Black Diamond Death (12 page)

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 fiance 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.”

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.”

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.”

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.”