Black Diamond Death (13 page)

“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.

“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.

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.”