.

“Shall I call the tree in for questioning,” he said.

The two officers next to him erupted in laughter which added fuel to his fire.

“Yes, uh, Mr. Tree, where were you between the hours of say 10 am and 12 pm? And you didn’t move all day, you say?”

The chief wasn’t the only laughing stock.

I walked past Coop without saying a word. I wanted to slap the smug look off his face, but more than that, I wanted to get the hell out of there.

CHAPTER 10

The real estate office of Ellis & Marshall sat smack dab in the middle of Old Town right next to one of the transit bus stops. Skiers gussied up like big poof balls with their skis in tow waited in anticipation for the bus to make its rounds. Next stop for them, the slopes. And for me, a chat with Charlotte’s real estate partner.

I entered the office and was greeted by a flat screen television with an on-screen display of homes in the current flavors of the month. Located behind it was an entire wall full of photos, most in the I-could-never-possibly-afford-you-in-a-million-years range. Still, one in particular I couldn’t help but take a closer look at.

“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”

An older woman around fifty in a fitted dress stood next to me. Her shoulder-length hair was styled in a bob and looked like she had stuck her finger in a light socket for a few seconds. It was an ashy blond color, but her roots were grey, and plastered across her lips was the brightest cherry-colored lipstick I had ever seen.

“I’m just looking,” I said.

Cherry lipstick lady grabbed the photo I admired and took it off the wall.

“This one’s a real charmer, and just reduced too.”

Reduced to a mere million and a half, no thank you, I thought to myself.

“You know, Deer Valley is one of the nicest areas in Park City, and this little beauty, well––between you and me, it won’t stay on the market for long.”

The more she talked the more she reminded me of a starving piranha.

“I’m looking for Vicki Novak,” I said.

She smiled.

“You found her,” she said, and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. And you are?”

“Sloane.”

She gestured to the stairs on the right.

“Why don’t we talk in my office?”

Vicki’s office was furnished with two desks. One of the desks surfaces displayed a picture of Charlotte and Audrey with their arms around one another. They looked happy. Vicki sat at the other desk, which was devoid of any personal items and polished to a buffed shine.

“What can I do for you today?”

“I wanted to ask you a few questions about your real estate partner,” I said.

The gleam in her eye dissipated. I couldn’t decide whether it was over the fact that someone she cared for had passed away or because she realized that today she wouldn’t make a sale.

“Do you work for the paper?”

“I’m not a reporter,” I said. “Were you and Charlotte partners long?”

“Well let’s see, about five years give or take. What difference does it make?”

She crossed her legs and fidgeted with the phone cord that dangled off her desk.

“It’s terrible, you know, the accident,” she said.

She smoothed her hand across the bottom of her wet eyelid.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve hardly eaten a thing since it happened.”

“How was your relationship with Charlotte before she died?” I said.

“Forgive my rudeness, but Charlotte never mentioned you. “And you sure ask a lot of questions for someone who isn’t a reporter.”

“I’m a friend of Audrey’s,” I said.

“That still doesn’t explain why you came to see me.”

“Audrey hired me to look into Charlotte’s death.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She believes there’s a possibility that what happened wasn’t an accident,” I said.

Vicki had a stupefied look on her face like I’d just administered 50,000 volts into her system.

“How can that be?”

“I can’t answer that yet,” I said. “But, in the meantime, I’d like your help.”

Tears slid down the corner of her eyes and left black smudge marks on both sides of her cheeks.

“I don’t know how much help I can be, but I’ll try.”

“Is it true the two of you planned a transfer to another agency?” I said.

“We discussed it, but that was about it. No decision was made.”

“Why make the switch?” I said.

“Charlotte felt the time was right. A new agency opened in town and they offered a better commission split. She said we should move before the other real estate agents swooped in and snatched up all the offices.”

“And you?” I said. “How did you feel about leaving?”

“I was the one who convinced her to stay.”

“Why?”

“We made a name for ourselves at this office and between the two of us, we made plenty of money. I didn’t see the point, and after I reasoned with her, she agreed.”

“Can you think of anyone who wanted to harm her?” I said.

She bit down on the corner of her lip.

“Mmmph, no, not really. Everyone loved Charlotte.”

“What about Parker Stanton?” I said. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s a perfect gentleman, most of the time.”

“What do you mean by that?” I said.

“He’s a guy. You know how guy’s are, sometimes sweet, sometimes ahh, what’s a good word for Parker…aggressive, yes, that suits him.”

“Are you saying he’s violent?” I said.

“There have been little flare ups here and there. One time Charlotte and I made plans to meet with a high profile client who flew in to tour some homes with us. Parker called and said he needed her or wanted to talk to her, I don’t recall all the specifics. Anyway, Charlotte said she was tied up and Parker wasn’t too happy about that.”

“What happened?” I said.

“When we got back to the office he was waiting for her in the parking lot. I’ll never forget the look on her face when we drove in. It was like she knew she was going to catch hell from him, and she did alright. Once the car door opened he hustled over and grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her back to his car.”

“And then?”

“I’m not sure; she left with him I think. And right after that, she told him to hit the road and they broke up.”

“How long after?” I said.

“Maybe a few days.  It wasn’t long.”

“How would you define your relationship with Charlotte?”

She glanced at the picture on Charlotte’s desk.

“The two of us were in real estate school together. When we graduated she was hired here right away, but I had trouble finding work, and when Charlotte found out, she suggested we team up. And we’ve worked together ever since.”

She scanned her wristwatch.

“I don’t mean to cut you short, but I’m late for an appointment,” she said.

“It’s no problem,” I said, “thanks for the information. I’d like to speak with Charlotte’s assistant, Bridget, while I’m here. Is that possible?”

“Bridget hasn’t shown up for work since the accident. I tried to reach her by phone, but I couldn’t get an answer. I heard she moved out of her condo and in with her boyfriend. I’m not sure where that is but you can ask Jack Montgomery or his secretary for that information.”

“And Jack is?” I said.

“He’s our broker. His office is downstairs, second one on the right.”

We both stood and Vicki walked me out.

“I understand how Audrey feels, but I hope she can come to terms with it. And let me know if there is anything else I can do to help.”

CHAPTER 11

Jack Montgomery sat at his desk with an assortment of papers in one hand when I arrived. His door was open, but I knocked anyway.

“Excuse me,” I said, “Mr. Montgomery?”

He set the pile of paperwork down on the side of his desk and looked up at me.

“And you are?”

“My name is Sloane Monroe.”

He leaned forward and extended his hand.

“I hoped to get an address from you for Charlotte Halliwell’s assistant,” I said.

He turned toward a picture on the corner of his desk and studied it for a moment. From my vantage point it looked like Charlotte, Jack, Vicki and two or three other people I didn’t recognize. The caption on the photo read Top Agents of the Year.

“If you need any information, you can get it from my secretary.”

“Did you know Charlotte Halliwell wanted to transfer to another agency?” I said.

He squirmed in his chair like a schoolboy waiting for the recess bell to ring.

“She’s dead now. I don’t see why it matters.”

“She was the best selling agent in the office, wasn’t she?” I said.

“Not just the office, in all of Summit County.”

“I imagine others vied for her talents then,” I said.

“Charlotte was unparalleled, a one of a kind in our industry. I’ve never seen an agent with the same drive and ambition that she had, and I don’t expect to, not for a long time.”

“With her track record I imagine the other agents were jealous of her success.”

“If they were, I didn’t know anything about it. She was happy here.”

“Why do you think she wanted to leave?” I said.

He scrunched up his face.

“She didn’t.”

“You don’t expect me to believe she didn’t have offers from other agencies,” I said.

“Why are you here asking about her?”

“I was told Charlotte planned to leave this agency and work for someone else, and I was curious about why she wanted to do that.”

“That’s horse shit.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe Mr. Montgomery?” I said.

“I don’t have time to answer any more of your questions.”

“There’s no need for you to get defensive.”

He launched his body upward which sent his chair spiraling backward. It ricocheted off the wall and tumbled to its side.

“I don’t know who you think you are barging in here with all these wild accusations, but I’ve had enough.”

A woman entered the office and handed a stack of papers to Jack. She saw the look on his face and backed out of the room and closed the door behind her.

“If I can just get that address I’ll be on my way,” I said.

He shook his head.

“We’re done here. Leave, now.”

There was one thing I was certain of as I left; Jack Montgomery was lying. But why?

CHAPTER 12

The EnergySolutions Arena brimmed in anticipation of the night’s big game. Fans mingled outside in the hallways and were proud to display their yellow, green, and blue on shirts, ball caps, and even on the child who whizzed past, the words Go Jazz painted on both sides of her cheeks. The air was abuzz for the big match up, and I had a golden ticket.

Nick approached me with a beer in one hand and popcorn in the other.

“Well traitor, should we find our seats?”

“That’s a bit harsh,” I said.

“Would you rather I announced the location of the conspirator in the midst?”

“It’s just this one night,” I said. “I’m for the Jazz on any other night.”

“Except when they play your precious Lakers.”

I deposited our tickets into the usher’s hands. He scanned them briefly and said, “Follow me,” which we did like a couple of lost sheep in the wilderness.

We descended the stairs until we were all the way at the bottom with nowhere left to go. The tickets had a number seven on them outlined in gold foil, but for all I knew it was row seven in the nosebleed section.

The usher summoned us with two fingers.

“Come on over,” he said.

The row he stood in was positioned right behind the players.

Nick placed his hands together like he was about to say grace.

“Thank you Marty,” he said.

The stadium thumped to the beat of hip-hop music and the crowd awaited the start of the game. In the next row over a man flashed me with his enormous Jazz glasses that blinked on and off like a hotel sign declaring a vacancy. Nick appeared relaxed amid all the chaos and nursed his cup of beer.

“Isn’t this great?”

“Best seats in the house,” I said.

The kiss cam hovered overhead and sought innocent victims in the crowd, prompting them to give one another a big smooch in front of the insatiable crowd. An older man and woman locked in its sights. The woman clapped her hands with glee and puckered up to the man whose face was as red as a tomato in July. He moved in for a quick one.

“Marty deserves a big kiss for this,” I said.

Nick laughed.

“Just make sure it’s on the cheek.”

The Jazz mascot rode around the court on a miniature motorcycle and jumped over various obstacles in his path. I imagined one day he would fly through a ring of fire and attempt a black flip, and when he did, his enormous bear head would slide off to reveal the excessively tatted Carey Hart. Motorcycle racer by day, Jazz Bear by night.

“How did it go today with the chief?” Nick said. “I heard your client went to the paper.”

“I had no idea she would do that.”

“Have you made any progress?” he said.

“I’m still doing the preliminary rounds and Maddie’s on board too.”

He grinned.

“Maddie must love that.”

“What?”

“The challenge,” he said.

“I’m counting on it.”

Game time. The players hustled out on the court while the announcer commenced with the necessary introductions. First up, the Lakers. They entered the sports arena to rowdy Jazz fans that spewed forth their comments while the team took their places. Then it was time for the Jazz. The team penetrated the court with a loving embrace from the crowd who stood on their feet and chanted for them.

“Care to wager?” Nick said.

“Loser cooks dinner,” I said.

“You’re on.”

“Five-course minimum, you sure about that?”

Nick took a considerable amount of time before he answered. On one hand, no man in his right mind ever passed up one of my home-cooked meals, of this I was certain. On the other, fine cuisine wasn’t his specialty. He weighed the risk and then nodded.

Game on.

The players in the middle bounced on bended knee and the jump shot sprung them straight up in the air like a pair of rockets and we had liftoff. My stomach twisted with disquietude and I watched through squinted eyes. Both outstretched hands launched their fingers in the air to protrude the ball forward and two seconds later, the Lakers were in control. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Long way to go still,” Nick said.

“I think of the first toss up as a sign.”

“What’s next?”

“My team beats yours.”

“I meant with your case,” he said.

“I checked out where it happened which was a huge waste of time. I also went to Charlotte’s office. Now it’s time to focus on the boyfriend while we wait for Maddie’s autopsy results to come back.”

“What if it shows her death was an accident?”

“Hopefully that will be enough for Audrey to put it to rest.”

The Lakers dribbled and then swoosh, a perfect three pointer. For a moment I forgot my place in the enemy’s camp and shouted out a supportive YES! which elicited dirty looks from the spectators around me. A crotchety silver-haired man a few seats over gave me the stank eye and shook his head in disgust. My secret was out.

“Good job,” Nick said.

“I try my best.”

The rest of the game went by fast, and the Jazz drove a hard bargain, but on this particular night they proved no match for my Lakers.

CHAPTER 13

Audrey checked in with me early the next morning.

“Any news?”

“Not yet,” I said.

I shared the events of the past two days, which included my conversation with the chief.

“I didn’t mean to get you into any trouble, but those smug detectives didn’t even give a crap.”

“From now on you need to check with me first,” I said. “No more conversations with reporters, alright?”

The line went silent.

“And if I don’t agree?”

“Then I’m out,” I said.

And I meant it.

“I want to help you and I will do everything I can, but I need you to trust me,” I said.

Her tone relaxed a little.

“I suppose I owe you an apology. When those reporters got in my face, I lost it.”

“You’ve been through a lot, it’s understandable.”

“What more can I do to help?”

“I need an address for Parker Stanton,” I said.

“He has a house in Park City off Silver Lake Drive in Deer Valley. It’s the second or third house on the left. He also has some investment property downtown in Salt Lake City. The last time Charlotte mentioned it she said Parker rented it out to some tenants. I think the name of it is Lakewood something or other, but I’m not sure what number.”

“You said before that his schedule changed at the end.”

“In the last month or two of their relationship he was away a lot more. Most of the time he only came home to see her on Saturdays and by Sunday night he left again.”

“Perfect,” I said.

It was time to pay Parker Stanton a visit.

CHAPTER 14

The lights at 112 Silver Lake Drive were off. I situated my car behind a broken lamppost down the street. It was pitch-dark and there wasn’t anyone in sight. The only luminescence came in the form of the full moon which shone down from a starry sky. A stray cat meandered around a trio of pine trees that hovered in the yard like a protective mother bear shielding her children from the outside world.

It wasn’t long before my thoughts turned to Gabrielle. Three years had passed since her death, but to me it seemed like yesterday that we sat together at a café and reminisced about our lives. She remained as vivid to me as the day she died and sometimes I imagined I would open my front door to find her standing in the doorway ready to spend the day together again.

A car turned up the street. I slid down in my seat and watched it pass and then turn around and come back again. It slowed to a snail’s pace when it reached Parker’s house. I took out my binoculars and sized up the vehicle and its passenger, but it was too dark to see much. He gave the house a long, hard stare and then drove two houses down and parked.

A couple minutes went by and his car door opened. A roundish rolly polly man braced himself against the car and lifted his body out. The man was dressed all in black and wore a long trench coat and a beanie cap on his head. He walked up to Parker’s front door and looked over his shoulder. When the coast was clear he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small white envelope and then leaned into the doorway and shoved it into the door jam and then hustled back to his car. I took out my camera and zoomed in on his license plate and snapped a photo before he sped away.

My first instinct was to pilfer the envelope and look inside, but Parker could be home at any moment so if I wanted take a peek I needed to act fast. I dashed to the door and reached for the envelope which was left unsealed. Inside was a small index card with words scrawled across the front in bold black marker, LEAVE HER ALONE OR ELSE.

Another car turned at the bottom of the street and headed up the hill toward me. I pressed the card back into the envelope and crammed it into the door jam and then hunched over and started to run, but it was too late. Parker’s garage door opened and a car drove inside. I flattened my body on the ground and assumed an army crawl position and took cover behind the pine trees.

It only took a few minutes for my clothes to become saturated from the snow that melted beneath me, and my body cried out for warmth of any kind, but I couldn’t move––not yet. The garage door went down and a single light illuminated from a room inside the house followed by another, and I had a clear view of Parker who paced back and forth in front of an undraped window. He was engaged in a conversation on his cell phone and a smile was plastered across his face. Every now and then he stopped and laughed. I pulled my binoculars from my coat pocket to get a better view. Parker was much skinnier than I imagined, too skinny for my taste, and the way his hand flicked when he talked exposed an air of confidence, like someone who reeked of money.

A few minutes later he pressed a button on his cell phone and turned his back toward the window. I sprinted for my car and got half way there when I felt it. The cold, hard ice collided with my gluteus maximus and I slid bum first down the hill. Pain shot through me like an ice pick and set off explosive fireworks inside my body. In my haste to escape I had forgotten all about the condition of the road. The pain overwhelmed me, but I managed to stand and I limped my way back to the safety of my car.

I had my hands on the steering wheel and my key in the ignition when Parker’s front porch light turned on. Clad in a pair of striped flannels and a cotton shirt, he opened the door. The envelope dropped to the ground. He didn’t seem to notice it at first when he crouched down to retrieve the newspaper. But then his eyes fixated on it and he picked it up and turned it over in his hand. He threw the newspaper into the house and then reached inside the envelope and extracted the index card. Parker stared at it for a moment and then took a step backward into the house and flipped a switch and the entire front yard lit up. It wouldn’t take long for him to see the prints I made in the snow. In his bare feet, he took a few steps further and focused his attention on the footsteps that went up the driveway. He scratched his forehead and then turned back toward the house. Right before he reached the door he spotted my size seven footprints in the snow and followed them across the lawn. He didn’t make it far before his bare feet reacted to the cold and he turned back toward the house. I didn’t wait for him to return.

CHAPTER 15

The next day the afternoon sun struggled to shine through the clouds that served as a blockade against it. I sat on Parker’s street and waited. Parker’s car, a Porsche 911 that resembled the color of a canary, came as no surprise to me. All flash and flare and probably paid for in full with his daddy’s money. It was parked out front which meant it had already been out to play that day.

After some time my stomach indicated its discontent. I removed the lid off my bowl of brown rice and broccoli and reached for my water on the passenger seat and took a sip. It would have served as a healthy lunch would it not have been for the bag of chocolate chip cookies I had in my bag for dessert.

I glanced at my watch. Three hours had passed and there was no sign of Parker or the pudgy man in black. With my book read, my food gone, and Parker’s car still asleep in the driveway I took my leave. I didn’t have long before he would fly out again.

CHAPTER 16

Nick answered the door clad in a black apron and gave me a complete 360.

“What do you think, is it me?”

“Lose the clothes and keep the apron,” I said.

He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me inside.

“Not so tight,” I said.

“Why?”

I set Lord Berkeley down and undid my jeans. I shimmied them down a few inches and revealed the outcome of my haphazard attempt at fleeing the scene the night before.

Nick pointed a pair of tongs at me.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

The bruises had taken on a nice purplish-blue effect which reminded me a of New Zealand sunset––almost.

Lord Berkeley smelled the aroma of beef and made his way to the kitchen. He sat about a foot away from Nick’s feet and stared and waited.

Nick cocked his thumb and trigger finger and aimed straight at him.

“Pow!”

Lord Berkeley fell to the ground. He tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes and gave up the ghost. He remained still for a few dramatic moments until Nick gave him the okay signal and then sprung back to life to claim his treat, a pint-sized bone of beef.

“I should leave him with you more often,” I said.

“Out with it then,” Nick said. “I want to know about those bruises.”

“Last night I staked out Charlotte’s ex-boyfriends place.”

“And?”

“He wasn’t home at first so I waited,” I said. “And this guy pulls up with an envelope which he shoved into the door jam and then he left.”

“That’s strange.”

“I thought so too so I checked it out.”

He smiled.

“Couldn’t leave it alone, could you,” he said.

“Of course not. But Charlotte’s ex came home before I made it back to my car,” I said.

“Let me guess. He saw you on his property and beat you on the butt with his snow shovel.”

I laughed.

“I was making my getaway and that’s when this happened,” I said, and pointed at the bruises.

Nick added some spices to the steaks and flipped them over.

“You run into something?”

“I fell, on solid ice,” I said.

I raised both palms upward.

“This is what I get for all my hard work and effort,” I said.

“Ouch, you’re missing some skin on those hands. He see you?”

“I managed to get out in time.”

“And the envelope, I’m guessing you opened it.”

I nodded.

“There was a note inside,” I said.

I told him what it said.

“Weird just got weirder.”

“I know,” I said.

“What about the guy who left the note, did you get a look at him?”

I shook my head.

“After he left it he got the hell out of there.”

Nick opened the fridge and cracked a can of beer open and took a swallow.

“I managed to get his license plate,” I said.

“Good. Give it to me and I’ll run it.”

“I’m capable of doing that myself,” I said.

“So am I. Don’t make me put a tracker on your car because you know I’ll do it.”

And he would.

“Will you at least consider being careful?” he said.

“I’ll try,” I said. “Can we eat?”

Nick had adorned the table with a pair of lit candles. Nothing too fancy, but for him the gesture spoke volumes. He walked over to the table sans the apron with two plates, one in each hand. He pressed two fingers together on his thumb and in his best French accent said, “And now for the piece de resistance.”

I tried not to, but I cracked up anyway.

My plate contained a steak, mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables.

“And the fourth and fifth course?”

“We have some lovely rolls for zee lady and some red wine, lots of zee red wine.”

I took a bite of my steak. It was delicious and cooked to perfection. Nick hovered over me like Lord Berkeley did when he wanted praise.

“Excellent,” I said, “best bet I ever won.”

One meal and two glasses of wine later I felt satisfied. I rested my head on the back of Nick’s sofa and indulged in the last of my wine. I couldn’t decide what I enjoyed more, the warmth of the fire or the peace that came in silence. Nick came over and sat next to me with a perplexed look on his face.

“What’s on your mind,” I said.

He shifted his body weight to the side and faced me.

“You said we could talk about us that night at dinner and we didn’t.”

“I know I did. It’s just that we were having such a great time. I hoped it could wait,” I said.

“That’s what you always say when I try to talk to you.”

“I know, but––”

“Whatever you need to say, say it. Get it out. Putting it off until tomorrow or the next day or six months from now won’t make a difference.”

Therein lay the problem. I cared too much about his feelings to just put the words out there so they could hang in the air like a bunch of tiny daggers. It didn’t matter what I said, I had the uncanny ability to always say the wrong thing, and in this instance, I didn’t want to have any regrets.

I patted him on the thigh.

“I should get going,” I said. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Let’s do this later, okay?”

I started to get up and he grabbed my waist and pulled me back down.

“You over think everything,” he said. “Don’t you know that?”

“No I don’t.”

“Like hell. I can tell when I look at you. Your face gives it away. How can we ever have a decent relationship if we can’t communicate with each other?”

“We think so differently,” I said.

He buried his head in his palms and stared at the carpet.

“Does that mean we shouldn’t try?”

My attempt to stall him only made it worse. No matter how many times I went over this moment in my head I still didn’t know what to say. I knew he was frustrated with me, and I was even more frustrated with myself for not being able to make a decision.

“You know what you want, Nick. But I’m not sure I do,” I said.

“What does that even mean?”

“You see our lives together, our future. You want to make plans, take the next step in our relationship,” I said.

“And you don’t? I thought that’s what we both wanted.”

“I like what we have right now. I don’t know why we need to change it,” I said. “You have your place, I have mine. We are together almost every night. Why isn’t that enough––what is it about living together that means so much to you?”

“It’s what I want.”

The conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and I didn’t know what else to say so I said nothing.

Nick shook his head and then stood up and went into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Lord Berkeley raised his head to check on the commotion and then curled back up in a ball again. My body felt like it was trying to shut down, and there was no auto pilot I could engage to make me feel any better.

I sat on the sofa for the next ten minutes while Nick remained in his room. Part of me wanted to go in after him and the other wanted to leave. After a few more minutes, I left.

CHAPTER 17

I kept a low-profile distance between myself and Parker. The canary yellow proved an unworthy adversary in a sea of otherwise white and grey cars. My Audi held steady as it zigged and zagged down Parley’s Canyon in an attempt to keep up.

Today my long hair was fastened with a rubber band and concealed beneath a brown paisley newsboy hat. I felt confident Parker hadn’t seen me a couple nights before, but I didn’t want to take any chances. When we reached the city, the sky changed color, a defenseless victim of the inversion. The once luminous skies mutated to ashy shades of gray that reminded me of murky pond water. I recalled a conversation I once had with a native of the beehive state who asked where I was from, and upon hearing my answer, turned up his nose at me in disgust. I believe the terminology used was eww as if my sunny California air paled in comparison to the crisp, clean air in Utah. I wondered what he thought of his skies now. Eww indeed.

Parker merged onto the interstate at the bottom of the canyon and became harder to keep track of. With the additional lanes, he had a lot more room on which to perfect the art of the weave. He passed several exits before he bid farewell to the freeway and took the off ramp on sixth south. We approached the first red light and Parker revved his engine and sped right through it leaving me stuck behind two other vehicles. I drove around for the next fifteen minutes, but I saw no sign of him anywhere. According to Audrey, Parker’s schedule dictated he would fly out that night which meant today was my last chance if I didn’t want to wait another week.

I rounded third south and caught a glimpse of a shiny yellow diamond in the rough stationed in front of The Rusty Nail, a new restaurant in town. I parked my car and waited. The restaurant door opened some fifty minutes later and a woman in a bohemian style cap and long hair in loose braids stepped out and out stepped Parker with her. Her arm was intertwined with his. She tilted her head back and laughed and then nuzzled into his shoulder. He lifted back a piece of her blond locks and whispered something in her ear. Halfway across the street blondie stumbled a bit. I wondered if it had to do with the ridiculous four inch wedge shoes she wore, or if happy hour was to blame. She reached out to open the car door and he yanked her back and then grabbed the handle himself and opened it for her. What a perfect gentleman. Before she entered the car he dipped her backward and planted an impassioned kiss on her lips. With her back arched and her right heel raised, it had all the makings of a Billy Wilder movie. Time to roll the credits.

Blondie drove by and I jotted down her license plate number. I started to enter it into my computer when Parker started his engine. I assumed he would head straight for the airport so it came as a surprise when he turned his car in the opposite direction. His next stop was the flower shop where he emerged with a bouquet of lilies. He threw them in the passenger seat and drove to the Lakewood Chateau Townhomes. The valet at the front took his keys and with flowers in hand, Parker headed inside.

I parked non-valet in the only parking spot I could find at the end of the street and went in after him. I managed to slide inside without much notice and saw Parker enter the men’s room. Now all I had to do was wait. I stood a few feet away and examined a brochure of the place until he exited.

Show time.

I crossed him diagonally and bumped him hard enough that the book and pen I carried fell from my hands and crashed onto the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He bent down and grasped my pen while I went for my book.

Our eyes locked and he grinned.

“No need to apologize,” he said.

I took my pen from his hand and our eyes connected again. This time I held his gaze a bit longer and smiled a half-sweet, half-seductive smile.

“Well,” I said, “thanks again.”

I turned and started for the door.

“Wait just a minute,” he said.

Hook, line, and sinker. It was too easy.

“At least give me your name before you leave.”

“Alright then. It’s Sloane.”

He stuck out his free hand.

“Good to meet you Sloane, I’m Parker.”

“Nice flowers,” I said.

He scrutinized them for a moment like he forgot they were there.

“Oh these, I bought them for my mother,” he said. “It’s her birthday tonight.”

It sounded truthful enough, but his eyes told a different story.

“Well, Parker. Nice to meet you,” I said.

“You live around here?”

“Not too far,” I said.

“I haven’t seen you before. I’m sure I would have remembered.”

“Big city,” I said.

He shook his head.

“I meant here at Lakewood. Are you a resident?”

“Oh, right.” I said. “Not yet. I’m in the market though so I thought I’d check it out.”

“I see.”

“What about you, do you live here?” I said.

“Sometimes.”

“And other times?” I said.

“I have a house in Park City, but I travel a lot for work. My family has a private jet so I can’t complain.”

One would assume that line fascinated the ladies. A man with a house in Park City, a townhome on the side, a private jet, and a sports car that looked like a hornet. Most women would find him hard to resist. I wasn’t most women.

He looked at his watch.

“Would you recommend this place?” I said.

He nodded.

“My townhouse isn’t like the others you’ve probably seen. You can take a look at it if you like.”

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t want to––”

“I insist,” he said.

He glanced at his watch again.

“How about tomorrow?” he said.

“Sounds great.”

“I’m number 312. Does eleven o’clock work for you?”

I nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said. “Oh, and enjoy your mother’s birthday party.”

He picked a lily from the bouquet of flowers and extended it to me.

“I look forward to tomorrow.”

“Me too,” I said.

More than he knew.

CHAPTER 18

Parker had been so swept up in our tête-à-tête he failed to notice the bug I planted on him during my little mishap. Now I just needed it to pay off. I hoofed it through the parking garage and ensured his car remained in its space, and then waited for the fun to begin. I passed the time by running blondies plates. They belonged to one Zoey Kendrick with an address off 18th and Walnut in Sugarhouse.

There was a knock on Parker’s door, followed by the click-clack of heels. Blondie perhaps?

“I’ve missed you,” Parker said.

I wondered how much you could miss a person you spent time with a few hours earlier.

They shuffled around and then kissed.

“For you,” Parker said.

“They’re beautiful,” a woman’s voice said.

“And you’re even more beautiful.”

“Come, sit down,” he said. “Tell me about your life since I last saw you. I want to know everything.”

“I’ve been good.”

“Are you happy to see me?” he said.

“Of course.”

I wasn’t convinced. Something about the tone in her voice wasn’t right.

“Why don’t you lie down on the bed and let me give you a back rub, it will be just like old times.”

There was urgency in his voice and a sense of inquietude in hers.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said.

“The flowers were enough.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said.

She was silent.

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

The man wasted no time.

“But I thought…”

“Our dinner reservations aren’t for another hour,” he said. “That gives us plenty of time, and I don’t want to waste another minute of it.”

“You said we could take it slow.”

“There’s no need to play coy with me. I want you,” he said.

“Can’t we talk? I just got here.”

“Come on Daniela, please,” he said. “Don’t make me beg.”

Daniela? Unless blondie changed her name in the past few hours the proverbial poster boy of love lacked a faithful bone in his cheating, philandering body.

The bed creaked.

“Would you like to remove your clothes or should I do it for you?” he said.

She didn’t respond.

“Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it.”

There was movement on the bed and then something ripped.

“Stop, you’re hurting me.”

“And what about me, Daniela? Have you considered what you’re doing to me, haven’t I treated you nice? I bought you beautiful flowers, I made arrangements for an expensive dinner for the two of us, and this is how you show your appreciation––by refusing me.”

“Stop it Parker, please.”

“Stop it Parker, you’re hurting me,” he said.

His attempt to taunt her went unanswered.

“I’ll teach you to refuse me you ungrateful bitch.”

His voice took on an incensed tone, a far cry from the gentleman that wooed me earlier that evening.

“Don’t move,” he said.

I turned the key in the ignition and slammed my foot on the petal. I didn’t want to blow our meeting the next day, but no woman deserved this.

There was a crash and then a thud and something hit the ground.

“Get back here!” he said.

The door slammed.

I pulled up in front of the building and a dark-haired woman sprinted out. One look at her disheveled hair and bare feet and I knew I had the right woman.

“Daniela,” I said, “get in.”

“Why should I, I don’t know you.”

“I’m a friend. Trust me please.”

“I…I don’t know.”

I grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open.

“It’s okay,” I said, “let me get you out of here.”

CHAPTER 19

“Who are you, and how do you know my name?”

I owed her an explanation, but how much of one I wanted to give, I didn’t know.

“Where to?” I said.

“Cottonwood Heights.”

“Are you okay?” I said.

She shook her head.

“And Parker?”

“His family jewels might be sore for a while, but I’m sure he’ll survive. He always does. Wait, how did you…?”

“How do you know Parker?” I said.

She gazed at me.

“You first.”

“It’s a long story. He’s the ex-boyfriend of a friend of mine’s sister. Have you known him long?”

“About a year.”

“Were you two involved?” I said.

“If you mean in a romantic way, yeah.”

“For how long?” I said.

“About nine months. I broke it off a couple weeks ago.”

It crossed my mind that Charlotte found out about his dirty little secret and that she paid for it with her life.

“Why did you break up?” I said.

She sighed and looked out my car window.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“When did he hit you last?” I said.

She looked startled that I knew, or assumed to know. At this point it was more of a hunch and I knew I had pushed her with my questions, but right now she was stuck in my car and unless she opened the door and flung herself out, she had no place else to go.

“Look lady, I don’t even know you so what’s with the twenty questions?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

She massaged her arm with her left hand which jerked a tiny bit every time she touched it.

“Are you hurt?” I said.

She nodded.

“I wanted to break it off for good this time. That’s why I went to see him. How could I be so stupid, sono cosi stupido!”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but it didn’t sound good.

“You loved him, didn’t you?” I said.

She hung her head but didn’t say a word.

“Do you know a woman named Charlotte Halliwell or Zoey Kendrick?”

She shook her head back and forth.

“Should I?”

“From what I understand they were both involved with Parker,” I said.

Her face hardened. She didn’t know.

“What makes you think there are others?”

“Up until a few months ago Parker planned to marry Charlotte Halliwell, but then she called it off,” I said.

She contracted her hand into a fist and thrust it into my leather seat––two times.

“That bastard!”

“If it’s any consolation, I believe he kept all of you in the dark. I think he wanted it that way,” I said.

“And you think this Charlotte person, she didn’t know either?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because,” I said, “she’s dead.”

She took her hand and shielded her eyes and squeezed both temples.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I said. “It would help me if you could tell me more about your relationship with him.”

“How did you know I was going to meet Parker tonight, and how did you happen to drive up at the exact time I ran out, like you expected me.”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“Fine by me, you don’t answer my questions, I don’t answer yours.”

It seemed we were at an impasse. I didn’t want to give up my true motive and she didn’t want to pour her life story out to a stranger. One of us needed to relent. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were closed––the answer was obvious.

“Alright,” I said.

For the next several minutes I fed her rudimentary details about my interest in Parker Stanton and hoped she would keep quiet long enough for me to confront him myself. I made no mention of my earlier run in with him that evening.

“That’s crazy,” she said, when I finished.

“Now can you see why I need your help?” I said.

“And you want to know if I think Parker is capable of murder?”

“I’m asking you to share what you know about him. Anything you can tell me would help.”

“You might not believe me, but at first our relationship was different from anything I’ve ever experienced before, like something out of a fairy tale. He left presents on my doorstep and notes stuck to the windshield on my car, and he took me on trips all over the place. Paris by day, London by night. Nothing was out of his reach. I guess some part of me questioned whether it was too good to be true, but I didn’t want to believe it wasn’t. No one in my life had ever treated me that way before.”

“When did things change?” I said.

“About halfway into the relationship, but by then it wasn’t easy to get out.”

“It’s a hard decision to make, especially when you’ve invested your feelings into it,” I said.

“Parker has a nasty temper and anything can set him off. At first he would just grab my arm or pin me down but after awhile, that wasn’t enough. One day he shoved me and I fell. He spent the next two days apologizing and said if I had it in me to forgive him he’d never lay a hand on me again.”

“And did he?” I said.

“For the next couple months after that no, and then last month he went off in a tirade. He hit me in the face and it left marks. I backed up and tried to get away from him and tripped over the coffee table, and that’s when this happened.

Daniela turned on the passenger side light and lifted up her shirt. It revealed a faded bruise that spanned about seven inches on her side.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must have hurt.”

“I thought he was the one. We planned our life together––kids, the whole bit.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

She shook her head.

“I wanted to, but I was embarrassed,” she said. “I didn’t want my family to find out what happened so I left for a couple weeks and visited a friend while I tried to sort it all out in my head. I know what you think––how could I go back to that monster after what happened? He called me every day and for a long time I didn’t answer, but the messages he left me were so sweet. Even with all we’d been through in the past, it was hard not to see him again.”

She lifted her finger and pointed out the window.

“Take a left at the stop sign.”

I turned.

“You can pull over right here,” she said.

She opened the car door and punched in a code that opened the gates into a long drive.

“Nice place,” I said.

“It’s my Uncle’s winter home. We only use it a few months out of the year during ski season.”

It looked like a smaller version of the Hearst mansion. I couldn’t imagine what his summer home must be like.

“I’ll walk from here.”

“Can I call you if I have any other questions?” I said.

“All I want right now is to get away from him and to put this behind me, for good this time.”

“At least let me give you my card so you can call me if you need to,” I said.

She took the card and turned toward the gate.

“Thanks for the ride.”

CHAPTER 20

“Monkshood.”

“Monkshood?”

“Yep.”

“What is it?” I said.

“That would be our cause of death,” Maddie said.

“It hardly sounds dangerous.”

“The Greek’s didn’t call it the Queen of Poisons for nothing,” she said.

The light from the sun blinded me. I yawned and reached out to adjust my curtains and then closed them all together. I wasn’t ready to get up yet.

“So does that mean Charlotte was––”

“Poisoned,” she said.

“How?”

“It’s ingested or absorbed into the system, and in this case, she ingested it, a lot of it,” Maddie said.

Audrey was right.

“I can’t believe it.”

“It’s possible someone gave it to her before she went skiing,” she said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because this stuff has nasty side effects.”

“Such as?”

“Paralysis of the facial muscles and the heart,” she said.

“Wow.”

“It also dulls vision and my guess is that at some point she couldn’t see where she was going.”

“That explains a lot.”

“It’s nasty stuff, and the sad thing is, when her body started to break down she was probably still with it and conscious right up to the end,” she said.

“Any chance she came across it on accident?”

“I don’t see how,” she said.

“It was premeditated then.”

“And the killer never thought they would get caught,” she said. “Whoever did this assumed her death would be ruled an accident and didn’t take time to consider there might be a toxicology report.”

“Their world of disillusionment is about to change.”

“The drug works fast, and based on the amount I found in her system, death probably came within a few hours from the time she ingested it, maybe less.”

“That gives me a good place to start.”

“Go get him, sister,” Maddie said. “And jack his shit up.”

CHAPTER 21

In light of what happened to Daniela and the fact Charlotte was poisoned, I decided the time had come for my big reveal.

I knocked on door 312.

No answer.

I tried again.

Still no answer.

Maybe last night’s antics turned him off women for the moment. Then again, for a womanizer such as himself, that didn’t seem logical.

After the third try I gave up and went back down the hall. A door opened behind me.

“Sloane, hold up.”

Jackpot.

I casually turned my head.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s me.”

I gave it a minute to sink in. It didn’t.

“It’s the hair,” I said, “no hat today.”

The dumfounded look on his face turned into a smile and he bobbed his head up and down.

“Wow, I thought you were a brunette under the hat you had on, but the black––I like it.”

“Thought you would,” I said, and I stepped into the dragon’s lair.

“What do you think?” he said.

“It’s nice, very umm, contemporary.”

I hated contemporary. The metal fixtures around the room reminded me of a jail cell. They were stale and ugly and felt hard and cold. The style suited him.

“Would you like to look around?” he said.

“I thought we could get to know each other better first.”

“I hoped you would say that,” he said.

“Can I offer you a drink? Wine, beer, or perhaps a cocktail of some kind?”

Knowing what I needed to say, I considered it. But, I knew better. I shook my head.

“Mind if I do?”

“Go right ahead,” I said.

He walked past me to the kitchen with a slight limp.

“Hurt yourself?” I said.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I had a long night.”

“Sounds like quite the party.”

Parker smiled but stayed quiet while he mixed a frilly girly drink that consisted of vodka and cranberry juice and some other juice that might have been grapefruit. He even took the time to squeeze some fresh lime into it before he walked over and sat down on the sofa. He patted down the space next to him and looked at me.

I bit my lip and did my best to muster a smile and sat instead on the adjoining love seat across from him. He was undaunted by this and seemed to enjoy the friendly game of cat and mouse.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“Why don’t we discuss you first?”

He crossed his legs and leaned toward me.

“Alright then, shoot,” he said.

I knew all I needed to know already except for whether he committed the murder. Time to find out.

“Do you know any real estate agents in the area?”

“That’s an interesting question to lead with. Don’t you have one already?” he said.

“I did.”

“I know every agent worth knowing around here, who was it?” he said.

“Charlotte Halliwell, know her?”

He sat his drink down on the table and cleared his throat––three times.

“Charlotte Halliwell, huh.”

I pushed harder.

“Do you know her or don’t you?”

“Oh, uh, no. Can’t say that I do,” he said.

I smiled and relaxed back into the sofa.

“Hmmm.”

“What’s so funny?” he said.

“You are.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I know you know her.”

“But I just said I didn’t,” he said.

“You know what I find interesting, Mr. Stanton?”

He jerked his shoulders.

“That someone like yourself could be engaged to a person they don’t even know. I mean, how does that happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“And how did the others feel when they found out about the wedding? Were they jealous, heartbroken, or did you keep it to yourself?”

“Others?” he said.

He uncrossed his legs and stood up next to the sofa. I wondered if the hair on his arms stood up with him.

“The other women, of course. You never told them about Charlotte did you? None of them had a clue, did they?”

“Sloane, if that’s even what your name is, I assure you I––”

“I suppose the names Zoey and Daniela don’t ring any bells either, hmmm?”

Beads of sweat formed like a miniature rainforest on his upper lip. And I was just getting started.

“How do you know all this?” he said.

“Honestly, Mr. Stanton. If you want me to answer your questions maybe you should answer some of mine.”

He turned away from me. I had done something the other women couldn’t do and placed him in a position he wasn’t familiar with. I had become the cat, and the game wasn’t fun for him anymore.

“Do you know how Charlotte died?”

“Yeah, some accident at that Wildwood ski place,” he said.

“So you do know her then.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’re wrong, you know. It wasn’t an accident.”

“What the hell are you playing at,” he said.

His surprise, while unfeigned, was good. But not convincing enough to win the Oscar.

“Do you want to know how she died?”

“I already told you,” he said.

“The autopsy told a different story. Care to try again?”

“You tell me, you seem to know so much about it.”

He shook his head and picked his drink back up and ingurgitated all of it.

“Alright then,” I said. “She was murdered.”

He spat out some of his drink and it trickled down like a stream of water onto the sofa.

“You’re friggin nuts!” he said.

“Does the large amount of poison that the ME found in her body sound crazy to you?”

“I don’t believe you. No fucking way.”

“So that leaves me with one question.”

“And what’s that?” he said.

“Where were you the day she died?”

“We broke up. She went her way, I went mine,” he said. “None of this is any of your business.”

“And the text messages you sent her the day she died?”

“I don’t know who you are, but I don’t see a badge or a gun so I take it you’re not the police. I’m not saying another word.”

Just because he couldn’t see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

“We’ll see about that.”

He slammed the empty glass down on the table and glared at me.

“Get out!”

I rose from the sofa and looked at Parker and smiled.

“One last question before I go. Hit anyone lately?”

It took a moment for my head to adjust after being forced up against the wall, my neck pinned by the weight of his fingers. I allowed it. He may have controlled his women in the past, but I wasn’t about to give him the same satisfaction. The rancid alcohol on his breath was strong, and his eyes were like huge saucers and looked like they were ready to bulge out of his head. He held me against the wall to let me know he was in control and when he felt confident that he had dominated me, he pulled back and raised his hand to strike. I suppose he thought he was going to teach me a lesson. His mistake. I snaked his arm with my free hand, yanked it backward toward me, and struck above his palm. This left him no choice but to open up his fingers. I slammed the bottom of my hand into his fingers which bent them back almost all the way and then watched him retract in pain.

“You bitch!”

Parker massaged his fingers with his uninjured hand. I opened the door and pulled back my jacket just enough to reveal the gun holstered on my hip and curved my body so I faced him.

“Keep your hands off Daniela, and if I hear you’ve smacked around any other women, broken fingers will be the least of your worries.”

CHAPTER 22

Audrey and I arranged to connect up at Charlotte’s place and Maddie was meeting me there afterwards so we could go talk to the chief. On the way over I placed a quick call to Nick. He didn’t answer, and I wasn’t surprised. I left him a message in which I did my best to downplay the events that occurred the last time we were together. I also gave him a brief idea of what happened at Parker’s but omitted the part where he cinched me in a choke hold against the wall. Since Maddie confirmed foul play, I didn’t want Park City’s finest in the way of me proving Parker did it, and for now, that included Nick––even if he wasn’t talking to me at the moment.

I found the door to Charlotte’s condo unlocked and all the lights on when I arrived but didn’t see anyone in the front room.

“Hello?” I said.

A voice echoed from down the hall.

“In here.”

I followed the sound to the bedroom where Audrey sat in the middle of Charlotte’s bed and flipped through worn pages of an old photo album. She traced her finger across a photograph of a young Charlotte who beamed with joy atop a purple road runner bicycle with a yellow banana seat.

“Reminiscing over all the good times,” she said.

“Well, you were right about what happened to Charlotte.”

She closed the album and tucked it into an oversized handbag on the floor and gave me her full attention.

 “What do you mean?”

For the first time since we met, Audrey listened in silence while I relayed the information Maddie gave me. I passed on most of the details but left out the part where Charlotte may have been alert until the end. Audrey had suffered enough.

“I’m not surprised,” she said, when I finished. “You know that feeling you get sometimes in your gut. I’ve had that all along. Maybe now everyone won’t look at me like I’m a deranged lunatic.”

She shook her head back and forth.

“It’s hard to think of what those last moments were like for her. I wonder how much pain she endured and if she suffered; I could kill him, I really could.”

“I haven’t proved it was Parker yet.”

“Isn’t it obvious? He did it,” she said.

“There’s something else,” I said. “Earlier today I confronted Parker, and he got a little aggressive.”

She cupped her hand over her mouth.

“Are you alright?” she said.

“I’m a lot better than he is.”

Audrey raised an eyebrow and shot me a devious wink.

“What did you do?”

“Let’s just say he won’t get much use out of one of his hands for a while,” I said.

We both laughed.

“Serves him right.”

“He had a woman at his place in town last night,” I said. “Things got heated when she wouldn’t consent to sex, and I’m glad I showed up when I did.”

“What happened?”

I explained what transpired between Parker and Daniela. Audrey hung on to my every word like a child clings to the bar on a roller coaster.

“Turns out they dated for about a year.”

She threw both hands up in the air.

“Unbelievable!” she said. “I don’t think anything you say at this point will surprise me.”

“Don’t count on it. The woman said Parker hit her, and on more than one occasion.”

Audrey shook her head back and forth.

“That stupid ass.”

“I think she was one woman in a whole string of them. Earlier in the day, I found him out with a blond woman. I haven’t had the chance to talk to her yet so I’m not certain, but they looked like much more than friends.”

She crunched her hands together the way a person relieves tension on a stress ball.

“I want to wrap my hands around his scrawny little neck and squeeze,” she said.

“I need you to steer clear of him, Audrey. I mean it.”

“You can’t expect me to sit back after all this. He needs to pay for what he’s done.”

“And he will, but I want to make sure it’s done the right way. Besides, we don’t know what he’s capable of.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m not my sister, I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt that, but let me see this through,” I said.

“I suppose that means you’ll work with the police now, huh?”

I nodded.

“A lot of good that’s going to do,” she said.

It was clear no amount of persuasion would change the idea she formed in her mind about the PCPD so I didn’t attempt it.

“Let me worry about that, okay?” I said.

She considered it for a moment.

“Well, I got this far with your help so I suppose I owe you that much.”

“Now that I know Parker is capable of violent behavior, did you ever notice any bruises on Charlotte?”

“She never said he hit her. He had a nasty temper sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he abused her. Now that I think about it, Charlotte dressed conservatively though. I suppose it’s possible if she was being abused that she hid it from everyone.”

“What about the other women, did she ever talk about them?” I said.

She shook her head.

“The ME found no sign of abuse on her body. No bruises, scars, or anything to suggest he abused her. The only injuries she had were the ones she sustained in the accident.”

Audrey glanced at the clock on Charlotte’s wall and then reached for her handbag.

“I’m sorry, I need to run. Vicki left some items at the office for me––Charlotte’s effects and other things from her desk she thought I might want, but stay as long as you need to and do whatever you need to do.”

“And if you get the urge to confront Parker, call me first, okay?” I said.

“I can’t guarantee to stay away from Parker forever, but for now you have my word.”

She reached into her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes.

“Just nail that son of a bitch before I change my mind.”

CHAPTER 23

Charlotte’s condo presented itself as clean, but not meticulously so. In the kitchen a glass rested on the counter that was half filled with water. I found another in the living room. Her walls were painted dark red and replicas of Picasso paintings adorned them. A pair of heeled shoes lounged on the floor in front of the sofa. One had tipped over and was on its side. Everywhere I looked I saw signs of life that someone once inhabited the space. Her apartment was like a piece of history frozen in time. A part of me felt like a trespasser and that at any moment Charlotte would turn the key and step inside and wonder who I was and what I was doing there.

In the bathroom a soap dish displayed the words SOAP in giant black letters across the front of the dish. It matched the wastebasket which had TRASH etched on it. It seemed absurd to me that a person would decorate in such a way. I wondered what I would find next––a tooth cleaner with the word TOOTHBRUSH written on it?

There were two bedrooms in Charlotte’s condo. One to the left and one to the right of the bathroom. In one room I observed a desk, I started there.

Charlotte’s home office had an ornate brown desk that sat majestically in the middle of the room. It reminded me of a piece of furniture Henry VIII might have used in his day. The top contained a single item, a laptop computer. It was closed.

In the corner of the room stood a tall bookcase with three shelves. The first and third shelf contained books, most of them real estate related. The middle shelf posed as a shrine to her achievements in the form of crystal-like objects. Each contained words like, Presidents Club 2009, Realtor of the Year 2010, and the like.

I switched my focus to the laptop and therein found my first impediment––I didn’t know the password. I hoped a quick call to Audrey would give me the answer I needed.

“Try Charlie,” she said.

“Charlie?”

“It was a nickname my dad gave her as a kid.”

It worked.

I started with her internet files, the majority of which were left unread. The inbox showed over six hundred of them, most related to real estate in one form or another. PRICE REDUCED ON GORGEOUS ALPINE HOME proved the favorite with a grand total of eleven emails that all said the same thing.

Sheesh.

I sifted through her inbox and ran a search on the name Parker. It turned up nothing. On the days that led up to the murder most of the emails in her sent folder contained responses to real estate questions and follow-up with clients. I also found a monthly meeting she had with the real estate board and a couple of random emails to friends, but nothing out of the ordinary.

 The top drawer of the desk contained the usual; a stapler, paperclips, pens, sticky notes, a box of thank you cards, and markers. I tugged on the second drawer, but I couldn’t get it to open. I tried a little harder, it wouldn’t budge. And that’s when I noticed it, a sunken in hole on the side of the desk about the size of a dime, just big enough for a tiny key to fit through. I tried to put myself in Charlotte’s place––if I needed to hide a key, where would I hide it? I felt along the ridges of all the doors but it wasn’t there. I looked through drawers and jewelry boxes, pill boxes and cups, all to no avail. Maybe it wasn’t in the condo at all. On the other hand, if she accessed the drawer often enough the key would need to be somewhere convenient which meant one thing––I needed to look again.

I returned to the desk and opened the top drawer once more. I pulled out the box of thank you cards and shook it. It rattled. I opened the box, but I didn’t see a key. I dug through the cards and the envelopes, and there at the bottom was a shiny silver piece of metal which fit into the hole and when I turned it, the drawer popped open. Inside were two items; a notebook of some kind and a single file folder. I flipped open the notebook and there on the first page scrawled on a post-it note were three names:

DANIELA LUCIANA

ZOEY KENDRICK

KRISTIN ???

Charlotte had known about Parker’s other women, but for how long?

On the opposite side of the page was a paperclip with a business card attached. It read, Marc Benjamin, PI, and beneath the card was a small stack of photos. In one Parker was engaged in a kiss with Daniela. Another was of Zoey and had been taken through a sheer window. From the waist up, she didn’t have a stitch of clothes on and she flaunted her naughty bits for the entire world to see. A third photo showed Parker in a tight embrace with a brunette. Kristin maybe?

I pulled out the second item in the desk, a file folder. It included an agglomeration of real estate transactions for the past year all arranged in chronological order. Nothing unusual about that. I glanced up at the wall clock in the hall. Maddie would arrive any moment now. Chief Sheppard expected us in fifteen minutes. I shut Charlotte’s computer down and grabbed the contents of the locked drawer.

Once I turned off all the lights inside the house I stepped outside. Charlotte’s porch light was out so I relied on the soft glow of the moon to lock the door. There was a faint aroma in the air that reminded me of sugar cookies and I figured one of the neighbors must be baking.

A wave of hot and then cold air brushed across my neck. I looked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of a large crystal-like object hurdling toward me. I ducked, but not in time. My head burned and something wet and runny slid down my neck. I touched it. Blood! And then my legs caved in beneath me and everything went black.

CHAPTER 24

I woke in a field overflowing with white daisies. The sun blazed down and its warmth coalesced on my skin. I felt a sensation in my toe like something was pricking it over and over again with a needle and when I opened my eyes a dainty red and blue butterfly was perched there.

I sat up and looked around. The place was unfamiliar to me and yet I was at peace, more so than I had ever been in my entire life. My body was weightless, as light as air, and I closed my eyes for a time and soaked it all in.

The butterfly spread its wings and fluttered away.

A voice called out to me, but I couldn’t make it out. It was soft and melodious, like the rhythm of a song and the more I listened, one word became clear––my name. I took my hand and shielded my face from the sun and tried to see through the lambent light. When I did I beheld my sister clothed in a summery white dress. She was far away, but I recognized her diminutive frame. I stood up and the stems of the flowers brushed along my feet as I ran toward her.

I shouted out and hoped she heard me.

“I’m coming,” I said.

The more I ran the farther away she became. I tried to run faster, but when I looked down it was as if I was running in place. I motioned with my arms for her to come to me.

“Please Gabrielle,” I said, “I can’t reach you.”

In a single moment, she was before me. Her entire frame radiated with light and when I looked upon her, I felt a sense of calm and happiness. She reached out her hands and we embraced. I closed my eyes and when I opened them she was far away again. She raised her hand into the air and waved at me and then turned and walked through the trees.

“Wait!” I said. “Don’t go, please. I don’t want to be here without you.”

But she didn’t turn back, and after a moment the faint outline of her dress was all that remained.

CHAPTER 25

“Sloane, can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry like I was looking at objects through my dad’s old horn-rimmed glasses. A woman hovered over me. She reached out her hand and shook me, and I couldn’t figure out why she was so close. I tried to back up, but my head throbbed when I moved.

“Talk to me,” she said. “What happened?”

The woman’s blond pigtails hung in my face. I tried to swat them out of the way, but I couldn’t lift my hand off the ground.

“Do I know you?”

“Sloane, come on, it’s Maddie.”

Maddie? And who’s Sloane?

“Let me help you up,” she said.

“What happened?”

“Do you know where you are?”

I tried to speak but nothing came out.

“We better get you to the hospital,” she said.

Hospital? What for?

The woman lifted me off the floor. She wrapped a piece of fabric around my head and slung her arm around me. I tried to move my legs forward, but it felt like they were all flesh and no bone.

“I’m cold,” I said. “Why is it so freezing out here?”

The girl who called herself Maddie laughed.

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of hatred for zero degree temperatures,” she said. “Maybe if you wore boots instead of flip-flops all the time, you wouldn’t be cold.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my car. Don’t worry, it’s right over there.”

I looked right over there and didn’t see anything except a big blue blob with two bright circles on the front of it. The woman reached out and touched the side and it opened.

“Okay, here you go. Let’s get you in,” she said. “Do you know who did this to you?”

“Did what?”

“Whacked you over the head, silly.”

The tires rolled over the bumps on the road, dutt doom, dutt doom.

“Do you have your phone on you?” she said.

“For what?”

“I need Nick’s number,” she said.

The sound of his name made me feel good inside, but I didn’t know why.

“Can you call her?”

“Who?” she said.

“Gabrielle.”

“Gabrielle’s not here sweetie,” she said. “You’re starting to scare me.”

She stretched across me and rifled through my jacket pocket.

“Oh, I wanted to get one of these touch phone thingies,” she said. “Very cool.”

“I saw Gabrielle.”

“Of all the times to talk about Gabrielle, you choose now.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight.

“It’s going to be alright,” she said.

She pressed some numbers into the phone.

“Hey Nick?” she said. “What’s up, it’s Maddie.”

She paused.

“Listen, I’m not calling to talk about your relationship problems.”

Another pause.

“Nick, for Pete’s sake, shut up and listen. I went to meet Sloane at that dead chicks house and when I got there I found her slumped on the ground in the doorway. She’s going on and on about Gabrielle, and I’m totally freaked out.”

It was silent for a moment and then she said, “To be honest with you, I don’t know. She didn’t know who I was when I found her. And she’s hurt, her head is bleeding. I think someone tried to take her out.”

I heard a man shout a bunch of words. His voice was loud and he sounded agitated.

“What I’ve told you is all I know right now,” she said.

She whispered something into the phone that I couldn’t hear and then looked over at me.

“Good, good,” she said, “see you in ten.”

I tried to talk, but all I could get out was mmmp mmy heaaad isss. I felt like I’d been bulldozed with a steamroller.

The woman turned toward me.

“Stay with me Sloane, we’re almost there.”

CHAPTER 26

“Sloane, are you alright?”

“Nick?”

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he said.

He had a grip on my hand so tight it drained most of the circulation out of it.

“Where’s Maddie?”

“She’s on a mission to find you some real food,” he said.

“What happened?”

“You tell me, do you remember?” he said.

I examined the room and then the bed I rested on and it dawned on me that I wasn’t at home or in my own bed, and I was dressed in a fashion repressed hospital gown. On a bedside table next to me was a tray with a bowl of jello. I wondered why it always had to be jello, and why green.

“I remember going to Charlotte’s,” I said. “I messed around with her computer, but I didn’t find anything so I looked though the drawers and one needed a key.”

“I want to know about when you left,” he said.

“That part is a little hazy.”

“Try to remember, it’s important.”

“I locked the door and when I started to turn around I got this feeling like someone was behind me. I don’t know what happened after that.”

“Did you see anyone?” he said.

“A figure, maybe in grey or black. I don’t know. It all happened so fast. And then I opened my eyes and Maddie was there.”

“And that’s all you remember?”

I nodded.

“Are you still mad at me?” I said. “Because I’m sorry about what I––”

The door opened.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

A man in a white coat flashing a shiny pair of dentures and hair the color of tinsel approached my bed.

“You gave this one a scare little lady,” he said, and thumbed in Nick’s direction.

“I’m fine now though, right?”

“It looks like it,” the doctor said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

I nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t mean to question your judgment, but is that necessary?” I said. “I know who I am.”

“Just answer the question please.”

“Sloane Alice Monroe.”

“And do you know where you are, Sloane?” he said.

“A hospital I guess, although I can’t tell you which one.”

“Good, very good. Who is the current president of the United States?”

“How about my favorite president?”

He made a face that displayed his many wrinkles and sighed.

“Alright, fine,” he said.

“That would be the guy who freed the slaves in 1863 and goes by the name of Abraham Lincoln. Did you know he was the first president to ever be assassinated and the first president to have a beard?”

He shook his head.

“I did not know that.”

“Would you like me to recite the Emancipation Proclamation too, because I can.”

Nick stood off to the side with a wide grin on his face.

“Don’t tempt her or she’ll have us here all night,” he said to the doctor.

“I want to run a couple of tests,” he said.

“Why?” I said.

“You sustained a concussion, one substantial enough to cause a temporary loss of memory.”

“But I feel fine now. What kind of tests?”

“The usual––strength, balance, coordination,” he said.

He gazed for a long moment at my chart.

“I also ordered an MRI.”

“That sounds serious,” Nick said.

“It’s nothing to worry about right now; I just want to make sure her brain is not bruised or bleeding.”

“I want to go home. When will that be possible?”

The doctor patted my head.

“I’ll come back and check on you in a little while.”

He walked out and the chief walked in.

“Mind if I come in?” he said.

“Not at all,” I said.

“How’s the patient?”

“She’ll live,” Nick said.

“I’m glad you came,” I said. “We need to talk.”

“No need for that. Madison filled me in.”

Having Maddie discuss her findings with the chief was for the best. The medical jargon she liked to use sounded like a bunch of gibberish to me.

“So?” I said.

“Why didn’t you come to see me before going to the victim’s house,” he said.

“You called her the victim. Does that mean you believe me now?”

I was pressing my luck, but my head hurt, and I didn’t care.

Nick piped up from the corner of the room.

“I’m going to check on Maddie and see how she’s coming along with our dinner.”

“The green jello looks so good though,” I said. “We can’t let it go to waste.”

“Watch this pain it the butt for me for a few minutes okay,” he said to the chief.

He winked in my direction and exited the room. And then there were two.

“Look Sloane,” the chief said, “you might think I don’t give a rat’s ass but I do.”

I adjusted my position in the bed and tried to sit up.

“I know.”

“You withheld information from me,” he said.

“I didn’t look at it like that. Besides, I talked to you about this once already, and we both know how that went.”

“So you thought you would go out and confront Parker Stanton on your own?” he said.

“How did you––?”

“Know?”

I nodded.

“Your boy wants to press charges. Says you assaulted him in his home and broke three of his fingers.”

I tried my hardest not to crack a smile.

“Well?” he said.

“What?”

“Did you break his fingers?”

“Not all of them.”

He shook his head.

“Ah hell, Sloane,” he said.

“Did he tell you he had me pinned up against the wall? My guess is that he left that part out. That complete waste of human life abuses women. I caught him in the act the other night, and it would come as no surprise to find out he’s the reason I’m in this place.”

He rubbed his forehead which he did whenever he needed to decide what to do with me, like something could be done.

“Well,” I said, “do you want to work with me on this or not?”

“You got a name?” he said.

I promised Daniela anonymity and I wanted to keep that promise unless it was the only trump card I had left. I shook my head.

“Come see me when you feel better,” he said.

He got up and walked toward the door.

“And Sloane,” he said, “don’t do anything stupid.”

CHAPTER 27

I woke to the sound of food sizzling in the kitchen. From the smell I deduced it was of the swine variety. Lord Berkeley relaxed in his favorite position next to me––sprawled out on his backside with his paws in the air like a dog’s version of sun salutations.

“You’re awake,” Nick said. “How’s the head?”

“I’ll survive.”

He handed me a plate with enough food on it to feed a small country.

“Wow,” I said.

“I figured you might be hungry.”

“What time is it?” I said.

“Half past one.”

“In the afternoon?”

He nodded.

“Tuesday?” I said.

“Wednesday.”

“Wednesday! I can’t believe I slept that long. The chief is going to––”

“Be just fine,” Nick said. “He already called to check in and said not to rush you. He will see you when you feel up to it.”

I set the plate down and attempted to stand, but my legs had something else in mind. Damn drugs.

“I’m fine; I need to talk to him today,” I said.

“Whoa, hang on.”

Nick took hold of me and helped me back to bed.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh, come on, I just need a minute and I’ll be fine,” I said.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Now eat your food.”

“You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

He laughed and pointed his fork at me and said, “I’m not half as stubborn as you.”

I could tell by the impassioned stare down he gave me that unless he left, my day would be spent in solitary. I clutched my plate and at the same time Lord Berkeley conducted a taste test on my side of bacon.

“Boo, no!” I said.

He ducked his head under the covers.

“I have information the chief should hear,” I said.

“You need rest and Sheppard understands that.”

“Parker is dangerous. I’m worried about the other women. There’s no telling what he might do.”

“If he has any sense at all, he’ll lay low awhile.”

“You don’t know that. What if he hits someone else? What if he goes after Audrey? What if he disappears and we can’t find him? What if––”

“Okay, okay.”

He let out an exasperated sigh and I could tell he might relent. I waited for it.

“Tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “I’ll call the chief and see if he can come over.”

“Here?”

“Take it or leave it. You’re in no condition to go out. I don’t care how tenacious you think you are, today you’re confined to this bed.”

Nick didn’t bother to wait for my answer before he left the room and called the chief. Lord Berkeley remained halfway beneath the covers with his bottom up in the air and his tail wagging.

“It’s okay Boo,” I said. “I’m not mad, you can come out.”

He poked his head out but averted eye contact with me. I patted him on the head and he nuzzled up against my leg. He made his peace and returned to business as usual. If only life was that simple for everyone.

My cell phone rang. It was Vicki.

“I heard what happened,” she said. “Sloane, are you alright?”

I didn’t realize we were on a first name basis.

“I’m fine.”

“I guess one of your friends found you,” she said. “Talk about good timing. Is what Audrey said true––someone murdered Charlotte? It’s hard to believe, I can’t comprehend who would do such a thing.”

“It looks that way.”

“Do you suspect Parker?” she said. “Because Audrey is certain he did it.”

“It’s hard to say for sure.”

There was an awkward pause that was just long enough for her to gear up for another round of questions. I couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Thanks for calling, but I need to go.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “I bet you’re still recuperating. Listen, I don’t want to keep you. The reason I called is Audrey mentioned you still wanted to track down Charlotte’s assistant, Bridget.”

“No one can find her.”

“She showed up here today,” she said. “I thought she left town, but then I walked into the office and––”

“She’s back at work?”

“Well no, not exactly. She just came in to get some personal items she left behind.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“I wasn’t able to before she hurried out of here. One of the other gals in the office said she got a job somewhere else.”

“How do I contact her?”

“You don’t. I tried to get her new number or her address and she wouldn’t give it to me. When Jack found out she stopped by he told his secretary to send her into his office, but she up and left before he got the chance.”

Nick walked in and raised his eyebrow when he saw the phone glued to my ear. I signaled to him with one finger in the air. He patted his leg a few times with his hand and Lord Berkeley hopped off the bed and scampered along after him.

“You sound disappointed,” I said to Vicki.

“I thought she would at least say hi while she was here. Bridget may not have been my assistant, but Charlotte let me borrow her now and then. I thought we were friends.”

The way she said the word borrow made her regard for Bridget seem like she was more of a menial worker than a valued friend. I wondered how to track Bridget down given my current house arrest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was running from something or someone and I needed to find out why.

CHAPTER 28

Nick and the chief were in the living room talking loud enough that they could be heard all the way down the street.

“How’s the patient?”

“Feisty as ever,” Nick said.

“Looks like the blow to the head didn’t change much then.”

They both laughed.

“You better get in there before she tumbles out,” Nick said.

I sat up and tried to get my thoughts together. My hands quivered and the pain in my head felt like a bunch of villagers had taken rocks and attempted to stone me to death.

“Well you look better,” the chief said. “Back to your old self?”

“I feel good,” I said.

I lied of course, but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s fine by me if you want to wait and do this another day, there’s no rush.”

“Now works,” I said.

“My men are seeing what they can dig up.”

“How do they know what to look for?” I said.

“Coop went to Wildwood this morning and Calhoun here is headed to the real estate office where Miss Halliwell worked. And before you pipe up, I already know you went to both places, we’re just doing some follow up.”

The thought of Coop meddling in my business turned my stomach.

“Now don’t get up on that high horse of yours, Sloane. I can tell by the look on your face that you disapprove. You and Coop need to bury the hatchet on this one and work together. I mean it. Whatever you may or may not think of him, he’s good at what he does.”

“He’s the one with the problem,” I said. “Not me.”

“I remember when Coop was considered the life of the party if you can believe that. He had a daughter right around your age, and even though he disapproved about her decision to become a cop, she was a fine officer.”

“What do you mean was?” I said.

“She died in the line of duty several years back in some gang-related shooting on the West side.”

“I didn’t know,” I said.

“I bet you remind him a little of her the way you stick your neck out and take risks like you do. She was like that. Heaven knows how proud he was of her, but after she died well, you can understand.”

It never occurred to me that Coop acted like he did because of events that stemmed from his past, and though we had our differences, there was one thing we shared––the permanent scar that came from losing a loved one.

The chief sat on a chair in the corner of my room.

“Let’s talk about this Parker fellow,” he said.

“I want to make sure we’re on the same page first.”

“Meaning?” he said.

“If I tell you what I know, I want to be kept in the loop.”

“I’ll do what I can to include you in what we find, but you need to understand my position. I’m already sticking my neck out here,” he said.

“So you’ll keep me updated on any breaks in the case?”

“We both know Calhoun does that already,” he said. “And there’s no need to cover for him with some bullshit story about how the two of you keep work and personal stuff separate. I know better.”

“I also want to be involved in the interrogations.”

“You know I can’t put you in the room,” he said.

“I don’t expect that, but I want access to the recordings.”

“Done, can we get on with it?” he said.

I gave him a brief overview of Parker’s womanizing ways and detailed my visit with him on the day I was attacked.

“So he likes the ladies. That doesn’t make him a killer,” he said, when I finished.

“It gives him motive. Maybe he abused Charlotte and she threatened to go public. He wouldn’t want to tarnish his family’s superlative image. Maybe he couldn’t handle the break up, or maybe she found out about the other women and…”

The other women! I had forgotten about the files I found at Charlotte’s house the night of my attack.

He cleared his throat.

“You were saying?”

“I don’t believe it was a coincidence that on the same day I confronted Parker I was attacked. There’s a good chance Parker was responsible.”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” he said.

“Bring him in. See what he has to say for himself. Ask him where he was last night and where he was on the day of Charlotte’s murder. If you need a reason to pick him up, I’ll press charges of my own.”

“I’ll consider it,” he said.

All I could think about was the files.

“I appreciate you coming over to see me, but I need to take a break. Can we finish this later?”

He stood up.

“Well kiddo,” he said, “get some rest; I think you’ve experienced enough excitement for one day.”

Actually, my day was just getting started.

CHAPTER 29

My laptop sat on a chair next to my grandfather’s old T.H. Robsjohn-Gibbings desk. Sometimes I imagined him sitting there as he put the finishing touches on a piece of jewelry he made out of variegated rocks he found on one of his treks through the desert. The paramour of my collection included a necklace he made out of tiger eye, but it wasn’t the bold yellowish-brown hue or even the look of the necklace that attracted me, I liked the way it sounded, tiger eye. It was powerful, and I felt powerful when I wore it. As a child I had no idea how much the pieces would mean to me one day when he was no longer there to make them.

I dug into my sheets with both hands and inched my way toward the edge of the bed. Five heave-ho’s later and I was there. I dangled my feet off the edge and moved my laptop over my legs and then performed a search of private investigators in the state of Utah by the name of Marc Benjamin. My efforts yielded one match. I dialed the number.

“This is Marc.”

“My name is Sloane. I wondered if you could help me,” I said.

“What can I do you for?”

“I’d rather discuss it in person if you don’t mind. Can we meet?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“I need to speak with you today if that’s possible,” I said.

There was a short pause.

“I could see you an hour from now if that works for you.”

“I’ll take it. See you then,” I said.

I wrestled with my clothes and managed to pull a hoodie over my head and slip on a pair of yoga pants. I gazed into the mirror. In the appearance department, it wasn’t my finest hour. My hair looked like I got into a fight with a porcupine. I did the best I could with a brush and a rubber band and dabbed some makeup on. A horn sounded off in the distance. Time to go.

A cabbie dressed in black from head to toe hopped out and opened my door. He had a clean-shaven oversized head and a moustache that trailed down on both sides into a goatee. He gave my bandage a good long look, but he didn’t say a word about it.

“Where to lady?”

“University Avenue, across from the Riverdale Shopping Plaza.”

He nodded and started to drive.

The cabbie took the back way through Provo Canyon. In the fall the amber and burnt orange shades of the leaves lit up the mountainside with an incandescent array of color. We wound on down past the double cataract waterfalls at Bridal Veil Falls. Most of the year they offered a magnificent display of cascading water that showered down into the Provo River. But it was winter, and the water had turned to spiky tentacles of ice.

The office of Marc Benjamin, PI looked a lot more like a renovated old house. It was small but functional. The walls were white and without a stitch of adornment.

“Like it?”

A man approached me from behind.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“I painted yesterday, it’s called Navajo White.”

He said Navajo like nav-ee-hoe. It looked like plain, ordinary white to me.

“Are you Sloane?”

I nodded.

He wiped his soiled hand on his oil-stained jeans and then offered it to me. I wasn’t inclined to take it, but for the sake of his gesture, I shook it in a loose manner.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I just loaded some hay into my truck.”

“You are Marc Benjamin, right?” I said.

He tipped his hat toward me and said, “At your service, ma’am.”

We walked toward the back of the room toward a solitary desk that had two metal folding chairs, one on each side. He took his cowboy hat off and set it on the side of the desk.

“What can I do you for?”

“Have you been in the business long?” I said.

“Not really, this is just something I do on the side.”

I suspected as much. His eyes fixed on the main attraction around my head.

“What happened, if you don’t mind me askin?”

“Bull fight,” I said. “The bull won.”

He laughed.

“I wondered if you could give me some information about one of your clients,” I said.

“That’s preeve-il-eged information. I can’t give out stuff like that out.”

“I would like to ask you a few questions about Charlotte Halliwell,” I said.

His crooked smile dematerialized.

“Why are you asking about her?”

“You do know she’s dead?” I said.

The revelation startled him.

“No ma’am, can’t say as I did. When did it happen?”

“A little over a week ago.”

“Charlotte sold my dad some horse property over in Heber Valley last year. That’s how we met. After that we sort of became friends. She planned to buy one of our mares this year. A few months back she came out to the ranch. She said she rode as a kid and she wanted to get back to the simple things in life.”

“I hate to tell you this,” I said, “but I believe she was murdered.”

He sighed.

“How did it happen?”

I told him.

“Who in their right mind would do that to such a nice person?”

“That’s what I hoped you could tell me. I need to know why she hired you.”

He scratched the back of his head.

“I’m a PI myself so I understand your loyalty. In our business it helps when we can pool information together. And in this case, we all want the same thing, right?”

It wasn’t the best pep talk I ever gave, but it wasn’t the worst either. He pondered it for a moment.

“Truth be told the kind of research I usually do is of the genealogical kind. I only took this on as a favor to Charlotte.”

He stood up from his chair and walked over to a plastic bin in the corner of the room and dug through some files.

“Charlotte came to me about three months ago. She thought her fiancé had another lady friend in his life.”

“And did he?” I said.

He pulled out the same photos that I came across at Charlotte’s house.

“There were others alright. That man bamboozled every woman in town from the looks of it.”

“How did she react when you told her?” I said.

“That’s the interesting part. She thanked me for the information, but she didn’t cry or even act like it bothered her much. I got the feeling she’d suspected it for some time and had already come to terms with it.”

“Did you witness Parker abuse the women in any way?” I said.

He shook his head.

“I only tailed him for two days. Once I gave Charlotte the news she didn’t want me to go any farther.”

“Did you speak to her again?”

He nodded.

“We talked a few weeks after that.”

“What about?” I said.

“She called and said she cancelled the wedding.”

“Did she say how Parker reacted to the news?” I said.

“He denied it at first, the women I mean, but then she showed him a copy of the photos. There wasn’t much he could say after that.”

“Could I get a copy of the file?”

“I can scan the pages if you like.”

He went into another room and a few minutes later he returned and handed me a manila envelope.

“You know, I planned to ask Charlotte on a date, but I thought she needed a little time first, you know to heal and everything. Now I wished I had. If I can do anything else, just holler, and I hope you catch the jerk that did this.”

He placed his hat back on his head and tipped it toward me and said, “You have a good day now.”

CHAPTER 30

Nick stood at the bar when I walked in and gave me the I’m-not-very-happy-with-you face.

“I thought we agreed you needed to stay home and rest,” he said.

“You agreed, I didn’t.”

He frowned.

“I’m sorry; I needed to visit with someone. It was important.”

“I called your cell,” he said, “several times.”

Lord Berkeley bolted around the corner and I knelt down to greet him.

“I bet I lost service in the canyon,” I said. “My phone doesn’t show you called.”

“You need rest,” he said.

“I’ll go straight to bed if that will make you happy.”

“I’m being serious. You’re in no condition. And besides that, we don’t know who’s after you.”

“We don’t know someone is after me. Maybe it was the files they wanted. And I’m not a child; I don’t need to be parented by you or anyone else.”

He wasn’t amused, but I recognized now was not the time for a debate.

“Alright,” I said, “I got the message. Pajama time it is.”

I changed into a tank top and flannel bottoms. It wasn’t the sexiest outfit in the world, but I was comfortable. When I walked back into the kitchen, Nick emerged from the pantry with one can in each hand.

“What will it be then,” he said, “chicken noodle or creamy chicken with rice.”

“Neither.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t turn your nose up at me, woman.”

He reached into a brown paper sack that rested on a shelf next to the fridge.

“Well then, how about some sweet and sour chicken,” he said.

“I thought I smelled something good.”

Nick dangled a container in front of my face.

“I will give you this entire box of chicken and throw in a side of sumptuous cream-filled wontons if you agree not to run off without telling me first. At least until we catch whoever hurt you,” he said.

The wontons looked good enough to donate a body organ for them.

“Do we have a deal?” he said.

If I didn’t agree, I imagined he would find a way to monitor my every move. It was far easier to relent, so I did.

Lord Berkeley wiffed the food and nipped my toes.

“Where did you run off to?” Nick said.

“I went to see the private investigator Charlotte hired.”

“And?”

“I managed to get a few new tidbits but not much.”

“He wasn’t a lot of help then,” he said.

“The guy looked more like a farmhand than a detective.”

“Neither of us got anywhere from the looks of it,” he said. “That Vicki is ah, persuasive.”

“Let me guess, she prevailed upon you and now you’ve listed your house on the market because it just isn’t big enough, and she’s found a much more suitable property which she convinced you to make an offer on.”

“She prevailed alright, but her intentions weren’t focused on selling me a house.”

“So the fiery agent has a thing for the hunky detective.”

He ran his hand across my hair.

“I have the perfect amount of fiery woman right here,” he said.

“It was a waste of time then.”

“Not entirely,” he said. “A couple agents in the office said Parker lost his temper last summer at some award dinner.”

“At Charlotte?”

He shook his head and bit into a wonton.

“That’s the interesting part,” he said. “Parker was in an argument with her assistant, Bridget Peters.”

CHAPTER 31

The bitter chill of winter nipped at my face and it tingled all over. I raced to the warm sanctuary of Nick’s car. Fog hung in the air like a wedding veil, and the roads were saturated with rain. Snow plow workers toiled all day pushing it off the streets into steep ten-foot mounds on the side of the road that looked like heaps of dirty glaciers. The elements could do their worst. With Parker on the hook that morning, nothing would stop me from being there.

Coop grinned at me when we entered the station.

“You’re too late,” he said. “You missed the dog and pony show.”

He wasn’t about to break my spirit, not today.

“I’m here to view the recording. Didn’t the chief tell you that?”

“I like the new headdress,” he said, “looks great on you.”

The chief stepped out of his office and scowled at Coop and turned to me.

“Sloane, I want to talk to you for a minute.”

“I guess I’m too late,” I said, when I walked in.

“And I’m sure you’re disappointed, but I promised you could review the recording and you’re free to do that anytime.”

“Now works for me,” I said. “Did it go alright?”

“He lawyered up so we couldn’t get much out of him,” he said.

“Figures. Who questioned him?”

“Coop.”

That figured as well.

“He denied any involvement in what happened to Miss Halliwell, of course. Said he was in New York at the time.”

“Can anyone back up his story?”

“A woman.”

“Who?” I said.

“Kristin Tanner.”

My mystery woman had a last name after all.

“What do we know about her?”

“Not much except that she can corroborate his story,” he said.

“Can we track this friend down?”

“She lives in New York, but she flies in tomorrow for the weekend.”

“Let me guess, she’s staying with Parker.”

He nodded.

“How hospitable of him,” I said.

He said nothing.

“And what about the abuse?” I said.

“Denied it,” he said.

“Of course he did.”

“Since no one has come forward and I don’t have any evidence, there’s not much I can do.”

“What about me? That asshole had me in a headlock.”

“And he’s the one with the broken fingers,” he said. “It’s his word against yours.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said.

“You might as well have.”

“Damn it Sloane, it’s not a question of whether I believe you because you know I do. The fact of the matter is I had no grounds to hold him. His lawyer made sure of that.”

“So we let him walk, free to roam the streets, striking women at his leisure.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he said.

“Parker Stanton should be in a jail cell, and I’d bet daddy Stanton did what he needed to do so his precious son could stroll right out of here.”

I stood and walked to the door. I had heard enough.

The chief’s voice elevated.

“You need to trust me,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.”

In truth, I knew he was doing his best, but if Parker remained free I was sure the other women were in danger.

He stood up and leaned over his desk with his pointer finger aimed straight at me.

“Shut that door,” he said.

I didn’t want to shut the door. I wanted to slam it. Ever since the accident I hadn’t felt like my usual self. I didn’t know what to blame it on––the prescription drugs or the lack of a decent night’s rest, or maybe it was the fact that I still hadn’t found Charlotte’s killer.

I rotated my body around and faced him, but I remained at the door.

“I put a tail on Parker,” the chief said. “I’m not letting him go for nothing.”

CHAPTER 32

The recording began with the usual rigmarole. Coop dispensed the formalities and asked the customary questions and Parker appeared calm and collected in the uncomfortable metal chair which was placed with much consideration in the corner of a stark white room. Parker sat up straight like a schoolboy eager to impress the teacher. He wore a fitted black suit and a drab tie and crossed one leg over the other and rested his hand on top. He articulated his words with certainty and finesse in the hopes that he could stroke Coops ego, yes sir, no sir, thank you officer. He even cracked a joke that made Coop smile. Coop, of all people. He played a fun little game, but it wouldn’t work. Coop was many things, but a dummy wasn’t one of them. And at the end of the formalities, Parker smiled, satisfied in his overall performance. But the tables were about to turn. I was sure of it.

“Tell me about your relationship with Charlotte,” Coop said.

“There’s not much to say. We dated awhile, planned to get married later this year, but it didn’t work out and I broke it off.”

Lies.

“When?” Coop said.

He shrugged.

“Maybe three, four months ago.”

“Why did you break off the engagement?” Coop said.

“I wasn’t ready for it.”

“Marriage?” Coop said.

“That’s right. She was clingy, and I need my space. So I decided it wasn’t worth it. You’re a man; you understand what it’s like to feel suffocated, right?”

Interesting choice of words.

“And Charlotte, how did she take it?”

“She begged me to get back together with her.”

More lies.

“And did you?” Coop said.

“No sir, I had already moved on with someone else.”

Clearly the understatement of the year. Coop switched gears.

“Let’s talk about the day she died. Where were you on that day?”

“New York.”

“Were you alone or with someone?” Coop said.

“With a friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

“Does it matter?”

Coop tilted his head to the side like he was giving it some thought.

“Might,” Coop said.

“A good friend. Satisfied?”

“And can this––”

“Kristin Tanner.”

“Can this Kristin Tanner back up your story?” Coop said.

“She flies in this weekend, you can ask her yourself.”

“When did you see her last?”

“Kristin?”

“Charlotte.”

He looked at his fingers like he was trying to count it out.

“Not for a couple months at least.”

“Well that’s interesting,” Coop said.

Parker attempted to lean back in his chair, but the metal on the legs slid around on the floor.

“Why is that?”

Coop careened forward and stuck his pointer finger about an inch from Parkers face.

“A valet at Wildwood puts you outside Miss Halliwell’s car about three weeks ago.”

Parker looked startled. And he wasn’t the only one.

“I’ll ask you again,” Coop said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“I told you, a couple months ago. The valet must have me confused with somebody else.”

Coop turned up one corner of his mouth and smirked. Parker didn’t get it yet, but I did. He had him right where he wanted.

“Is that right,” Coop said.

“That’s right.”

Parker’s hot shot lawyer, who up until now sat idly by without so much as a word, decided it was time he made some use of himself.

“I’m not sure what you’re playing at Mr. Cooper, but I won’t tolerate you harassing my client.”

“It’s Detective Cooper,” he said, “and I asked a simple question.”

“And I answered it,” Parker said.

Coop recoiled back in his chair, but from the look on his face it was far from over. He said nothing for about twenty seconds. He just fixed his eyes on Parker and remained still.

“Let me lay it out for you son,” he said. “The witness said you confronted Miss Halliwell at her vehicle and when she tried to open her car door, you stopped her.”

Parker scoffed at the comment.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m not done,” Coop said.

“You also physically held her down and didn’t allow her to get into her car.”

“This is outrageous,” the lawyer said. “He already answered your question. It wasn’t him, and he wasn’t there.”

Coop was on a roll now, and he wasn’t about to let up.

“You were there son,” he said. “You know it and I know it.”

Parker loosened his tie and adjusted his collar which appeared damp. He uncrossed his legs and then crossed them again on the other side.

“I came in here voluntarily to answer your questions, but all you want to do is paint me into a corner. If that’s the case, I refuse to answer any more of your questions.”

Coop glared at Parker. Parker stared back. The lawyer looked at his legal pad and pushed the top of his pen up and down. It made a snapping noise.

“I want you to find whoever did this to Charlotte,” Parker said. “Despite what you people think, I cared for her. My feelings haven’t gone away just because she’s dead.”

Coop pretended to regard his sentiments for a moment.

“Would you like to help me Mr. Stanton?”

“That’s why I agreed to come here in the first place.”

“Then cut the bullshit and tell me the truth,” Coop said.

Parker flung out of his chair. It turned sideways and clanked when it hit the floor. He grabbed his lawyers arm and jerked him out of his seat. They both headed in unison for the door. Coop made no movement of any kind and remained calm and collected.

Parker reached for the doorknob and twisted it.

“If you don’t want to believe me that’s up to you,” he said, “but you know as well as I do that you don’t have enough to hold me. Enjoy the rest of your day Detective.”

“Oh I will,” Coop said. “Would you like to know how I’m going to spend it?”

“What interest is that of mine?”

“Did you know Wildwood has 24-hour surveillance set up in almost every location of the resort? Five in the parking area alone, to be exact. And I expect copies of those recordings to arrive anytime now.”

 Parker loosened his death grip on the door handle and turned to his lawyer. They exchanged glances. The lawyer closed the door.

Coop stood up and pushed his chair in and turned toward Parker. The lawyer leaned over and whispered in his ear. Parker didn’t say a word.

“Let’s go over this one more time,” Coop said. “You went to Wildwood that day and you and Charlotte argued.”

Parker looked at his lawyer who shook his head.

“We engaged in a civilized conversation between two people, so what.”

“When I review the surveillance all I’m going to see is a friendly little chat between two people?”

“So I got a little angry with her, what about it. Couples fight all the time.”

“Don’t say another word,” the lawyer said.

“It proves you have a temper,” Coop said.

Parker laughed.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Not everybody hits women,” Coop said.

Parker’s lawyer applied a fair amount of pressure to his arm.

“I must advise you not to say another word,” the lawyer said.

He then turned to Coop.

“We’re done here.”

Parker reached for the doorknob again, but this time with his other hand. He winced when he remembered his fingers were out of commission.

“By the way,” Coop said, looking at Parker’s bandaged hand. “How did it feel to get beat up by a girl anyway?”

Parker returned the comment with an icy stare, but his lawyer shoved him out the door before he had the chance to say anything further. Interrogation over.

CHAPTER 33

“How did you get so lucky?”

Vicki wore a tight black mini skirt that looked like it belonged on someone half her age and a button-up suit coat. The buttons on her jacket were barely fastened into the holes and looked like they might burst.

“I’m not sure I follow,” I said.

“That hunky detective boy toy of yours, of course.”

“Ah, Nick. He’s great.”

“And then some,” she said. “He has the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen. And those dimples, oh my.”

She smacked the side of my shoulder.

“Good for you,” she said.

I let it slide.

“I wanted to ask you a few more questions,” I said.

She nodded.

“Did Charlotte keep copies of her files here at the office?” I said.

“Which files?”

“Client files and real estate transactions.”

She motioned to the pair of drawers lodged in between her desk and Charlotte’s.

“We keep all client files for the current year in there. But there’s nothing in there now.”

“Why is that?” I said.

“Charlotte bought new color-coded file folders about a month ago and took them home to switch them over. The old ones were worn out.”

I thought about it, but didn’t remember seeing colored folders when I looked through her house.

“What about the real estate transactions, HUD’s?” I said.

 “All other documents are kept downstairs in the office manager’s file cabinet. Her name is Wanda. I can call her if you like.”

She picked up the phone and pressed thee digits.

“You know what; I’ll talk to her on my way out,” I said.

She nodded and put the phone back on the receiver.

“What about her office computer,” I said, and pointed to Charlotte’s empty desk. “Last time I met with you there was one on her desk. It’s gone now.”

“One of the other agents has it. It belonged to the agency, not Charlotte. She never utilized it much anyway. She always carried her laptop with her.”

“What about her clients? Any problems you know of?” I said.

“Isn’t your focus on that jerk of an ex?” she said. “I don’t see what our clients have to do with what happened to her.”

“It’s my job to explore all the angles,” I said.

She bounced her shoulders up and down.

“I suppose. Most of what you want to know I already told that boyfriend of yours.”

“Did Charlotte ever mention Parker’s other women to you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” I said.

“Charlotte kept to herself. She wasn’t the type of person to share personal stuff often. Most of what we discussed was work related, and to that end, our relationship was good.”

It didn’t seem like there was much sense to keep going so I didn’t.

“Thanks for seeing me again, I appreciate it,” I said.

“Have you found Bridget yet?”

I shook my head.

“I have a question about one of Charlotte’s transactions and I could sure use her help,” she said.

“I’ll pass that along when I find her.”

When I reached the bottom of the stairs and tried the office door, it wouldn’t budge.  A brownish name placard on the door read:

WANDA STATTENBERG

OFFICE MANAGER

I tried the door again with more force this time and it opened. A woman sat inside at a desk. She had short brittle hair and wore a hand-stitched sweater with a mallard duck on the front. In her hand she clutched a phone. She stared up at me like I had intruded on her space and then held up a finger to ensure my silence while she continued her phone conversation. I waited along with an array of 100 or so troll dolls that were lined out on a shelf in single-file formation. Grown-ups and their toys.

After a three minute wait, the woman placed the phone on the receiver and then shuffled some paperwork around before she focused in my direction.

“Yes?” she said.

The shrewd look on her face let me know I needed to get to the point.

“I’m looking into the death of Charlotte Halliwell and hoped I could get a copy of her files,” I said.

“And you are?”

I took a business card out of my wallet and presented it to her.

She opened the top drawer of her desk and scattered some items around and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. She put them on and examined the card with the utmost scrutiny like she was an officer and I had been stopped at customs under suspicion of packing an illegal substance across the border.

“Well, Sloane Monroe, PI. Can I see the warrant?”

“Technically I’m not with the police. Charlotte’s sister hired me to investigate the circumstances around her death and hoped you could––”

“No warrant, no files. I know my rights.”

My usual charm had no impact on her. I tried a more direct approach.

“Could I just take a quick look at the files then?”

She flicked my card over to the side of her desk with her thumb and pointer finger.

“Sure. You bring a warrant, you get the files.”

She would not be swayed.

“I can get the chief on the phone. I’m sure he would give you the go ahead.”

“Then do it,” she said.

I had no way of knowing whether the chief would support me or stall the process so he could take a look at the files first, and it wasn’t worth the risk. Not yet.

“Let me talk to him today and I will get back to you.”

“Not going to call chiefy then?” she said. “That’s what I thought.”

She picked up a stack of paperwork with one hand and shooed me out the door with the other.

CHAPTER 34

The iron gates to Daniela’s mansion in the trees were closed when I arrived. I parked in front and pressed the buzzer.

“Yes,” a voice said on the other end.

“Can I speak with Daniela?”

“And you are?” the voice said.

“A friend.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

It was like she was in the witness protection program.

“I didn’t know I needed one.”

“Your name?” the voice said.

“Sloane.”

The voice sounded insistent.

“Sloane what?”

“Monroe. Sloane Monroe.” I thought about throwing my middle name in for kicks but I didn’t want to press my luck.

I heard some movement overhead and stuck my head out the window and looked up. A miniature video camera disguised itself in the branches of the tree. It made some adjustments and lined me up in its sights.

“Well, Sloane Monroe, Daniela is not here right now.”

“Can you tell me when you expect her?”

“No, I cannot,” the voice said.

“Could I leave a message?”

“What do you wish to say?”

“Can you ask her to give me a call?”

“Does she have your number,” the voice said.

“She does, but let me give it to you again just in case she’s misplaced it.”

I gave him my number and then waited in silence.

“Thank you, goodbye Ms. Monroe.”

The camera stayed with me while I backed out of the drive and turned around. I didn’t get the secrecy. Who were these people?

I drove back down the road and spotted a slender jogger. She ran past me but didn’t look in my direction. Her thick black glasses shielded most of her face, but the hair was unmistakable. I did a u-turn.

“Daniela,” I said.

An iPod hung at the side of her waist and she didn’t hear me at first. I waved and called her name again.

She removed her glasses and squinted at me and then crossed the road.

Once she got close enough to the car she removed her earphones.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“I wanted to talk with you for a minute,” I said.

“What about?”

“Parker,” I said.

“It’s like I told you the other day, we’re over. There’s nothing left to say.”

“I know, I know. I just wanted to warn you,” I said.

She jogged in place while she talked to me.

“Why?”

“That woman I told you about, Charlotte Halliwell,” I said. “She was poisoned.”

She brushed a fallen piece of hair out of her face and frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Parker is the number one suspect. I thought you should know in case he tries to contact you.”

She stared at me and seemed unabashed that I fingered Parker as the possible murderer.

“Did you go to the cops?”

“I’m helping them out with the investigation,” I said.

A streak of distress covered her face.

“But you promised. I don’t want the cops involved with what happened the other night. You said––”

“I know what I said and I meant it. I won’t reveal your identity,” I said.

She seemed satisfied with my answer.

“The night after I picked you up someone attacked me outside of Charlotte’s house. Maybe Parker is to blame and maybe not, but if I had to point any fingers, all of them would face his direction.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“We both know he has a lot of pent-up anger,” I said.

She tossed her head back and laughed.

“Don’t worry about me. He will stay away if he knows what’s good for him. If he came anywhere near me again my brother would…”

She stopped mid-sentence and put her glasses back on and her earphones and jogged away.

“Thanks for the warning.”

CHAPTER 35

“Home yet?” Nick said.

It was five o’clock and the wrong time to leave Salt Lake City.

“Not even close.”

“Guess what I’ve got?”

“A way to make all these cars disappear?”

“Better,” he said.

At the moment, I could think of nothing better than that.

“I have the address of Charlotte’s assistant and I’m on my way there now,” he said. “Care to join me?”

“Do you need to ask?”

“Meet me off the Summit Park exit and we’ll ride over together.”

Nestled along the hillside amongst a myriad of pine trees, Summit Park is the first area visitors come upon when they descend into Park City’s valley. From the highway a mix of old and new homes dotted the landscape. A week earlier I drove up its steep, narrow roads and watched a family of moose cross the path in front of me. Another car stopped on the opposite side and there we sat, each at an impasse. The other driver cracked his window and stuck his cell phone out and snapped a few photos. He looked at me and I looked at him and neither of us moved. A minute later the family of moose crossed into a thick of trees and the wonderment was over.

I exited the off ramp and got into Nick’s car.

“Took you long enough,” he said. He rested the palm of his hand on my shoulder. “How’s the head?”

“No headache today.”

His wide grin showed his dimples. He was pleased with his patient’s progress.

“How did you manage to find her?” I said.

“You’re not the only person who knows how to detect.”

He steadied one hand on the wheel and rubbed the back of my neck with the other.

“Good day?”

“Remember that girl I told you about, the one at Parker’s house the other night?”

“The damsel in distress?”

I nodded.

“I went to see her. I thought she needed to know the truth about Charlotte’s death.”

“How’d that go?”

“She didn’t care,” I said. “Or she pretended not to. I’m not sure.”

“And you’re bothered by that.”

He knew me so well.

“I don’t want to see anyone else to get hurt, not if I can prevent it.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault,” he said. “There’s only so much you can do.”

“I’m obligated to these women. They need me whether they know it or not and I don’t want to let them down, any of them.”

“Do me a favor and catch your breath for a minute. I don’t need you to hyperventilate on me,” he said.

I breathed in and out a few times until I felt a sense of calm. A few more days on the meds and I’d be done. I could do it.

“Feel better?”

I nodded.

Nick parked outside a dingy run-down apartment complex. In its finest day the stucco exterior displayed an attractive shade of white. Now all that remained was an ashen gray color. It was weak and crumbly and unable to fare against the elements. Bits and pieces of the exterior lay on patches of dead grass strewn between an overabundance of cigarette butts. On the sides of the buildings were the numbers 1-2-3. One for each level.

“She lives here?”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” he said.

“What’s the chance she lives on the main level and I don’t have to hike up those stairs?”

Nick laughed.

“Slim to none,” he said.

A series of stairs ran alongside the building.

“Third level I take it?”

Nick signaled in the affirmative and we began our ascent. We stopped at the second door on the third level and knocked. It had a brass plate on the outside that displayed the number 3. The second number had fallen off leaving an outline of a 9 in its place.

A scruffy-looking kid cracked open the chained door and poked a bloodshot eyeball at us.

“Sup?”

“I’m looking for Bridget Peters,” Nick said.

“What for?”

“We wanted to ask her a few questions. Can we come in?”

“You two cops or somethin?”

Nick reached for his badge. I placed my hand on his arm and we exchanged glances.

“I’m friends with Audrey, Charlotte’s sister,” I said.

“Good for you.”

“I wanted to see how Bridget’s doing. I heard she took Charlotte’s death pretty hard.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not here.”

“When do you expect her?” I said.

He shook his head, or at least it looked that way from my vantage point.

“Mind if we ask you a few questions?” I said.

“Whatever you two are after, it don’t have nothin to do with me.”

Nick’s jaw tightened and locked in position the way it does when his patience has been exceeded.

“We want a few minutes of your time, and that’s it,” I said, “then we’ll leave.”

“And the two of you ain’t cops?”

I squeezed Nick’s arm, but I was too late. He whipped out his badge and shoved it through the crack in the door.

“Detective Calhoun,” Nick said.

“Aw shit man, I got nothin to say to you.”

The door slammed. Nick balled up his fist and pounded on it.

“I’m homicide not vice,” he said. “If I wanted to bust you for drugs, I would have done it already. You can either open the door and let us come in or I can get the vice squad out here and they can search your house. Unless you want to sit your sorry ass in jail, I suggest you open the door, now.”

Thirty seconds later and the door didn’t change position, but from the sound coming from the other side, he was still there.

“Please,” I said. “We just want to talk. Charlotte Halliwell is dead and the person who killed her is out there somewhere living their life. It would be a shame if something bad happened to Bridget.”

He stepped away from the door and shuffled some things around. Then he lifted the chain and let us in.

I held out my hand.

“My name is Sloane.”

He snickered at me and held his hands up in front of him like I invaded his personal space.

“Whatever lady.”

“And you are?” I said.

“Tommy.”

Tommy’s pupils were dilated.

He bent over and picked up a plate of stale pizza from off the floor. The band around his underwear displayed a famous name embroidered all the way around the top edge and when he stood back up not all of his pants stood up with him. He grabbed both sides and yanked them higher but it didn’t do much good.

“I ain’t got all day. You two gonna ask your questions or what?”

Nick flipped open his black notebook and pulled out a pencil.

“When was the last time you saw Bridget?” he said.

“Yesterday.”

“So she didn’t come home last night?”

“We don’t live together or nothin like that,” he said.

“I thought the two of you lived together,” I said. “This isn’t her place?”

His eyes darted around the apartment.

“She’s clean and I’m well, messy. It’s better this way. She knows she could move in if she wanted to.”

“Have you talked to her since yesterday?” Nick said.

“I called her cell like a hundred times. I even left messages.”

“And you’re not worried?”

“We got in a fight; I figured she needed to cool off.”

“What caused the fight?”

“It was stupid. I thought maybe she had girl problems like PMS or something. I asked her about it and she went all crazy on me and said she needed to get out of here. She wanted me to pack up and leave with her and when I said no, she flipped.”

“Why do you think she wanted to move,” Nick said.

“I don’t know, she didn’t say.”

“And you didn’t think to ask?”

“Look man, when Bridget gets mad I give her space so she can sort all that girl stuff out. She always comes back.”

What a winner the boyfriend turned out to be. No wonder she left.

“What about her new job?” I said.

Tommy shook his head.

“She don’t got no new job.”

“Bridget told people at the office that she went to work for another agency.”

“Nah, I would have known about it. Ever since that chick died she’s kicked it here with me.”

“Did she talk to you about what happened?” I said.

He shook his head.

“She just said that girl died and that was it.”

“Yesterday she went to the office, did you know about that?” I said.

“I took her and sat in the car while she went in. She said she didn’t want to go there by herself so I tagged along. When she came out she was all upset.”

“Did she say why?”

“For a couple cops, you two don’t put much together. Her best friend died, why do you think.”

Best friend. Interesting.

“So she wasn’t just her assistant?” I said.

“Charlotte used to hook up with Bridget’s older brother. They were tight, they always did stuff together.”

“After you left the office, what happened?” Nick said.

“We got into it and then she dropped me off and split.”

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my business card.

“If you hear from her, will you let us know?”

He took it from my hand and threw it on the coffee table without looking at it.

“Guess so.”

“You better,” Nick said. “And one more thing, we need Bridget’s address and cell phone number.”

Tommy shook his head.

“I dunno about that.”

“Let me put it this way,” Nick said, “you can give us the information we need, or the next time you get a knock at your door, we’ll be having this conversation at the station.”

CHAPTER 36

I typed the address Tommy gave us into my phone.

“Now I know why I couldn’t figure out where she lived,” I said. “She doesn’t own the place at this address, Charles Peters does.”

“Charles could be her father; they share the same last name.”

“Let’s stop by her apartment,” I said to Nick.

“And do what?”

“Take a look,” I said.

“I doubt you’d find her there, she’s on the run.”

I smiled.

“Oh no you don’t.”

“Come on,” I said. “I work for myself, so guess what; I don’t need permission from you or your boss. If she’s not there anyway, what’s the harm––who’s going to know?”

He pointed a finger at himself.

I joined my wrists and held them out.

“Why Detective Calhoun, do you plan to arrest me?”

He stayed quiet.

“Turn here,” I said.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

Nick was far from perfect, but he tried his best to uphold the law, and I respected him for it. It wouldn’t be right not to give him an out.

“Let’s go home, and I’ll do this later.”

“If you mean on your own––I don’t think so,” he said. “You go in, I’ll keep watch. Let me know if you need me.”

“Will do.”

“How do you plan on getting into her apartment anyway?”

I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t you worry about that, the less you know the better.”

There was only one person seated at the front desk when I entered and his eyes were glued to a device that he clutched in his lap. He couldn’t have been much older than a teenager and he had shiny long hair like a girl on a Pantene commercial. With his eyes sealed shut he lifted his fingers in the air and whipped his head from side-to-side as he strummed to the beat on his air guitar. When his guitar solo was over he opened his eyes and gasped when he saw me standing there.

“I wondered if you could do me a favor,” I said.

He removed his earbuds and looked at me.

“What’s that?”

“I left my wallet in my sister’s place today, and I seem to have lost the key card she gave me as well.”

“Who’s your sister?”

“Bridget Peters,” I said. “Unit 431.”

“I’m not supposed to give another card out without her permission.”

“You could call her,” I said.

I gambled on the fact that she wouldn’t answer.

“I guess I could do that.”

He dialed the number and waited. After about thirty seconds he put the receiver down.

“No answer?” I said.

He shook his head.

“I was afraid of that,” I said. “She told me she had to show some houses today and one of her listings was out of range. I have no idea when to expect her.”

“Can’t you wait until she gets home?” he said.

“I’m headed out to dinner with some friends in a few minutes,” I said. “And well––”

“You can’t go without your wallet.”

“Right,” I said.

The wheels in his head churned and he weighed his options. If there was one thing I’d learned it was not to give people the chance to mull things over for long.

I leaned over the counter and looked at the device that sat on his knee.

“Oh wow, I’ve always wanted to get one of those,” I said. “Is that the new one?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard you can rent movies on it. That must be nice. I expect you sit here all night in this place without much of a distraction.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool,” I said. “Do you do that?”

“What?”

“Rent movies on it.”

“All the time.”

“And you don’t think the screen is too small?” I said.

He pulled it from under the desk.

“Wanna see?”

He handed it to me and I put the earbuds in. I cared nothing about the size of the screen, but that wasn’t the point. I watched for a minute and pretended to be engrossed in the fight scene that unraveled on the screen. When enough time had passed, I gave it back to him.

“Thanks, I need to get one of those,” I said.

He ran a plastic card through a machine and handed it to me.

“Here,” he said. “Go get your wallet.”

I stepped into the elevator and my cell phone vibrated.

“How’s it going in there,” Nick said.

“I’m in.”

“Let me know if you need me.”

“Will do.”

“Remember what we agreed on,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“This conversation never happened. Scratch that. This night never happened.”

“10-4 over and out,” I said in a low whisper even though the floor was vacant and I was the only one in sight.

Bridget was clean alright, although to characterize her place in such a way didn’t do it justice. Pristine worked better. There wasn’t a speck of dust, dirt, or grime anywhere. In the kitchen dishes rested in the dish drain. They were dry. The walls in every room were painted a bright white and I was almost afraid to touch anything for fear I would ruin the sterile environment.

In the living room an inlaid bookcase contained a small DVD collection in a wide array of black and whites and about twenty movies which starred the late Marilyn Monroe. The room itself contained one picture. It was a single photo of Marilyn from her early days when her name was still known to those around her as Norma Jeane. She sat on an oversized green ball with a funny looking starfish prop next to her, and her hair was a rusty shade of red and not the lustrous blond she was known for later in life. She wore a white strapless bikini although the bottoms looked a lot more like granny panties than hot pants. It appeared Bridget was fascinated by her.

The shower stall in the bathroom was dry. She hadn’t used it, at least not in the last several hours. On the nightstand in her room a single photo displayed a girl with her arms draped around Tommy. She had light brown hair that was straight and went to her shoulders and greenish-colored eyes that sparkled. She looked happy. On the bed was a duffle bag half full of clothes. I rifled through it and found two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, socks, a pair of Sketchers and several pairs of non-granny style panties. The side pocket contained some travel size shampoo and conditioner bottles, a bag of makeup, and a toothbrush and toothpaste.

Bridget left in a hurry and without her bag, but why? Maybe she started to pack and planned to return later for it. Given the methodical order of her condo, to leave the bag didn’t suit her personality. Questions flooded my mind. Why had she left the bag behind, what was her tie to the murder and most important––why was she on the run?

CHAPTER 37

It was half past noon the next day and Maddie and I had just finished up with our jujitsu class and changed back into our civilian clothes. Out the window the snow gravitated toward the ground. It looked like tiny white feathers. We made the unanimous decision to stop next door for a hot drink before we braved the elements. I hoped if we stayed long enough the sun would show itself. Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Maddie took a sip of her coffee.

“That butterfly bandage is hot,” she said.

“A hot mess.”

She laughed.

“I don’t know why, but I can’t take my eyes off it. It’s kinda like when you see a deer that’s been squished really bad on the side of the road and the guts are all over the place, and you know you shouldn’t look, but you do anyway.”

“You should have seen what I had to wear before this. It would have fascinated you for days.”

“How’s your case?” she said.

“It’s not.”

“That good, huh,” she said.

“For once I’ve learned something new.”

“What’s that?”

“It is possible to move backward instead of forward.”

“Sounds like you need a day of shop therapy,” she said.

“Or a week. Vegas is calling.”

Her eyes beamed at the notion.

“Let’s go then. I’m in,” she said.

We clanked our cups together and toasted to the prospect of Vegas in our future.

“Once I finish the case, you’re on.”

“And what if you don’t solve it, you gonna be okay with that?” she said.

I glanced at her and took a sip of my tea and said nothing.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that face,” she said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. It’s the same one you always give me when you don’t like what I’ve said. I didn’t suggest you give up.”

“Sounds like it.”

“You allow your cases to consume your life,” she said.

“I just finished jujitsu and now I’m here with you having a drink. My cell phone isn’t on me at the moment, and I haven’t mentioned the case all day until now.”

She sighed and put her cup down. Here we go.

“You struggled today in class. You lacked focus. I know you, and I know what you’re like when it comes to these jobs you take on. You’ll push yourself until you’re exhausted, and I don’t want to see you go through the same thing you did when…”

She stopped and pretended to stare out the window.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Say it. You don’t want to see me go through what I did when Gabrielle died.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have––”

“No, it’s okay. That’s how you feel. That’s how Nick feels too. Hell, everyone feels that way, I get it.”

“I understand how much you want to help this girl find who killed her sister. But she’s not your sister sweetie,” she said. “She’s not Gabrielle.”

“And you assume that’s why I’m doing this, like somehow if I can find Charlotte’s killer it’s going to make up for what happened to Gabby.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said.

“Can we talk about something else?”

She leaned in and placed her hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. Forget what I said, okay,” she said. “I’m going to shut up now.”

The sun launched itself out of the clouds and beamed through the store window.

“That’s my cue,” I said.

Maddie stuck a piece of bubblegum in her mouth and took her sunglasses out of her bag.

“What’s on the agenda for today, pursuit of the bad guy?” she said.

“Or bad girl.”

“Bad girl, I like it,” she said.

“I need to talk to Parker’s other women. His so-called alibi flies in today, but there’s someone else I need to meet with first. Her name is Zoey, and I’m certain they’re involved in a relationship of some kind.”

Maddie flung open the passenger door of my car and hopped in.

“Forgot where you parked your car?” I said.

She pulled down her sunglasses and winked.

“I’m coming with.”

“Oh, you are, are you? I don’t think so.”

“Afraid I might badger your witness?” she said.

“Or scare them.”

“Into submission, maybe. And in that case, you need me.”

I thought about it for a minute. I liked working alone. It was better that way. Maddie popped a bubble and sat down in the passenger seat.

“Oh come on,” she said. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Bright-eyed and pigtailed Maddie dressed in a hot pink track suit that fit like a glove and furry white boots that came halfway up her leg wouldn’t go unnoticed. In all the time I knew her I could not recall a single occasion where she didn’t stand out. Ever.

“I think it would be best…”

“Come off it Sloane. You’re such a worry wart,” she said. She nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. “Every good hero needs a sidekick, and I’m yours. Can’t you see it––two girls about town in their trusty Audimobile, together on a mission to solve crime. It will be fun.”

I wanted to stick to my original plan and go it alone, but I couldn’t help myself and I burst out laughing. It was hard to believe there was no age difference between us.

“Oh, alright already. I’ll take you, but just today. Buckle up.”

She clapped her hands together in approval.

“Promise to keep quiet though and let me do the talking.”

She bobbed her head up and down quickly.

“I mean it Maddie,” I said. “Not a word.”

CHAPTER 38

The Dynamic Duo, one in a hot pink track suit and the other in faded jeans and a fitted sweater, rendezvoused at Bridget’s apartment.

“Stay here,” I said to Maddie when I opened the car door.

“I want to come though.”

“There’s just one thing I need to do and that’s it.”

She stuck the bottom part of her lip out and folded her arms but remained seated.

I crossed the courtyard and entered the building. A female sat at the front desk this time. I smiled and held up my key card. She nodded.

I surmised Bridget wasn’t there but gave a courtesy knock just in case. When no one answered, I went in. From the entry her place looked the same. I walked to the bedroom and pushed open the door. The duffle bag was gone.

Bridget had been there which meant she might still be in town. I exited the apartment and walked back to the parking lot. Right before I reached my car I spotted a green Honda parked at the far end of the lot. It was the same make and model that Tommy reported and from my vantage point, I could see a person on the driver’s side. The car idled, but it didn’t move. Its passenger stared at me and I stared back. I walked over but took my time; I didn’t want to alarm her. When I was close enough, I confirmed she was the girl in the photo with Tommy. She put the car into gear and glanced behind her. At twenty feet away, I wouldn’t reach her in time.

“Bridget Peters?”

Her eyes widened.

“I need to talk to you,” I said. “It won’t take long, just a minute of your time.”

The look on her face was the perfect blend of confusion and panic.

“Please,” I said, “let me explain who I am. I can help you.”

Her driver’s side window started to lower, but before I could say anything more a glimmer of pink sprinted past me. By the time the word NO! formed on my lips, Bridget tore out of the parking lot like someone who just received a call that their house was on fire. Within seconds she was gone. I looked over at Maddie who wiggled her shoulders and looked at me as if to say oops.

“Maddie,” I said. “You were supposed to stay in the car.”

“I wanted to help.”

“I had it under control,” I said.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could get to the car and––”

“And what?” I said. “She might be the one person who can tell me what I need to know, and now she’s gone.”

I put the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. A few minutes went by which seemed more like a few hours and we sat in silence. I focused on the road and Maddie looked out the window. After a few minutes she made eye contact.

“I guess I wasn’t much help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. Something tells me Bridget’s the key to all this but she’s afraid; I could tell when I looked at her.”

“Maybe you’ll get another chance.”

“I hope so,” I said. “In the meantime, we still have Zoey.”

CHAPTER 39

It was late afternoon when we pulled up at Zoey’s place. The exterior of her squarish house was red brick and looked old, like it was built in the late 1800’s. It stood out amongst the other grandiose houses on the street because of its miniscule size. I recognized Zoey’s car in the parking lot as the same one from the restaurant a few days before.

I closed my door and looked at Maddie who hadn’t said much over the past half hour.

“You can talk now, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “I don’t want to screw up anything else for you so I’m just going to keep my trap shut and let you do your thing.”

Zoey peeled back the corner of a crimson red curtain and watched us approach. The door opened before we reached it and she peeked out. She looked me up and down and then switched her focus to Maddie.

“Zoey Kendrick?” I said.

“Sounds like you two know who I am, but I’ve never seen either one of you in my life.”

“I’m Sloane and this is Madison,” I said.

I handed her my credentials.

Zoey had bits of what appeared to be dried orange paint on her face and she wore a tank top and a pair of overalls which were rolled up at the bottom. Her feet were bare except for a small silver toe ring on her pinkie. She glossed over what I handed her with minimal interest and handed it back to me.

“I wondered if I could ask you a few questions about Parker Stanton,” I said.

She shrugged.

“Why should I answer any of your questions?”

“A woman is dead, and I would like to find out what happened to her,” I said.

She pulled back on the door.

“Come in.”

The inside of Zoey’s house reminded me of an artist’s showroom. Modern art was represented on each one of the colorful walls. One painting had several pastel colors blended together in a swirled pattern. It hung on a red wall. Another painting consisted of a series of vertical lines in all different colors. It hung on a blue wall. And on a yellow wall in the dining room was a painting of a young girl scolding her cat.

“Wow, your house is amazing,” I said. “It’s so colorful.”

“Thank you.”

I gestured to one of the paintings on the wall.

“Did you get this somewhere in town?” I said.

She laughed and shook her head.

“Come with me and I’ll show you.”

We followed her into a bedroom that doubled as an art studio. The floor was lined with canvas cloth and had splatters of dried paint all over it. A table was set up in the middle of the room and a coffee can sat on top with various sized brushes inside.

“You painted all these?” I said. “Do you have a studio somewhere in town?”

She laughed again.

“I give away most of my art before I have the chance to sell it. Either that or I keep it.”

She took a half-painted picture in her hands and stared at it the way a mother looks upon her newborn.

 “My paintings are like children to me. I grow attached to them. It’s hard to give them up at any price.”

“You do this for a living?” I said.

“I live for a living. Art is one way I express that.”

Maddie and I exchanged glances, but she stayed quiet. We walked back out to the living room and sat down on a vintage red sofa. Zoey sat across from us in an oversized purple shoe.

“I wanted to ask you about your relationship with Parker Stanton,” I said.

“What about it?”

“Are you in one?” I said.

She nodded.

“You could say that.”

“For how long?” I said.

She thought about it for a moment.

“On and off for the last few years.”

“Did you know he was involved with Charlotte Halliwell at the same time?” I said.

“He told me they were engaged.”

“Did you see him while they were together?” I said.

“On occasion. Parker and I have known each other for years, long before he committed himself to Charlotte.”

Her candidness shocked me. It wasn’t often that I asked a question and received a straight answer. I couldn’t decide whether I found it refreshing or arrogant.

“So you knew about Charlotte, and you still continued to see him?”

She smiled at me with a look of entitlement on her face.

“That’s right.”

“Was your relationship with him an intimate one?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“If he married Charlotte, do you think he would have continued to see you?”

She reclined back in her chair and took a sip of a drink that sat on a table next to her.

“Care for some iced tea?”

Maddie shook her head. Zoey looked over at Maddie and then back to me.

“Does she ever talk?” she said.

“Not if she can help it,” I said. “Can we get back to my question?”

“Parker takes care of me. He pays for this house and gives me money for anything I need. We have an arrangement.”

I imagined Parker had found the perfect woman in Zoey. No complaints, no restraints, no rules of any kind.

“By arrangement you mean he’s involved with other women and you don’t mind?” I said.

“Should I?” she said. “I get what I want, and he gets what he wants.”

“Do you see other men too?” I said.

“I don’t see why you need to know that.”

I didn’t, but I couldn’t help myself.

Zoey pulled her legs up and sat Indian style in her chair.

“Parker is my soul mate. It doesn’t matter what I do or what he does. We’re bound to each other. I get him. I understand him. I’m sure he cared for Charlotte, but whether or not he loved her, I doubt it. She saw what she wanted in him. Maybe because he showed her what he wanted her to see, a side of himself but not the whole person. With me he had the freedom to be who he wanted.”

“And his other women?” I said. “Do those same rules apply to them?”

“Don’t you feel in today’s society everyone follows a bunch of useless rules? One man and one woman. It’s stuffy and restricted and so blah. Why restrain yourself when you can live a life of complete openness with the freedom to do whatever pleases you.”

“What about physical abuse, does he hit you?”

She flinched and then set her glass down.

“When one person hits another, you see it as a sign of physical abuse, like they intended to cause harm.”

“And you don’t?” I said.

“I view it as a chance to let out pent up frustration. It’s a way to express oneself. When I throw paint against a blank canvas I act out my emotions and that’s how I create my art. I don’t think of it in terms of abuse. I think of it more like––”

“Let me guess,” I said. “Something that makes you free.”

She nodded.

“Have you seen Parker since Charlotte died?”

“We see each other whenever he has time. He comes and goes when he pleases.”

“Has he spoken to you?” I said.

“We talk all the time.”

“About her death I mean.”

“He felt sorry for her I suppose, about what happened, and he’s confused about why you implicated him in her murder. I don’t see what the police want with him. There’s no way he’s guilty.”

“What makes you so sure?” I said.

“He’s not capable of it. Parker is an expressive person, yes, but he’s not the type to end someone’s life. He has too much respect for it. You look at what happened and what do you see––a murdered woman, a victim whose killer must be brought to justice in the name of the law. But there’s a higher law. Would you like to know what I see? A woman set free from this life, given the power to roam the Earth on her own terms. I hardly think you should waste your time feeling sorry for her.”

On that note there was nothing left to say.

“Thank you for time,” I said.

We reached the doorway and Zoey took both of my hands in hers and gazed into my eyes.

“Go your way and embrace life,” she said. “Don’t live in the past. There’s nothing for you there. It can’t heal you. You must find peace within yourself and move forward.”

On the way back to the car Maddie slapped her thigh and laughed.

“Why do I feel like I just returned from a 70’s time warp?”

I raised my middle and pointer fingers and made a sideways V with my hand.

“Peace and love, my sister.”

CHAPTER 40

I leaned back in my chair and kicked my bare feet up on the coffee table. The warmth of the fire adhered to my toes and I rested them there until the heat penetrated so deep I couldn’t stand it any longer. Lord Berkeley slept beside me with one eye open and the other closed, and every once in a while he let out a series of noises and I wondered if he was any closer to catching the kitty cat.

I thought about Maddie’s actions earlier that day and found myself trying not to laugh over it now. It was true what she said at the café. To some degree the case consumed me. But I didn’t care. If I could catch the killer and earn some justice for Charlotte the universe would align again. At least that’s what I told myself, because then I wouldn’t have to admit that I needed to solve it so that all would be right in my world. Right a wrong where I previously failed to do so, like that would make things all better.

The doorknob turned and my front door opened and I reached for my 9 mm semi-automatic.

“You startled me,” I said to Nick.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

Lord Berkeley woke from his slumber. He looked at Nick with weary eyes that said his performance for the evening was postponed until such time when his batteries were recharged. He mustered up enough energy to wag his tail, but didn’t move from the sofa. Nick walked over and gave his belly a good scratch.

“You and Madison stay out of trouble today?”

“I don’t know where to begin,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow.

“For whatever reason I allowed her to tag along on my adventures in detecting,” I said. “She begged and against my better judgment, I relented.”

  He stoked the fire with a few pieces of wood and sat down next to me.

“You said something about that in your text message earlier, but now it sounds like you feel you made the wrong choice.”

“I don’t know. To tell you the truth she added an element of fun to my day,” I said. “I’m sure I needed it. Just don’t ever tell her I said that.”

“And she didn’t cause any trouble?”

“I didn’t say that. When we went back to Bridget’s apartment she was in the parking lot,” I said.

“Bridget was?”

I nodded.

“That’s great. You talked to her then.”

“Maddie ran over and scared her off and Bridget blew out of the place, and then I lost it on Maddie who just wanted to help.”

He draped his arm around me and pulled me over to him.

“I don’t think you need to worry too much about Maddie. She’s a big girl.”

“She barely said two words to me after it happened,” I said.

“That’s a first for her, what about Parker’s other woman?”

“Zoey gave me the impression that he has this alternative lifestyle that only she understands. She thinks they’re soul mates. And according to her, their relationship started before he met Charlotte.”

“If he was with her, why get involved with Charlotte in the first place?”

“So they could live as free spirits,” I said, and I waved my hands back and forth in the air. “Peace and love and happiness, dude.”

Nick looked confused. He picked up my martini glass from the coffee table.

“How many of these have you had?”

“Just the one,” I said, and I took it back. “I’m serious Nick. She knows about the other women and it doesn’t matter. He pays her expenses for her house, her bills, all of it. She doesn’t care about money or possessions or her existence for that matter,” I said. “It’s like the woman could find out tomorrow she was dying and she’d throw a party and celebrate it.”

“And Madison stayed quiet through all that?”

“After what happened at Bridget’s place, she was determined to prove she could behave herself. Otherwise, she would have unleashed on her. I’m quite sure of that,” I said.

“Did she say whether Parker ever hit her?”

“I got the impression she allows Parker to do whatever he wants to her.”

Nick rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen and made himself a drink.

“Parker presents himself as a different person to different people,” I said.

“Like a chameleon.”

I nodded.

“With one woman he’s sweet and sincere and full of charm and with another he wants complete control. I suspect that’s why all the women are so different from each other. Some come from money, some work for it, some hold a place in society, and others don’t. My guess is that with every woman he starts out as the perfect gentlemen and then he feels them out and gets to know them and what they’re like. He learns how to woo them and then he alters himself accordingly. For awhile he’s tolerant until a situation presents itself where he fills to the brim with an uncontrollable rage and then everything he had suppressed over the course of their relationship erupts, and then heaven help them all.”

“That’s quite the theory.”

“And here’s another one,” I said. “Zoey’s jealous of the other women. I could see it in her eyes when she talked to me. For all the free love crap she claimed to have, there’s something else there. I’m sure of it.”

Nick took a couple swallows of his drink and then set it on the table in front of him.

“Do you think she could have killed Charlotte?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Now what?”

“What’s the chief doing about it on his end?” I said.

“Can I preface my answer by reminding you not to shoot the messenger?”

“That bad?” I said.

“Parker’s alibi checks out. Kristin flew in this afternoon and Parker brought her in himself so she could vouch for his whereabouts at the time of the murder.”

“It doesn’t mean he’s not responsible. Parker has family money. Maybe he hired someone to do his dirty work for him.”

“What about the evidence, have you found anything new?”

He shook his head.

“Well, I’m not about to give up,” I said.

“I would expect no less.”

CHAPTER 41

I sat across the street from Parker’s house and watched and waited. Sooner or later Parker and his flavor of the weekend would emerge and when they did I planned to lure Kristin away somehow so I could get a little one on one time, woman to woman.

I opened my glove box and rifled around for a piece of gum until I found a pack. It contained a single solitary piece. Maddie took care of the rest. I pulled the empty box out of the glove compartment and noticed a shiny piece of metal. I took it out and rubbed my finger across the cold, hard surface. Some people throw salt over their shoulders for luck, but not me. I carried around my grandfather’s old FBI badge. It awakened memories of all the times he taught me to remember who I was––a Monroe, and never to forget it, and it reminded me of my duty to stand as a beacon of hope to others who count on me when they can’t fight the good fight alone.

It was hard for me to believe how long he’d been gone and that he died before seeing me aspire to a field not unlike his own. I wondered what he would think about the world now. So much had changed. And Gabrielle, if he lived to see what happened, maybe he could have saved her before it was too late.

In my boredom I placed a call to Audrey and was grateful when she didn’t answer. Parker’s release was not the best news. I left a message.

 A car turned up the road and went to the top of the cul-de-sac and circled around. It crept along the other side of the street with its headlights off and then parked one house away from Parker’s. In the darkness I couldn’t make out the driver, but I recognized the shape of the car. It was him, the man in black. When I ran his plates before they had been fakes. They weren’t even registered. He sat and I sat and neither of us moved.

It took about fifteen minutes for Parker’s garage door to open and for him to back out of the driveway. I crouched down and he reversed into the street and then drove past me. I counted seven Mississippi’s and sat back up. His car stopped at the end of the street which gave me time to catch up, but in that moment I found myself more curious about the identity of the man in black. The note he left should have made me think twice or even three times about approaching him, but it didn’t. I wanted to know who he was and why he left it.

I started my car and positioned one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the holster of my gun. The man in black didn’t move. I flashed my lights on and off. Still no movement. I took a deep breath and put the car into gear and inched forward. He started his car and turned on the headlights. I pulled up alongside and his window descended. I put my window down and we studied each other for a moment. His face was hard and rimpled and depicted a man who had witnessed a lot in his life. I tried to form words but they didn’t come. I took a deep breath in and resolved to get the words out.

“I don’t know what you want with Parker,” I said, “or why you are here or why you left the note you did the other night.”

I scarcely uttered the words before a car turned up the road, one that I identified immediately.

The man in black looked at me and smiled.

“Who are you?” I said.

He made an upward gesture with his head and then stepped on the gas and sped down the street.

The other car pulled beside me.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Coop said.

“I was just leaving.”

“I’m in charge of his tail tonight, and I don’t need your help in case you’re wondering.”

“He’s not here at the moment.”

“And how would you know that?” he said.

“You’re in charge of him, you figure it out.”

I put my window back up and breathed a sigh of relief. With Parker long gone, the mystery man out of sight, and Coop assigned to watch over him, I called it a night. Kristin would be in town until the next day and that gave me one last shot to talk with her.

My cell phone rang. The caller ID said unknown. I pressed the answer button and the voice on the other end said, “Stop following me!” Only it wasn’t a man’s voice, it was a woman’s.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said. “I’m not following anyone at present.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Who is this?” I said.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Her voice quivered with instability.

“I’d like to know who I’m speaking to,” I said, “or this conversation is over.”

“Then I have, well, nothing to say.”

She sniffled into the phone a few times.

“Bridget,” I said. “If this is you, all I wanted was to ask you a few questions. That’s it. I’m not the police and I’m not after you.”

I waited.

“If you’re not following me, then who is?”

“Tell me where you are,” I said.

“I don’t know you. Why should I tell you anything?”

“From what your boyfriend told me, you and Charlotte were close. I’m sure her death hasn’t been easy for you. All I’m asking is that you help me get her the justice she deserves. And if someone is following you then you need my help.”

I wanted to get it through to her that she could trust me and that I could help her, but she had no reason to believe me.

“I, I don’t know. I have to go.”

“Wait, Bridget please. Let’s try this, I’ll talk and you listen. You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to and you can hang up anytime.”

There was no response, but my phone indicated the call was still connected so I persisted.

 “A couple weeks ago Charlotte’s sister hired me to look into her death. At first it looked like an accident and then we discovered she was poisoned. After that I had my suspicions and, after I learned you two were close, I wanted to find you and talk to you about what happened to Charlotte. All I wanted to know was if you knew of any reason why someone wanted her dead. I know you’re on the run, and if you need my help––”

“I don’t. You said you had suspicions, who do you suspect?”

Try everyone from Parker Stanton to the evil troll lady in the dungeon of the real estate office.

“Parker Stanton, but he has an alibi that checks out.”

“Of course he does.”

“Why do you say it like that?” I said.

“Why do you think? He’s Parker Stanton III, son of Parker Stanton II, real estate tycoon and multi millionaire, blah, blah, blah.”

The way she said it sounded like he was being featured on an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

“I take it you don’t like him?” I said.

“What’s not to like? He’s a rich, snobby brat who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. It’s the Stanton way.”

“The Stanton way?” I said.

“He does whatever to whomever and doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.”

“Wow,” I said. “Do you think it’s possible that he killed her?”

“Parker, no. He’s just a sleazeball.”

I was surprised by her response.

“How do you know it wasn’t him?” I said.

“If you asked me if I despised the guy, the answer would be yes, but a killer––I don’t see it.”

I started to think she didn’t know Parker like she thought she did.

“Did he ever abuse Charlotte?”

She was silent.

“Parker was a little rough with her a few times. I was the only one she told and she asked me not to say anything to anyone. The last time he hit her she had a few bruises. She threatened to break it off and he never touched her again. And then she found out about the other women….”

“And that ended it for good,” I said.

“Yes.”

“I know about the altercation between you and Parker at the party. Was it over the abuse?”

“I’ve already said too much, I need to go.”

I had pushed too far.

CHAPTER 42

“Why isn’t anyone doing their job?”

“Calm down Audrey,” I said.

It was early on Sunday, my usual day of rest. I half opened one eyelid and looked at the clock on my nightstand. 5:53 AM.

“At least I give a damn; I guess I’m the only one who does.”

“Calm down, Audrey,” I said, again.

“Why should I? My sister is dead. No, let me rephrase that. My sister is dead because some asshole murdered her and that asshole isn’t locked up yet.”

“PCPD brought him in for questioning,” I said. “But without any proof, they couldn’t hold him, at least not yet. He’s still being looked at.”

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me Audrey, okay? I’m sorry I don’t have all the answers yet, but I will.”

“Two weeks already and no change. Do you know how it feels to sit here and wait?”

I was tired and irritated. Her lack of patience and my lack of sleep didn’t make a winning combination.

“Two weeks. Not two months, not two years, a couple of weeks. It takes time. Think of it like trying to fit all of the pieces of the puzzle together and finding out you have one piece that’s not there. As soon as I find that piece the case will fall into place.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I do.”

And I did.

“And the cops, do they share your sentiments?”

“I would like to think so. Believe me, the more eyes we have on this the better.”

 I managed to find the end button on my phone and turned over on my side. Two eyeballs stared straight at me.

“What’s her deal?” Nick said.

I pulled the covers over me and scooted next to Nick.

“She hasn’t got a patient bone in her body.”

And with that I fell back to sleep.

Morning came again a couple hours later. I turned on my laptop and waited the six minutes it took for my applications to load and then went to the Salt Lake International Airport website and searched all flights with an arrival destination of New York City. I found three, and the first departed in three hours.

I grabbed a quick bite to eat with my two favorite boys and departed for the airport. Nick and Lord Berkeley left for some male bonding at the park. It took a deal of finesse, but I managed to convince Nick that a simple chat with Kristin required no accompaniment.

The first flight came and went with no sign of either of them. I took a gamble on the security gate and hoped I chose the one closest to the terminal she flew out of. Thirty minutes later, it paid off. The two of them walked hand-in-hand toward the security gate. They hugged and then kissed and then hugged again and he walked away and then paused and turned back and blew her a kiss. What a charmer.

Kristin was a tiny woman, several inches shorter than me and petite, and when she stood sideways she almost disappeared into thin air. She had long, flowy brown hair with blond highlights and an oval-shaped face. She didn’t look like the others, but then, the others didn’t look like the others either. It was part of Parker’s game that he played. One in every size, shape, and color. I imagined he had a hard time at the ice cream parlor. So many options to choose from, it would be impossible to limit himself to one.

Kristin looked more like a woman ready to hit the clubs in her bedazzled tank top, micro mini skirt, and four-inch studded heels. I guess she hadn’t noticed the temperature outside or the fact that she was in Salt Lake City in winter.

I waited for her to take her place in line and when there was no sign of Parker, I fell in behind her.

“Kristin Tanner?”

She turned around with a look of shock on her face but didn’t respond.

“Are you Kristin Tanner?” I said, again.

“Who wants to know?”

“My name is Sloane. Sloane––”

“I know who you are. Parker warned me about you. What do you want?”

Her tone was sharp and she didn’t smile.

“Can I speak with you for a few minutes? I have a couple of questions if you don’t mind. I promise you won’t miss your flight.”

She slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder and grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the line. I shook her off and we walked to an unoccupied corner of the room. She reduced her voice to a whisper as if someone could hear our conversation over the continual announcements going off overhead combined with the instrumental airport music.

“I have nothing to say to you and this is outrageous!”

“Because I want to ask a few questions?” I said.

“You followed me here, how ridiculous. You need to get a life.”

“I wanted a few minutes of your time and this seemed like a good way to get it.”

“Away from Parker, you mean.”

“If you say so,” I said.

“Well, I’m not talking to you so you’ve wasted your time coming down here like this.”

“I don’t think so.”

She placed one hand on her hip and sneered at me.

“Stay away from me and leave Parker alone.”

“And if I don’t?” I said.

“Then if I were you, I’d watch your back.”

“Is that a threat?” I said.

She flicked her hand through her hair.

“Count on it.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect innocent women from the likes of Parker Stanton,” I said.

“You’re so stupid. You don’t know anything.”

“I know you’re with a womanizing manwhore,” I said.

It wasn’t how I intended to conduct my Q&A session, but I needed her to talk, and it was obvious that her personality type required a steady amount of pressure to rev her engine. All I needed was one slip up.

“I won’t stand here another minute and listen to your outlandish lies.”

“You don’t believe Parker cheats?” I said. “Wake up.”

“How dare you.”

She stood her ground and I stood mine. I needed to press harder.

“How long have you been with him?” I said.

“What’s it to you?”

“You know nothing about the others I take it.”

“I find it pathetic that you need to make up a bunch of stuff in order to what, bust him? I know all about you. I know how you went to his house, physically attacked him, and then broke his fingers. You plan to break mine too?”

“If that’s the story you want to believe, it’s up to you,” I said.

“And you don’t even deny it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I say,” I said. “Your mind’s made up.”

“He offered his help to you with this investigation and what did he get in return? Harassed and physically assaulted. You people should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“And you shouldn’t be so naïve,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The woman, Charlotte. She was his fiancé and they had a relationship for the past couple years.”

She shook her head.

“You’re so full of it.”

I reached in my coat pocket and pulled out a photo of Parker and Charlotte that I lifted from her house. I handed it to her.

“There were others too, at least two that I know of besides Charlotte,” I said.

She glanced at the picture for a second and then looked away.

“You’re a liar. So they were in a photo together, big deal. They were just friends.”

“I’m a PI. My clients pay me to uncover the truth, like it or not,” I said. “You need to stay away from him.”

“And if I don’t he’ll what, kill me.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Get real.”

“Maybe he won’t go that far, but he might hit you if he hasn’t already,” I said.

Her eyes bored into mine and I imagined she would slap me. She didn’t. Instead she pivoted on her studded heel and made a beeline for the security gate. I followed.

She took her place in line.

“I hope you enjoyed you time with Parker,” she said. “You won’t get any more of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, is he going somewhere?” I said.

She showed her information to the security person and looked back at me before she went through to the other side.

“You’re the PI. You figure it out.”

CHAPTER 43

What had she meant when she said I wouldn’t get more time with Parker? For whatever reason, she thought I was going in the wrong direction. I wrestled back and forth about my next move, but it didn’t take me long to decide that I needed to see if Parker was still around. I flipped my car around and headed toward his town house in the city. He wasn’t there.

It took forty-five minutes for me to get back to Park City and over to Parker’s house. When I drove up his street and parked in the driveway one of the neighbors noticed me and watched me exit my car and approach the doorway. I looked over and he nodded. I returned the sentiment. Then I knocked on Parker’s door and waited. There was no answer. I knocked again. Still nothing.

On the side of the house a series of small windows lined the length of the garage. They were almost six feet up from the ground, but on my tip toes I could see inside. His car wasn’t there.

I walked back to my car and got in and checked the time. About an hour and a half had passed since he dropped Kristin off at the airport. Maybe he needed a bit more time.

I ran a few errands in town and by early evening it warmed up enough that I took Lord Berkeley for a walk along the Rail Trail. He scampered down the path and sniffed old friends along the way and made some new ones. We passed a much larger mangy-looking dog that was all black and showed no interest in a bond of any kind. Lord Berkeley got close enough to invade his personal space and he sounded the alarm. Boo, oblivious to his actual height or lack thereof, steadied his approach, much to the chagrin of the dog and its owner who shook her head at me like I was an unfit parent. Lord Berkeley didn’t seem to care and neither did I. He wagged his tail and did a few spins for his newfound friend. The other dog remained unimpressed. I looked at my watch. Time to go.

I dropped Lord Berkeley back at home and made my way back over to Parker’s house. With Nick at work I could do my job with no interruptions.

The lamppost across the street was still broken when I approached, and Parker’s house was draped in black. I stepped out of my car and when I shut the door my keys fell from my hands and clanked down on the icy pavement beneath me. I bent down and ran my hands along the area where I stood but only felt ice. I reached into my car and grabbed a mini flashlight out of the center console and cupped it in my hand and turned it on. My keys had lodged behind one of my tires. Crisis averted.

A noise ruffled through the hedges in Parker’s yard. I took a few steps back and crouched down behind the side of my car. The sound came again and this time there was movement. I pulled my gun from its holster and flicked the switch on my flashlight and aimed it at the bushes. Two beady eyes stared at me in horror and then a large mass of fur leapt over the hood of my car and faded into the night.

I took a minute to catch my breath and then crossed the street. The front door was open wide enough for me to stick my hand through. I yelled into the darkness, but the only answer that came was a reverberation of my own voice. With my flashlight lit up I peeked once again through the window of the garage. His car was there so why wasn’t he? I decided to find out.

To lessen my chances of getting caught I stuck with the flashlight. I entered the living room which contained a lot of leather furniture and not much else. A bottle of wine remained on the coffee table and a pair of men’s slippers were on the floor.

I moved further down the hall and entered the master bedroom. There were no windows that faced the street so I turned on the lamp on his bedside table. The duvet hung over the bed and most of it rested in a massive lump on the floor. I searched both side-table drawers and found nothing but several pairs of boxers and an assortment of socks.

After I shut off the light on the lamp I went back down the hall and through the kitchen. On the other side just past the dining area was a room with a large desk in the center of it. The desk was barren with the exception of a few folders off to the side, some framed family photos that didn’t include any of his other women, and a single piece of paper folded in half which sat in the center of the desk. I picked it up and unfolded it. Scrawled in pen were two words, forgive me.

The paper slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor. I took a step backward and bent down to retrieve it and stepped on a wet, sticky substance and slid across the floor. I shifted my balance and pushed my hands down to break my fall. My hand swept across something hard upon impact and it slid to the side, making a sharp noise that sounded like the blade of a knife cutting across cement. I bent down to investigate and placed my hand on the armrest of the chair for balance, and that’s when I felt it. The leather on the chair didn’t feel like leather at all. It felt like flesh. Human flesh. It was cold and clammy and wet. I jerked my hand back and flashed the light toward the chair. There on the chair sat Parker. His head faced the floor and his body was slumped to one side. In the soft glow of the flashlight I caught a glimpse of my hands. They were covered in blood. I extended my index and pointer finger to the side of Parker’s neck. There was no pulse, no sign of life. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my phone and pressed number one on my speed dial.

“Nick,” I said, in a whisper. “It’s me. I’m at Parker Stanton’s house. I think he’s dead.”

CHAPTER 44

“What were you doing here?” Nick said.

I shook my head and stared at the wooden grains on the floor.

“When the chief gets here, he’ll want answers. If you talk to me, maybe I can talk to him.”

I nodded. It was all I could do at the moment and even that seemed like too much. My entire body felt like someone took a stick and smacked my funny bone over and over again.

“Sloane, listen to me. Look at me.”

I hesitated.

“Would you look at me please?”

I removed my hands from around my knees and sat up. Nick had a bewildered look on his face like he couldn’t decide whether to scold me or comfort me.

“You’re shaking.”

“I think I’m in shock,” I said.

“That’s natural.”

It didn’t feel that way. I wiped my eyes.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” I said. “I can’t believe he’s dead Nick.”

I tried my best to regain composure.

“Do you know how it happened?”

“I found him on the chair, but I don’t know how he got there or when. There was a paper on his desk with a couple words on it and a gun on the floor and he had no pulse.”

I looked down at my shoes; they had red splotches on them.

“I want to talk you about this, but the other guys are on their way and I don’t want anyone to see you like this.”

“It’s too late for that,” Coop said. “I see little miss thing messed up my crime scene.”

“Go easy on her Coop,” Nick said.

“Why should I?”

“You know what happens if you don’t,” Nick said.

Coop looked at me.

“You want to tell me what went on here?”

“Don’t say a word,” Nick said.

Coop glared at Nick and then turned toward me.

“The way I see it, you and Mr. Stanton fought, he went for his gun, and you shot him. That about right?”

“That’s enough,” Nick said.

“Son, I’ve had about enough out of you.”

I glanced at Nick whose ears were bright red and looked like the filling in a cherry pie.

“I’m not your son, and we both know she’s under no obligation to say anything to you.”

Coop made a move for Nick and they squared off. He wagged his finger at Nick and his nostrils flared.

“Now you listen here––”

I wedged myself between them.

“Enough,” I said. “I want to talk to the chief.”

CHAPTER 45

“I want to talk to her alone, Calhoun,” the chief said.

Nick acknowledged him with a nod and then turned and went.

The chief shut the office door and then his blinds and went around to his side of the desk, but he didn’t sit down. He faced me and pulled on his moustache a few times. I rested my hands in my lap. One of my fingernails was broken. I stared at it like it was an engagement ring that had just been given to me. It beat eye contact.

“Alright Sloane, out with it,” he said.

“Is this my official statement?”

“Someone else can do that later. Right now I want to know what happened.”

I filled him in about my meeting with Kristin at the airport and the comment she made about Parker at the end of our conversation.

“But she didn’t actually say he intended to leave?” he said.

 I shook my head.

“It was the way she said it, like she wanted me to know he wouldn’t be around anymore.”

“Then what happened?” he said.

“I went to his house and––”

“Stop right there,” he said. “I asked you to keep your distance. Does anything I say matter to you?”

“At the time it seemed like a good idea.”

“You broke into the guy’s house. I could hold you for that,” he said.

“But you won’t.”

He seized both sides of the desk with his hands and hunched over me like a pack of football players in a huddle, but one thing was different; I had the feeling I wouldn’t be in on the next play.

“A few nights in a cell might do you some good. Maybe you’d listen to me for a change.”

I crossed a line and he wanted me to know it.

“I thought you had a tail on him, but no one was around when I got there. Where were they?”

He mulled it over for a moment.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” he said.

“At least I’m trying to catch Charlotte’s killer. Isn’t that the point of all this?”

He shook his head.

“You think that’s what you’re doing, eh?”

“I don’t have the energy to go back and forth with you on this,” I said. “Not today.”

He backed off and folded his arms.

“Alright,” he said. “Continue.”

“When I got there the lights were off but his front door was cracked open.”

“And you went in.”

I nodded.

“I thought he wasn’t there and that if I could find some evidence that proved his involvement in what happened to Charlotte we could use it to arrest him.”

“You’re so foolish sometimes kiddo,” he said. “No matter I suppose. What’s done is done. You went into his house and found him. Then what happened?”

“When I realized he was dead, I called Nick.”

“And that’s it, that’s all of it?”

“Almost. I did find a note on his desk.”

He held his hand out and motioned toward himself with his fingers.

“Lemme take a look at it,” he said.

“I don’t have it with me. I dropped it.”

“You expect me to believe you found the note and just left it there? That doesn’t sound like you at all,” he said.

“It’s still there.”

“You read it then,” he said.

“Forgive me.”

“For what?” he said.

“That’s what the note said.”

He looked toward the ceiling and uttered the words to himself a few times.

“What do you make of it?” he said.

I tried not to show my surprise that he still considered my opinion after all that had happened.

“It looks like he buckled over the guilt, wrote the note, and then offed himself.”

“That would explain a lot,” he said.

“If that’s the truth.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“I never thought Parker of all people would kill himself, it doesn’t make sense.”

“In what way?” he said.

“Parker slept with a lot of women. On the outside he was selfish and full of himself and proud. But on the inside he was an insecure coward who got his kicks when he bullied those around him. That’s not the type of person who shoots himself in the head.”

“What then?”

“Let’s say he really did want to die for what he’d done. Why not take a bunch of pills and do it the simple way?”

“You ever consider you might be over thinking it a bit,” he said.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“The gun was convenient and easy. I expect that’s why he did it.”

“Maybe.”

“I guess we better notify the father,” he said. “You can imagine what he’ll do when he finds out.”

CHAPTER 46

Three days had passed since Parker’s death, and I spent the majority of it at home. I wanted to avoid any run-ins with Coop and the chief who felt I interfered in their investigation. I received no thank you for discovering the body, no words of appreciation, nothing for my efforts.

My cell phone rang. It was Audrey.

“I got your message,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s all over.”

“That’s the general consensus.”

“Parker did himself and everyone else a huge favor.”

I didn’t see any point in debating with her.

“So, what’s next for you?”

“I’m out of here,” she said.

“For how long?”

“Maybe for good. It’s time to move on with my life. This town reminds me too much of Charlotte. It’s hard to drive around and see a real estate sign with her face plastered on the front of it in someone’s yard. I know they will all come down, but I feel like I can’t move forward if I stay here.”

I felt that way a few years back except Audrey was leaving for the same reason I stayed.

“Will you come back?”

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Any idea where you’ll go?”

“Do you want to know something interesting? A couple days ago I gathered Charlotte’s mail that had piled up since she passed away and I opened a letter from a woman in Haiti. She said she was looking forward to Charlotte and her sister arriving next month to assist with the reconstruction project they started there.”

“Wow.”

“Do you know what that means? Charlotte never planned to transfer to another agency, or maybe she did at first, but not at the end. She wanted to leave this place, and she was going to take me with her.”

“I’m sorry I never got the chance to meet your sister,” I said. “She was an amazing person.”

“If she talked to me about this when she was alive, I can’t say whether I would have gone with her. But now, I feel I owe it to her to go, and there’s nothing I’d rather do.”

“If there is anything you need––”

“There is,” she said. “I want to put Charlotte’s place on the market. I’ve sent some movers over to pack it all up for me, and in the meantime, I’ve listed it with Vicki.”

“What can I do?”

“I’m on my way to the airport and I didn’t have time to drop the key off to her before I left. Since I gave you a copy I hoped you could stop in and do it for me?”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Thanks for everything. I know I wasn’t the easiest person to deal with.”

“Take care of yourself.”

I pressed the end button on my phone. The news of Parker’s death came as a sense of peace for Audrey. So why didn’t I feel a sense of resolve too?

Lord Berkeley’s ears perked up as Nick walked in with dog treats in one hand and daisies in the other. He opened the bag and placed a treat on Boo’s nose.

“For the Lord,” he said.

Boo wiggled his nose and snatched it up and looked at Nick for a second. Much to his dismay Nick turned toward me and extended the flowers.

“For the Lady,” he said.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” he said.

“I guess not.”

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed.

“We’ve dropped the case. The ME’s report came back and it’s conclusive. Parker committed suicide.”

“What else did the report say?” I said.

“The latent prints we lifted from the gun matched Parker’s and no other prints were found on it. There is one caveat though.”

“What’s that?”

“Before the ME’s report came back, I checked out the gun and it wasn’t registered to Parker or anyone else for that matter. And Parker’s father said he didn’t own a gun.”

“So where did he get it?”

“Good question,” he said.

“What about the note?”

“We compared it to some handwritten papers we found in his desk and they were an exact match.”

I put the daisies in a vase and then walked over to the couch and sat down.

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

“Now you can put it behind you and move on.”

“I guess so.”

I wanted to feel a sense of relief, but there was something about it all that bothered me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Parker’s death than what it seemed.

CHAPTER 47

An hour later I sat on a red velvet sofa shaped like a peanut eating a cup of chocolate gelato and tried to forget it was a mere nineteen degrees outside.

Maddie took a bite of wildberry and angled her plastic spoon at me.

“What’s your deal?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“No you’re not. You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

“Don’t make me pry it out of you.”

“All I wanted was to clear my mind and to spend the day without any thoughts about Charlotte or Parker or the case, but the harder I try not to think about it, the more I do.”

“Why think of Parker at all? He’s dead, and I don’t see too many people unhappy about it.”

She finished the last bite of gelato and set her plastic bowl on the table. It was yellow and reminded me of the set of colorful pastel Tupperware bowls my mother used in the eighties.

The remnants of Maddie’s melted gelato dripped off the side of the cup and onto the table. She didn’t notice. I let it go for a few seconds and then, when I couldn’t sit still and watch it drip any longer, I snatched a napkin and wiped it up.

“It’s just that I remembered something,” I said.

“Do tell.”

“I think Parker was left handed.”

She opened her eyes all the way.

“Fascinating.”

“Okay smart ass,” I said.

“What made you think of that––about him being a leftie?”

“The first time I met him in the lobby downtown he handed me a flower with his left hand. And then later in his apartment he held a glass in his left hand. When he pinned me up against the wall––”

“I get it, left hand.”

“I broke the fingers on his left hand,” I said.

“So what does that mean?”

“The evidence said Parker shot himself with his right hand.”

She slanted her head to the side.

“Maybe he’s ambidextrous. You ever think of that?”

“And maybe I’m the Princess of Wales,” I said.

“What did the coroner’s report say?”

“Nick said the ME results were conclusive, he shot himself. They found no other prints on the gun, and there’s no way I can get access to the report. The chief has me on some type of time-out while Parker’s daddy is in town.”

“What a prick.”

“He’s not such a bad guy, Maddie. He’s just doing what he needs to do. Besides, I don’t know what made him madder, the fact that I broke into Parker’s house, that my prints were all over the crime scene, or that I discovered Parker’s body before they did.”

Maddie walked over to the drinking fountain and slurped some water and then came back and plopped down next to me. She wiped the water that dripped from her face and stuck a piece of purple gum in her mouth and slouched down in her seat.

“Who’s the coroner?”

“Whitley,” I said.

“Stan Whitley?”

“Know him?”

She bobbed her head up and down a couple times and grinned.

“Do I ever.”

“Now it’s your turn to spill,” I said.

“He’s got the hots for me.”

“Who doesn’t?” I said.

“Don’t I know it.”

She twisted a finger around a piece of her hair.

“It’s hard being me.”

I took my cup and hers and threw them into the trash receptacle.

“I imagine so.”

“Oh give me a break,” she said. “You can have any guy you want.”

“And I do,” I said.

“The having isn’t the problem though, is it? It’s the holding.”

“It makes me feel––”

“Trapped.”

“Something like that,” I said.

“You’re just scared.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Hell no. I’m not the marrying kind. I don’t need a man to tie me down so that I can sit at home and pop out babies every other year for the next ten years of my life.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” I said.

“Oh no, what about Ben?”

I almost forgot about Ben whose fondest wish was for them to wed. And she almost did until he told her about his plan for her to stay at home and make a tribe of little Ben’s. He made it clear he wanted no less than six of them. Maddie, on the other hand, wanted a career so that was a deal breaker.

“I ran into him a few months ago.”

“How did that go over?” I said.

“He was with his pregnant wife and four or five other bundles of joy. They ran wild all over the place like the kids in Children of the Corn.”

“How long have they been married?” I said.

“About five years now I guess.”

Maddie swore off kids in college. After she helped her single mother raise seven younger brothers and sisters she had no intentions of being responsible for anybody but herself.

“Nick wants to move forward. He wants to make it official,” I said.

“He said that?”

“He wants us to move in together although I’m unclear whether he meant his place or mine,” I said.

“You can’t blame him for that sweetie.”

“Right now our life together is simple and uncomplicated. I have my space and he has his. Why can’t it remain like that?”

“Depends on how long you plan to stay that way. What are you on, your second year together?”

I nodded.

“We just hit the two year mark,” I said.

“No wonder he wants to settle. If you two were both in your twenties, it would be different.”

“I thought you of all people would understand,” I said.

“Just because I don’t plan to walk down the aisle doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Nick’s the first guy I’ve seen you with who makes you happy. I can’t imagine you with anyone else.”

“What if he moves in and it isn’t what he thought?” I said. “Then what?”

“You could get trampled by a herd of buffalo in some field tomorrow and end up dead anyway.”

“Nice,” I said.

“My point is you don’t know what’s going to happen in life. How do you know moving in together won’t make life even sweeter than it already is––did you ever think of it like that?”

She leaned over and gave me a hug and whispered in my ear.

“You get one shot at life, don’t waste it.”

The door swung open and a group of teenagers strolled in. They laughed and talked to one another at such a high decibel I thought for sure I would rupture an eardrum. Maddie looked at me and we both reached for our coats.

“Thanks for the gelato,” I said.

“Anytime.”

Maddie pushed the front door open and we walked out.

“Headed back to your office?” I said.

She shook her head.

“I’m off to play catch up with my old friend Whitley.”

CHAPTER 48

When I was a young girl I had a master plan, a vision board that I kept locked away in a safe place inside my head, and whenever I took out my key and visited I planned out my life. Grow up, get married, and raise kids––four of them to be exact. Two boys, two girls. At twelve I wanted their names to be Piper, Kelly, Rhys, and Peter. Problem was no one ever told me what to do when my master plan failed, and I was too headstrong to believe it could be anything less than what I imagined. I would have a perfect husband, raise four perfect children, and live a perfect life. But then I grew up. Marriage came and then divorce. And my dream of four kids––I wasn’t fortuitous enough to produce one. My body and its natural form of birth control made sure of that. Plan A didn’t work out, and I never thought I needed a Plan B.

Maybe Charlotte felt that way. On her vision board she aspired to greatness. She was a professional skier and then a real estate agent, and a good one at that. She met and fell in love with a man who she thought she could trust, and at some point along the way she became cognizant enough to see that he did not have her best interests at heart. I wondered if she was at a good place in her life when she died. She paid the ultimate price, and it didn’t seem fair.

By the time I reached Charlotte’s office the closed sign dangled from the front door. No key for Vicki tonight. I assumed she wouldn’t mind, but I gave her a call anyway. Much to my chagrin, she gave me her address and asked me to stop by. She had a client anxious to see the place and she wanted to do a walkthrough beforehand. So much had changed in so little time. One day Charlotte was alive in her condo, and the next it was up for sale to the highest bidder.

I arrived at the house around dinnertime. Vicki stood at her front door with a wine glass in one hand and a remote control in the other. A silk robe was draped around her body and her legs were exposed which led me to wonder why she didn’t invest in a treadmill and a longer robe.

“Nice house,” I said.

“I figure I work hard enough,” she said. “I deserve to come home to this.”

“Are you married?”

“I was. My husband and I divorced a couple of years ago. He lives in Florida now on his yacht with a woman half his age.”

“Sorry to hear it,” I said.

She shook her head.

“Don’t be. I got the house, and he got the tramp.”

I remained quiet. The plight of a woman scorned didn’t need more fuel to its fire.

“How’s life at the office these days?” I said.

“Almost back to normal, if you can call it that. Jack is back to his old self again––sell, sell, sell.”

A cold wind crossed my body. I zipped up my jacket and reached in the car for my scarf.

“I’m sorry. How rude of me,” Vicki said. “Why don’t you come in for a minute and get out of this horrid weather?”

“I can’t stay,” I said.

I reached for the key in my purse.

“I bet you’re glad this whole Parker mess is all over.”

“I guess so,” I said.

“Aren’t you?”

“Audrey is satisfied, and everyone wants to move on with their lives,” I said.

“And you?”

“Of course I want to, but––”

“Parker made it easy on you when he keeled over, don’t you agree? Poor guy couldn’t live with himself after what he’d done. If you ask me, the world is better off without him.”

I hadn’t asked her.

“Maybe,” I said.

“You don’t agree?”

“It’s convenient for everyone to assume Parker killed Charlotte and then himself when he couldn’t live with the guilt.”

“You want my advice? Rejoice. It’s over and you don’t have to deal with it anymore. It won’t do you any good to stew over it.”

I ran my hands up and down my arms.

“You sure you don’t want to come in?”

If going inside meant more of her so-called advice, it was time to leave.

I walked toward her and produced the key.

“I better go,” I said.

“Well, alright then, if you’re sure.”

She flipped the key over and over in her hand.

“Thanks for this.”

CHAPTER 49

The next day my phone rang. It was Maddie.

“How’s Whitley?” I said.

“Much improved.”

“Did you get anything out of him?”

“Really Sloane, what do you think?”

“Should I ask what you did to get it?” I said.

“Probably best if you didn’t.”

Something crunched in the background.

“Care to know what’s in my hot little hand right at this moment?”

“Not Whitley, I hope.”

She laughed.

“And people don’t think you’re funny.”

“Do you have something for me?” I said.

“Indeed I do. Can we meet at your office?”

“I’ll see you there,” I said, and hung up the phone.

Thirty minutes later I pulled into the parking lot. Maddie, who knew where to find the hidden key, opened the door and greeted me with the file in hand.

“Merry early Christmas or a merry late one,” she said.

“And a Happy New Year to Whitley,” I said.

“Don’t shake your head at me Sloane; I know all about what you’ve had to do for information.”

I ignored her statement and sat down.

“Did Whitley give you this file?” I said.

“Copy machines are so much better these days, so quiet.”

I shook my head.

“You got any drinks around this place?”

“There’s a bottle of pinot in the cupboard,” I said.

She raised her left nostril and rifled around for another viable option.

“What the mother lode, you think you got enough tea in here? Because I’m sure there’s a village in some third-world country that could survive at least a month on all this stuff.”

“Not funny,” I said.

“Alright, alright, don’t mess with a woman and her tea. I got it.”

I nudged her out of the way.

“Here, let me look,” I said.

I moved all the tea to the side and pulled out a bottle from the back.

“Bailey’s?” I said.

“That will do just fine.”

I poured her a glass and we both sat down.

“Have you looked the file over yet?” I said.

She nodded.

“And?” I said.

She took a few sips of her drink and set her glass down on the corner of my desk. She leaned in toward me and I did the same.

“It doesn’t add up,” she said.

“What?” I said.

“Any of it.”

“I see,” I said. “And why are we whispering?”

Maddie grabbed her glass and sat back in my chair.

“Good point. Here’s the thing. On paper, the report would hold up to snuff for anyone who looked it over and didn’t know any better. The way it reads Parker shot himself, end of story.” Maddie lifted her thumb and pressed her pointer finger against her right temple and pulled the trigger. “Bang,” she shouted. She slumped down in my chair. A flare for the dramatic was one of her many charms.

“But you just said––”

“The report is conclusive, he killed himself alright.”

“I guess that’s it then,” I said.

She took another sip from her glass and handed me the report.

“If you read through that, you’ll be convinced that Parker shot himself. But that’s what they want you to believe.”

“You’ve lost me. Who wants me to believe that?” I said.

“I can’t say for sure.”

She got up and walked over to my curio cabinet and poured herself another glass of Bailey’s.

“So did he or didn’t he?” I said.

She held up one finger in the air.

“I have a theory.”

I hoped at some point she started making some sense or any sense at all. She walked back over to the chair and leaned forward and we were back to whispering again.

“I don’t think Parker killed himself, but I believe someone wants you and everyone else to think he did. It took a few glasses of brandy, but I got him to talk, at least enough to get one thing out of him.”

“Maddie, out with it already,” I said.

“It seems our esteemed Whitley is on somebody’s payroll.”

CHAPTER 50

It turned out Whitley spilled a lot more than a little brandy on the rug. He confessed to Maddie that Parker didn’t kill himself and that it was set up to look that way. Maddie, in her role as the desirable temptress, tried to talk him into giving up the person behind it all, but it was to no avail.

If Parker didn’t kill Charlotte, I was convinced we had two different killers on our hands. Aside from the fact that they both looked staged, the crimes were committed in very different ways. From a logical standpoint, it didn’t make sense to me that a killer would poison their first victim and then shoot the other.

In the short time I knew Parker Stanton I understood why a person would want him dead. Everywhere I turned he had potential enemies––a jealous girlfriend, someone outraged enough at Charlotte’s death to seek revenge, or maybe an old flame from the past. And what about the mysterious man in black who left the note on Parker’s doorstep. All sorts of suspects came to mind, but I cared a lot less about solving the mystery of Parker’s demise and a lot more about what happened to Charlotte.

I turned onto the freeway toward home and checked my rear-view mirror. For the last four miles I was being followed. At first I chalked it up to coincidence, but the longer I drove, the more I didn’t think so. Given the poor job they did of hiding themselves behind me, I was certain the person was an amateur.

It was seven miles from the freeway off-ramp to the exit where I lived. I continued to drive South and the car stayed right in line with me. A few miles from the exit I stepped on the gas and moved into the left lane and passed a couple of cars before I switched back to the right lane. The car didn’t follow this time.

I exited the freeway and turned toward my house and thought I was in the clear, but I was wrong. A few seconds later the car barreled off the ramp toward the stop sign. At the rate it was going I thought it would miss the stop sign all together, but at some point the driver realized the road came to an end and slammed on the brakes. The car jerked back and expelled a grey substance into the air and then came to a complete stop. I kept one hand on the steering wheel and fumbled around on the seat for my cell phone with the other. It took a minute and then I felt the hard plastic backside. I picked it up and pressed the speed dial button for Nick and held it up to my ear. I waited for it to ring, but it didn’t make a sound, and it occurred to me that the keys weren’t lit up either. My phone was dead.

I didn’t want to lead my follower straight to my house especially if Nick wasn’t there so I turned down the road and headed toward the gas station. Once I got close enough I pulled over. I may not have remembered to charge my phone, but I always carried my gun.

The car behind me stopped and the driver’s side door opened. Someone got out. I shifted my body over to the passenger side of my car and opened the door and then slid out. I knelt on the ground and positioned my body so that I could watch the person approach. Five feet away, then four feet, and now three. In the glow of the light that illuminated from the gas station it looked like the silhouette of a woman. Her hands were stuffed inside her coat pocket.

“Alright, that’s far enough,” I said.

She stopped.

“Ms. Monroe?”

The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“I know you’re following me, show yourself,” I said.

“It’s me.”

“Stop with the games,” I said. “Who are you?”

“It’s Bridget. Please, I need to talk to you.”

I stood up but kept to the side of my car. I needed to make sure.

“Let me see your hands,” I said.

She removed her hands from her jacket pocket and turned her palms up.

“Why the hell are you following me?” I said.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I called you, but it kept going to voicemail. I left you a ton of messages, but you didn’t call back. And then I saw your car back there and tried to get your attention, but you didn’t see me so I figured I would follow you. Not the best plan, I know.”

“You still haven’t told me why,” I said.

Her voice vibrated and I couldn’t tell if she was cold or nervous, or both.

“I didn’t know who else to call or what I should do.”

“About what?” I said.

“I left this morning to run some errands and when I got back to my place, someone had been in my apartment. Stuff was knocked off shelves, some of my personal items were broken, and all my files were scattered all over the floor. I took one look at it and I left. I drove around all day trying to figure out what I should do and that’s when I saw you.”

“Did they take anything?” I said.

“I didn’t stay long enough to find out.”

“Why would someone do that?”

I holstered my gun and walked toward her. Her eyes were bloodshot. I put my hand on her arm and she leapt backward.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’ve been so jumpy today.” She looked at her hands. “I can’t stop shaking.”

“It’s alright,” I said. “Take your time.”

I reached out to her again, and this time she allowed it.

“I know where we can go,” I said.

She nodded.

“And Bridget,” I said, “I think it’s time you told me the truth.”

CHAPTER 51

Bridget followed me back to my place. When we walked in, Lord Berkeley produced a high pitched signal to let her know she was a stranger and wasn’t welcome in his domain.

“Forgive him,” I said. “We don’t get many visitors. He’s only like this at home. At the office, anyone can walk through the door and he doesn’t care, but not here.”

She approached him and stretched out her hand. Boo moved closer to give her a more thorough inspection and then sniffed her hand and then her shoes. His teeth remained clenched and he growled.

Nick walked out from the bedroom.

“Oh Boo stop it,” he said.

Bridget flinched and looked in my direction.

“I, um, thought you said you lived alone.”

“Oh, I do. But I take in the occasional riff-raff from time to time.”

She wasn’t pleased.

Nick held out his hand.

“I’m Nick, and you are?”

She looked at his hand and then at me and with some reluctance, she moved her hand toward his.

“Bridget,” she said.

Nick glanced in my direction and tried to conceal the shocked look on his face. I stared back at him but said nothing. And I didn’t need to. For all the trouble I had with verbal communication, one look told him everything he needed to know. And right now I was nonverbally saying yes, she was that Bridget.

Bridget, who seemed more interested in the tiles on my floor than engaging Nick in any conversation, didn’t notice.

“If you two would excuse me, I think I’ll give you some girl time.”

“Don’t leave because of me,” Bridget said.

“He’s right,” I said to Bridget. “There’s a lot for us to talk about.”

“And I have a plane to catch.” He looked over at me. “You didn’t forget did you?”

“Of course not. It came up a lot faster than I thought it would.”

“I’ll be back before you have the chance to miss me.”

He looked at Bridget and said, “It was nice to meet you.”

She looked back and managed a forced smile.

Nick turned his attention to me.

“Walk me out?”

I walked through the door he held open for me and closed it behind me.

Once we were out of earshot he said, “How did she end up here?”

“Long story, I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Give me the highlights.”

I did.

“Why would she come to you instead of filing a report with the police?”

“She’s afraid of whoever’s after her and she didn’t know where else to go.”

He rested his hands on my shoulders.

“The murder investigation is over, Sloane.”

“We don’t know that. Not after what Maddie found.”

“All she has is the word of a guy who got drunk and blurted out a bunch of comments that probably aren’t even true. It doesn’t change what’s in the report, and I’d be willing to bet if someone talked to this guy, he wouldn’t remember having the conversation at all.”

This was the part of our relationship that brought me to a standstill. His main priority in life was to protect me and that was noble, but I still had a job to do, and sometimes I felt he would rather I didn’t uncover the truth if it meant I put myself at risk.

“Whatever is going on with this girl, it doesn’t change anything,” he said. “What happened at her place might have something to do with the fact that she has a drug addict for a boyfriend. Maybe he trashed the place looking for cash.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know it was any different. Let the cops deal with it.”

He kissed me goodbye and then got in the car and drove away.

Bridget sat on the sofa with her hand on Lord Berkeley when I entered. He had made peace with his new friend. I joined them.

“Look,” I said. “I need to know what’s going on.”

She glanced over to the side at nothing and remained silent.

“You want to know something?” I said. “I don’t believe Parker killed Charlotte. And you want to know something else; I don’t think my case is over yet. I don’t care how many people were fooled by the smoke and mirror routine at Parker’s house. And whether you help me or not, one way or another I will find out the truth.”

“It’s like I told you before, I don’t believe Parker killed Charlotte.”

“Do you know who did?” I said.

She shook her head in a rapid motion from one side to the other.

“Then what makes you say that?” I said.

“Because she told me.”

“Who told you, Charlotte?”

“She told me and now she’s dead.”

“Bridget, what did Charlotte tell you?” I said.

She rubbed her hands up and down her face.

“You’re safe here, you can talk to me,” I said.

Tears dotted the area around her eyes.

“Don’t you see? Charlotte found out and someone killed her. They killed her! And now they will come after me.”

She stood straight up and bolted for the front door.

“This was a mistake, I can’t stay here. I should go.”

I raced after her and caught her at the door.

“I want to help you,” I said.

“And when you do, someone will come after you too.”

“Let me worry about that. You came to me for a reason; don’t give up on me now.”

I convinced her to wait a few minutes and walked over to the kitchen.

“Here,” I said. “Drink this.”

After some time she calmed down and returned to the sofa.

“That night at the office party when you and Parker had an argument––”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What then?” I said.

“Parker hit on me.”

“He asked you out?”

“Worse. He sent me a disgusting photo on my phone and when I didn’t respond to it, he approached me at the party and asked me to come back to his place after it was over. He said he sent the photo so I could see what he was going to give me later.”

“That’s awful,” I said.

“Do you want to know the worst part? He was there with Charlotte and he actually thought I would consider it.”

“What did you tell him?” I said.

“I slapped him across the face and left.”

“Did you tell Charlotte?”

She nodded.

“Charlotte didn’t say a word to him at first. She hired a friend of hers to follow him and see what he’d been up to.”

“When you went back to the office the other day, what made you so upset?” I said.

“It was just being there. Everyone wanted to talk to me, and I just wanted to get out of there.”

“That makes sense,” I said.

“A couple months ago Charlotte got this wild hair and wanted to organize all of her files in the office. She asked me to create a spreadsheet to keep track of their sales.”

“Charlotte’s and Vicki’s?”

She nodded.

“I created a template for her and we started going back through all the transactions for the past year. I logged several of them and it was going fine, and then Charlotte came across a few files that didn’t add up.”

  “How so?” I said.

“I’m not sure. She just said she needed to check on it and to save what we had already done and we would finish the rest later. She took a bunch of folders with her and told me to file the rest. So I did.”

“And she gave you no indication what the problem was?”

She shook her head.

“The night before she died she called me and said she decided to leave Park City and that her life was going in another direction. She sounded happy. Before we got off the phone she told me the next day she was meeting with the real estate board because she found out something about someone and she needed to do the right thing.”

“Did you ask her what it was?”

She nodded.

“Charlotte wouldn’t tell me. She said she didn’t want to involve me more than I needed to be. But there was one thing she made me promise her.”

“What was it?” I said.

“She asked me to stay away from the office until I heard from her. She wasn’t sure what would happen and she didn’t want me around just in case.”

I thought about the files I found at Charlotte’s house the night of my attack. Why hadn’t I realized their importance before?

“If only I could get my hands on the copies of those files,” I said.

Bridget reached into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a key ring. Two keys dangled from it.

“I can.”

CHAPTER 52

I followed Bridget to Tommy’s apartment. He wasn’t home. She parked her car there and left it along with a note for Tommy that said not to worry and that she would be back soon. Then she got in the car with me.

The real estate office of Ellis & Marshall had vacated for the day. We drove to the adjacent grocery store and parked and waited. When we were the only people in the area, we made our move. Bridget explained to me on the way over that the manager of the office changed the locks every time someone left or was fired, which seemed like a waste of time in my book since all of the interior offices exhibited their own individual door locks, but that was the way of the world these days. With any luck, they hadn’t changed them yet.

We reached the door and Bridget inserted her key into the hole and turned it to the right. It clicked.

“It still works,” she whispered.

Inside, the TV played the same looped video montage. The light that emitted from the screen offered enough of a glow for us to descend the stairs far enough to round the corner. Once we were safely on the level below, I clicked on my flashlight.

We reached the filing office and Bridget put her second key in and turned it.

“Uh oh,” she said.

“What uh oh?”

“My key doesn’t work. Now what?”

“Let me take a look,” I said.

The troll was smart to change the locks, but she used a very cheap and very standard doorknob and jimmying it open wasn’t rocket science. One flick from a standard paperclip in the right direction and we were in.

“Voila.”

“Not bad,” she said. “I’m impressed.”

I handed her the flashlight.

“Now it’s your turn,” I said.

The files were kept according to year and agent name. Bridget found Charlotte’s in less than a minute.

“Let me make some copies and then we can go.”

“That will take too long,” I said. “We can’t risk it.”

“There’s no other option though.”

I held my hand out and she handed over the files.

“I don’t feel good about this. What if they find out?”

She stood there for a moment like we were still deliberating the subject. I grabbed her jacket and tugged on it.

“Let’s go.”

We climbed the first few stairs and I heard a noise on the main level. It sounded like someone had dropped their keys. This was followed by a jingle and then the front door opened. I turned to Bridget whose jaw propped open like she was about to get a root canal. I placed my finger over my lips and motioned for her to ease back down the stairs. She nodded. The main-level door slammed with a loud thud and a male voice sounded off in the distance.

“Like I said, I know these people personally. They lost everything when their business closed last year. One more month on the market without a good offer and they’ll accept anything thrown their way. I’m sure I can convince them to short sale.”

“It’s Jack,” Bridget whispered. “What are we going to do?”

“Keep quiet,” I said.

“Sure, sure,” he said. “I understand. Let me just grab the file and I will tell you what your counter should be.”

The light to the basement flickered and then came on and the sound of hefty footprints made their way down to the lower level. We crouched behind some empty boxes in the hallway, but they weren’t big enough to conceal both of us.

 Jack reached the bottom of the stairs and halted.

“Oh, wait a minute,” he said. “You know what? I left the file in my office earlier today. Let me find it and I’ll call you back.”

He turned around and a minute later the light went off and we relaxed in the darkness.

I looked at Bridget.

“Not a sound,” I whispered.

“But what if he comes down here again? What if he sees us? What are we going to do? We need to get out of here.”

I put a firm grip on her arm.

“Get it together,” I said. “It’s going to be fine.”

She moved and I worried she was about to take flight.

I applied more pressure.

“Ouch, that hurts.”

“Good,” I said. “Concentrate on that for a minute.”

Several minutes elapsed before I heard his voice again.

“I think $840,000 is a fair offer. I’ll write everything up and get this over to you tomorrow.”

The front door opened and closed and a key bolted the lock. We stayed put for the next five minutes until his car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road and then we got the hell out of there.

“It’s late and I could use another pair of eyes on these reports. Why don’t you stay the night at my place?” I said.

“Why did you do that back there?”

“Grab your arm?”

She nodded.

“I wanted to shift your focus.”

“It hurt, you know.”

“But it worked,” I said. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but you didn’t leave me much choice. I could tell it was more than you could handle.”

“Tommy must be worried. I’ve never went this long without calling.”

“I take it you haven’t told him what’s going on.”

“I didn’t want to get anyone else involved.”

“You wanted to protect him, I understand. Why not talk to the police?”

“I don’t even want to be here––in this town, I mean. I tried to leave, and I told Tommy I wanted to move, but he didn’t understand and then we got into a fight and now everything’s a mess.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” I said.

“I guess so.”

“What attracted you to him in the first place? You two seem a lot different from each other.”

“I get that a lot,” she said. “I’ve known Tommy since we were kids. It’s kind of like that saying about how opposites attract. His life hasn’t been the easiest, and I think he’s still trying to figure it all out, but he knows me better than anyone. When all of this happened I thought I should run, but then I realized my life is here, with him.”

“Why don’t you call him tonight and let him know where you are and talk to him for a little while,” I said. “You can stay the night at my house and tomorrow I will drive you home.”

She nodded.

“Besides,” I said. “It’s time you told him the truth.”

CHAPTER 53

I got Bridget squared away in my guest room and scooped up Lord Berkeley in one hand and the files in the other and went down the hall to my room. From the stack I had to sort through I could tell the past year had been a fruitful one for Charlotte and Vicki. I pondered waiting until morning when Bridget could help me, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep while the files rested on my nightstand.

Lord Berkeley scanned the bed a couple times before he assumed a position where his body rested against my thigh and his head propped up on top of it. Sometimes when I worked on my laptop at night he rested his head on the corner of it which made it almost impossible for me to type. I never moved him though.

Step one in my sort process was to separate out the transactions according to agent. I arranged them into three piles that consisted of Charlotte’s deals, Vicki’s deals, and the deals they shared together. In the past year, Charlotte closed over 45 transactions. No wonder other agencies fought over her. Of those, five were shared with Vicki. Vicki herself had a modest year, with 24 transactions. I looked over Charlotte’s files, but nothing stood out to me that was unusual. The same could be said for the shared deals she worked on with Vicki.

I laid both sets of files next to me and leaned back and rested my head on the back of my headboard. The moon shone through my window, and I imagined it must be past midnight. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought about how nice it would be to drift off to sleep, but I had one more pile of files to sift through, and I wasn’t a quitter. I wrapped my black satin robe around me and went to the kitchen. Bridget sat on a stool at the bar and stared into the bottom of a cup of coffee.

“Can’t sleep?” I said.

“Something like that.”

“Coffee won’t help,” I said. “I’m making some tea. Want some?”

She shook her head.

“Nah, I’m fine. I don’t feel like sleeping anyway.”

“Me neither. I took a look at some of the files.”

“Find anything?”

“So far nothing out of the ordinary,” I said.

I poured some water into the kettle on my stove and turned on the burner.

“Did you know you could put some water in a cup and nuke it?”

I nodded.

We sat in silence until the kettle hummed. I had used it so much over the years that there were dime-sized wear marks on every side, and the spout put up a good fight every time I flipped the handle to get the tea out, just like it was doing now.

Bridget stared at me in disbelief.

“Man, that seems like a lot of work to me.”

“I thought so too at first,” I said. “It was a gift from my sister.”

“I’ve got a couple of sisters myself. She probably checks to see you still use it when she comes over here.”

“Actually, she passed away a few years ago.”

Did I just say that, out loud?

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry. Sometimes I stick my foot in my mouth. Were you two close?”

“She was my only sibling,” I said.

“Did she get sick or something?”

I shook my head.

“Nothing like that,” I said.

“Did she have an accident?”

The girl asked a lot of questions.

“I hope I haven’t offended you by asking,” Bridget said.

She hopped off my stool and poured herself another cup of coffee and then made a face.

“Cold?” I said.

She nodded and put it in the microwave and then took it out and sat back on the stool.

The microwave still had :14 on it. I turned away and tried to concentrate on Bridget, but I couldn’t. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to continue our conversation and not think about it. I pressed the cancel button and the time displayed itself again. Perfect.

“I don’t talk about my sister very often,” I said.

“Sometimes I feel that way about things too but then my stomach starts to feel all heavy and stuff like I’m inside an old car at a junkyard and I’m about to be crushed and then I can’t breathe and I feel like if I don’t let it out, I’ll blow up or something.”

I sat down on the stool across from her.

“When I talk about it, I usually do burst,” I said. “That’s why I don’t.”

“It’s that painful?”

I cupped my hands around the mug.

“My sister was murdered,” I said.

Bridget choked down her coffee and the mug slipped from her fingers and fell through the air and shattered along the tile floor. Fragments scattered in all directions. She jumped off the stool and knelt down.

“I’m so sorry; I’ve broken your mug. Tell me where you got it, and I will get another one for you.”

I scanned the floor and went to the other side of the room and grabbed the broom.

“Don’t be. I sprung it on you, and I shouldn’t have,” I said. “Sometimes I don’t know the best way to bring it up.”

“It was my fault. I kept going on and on and now look at what’s happened.”

I scooped the broken pieces into the dustpan and dumped them in the trash. Bridget had a look on her face like she just ran over a fluffy white bunny on the road.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“Your sister probably gave that to you too, and now I’ve gone and broken it.”

“I picked it up at the outlets for a buck, it’s no big deal.”

I went to my room and grabbed Vicki’s files and returned to the kitchen.

“Since neither of us wants to sleep,” I said, “what do you say we take a look at this last set of files. I could use your help.”

She nodded.

I divvied them out and we went to work. Seven transactions later I noticed a pattern.

“Is it common practice for your clients to use the same appraiser?” I said.

“It depends. If they don’t request a specific appraiser, there’s a list of people we recommend. Why?”

“So far every one of these properties lists Walker Appraisal, LLC.”

“That’s Travis Walker. Vicki uses him a lot.”

“What about Charlotte, did she go through him?” I said.

“Maybe once or twice in the past year I think. Do you want me to look?”

“Not just yet. Let me get through the rest of these first.”

I looked through all of them and found seven more that listed Walker as the appraiser. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but fourteen sales with the same appraiser in a town with dozens of appraisers to choose from attracted my attention. I handed them over to Bridget and asked her to look them over. 55 minutes and two more cups of coffee later, she closed the last of the files and turned toward me.

“Do you have a computer?”

I retrieved my laptop from my room and handed it to her. She turned it on and typed in the address for the MLS.

“I hope I can still log on with Charlotte’s username and password.”

She typed it in and pressed the enter key. After a few seconds the home page came up with a message that read Welcome Charlotte across the top.

“What are we looking for?” I said.

“I can’t say for sure, but I find it curious that all of these properties were remodels, and I wanted to take a look at their history and see…”

A page came up and Bridget glared at it for a minute and then clicked on the tab that displayed the history.

“There! Right there,” she said. “That’s what I thought.”

“What have you found?” I said.

“I had a hunch the properties had all been flipped recently, and I think I’m right.” She turned the screen toward me. “Look at this. All three of these listings were bank foreclosed homes that sold to the same client and then went back up on the market a few months later. And I bet if we looked at the others ones, they would all be the same.”

“Flipping is legal though, right?” I said.

“Most of the time, but not always. It depends.” She pulled one of the files out and opened it and handed it to me. “It’s like it doesn’t make sense yet, but it does.”

Bridget pointed to the picture in the file.

“A few days before Charlotte died they got into an argument over this listing.

“Who did?” I said.

“Vicki and Charlotte.”

“Charlotte said she needed to make it right. I didn’t think about it at the time. She didn’t yell or anything so I figured a simple mistake was made that she needed to fix.”

“Do you remember her exact words?”

“When I walked in they stopped talking about it, but I noticed the listing in her hand and,” she tapped the photo of the house with her finger, “this is the one they argued about.”

“Did you ask her about it?” I said.

“She said not to worry, so I didn’t. But what if there’s a connection between her death and this listing?”

Over the next hour we poured over the files Travis Walker was involved with and it turned out they were all bank foreclosed homes or short sales which the purchaser bought on the cheap, made some changes, and then relisted with Vicki. I felt like I had found several pieces to a puzzle and just needed to put them all together.

Bridget opened her mouth wide and yawned.

“You better get some sleep,” I said.

“What makes you say that?”

I pointed to the clock on the microwave which displayed a time of 3:34 am.

“Let’s both turn in for what’s left of the night. We can try and make sense of all this in the morning,” I said.

Bridget walked down the hallway to the guest room and turned toward me before she went through the door.

“Hey Sloane?”

I looked in her direction and recognized the inquisitive look on her face. It was the same one I had seen countless times before whenever I mentioned Gabrielle.

“Can I ask you something?”

“The answer is no,” I said. “They didn’t ever catch my sister’s killer.”

CHAPTER 54

“I’m excited to see Tommy,” Bridget said. “I know now that I should have talked to him about everything in the first place.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” I said. “Just do your best to live your life and be the best person you can. My advice would be to take the time to figure out who you are and what you want in life and then to do it.”

I sounded like the perfect self-help instructor. If only I followed my own advice.

“Taken from someone who knows firsthand it sounds like.”

“I’ve endured my share of trials in life, just like everyone else,” I said.

“I hope he understands.”

“If he’s the man you say he is, he will.”

I pulled into the apartment complex and Tommy was perched outside on a plastic chair. Once he recognized Bridget in my passenger seat he took the joint from his mouth and smashed it into a piece of snow on the sidewalk. He didn’t seem worried that he could get caught. He then stood up and walked over to the passenger side. She opened the door and got out and they embraced.

“I missed you baby,” he said.

“I’m sorry; I should have told you everything from the start.”

“Stop that, okay? You’re here now and that’s all that matters to me.”

Tears ran down her cheeks and he used the palm of his hands to wipe them away. The crass, belligerent boy disappeared and a softer side emerged. He started to close the passenger door and then hesitated and leaned in and an overwhelming stench leaned in with him.

“Thanks for bringing her home lady. We cool?”

I nodded.

“Take good care of her.”

He shaped his hand into a fist and held it out to me. It took a few moments to register what I needed to do and then I flashed to a memory of a famous actor on TV. I made a fist and we bumped. And just like that, I felt young again.

I backed away and waved at Bridget and hoped she would heed the warnings I gave her about staying out of sight and by Tommy’s side until I could get some answers, the first of which I hoped to get from Vicki. I took out my cell phone and dialed.

A chipper young female voice on the other end of the line said, “Ellis & Marshall Real Estate, can I help you?”

“Vicki Novak please.”

“She’s not in at the moment.”

“Can you tell me when you expect her?” I said.

“I’m not sure, can I take a message?”

I declined and ended the call and then turned the car around.

CHAPTER 55

I entered the small corner office of Walker Appraisal at one minute to noon. A girl with the body shape of a baby elephant sat behind the desk. She didn’t look old enough to share a glass of wine with. Her cell phone was glued to her hand and she was typing at a rate I couldn’t comprehend. I walked over to the counter and leaned over just enough to disrupt her sense of privacy.

“Can I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Travis Walker,” I said.

“He’s not back yet.” She gestured with her cell phone over to some chairs. “You can sit there and wait for him.”

I sat and she swiveled her seat around so that her back faced me and went back to typing away. So much for hospitality.

Ten minutes went by and still no sign of him.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Do you have any idea where he is at the moment?”

She wound her chair back around and shook her head.

“Can you find out?”

She tapped hard on the keys on her cell phone for a minute and then tossed it to the side and picked up the office phone. She waited several seconds and then rolled her eyes and hung up.

“He didn’t answer. I don’t know what to tell ya.”

It was easy to see why Charlotte rarely used his services. With her cell phone to the side, I took advantage of the situation.

“Have you worked here long?” I said.

She placed both elbows on the table in front of her and cocked her head to the side.

“Off and on. I help out with the phones.”

“Someone I know referred me, Vicki Novak. Do you know her?”

She sprung forward in her chair. Any interest she had in her cell phone was gone.

“She a friend of yours?”

“Someone I know, why?” I said.

“Because Vicki Novak’s a home wrecking bitch, that’s why.”

It wasn’t where I thought the conversation would go when I started it, but I wanted her to talk so I dumbed myself down and climbed aboard the bitch train.

“We were supposed to do a couple deals together, but she talked to my clients behind my back and now they’re listing with her,” I said. “I haven’t talked to her since.”

It wasn’t the most elaborate lie I had ever told, but I hoped it was good enough to get me where I needed to go.

She leaned over the counter and glared at me.

“Vicki Novak is a slut, I hate her!”

A bitch and a slut. Interesting.

“I take it you know her personally,” I said.

“Not me, my dad.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah,” she said, and pointed to the sign on the door.

Travis Walker was her dad. It made perfect sense now.

“I take it your dad and Vicki were involved?” I said.

“Things were great between my dad and my mom and then she came in one day and asked if he could do some appraisals for her and then she started calling him all the time. First she wanted him to come over to one of her houses and fix a problem with the sink and then he went to see her one night and he didn’t come home until the next day. My mom tried to tell me that he’d already left for work when I got up in the morning, but I’m not stupid.”

“That must have been hard on you,” I said.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.”

It was obvious she didn’t mean a word of it, she was just angry and that was understandable. The cell phone on the desk vibrated and she reached over and grabbed it. She typed some words on the keyboard and threw it back down again.

“Does your dad still see Vicki?”

She shook her head.

“What about your mom?” I said.

“My dad moved out and my mom filed for divorce last week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Have you talked to your dad about it?”

She shook her head.

“The only reason I’m at the office is because my mom thinks we need to spend time together, but he’s not even here. And when he is, he acts all weirded out or something.”

Or something seemed a lot more likely to me.

The office door opened and in walked a tall man around my age except for the grey hair on his head. He looked like he had fasted for several days. His eyes darted from the desk to the chair where I sat.

“Are you my twelve o’clock appointment?”

I nodded.

He shifted his notebook from one hand to the other and stuck his hand out to me.

“I hope you haven’t been here long.”

“Twenty-five minutes or so, are you in the habit of making your clients wait?” I said.

From the look on his face I could tell he was taken aback by my frankness, and I was just getting started.

“I’m sorry; I hope I haven’t messed up your day.”

I didn’t respond. There was nothing like a few moments of awkward silence to get things going.

He swung his arm in the direction of the hall, although it wasn’t long enough to call it that.

“Why don’t we step into my office?”

He continued on in and I got the sudden urge to powder my nose. I stepped into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror and did nothing. When I felt my time spent achieved its desired effect, I made my exit.

If his office offered any indication about his own personal style, he needed some. Everything was brown from the walls to the carpet. Even the trim was brown. One solitary window about the size of a cereal box offered the only light into the room.

“What can I do for you Mrs. Monroe?”

“It’s Miss. And you can tell me how you came to work for Vicki Novak,” I said.

“Sorry? I thought you came in on behalf of a client who needed some appraisal work done.”

“Let me get to the point Mr. Walker. We have a mutual client in common, Charlotte Halliwell. Know her?”

He made a face like someone who had just seen their mug shot on a television screen and had no idea they were wanted.

“The name sounds familiar, but I don’t work with her much.”

“And Vicki Novak?” I said. “What about her?”

He broke eye contact and shifted positions in his seat. I reached into my bag and pulled out the files. They made a slapping sound when they landed on the desk.

“Are you sure you don’t know Vicki, because I think you do.”

“What do you want from me?”

“How about the truth?” I said.

“And you think if you chuck a few files on my desk I’ll give you that?”

“It’s the least you can do for an innocent woman who didn’t deserve to die,” I said.

He shook his head.

“You’re crazy.”

“And you’re busted. Tell me Mr. Walker, was it worth it?” I said.

“I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Right,” I said. “And I suppose you and Vicki were never romantically involved either.”

“Of course not!”

“That’s not what your daughter told me,” I said.

“I don’t care what she told you, she’s a teenager. They lie all the time.”

I picked the files up from the desk and leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs.

“Perhaps. I’m headed over to speak with Jack Montgomery. Since you claim you don’t know Charlotte or Vicki, I may as well let you know that he’s the one in charge at Ellis & Marshall. And after I speak to him, I’m going to give the real estate board a call.”

I stood.

“Nice meeting you Mr. Walker.”

I turned toward the door.

“Wait.”

CHAPTER 56

Travis Walker reached over, picked up the phone, and pressed the “0” key.

“Courtney honey, why don’t you go on home for the day? I’ll take it from here.”

He set the phone down and buried his hands in his face.

“Let’s start over shall we,” I said. “I’ll go first.”

I sat back down and started again.

“My name is Sloane Monroe. I am a Private Investigator hired to look into the murder of Charlotte Halliwell.”

His eyes widened.

“Figures.”

“Now you go,” I said.

“Straight to prison.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re here, which means you know already.”

I didn’t know, but I liked that he thought I did.

“Why don’t you indulge me for a moment?” I said.

“You women never let up do you.”

“Tell me how you know Vicki.”

He scratched behind the side of his ear.

“What do you want to know about first, business or personal?”

“I’ll take business for $1,000,” I said.

“About six months ago Vicki contacted me and said she’d heard good things about the work I’d done in the past and she wanted me to do a couple appraisals for her. If I did a good job she would use me on a regular basis. So I did two or three and they went well.”

“And then?” I said.

“She asked me on a date. Didn’t know if I had a wife and didn’t care if I did.”

“And you went out with her?”

“I told her I was married and that I had a daughter and said I wasn’t interested, but she didn’t take no for an answer.”

“So one day you said yes,” I said.

“Worst mistake of my life.”

“Why do you say that?” I said.

He grabbed a bottle of water off the side of his desk and twisted the cap off and downed the entire thing it in less time than it took me to put my lipstick on.

“If Vicki coerced you into doing something, maybe I can help.”

“No one can. It’s too late. I’ve lost my wife, my daughter, and my business. You don’t understand. I wanted to get out, and I told her I wouldn’t do it anymore.”

“How did that go over?” I said.

“She said I needed to keep my mouth shut or she would take me down with her. She threatened to tell my wife, but then I realized my wife already knew.”

“Mr. Walker, do you know who murdered Charlotte?”

Sweat formed in the creases of his forehead.

“I don’t know. I mean, I have my suspicions, but I didn’t do it, I swear.”

On the corner of the desk was a photo. I presumed it was his family. I picked it up and looked at it for a moment. They looked so happy, like most people do when they pose for a family portrait. Smile for the camera and we’ll all pretend not to see the cracks. I wondered about his life before Vicki entered the picture and destroyed it. I tried not to care. I knew whatever he did he brought on himself. But as I sat across from him I felt compassion, not so much for him, but for his wife and daughter.

“You have a lovely family. It’s a shame, what happened.”

I placed the framed picture in front of him on the desk.

“Don’t you owe it to your family to come clean?” I said.

He thought about it for a moment and I let him.

“I shouldn’t have allowed it to go this far. I thought if I kept my mouth shut, this would all go away, that I could have my life back like before, before that woman came around and destroyed it all. She played me, used me like some worthless piece of garbage and all for what, so she could have a few more dollars in her hand? It makes me sick.”

“Tell me what she did, and I’ll make sure she pays for it,” I said.

“What could you do for me now?”

“Connect you to the right people. If you help me I can promise you one thing. I will make sure Vicki goes away for a long time. And I will also speak on your behalf.”

He clenched his hands together and stared at them.

“Agreed?” I said.

He nodded.

“You told me you did a few appraisals for her and then she asked you out. What happened after that?” I said.

“We started having an affair and then one night at her house she told me she had some great business proposition for me and said if I wanted in, there would be money in it for me. She had an investor who would buy any home she offered him. All we needed to do was flip it and make a profit. I wrote the appraisals and she took care of the rest.”

“Sounds legitimate,” I said. “I don’t see the problem.”

“The appraisals were fraudulent.”

“In what way?” I said.

“Vicki would find an investment property, usually a short sale or a foreclosed home.”

“Or someone who was desperate to sell,” I said.

He nodded.

“She would get her investor to front the money and then once she closed the deal, we waited about four months and she relisted it.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “You relisted it for a significantly higher amount.”

“We hired someone to come in and clean, maybe slap on some paint and make a few changes, but in the listing we fudged the truth.”

“How so?”

“We mentioned the improvements that were done, and they had been, but we also said there were others.”

“Ones you never made?”

He nodded.

“Vicki had a way to make a hundred dollars of work look like several thousand.”

“When in fact, most of the changes and upgrades never took place?”

“It depended on what shape the house was in. She would hire guys on the cheap to make a few fixes to certain items that were easily noticed and then she would lie about other items that weren’t visible in a walkthrough. I chose comps in the area of higher-end homes and made it look like they were similar to the home we had for sale so that she could market the listing for an inflated price and the purchaser thought they were getting a good deal. And because I signed off, there was never any question about the validity.”

“And the money?” I said.

“Vicki gave me a cut and kept the rest for herself.”

“Was the investor in on it too?”

“That’s the interesting part. A couple months ago she admitted there was no investor. The money came from a trust fund she received when her parents died. She’d blown through most of it, but this scheme of hers was a way for her to maintain the lifestyle she wanted.”

“How did she manage to pull the deal off without the so-called investor there to sign?” I said.

 “Most homes in Park City sell to people who live out of the area so she forged the signatures and at closing, she produced a document that she was granted attorney-in-fact privileges on behalf of the investor, and that’s all she needed.”

“Wouldn’t the title company recognize that?”

“She used a different company every time, and if they ever needed to call and speak to the investor, when they dialed the number Vicki gave them, it rang through to me.”

“And Charlotte’s role in all of this?”

“From what I know, she didn’t have one. Charlotte and Vicki had their own listings and then worked as a team on homes or properties that went over the million dollar mark. Vicki made sure the homes she purchased never sold for that much so it wouldn’t raise any suspicions.”

“But Charlotte found out, didn’t she?” I said.

He moved his head up and down.

I had almost all the pieces to my puzzle, and for the first time in weeks, my thought process was clear. The phone call Audrey got from her sister saying she needed to talk to her about something had nothing to do with Parker and everything to do with Vicki. From what I knew about Charlotte she would never stand by while fraud was being committed whether they were friends or partners or not.

“I need to get something else off my chest.”

“Go on,” I said.

“Charlotte came to see me and said she knew what we had been doing and that it needed to stop. She said she wanted to give me the opportunity to turn myself in.”

“And did you?”

He shook his head.

“I was going to. I called Vicki and told her I couldn’t go through with it anymore. I wanted out.”

“Did you tell her Charlotte had been to see you?” I said.

He nodded.

“You’ve got to believe me; I didn’t know anything would happen to Charlotte at the time or I never would have said a word about it.”

“When did you tell Vicki?”

Some time passed before he produced an answer and then he said, “It was the night before Charlotte died.”

CHAPTER 57

I didn’t even make it to my car before I called Nick. It went to voicemail, and I suspected his return flight had taken off. I sent him a text and then flung the car door open and sat down and pressed the number 3 button on my phone. A female voice on the other end announced herself.

“I need to speak with Chief Sheppard,” I said.

“He’s in a meeting right now. Shall I tell him to call you when it’s over?”

“Rose, this is Sloane,” I said. “Do you know when I will be able to speak with him? It’s a matter of some urgency.”

“They’ve been at it for at least an hour already so I bet they wrap it up soon. Can someone else help you?”

For a split second it crossed my mind to talk with Coop, but then it passed.

“Please tell him to call me the second you see him,” I said.

“Sloane, you’re not in any kind of trouble are you?”

I heard a series of beeps.

“There’s a call coming in on my other line and I need to take it. Please have him call me, okay?”

I clicked over to the other line. It was Tommy.

“Where the hell is she!”

“Calm down Tommy. What happened?”

“I got out of the shower and Bridget was gone.”

So much for my advice to her to stay put.

“Did she say she was leaving? Maybe she ran a few errands.”

“Without her keys or her money and stuff. Nuh, I don’t think so. Her car is still parked out front.”

“Did anything happen between you two?” I said.

“We were uh, spending some alone time in the bedroom and stuff and then she said she was hungry so she was going to make us some lunch while I showered.”

“And did she?”

“There’s a finished sandwich on the counter and another one that’s not all put together and the music is still on.”

I found it hard to believe that she would get up and walk out sans her wallet. No woman leaves home without their lifeline. But I didn’t want to worry Tommy more than he already was.

“Let me make a few calls and see if I can find her, okay?”

I ended the call and dialed Chief Sheppard’s direct line. There was still no answer. I left a message and told him where I was headed and gave him a brief summary of the day’s events. Tommy might not know what happened to Bridget, but I did. And I wasn’t about to wait to find out.

CHAPTER 58

Vicki’s car was parked sideways in the driveway and the hood of the trunk was propped open. Dangling from the release handle was a six inch strand of hair that looked like it ripped off when it caught in the latch. The floor of the trunk was wet and a few pieces of snow remained intact. Duct tape was on the floor of the front passenger seat. Bridget was here.

I cocked my gun and sprinted toward the front door. It wasn’t closed all the way. I stepped inside and looked around and was relieved she didn’t share my affinity for small furry warning signals.

The house was silent except for the heater which sounded off with a slow hum. I cleared the entry way and front room and moved to the kitchen. An unlit candle rested on the counter next to the refrigerator. I picked it up and recognized the smell. It was the same aroma that wafted outside Charlotte’s house right before I was knocked unconscious. It was Vicki who hit me that night––it had been Vicki all along.

Aside from the candle, the only item of significance on the counter was a small container with a label that read Aconitum Napellus, or as Maddie tagged it, Monkshood. Vicki’s drug of choice. The same poison used to kill Charlotte. The cap was secured around the bottle. I hoped I wasn’t too late.

At the end of the hall a dark passageway led to the basement. I felt my way down and turned the corner into the first room. It was empty. I checked the bathroom and then headed for the other room. When I neared the door I heard a noise––it was faint but loud enough that I could make out the rhythm of someone’s voice.

“Not a sound, you hear me. Don’t make a peep!”

I held my gun out in front of me with one hand and reached for the handle of the door with the other. It was locked, but the door was cheap and hollow. I turned to the side and aligned myself with the area beneath the knob and then kicked––hard. It thrust open. There, on a chair in the corner of the room, was Bridget. She was bound to the chair with rope that Vicki had wrapped around her wrists. From the years I spent with a father who never got the sons he wanted, I could see Vicki’s skills in that department left a lot to be desired. A single piece of duct tape was stretched across Bridget’s mouth and her cheeks were stained with tears. Vicki was positioned behind Bridget and held a knife to her throat.

“Not what you planned,” I said.

She grabbed a mass of Bridget’s hair and tightened her grip on the knife.

“Stay where you are. Don’t come any closer.”

“The knife doesn’t suit you,” I said.

She slanted her head to one side.

“You think you know so much, don’t you?”

“Fake an appraisal, screw a potential client into thinking they scored a great deal on a renovated home, and you pocket a bunch of extra cash,” I said. “That about right?”

The look on her face said it all.

“And what about Parker Stanton, where did he come into play?” I said.

“What does one have to do with another?”

“Since you killed him, I would say everything,” I said. “But why change your MO? First the poison and then a gun, it doesn’t make sense.”

“I didn’t kill him, ever think of that?”

“But you did kill Charlotte,” I said.

I reached in my pocket with my free hand and pulled out the container I found in the kitchen.

“And this will prove it,” I said.

“You’ll never get the chance.”

“I won’t allow you to hurt anyone else.”

She gave me a look that said yeah, right.

“You won’t shoot me,” she said. “I bet you don’t even know how to use that thing.”

I popped off a warning shot about three inches from her right temple. It settled into the wall behind her. I then redirected the gun to the middle of her forehead.

“Drop the knife, kick it over to me, and step away from Bridget,” I said.

“I’m the one calling the shots here. If you don’t want me to end her life right now, you’ll toss that gun over to me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “I spoke to the chief of police on my way here. In about a minute cops will be all over this place.”

It was a white lie, but I hoped it would save Bridget’s life. Vicki didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t hear any cars outside. What do you take me for?”

“Let her go,” I said, “it doesn’t have to end like this.”

She scrunched her eyelids together until they were almost closed and glared at me.

“Charlotte. Little miss goody two shoes. She had everyone wrapped around her finger. I showed her. She wasn’t the only one who could make money.”

“Except she made it the honest way and you didn’t,” I said.

“Who cares how I earned it, I’m the one who’s still alive.”

“You had to kill your partner to get where you are, someone who was supposed to be your friend. And for what, so you could make a few bucks.”

“She wanted to leave me and work for another agency. She said it was time she branched out on her own. Can you believe that? After all I did for her, she didn’t even care.”

“Charlotte wasn’t going to another agency, she was leaving the country,” I said. “And I don’t blame her. She wanted to get away from you and from Parker and all the people she thought she could trust in her life. Both of you let her down. All she wanted at the end was to help others have a better life. But you and your greed took that away from her.”

Vicki stared at me in disbelief.

“But Jack said if I didn’t do something, she would leave and…”

“And what?” I said. “He told you to kill her?”

She opened her mouth and made a noise that reminded me of a hyena.

“Jack didn’t have a clue what was going on, he was too stupid to figure out what I was doing.”

“What then?” I said.

“His only concern was making sure Charlotte didn’t get picked up by another agency. A couple weeks ago we made a deal––if I convinced her to stay there was $10,000 in it for me. He was afraid he’d be replaced if she left. But no, Charlotte’s mind was already made up, and do you want to know something––that ungrateful bitch planned to rat me out to the board. She told me I had a week to confess or she’d do it for me.”

“So you decided to make her pay,” I said.

“You don’t get it, do you? I made a name for myself here. Once I lost my license and word got around, I’d be ruined in this town. Getting rid of Charlotte was my only choice, and I knew just how to do it. Before skiing she liked to mingle with the guests and have a glass of wine. She was too busy schmoozing with everyone to notice me come in. I was in a wig, of course. And when she got up to use the restroom, I did what I needed to do. It was so easy.”

While Vicki continued her rant, Bridget wiggled free of her wrist bands. Once they were out, she lifted up her fingers about two inches and looked me in the eye and counted to three. I took a step forward and Bridget threw her hands up and grabbed Vicki and tried to wrestle the knife out of her hands. In her attempt to secure the knife she shielded her body in front of Vicki and I couldn’t get a clear shot. Vicki raised the knife and then swung it downwards. It slashed Bridget in the side and she fell to the floor. She then angled the knife and lunged at me.

A shot went off and Vicki collapsed on the floor. She had been hit once in the chest, but there was one problem, my gun never fired. I felt a firm grip on my shoulder and I swung around to see Coop hovering over me.

“You alright?”

I wanted to respond, but I was in shock. Coop radioed for an ambulance. I knelt down over Bridget. She clenched her stomach. Blood was everywhere. Coop bent down next to me and tried to stop the bleeding.

He looked at me and said, “She’s going to be fine.”

Vicki was positioned about a foot away from Bridget. Her body was still and her eyes were closed. I reached over and placed two fingers on her neck. Coop took my hand and pulled it back.

“There’s no need for that,” he said, “she’s dead.”

CHAPTER 59

The ambulance arrived and loaded Bridget inside. I called Tommy and gave him the news. Coop talked to some guys from homicide that arrived on the scene, and when he finished he made his way over to me.

“How did you know––”

“Nick called me when he landed. Said you wouldn’t answer your phone and that you were here. And he asked me for a favor.”

“I guess I owe you one,” I said. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know she was responsible for the murder. Guess you were on the right track after all.”

His words were sharp, but his face displayed something different, a sense of relief maybe that I was alright. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before.

“Wow, Coop. Did you really just say I did something right?”

“It doesn’t change anything.”

I placed my hand on his arm.

“Of course not,” I said.

CHAPTER 60

I sat in the cabana in front of the pool with my book in one hand and a cocktail in the other. It was a cool 67 degrees outside, but the rays from the sun penetrated my skin and I soaked up every moment of my hiatus from the snow.

“Life is good,” Maddie said.

“And this martini is great.”

“You said it. Makes you wonder why we waited so long,” Maddie said.

“One of us had a murder to solve.”

“And now that it’s all over, what about you and Nick?” Maddie said.

“The one thing I learned over these past few weeks is that I need to move on with my life.”

“Does that mean you need some help packing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

She gave me a look that indicated her confusion.

“Nick might need some help though,” I said.

“What brought on the change?”

“I discovered something last week that put it all into perspective,” I said. “And now I see things in a different way.”

“Do tell.”

It’s “The Secret,” I said.

She laughed.

“Oooh, sounds mysterious. What is this secret?”

“I don’t want to give it away; you have to experience it for yourself. I’ll loan you the DVD when we get back home,” I said.

She smacked me on the shoulder and then stood up.

“Well sweetie, it’s about time,” she said. “The pool is calling my name, you up for it?”

I shook my head.

“I might get in the hot tub later.”

She grabbed her towel off the chair.

“Wuss.”

Maddie took her time and went the long way around. Two guys tanned themselves in one of the adjoining pools, and I could tell by the way her hips swung back in forth in perfect symmetry that she wanted their attention. And she got it.

I dog-eared a page in my book and adjusted my chair. Sleep sounded good right about now. I had just started to drift off when my cell phone rang. The screen didn’t identify the caller. I sent it to voicemail and relaxed back into my chair. A minute later it rang again. I sent it to voicemail once more. When it rang a third time, I picked it up.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Monroe.”

The voice on the other end was a man’s and unfamiliar to me.

“Who is this?” I said.

“Look to your right.”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a man dressed in a suit sitting at a table about ten yards from me. He was surrounded by an entourage of men who looked like bouncers at a Las Vegas nightclub. He put two of his fingers together and made a gesture and they all got up in unison and went their separate ways. One of them walked in my direction and tipped his head at me when he passed. I recognized him. It was the man in black. For a moment I forgot my phone still rested on my ear.

“I would like a moment of your time,” the caller said.

He waved me over and set the phone down.

I looked for Maddie. She had been joined in the pool by her two admirers who were both eager for her attention, and she hadn’t noticed what was going on with me. I was reluctant but figured we were outside in the middle of the day amongst several groups of people. I wrapped my towel around my waist and walked over. When I got within three feet of him he rose from his chair and pulled one out for me and invited me to sit down. I did.

He leaned in to me and got close to my face, a little too close. I pulled back. He looked me up and down and then back up again and had a smile on his face that reminded me of a person who had a lot to hide. His hair was cut short and his skin was tan, but not by the sun. It looked natural, like he entered the world that way.

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” he said. “My name is Giovanni Luciana.”

He offered me his hand. I took it. He placed his other hand over mine and held it there for a moment before he let go.

“Any relation to Daniela Luciana?” I said.

“She is my sister. I believe you offered her a ride home not too long ago after she allowed herself to be placed in an unfortunate circumstance.”

“And now you’re following me?”

He crossed one leg over the other and sat back.

“I had a vested interest in your case. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Then you know Parker Stanton was not responsible for Charlotte’s death.”

He nodded.

“Parker had no involvement in the real estate scheme at all,” I said. “And yet someone saw to it that he was killed and then covered it up.”

He interlaced his fingers and rested them on the edge of the table.

“That’s quite an accusation, Ms. Monroe.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

“I found his treatment of women unacceptable. Men like Parker Stanton don’t deserve the life they have. They think they can do whatever they like because they have money.”

“So you took care of him?” I said.

I couldn’t believe I had just blurted that out.

Daniela’s brother reached inside his jacket pocket and I felt a sudden urge to run. He pulled out a small card and handed it to me. It had one thing printed on it––a phone number.

“You did my sister a service and for that I am grateful to you. Should you ever need anything from me, call that number.”

“Aren’t you worried I will go to the police?” I said.

“You could, but I don’t think you will. You see Ms. Monroe, you and I share some commonalities. We both seek justice and do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.”

“I understand what you must have felt for Parker after what he did to Daniela, but it wasn’t your decision to make,” I said.

He rose from his chair and snapped his fingers and the other men reappeared.

“You’ll have to excuse me; I have other business to attend to. Perhaps our paths will cross again in the future and we can resume our conversation.”

“What about my questions?”

He started to walk away and then paused and turned toward me.

“I enjoy your passion,” he said. “Don’t ever change.”

* * *

Here’s a sneak peek of the first chapter of book two in the Sloane Monroe series scheduled for release October 2011.

SINNERMAN

Sam Reids reclined back in his black 1970 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme and examined the women that shuffled in and out of the supermarket. It had been three long years since he felt the steady churn of butterflies in his stomach, but the anticipation of the nights soon to be events made it all worthwhile. The wait hadn’t been easy, and whenever he felt he couldn’t control his urges he walked down to the basement and gazed at the trinkets he’d collected. They were spaced two inches apart in single-file formation on a shelf. In all, there were fifteen glass bottles. Each container had a white label about the size of a post-it note affixed to the front with the date and a name written in black marker. Over the past few years Sam visited them often and took special care to dust and polish their exteriors, but he never opened them once they had been sealed. He didn’t want to take a chance that one of his precious mementos could get spoiled. Sometimes he took one to his room and deposited it on his nightstand while he slept. It wasn’t the same thrill that he’d experienced when he secured the object in the bottle, but it helped him pass the time.

Through his binoculars, Sam observed two women walk out of the store together; one carried a sack in her hand and the other, a gallon of milk. The brunette with the sack showed promise. Her long hair flickered in the wind. It reminded him of flames from a fire. He waited for her to say goodbye to her friend and then placed his binoculars on the seat next to him. It was time.

Sam grabbed an unused diaper from the passenger seat and opened his car door. The woman opened her passenger side door and bent down and placed the sack of groceries on the seat of her car. She was too preoccupied to hear him approach.

“Excuse me,” he said.

The woman retracted out of the car and faced him.

“Do I know you?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know how to change a diaper?” he said.

She looked at the diaper in his hand and then back at him.

“Who do you ask?”

“My sister asked me to watch my nephew for a few hours, and I can’t seem to get the darn thing on right.”

He angled the diaper in the directions of his car.

“My car’s right over there,” he said. “Do you think you could help me?”

The woman hesitated and studied the man’s car for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders.

“I really need to get home.”

The man smiled, but not just any smile. It was one he’d practiced in the mirror over and over again until it conveyed what he needed it to—trust me.

“It will only take a minute,” he said.

As they walked over to Sam’s car he remained a few paces behind her. He glanced over his left shoulder and then his right. All was still, and since the store closed in five minutes, he was certain it would stay that way. He watched the woman peek through the window of his car and relished the startled look on her face when she didn’t see a baby. With a look of perplexity, she turned to face him.

“Where’s the—”

The man reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a needle and quickly inserted it into her shoulder. In an instant her body went limp and she sagged into him.

Happy anniversary, he thought to himself.

* * *

When he arrived home, Sam pulled the woman out of the trunk of his car and tossed her over his right shoulder. Her exposed thigh pressed against the flesh of his face and he could feel her body quiver. It made him feel alive again. The way she looked at him when he opened the trunk and looked down on her reminded him of a fawn, but she didn’t move or make a sound. He was a little disappointed by this and expected more of a challenge.

Sam took the woman downstairs and opened the door to the basement and walked past his bottle collection. And for the first time she tried to scream, but it was muffled by the tape he used to secure her mouth. He stopped for a moment and turned towards the shelves and patted the side of her leg.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” he said. “Do you see that row there at the bottom? There’s nothing on it now, but in a week or two, it will be all filled up.”

The woman twisted her body and thrashed from side to side and tried to release herself from the tight grip he had on her.

“That’s more like it,” he said.

He entered a side room that was adorned with a single motif in mind—plastic, and he laid her body across a padded board in the center of the room. He secured her into the wrist and ankle restraints and then removed the duct tape from her lips.

“There now,” he said, “that’s better.”

A tear trickled down the side of her face and he took his finger and brushed it away.

“There’s no need for that,” he said.

“Are you going to kill me?”

He smiled and ran his hand through her hair.

“You have beautiful hair,” he said. “It’s so soft. So well taken care of; I admire that in a woman.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you want. If you want money, it’s yours, and I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise.”

He lifted his pointer finger and placed it in the center of her lips.

“Shhh,” he said. “I need you to hold still for me. Nod if you understand.”

She didn’t move.

“I asked you to nod if you understand,” he said.

She bobbed her head up and down.

“This next part is going to hurt for a moment,” he said, “but I find it’s best to get it over with.”

* * *

Kindle Edition Copyright © 2011 by Cheryl Bradshaw

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and should be recognized as such.

First edition eBook March 2011

Cover Photo Copyright 2008 © barsik at bigstock.com

Cover Design Copyright 2011 © Julie Ortolon

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, or by any means whatsoever (electronic, mechanical, or otherwise) without the prior written permission and consent of the author.  www.cherylbradshaw.com