Unraveled (5 page)

“High noon. Basketball courts at the gym. Pickup game,” Marty declared, pointing at them both.

“Done,” Greg said, saluting Steve and Marty with his beer bottle. “You’re gettin’ back.”

“Then you can give it another shot with Kelly,” Pete said.

“Yeah, so you’ll no longer be two ships passing . . .” Marty gestured until Megan punched him in the arm.

“Enough with those ships,” she chided.

“Pete got to say it,” Marty feigned petulance.

“Pete’s got a certain . . . way with words,” Megan gave a little shrug.

“I like that,” Pete nodded.

“And I don’t?” Marty said, aghast. “I’m a
lawyer
!”

“That’s too many words,” Greg shook his head.

“Waaaay too many.” Lisa grinned, then upended her beer.

Steve felt his friends’ good humor and laughter start to penetrate the black hole that he’d crawled into. He had to come back home more often. He missed this. No wonder he worked so late at night. Going back to his empty apartment was too sad.

“How’s she doing?” he asked after a moment.

“She’s in Denver most of the week,” Greg said.

“Working all the time, like you,” Marty added.

“She’s doing great, actually,” Lisa replied. “This Warner guy has involved her in everything he’s doing, apparently. She was complaining about the meetings, too.”

Steve rubbed his forehead. “Damn. I’m such an idiot.” “Yeah, we know.” Lisa said. “But don’t let that stop you from turning around and saying ‘hello’ at the next meeting.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know, guys. She probably doesn’t want to talk to me. And . . . and I don’t even know what I’d say to her.”

“How about ‘I’m sorry’ for starters,” Marty suggested quietly.

Steve snorted. “I don’t think ‘sorry’ is gonna cut it. I don’t know if I’ve got a chance.”

“Steve, you gotta stop talking like that,” Greg said, leaning his arms on his legs. “I’ve never seen you give up before.”

Jennifer turned to Steve with a dramatic expression. “Yeah, Steve, s
nap out of it
!” she ordered.

At that, everyone burst into laughter. Steve joined his friends, even though the laughter was directed at him. It still felt good.

Three

“So,
you think your client Turner will accept Housemann’s offer?” Kelly asked as she looked out the car window at the reddish brown walls of Poudre Canyon.

Jennifer steered her compact car around a curve. Snow was still on the ground here in the canyon. Snow always stayed longer in the canyons surrounding Fort Connor. Poudre Canyon and Bellevue Canyon both climbed higher than Fort Connor’s five-thousand-feet altitude. The same was true for all the mountain towns west of Denver and Fort Connor. They were the high country, and they always got the snow first and kept it longer. That’s why skiers and snowboarders flocked there when the first snowflakes arrived in the fall.

“Yeah, it sounds like it. I mean, Housemann met Turner’s price. Nothing’s involved that will slow things down. Thank God.”

“That’s good for you, Jen. You’ll get your money faster. When’s the closing date? You should be able to close pretty quickly.”

“The contract closing date is a couple of weeks from now, and I can’t think of any reason Turner would want to delay. Housemann’s met his price with no contingencies.”

Jennifer’s cell phone rang in her lap, and she slowed her car’s speed. “Jennifer Stroud here,” she answered. “Hi, Anita, what’s up?”

Kelly stared out the window again, observing patches of brown grass where the sun had melted the snow along the sides of the road. The Poudre River, which ran alongside the road, had chunks of ice, but the rushing waters still flowed. The river followed one side of the road for a while, then it would disappear beneath and suddenly reappear on the other side, as they steadily climbed higher into the canyon.

She watched the traffic pass on the other side of the twolane road. It was actually a state highway, which ran all the way from Fort Connor up into Poudre Canyon through the high peaks and across the high plains past the little town of Walden. Then it joined with Highway 40 and on into the beautiful resort town of Steamboat Springs.

Jennifer was right. Kelly needed this break. She’d been working way too many hours lately with Warner’s new project. She needed to insist on having weekends free. Free for her to drive up here by herself sometime alone like she used to. Sit on a rock, stare at the Poudre, and think. She missed that.

“He
what
?” Jennifer exclaimed, startling Kelly out of her relaxed river reverie. “
Who
called?” Pause. “Birmingham? I don’t remember talking to a Mr. Birmingham. What did he say again?”

Kelly turned to watch her friend’s expression. Jennifer was clearly hearing something that concerned her.

“You’re kidding. Turner’s going to meet him? When? Where?” Pause. “Well, that’s great. I’m on the way up there right now. In fact, we’re only a couple of miles out.” Jennifer exhaled an exasperated breath. “Okay, keep me posted if you hear anything else, Anita.” She flipped off her phone and dropped it in her lap.

“What’s up? Is there someone already at the property now?” Kelly asked.

“I cannot believe it.” Jennifer let out a loud sigh. “Anita is Turner’s assistant. She says that some guy with a British accent left a message on the voice mail last night saying he wanted to make an offer on the canyon property. He said he’d seen it listed and photos on the website, and it matched exactly what he’s looking for. He wants to drive up and take a look and said he’d match or exceed any offer on the table.”

“Whoa . . . that changes things. What happens now?”

“I won’t know until I’ve spoken with Turner. Anita says this Birmingham guy was going to meet Turner this morning at eleven. So, maybe they’ll still be there. It’s only one twenty.”

“Should we be barging in?” Kelly asked, slightly dubious.

Jennifer shot her a look. “I’m the listed agent in this transaction, and my client has just gone behind my back to meet with a potential buyer. You bet we should barge in. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Okaaaay.” Kelly recognized that look. It was the “don’t mess with me” look. “Man, that other guy must really want this property if he’s willing to up the ante.”

“Sounds that way. And I’m wondering if he’s an agent himself. Someone has to write up the contract offer. Maybe he’s a lawyer.” She slowed the car. “That’s the turn up ahead to the right. Wait a minute, who’s that?”

Kelly noticed a blue truck pulling out of the road up ahead. “Is that Turner’s truck? Flag him down, then.”

“No, Turner’s got a big black one. Maybe that’s Birmingham.” Jennifer looked out the window as the blue truck drove past.

Kelly glimpsed a middle-aged woman driving the truck. “Guess not.”

“That looks like Turner’s wife. I recognize her from Turner’s office. It’s right down the hall from ours.” Jennifer slowed down to turn onto the dirt road.

“Does she work with Turner or something?”

“No, but they’re in the midst of a messy divorce. She’s been coming into his office regularly to check on the properties Turner’s been selling. Anita’s told me about her. She grills Anita every time she comes in. Apparently she’s convinced Turner is hiding money from her.”

“Whoa, not good.”

“You got that right. And it’s really not good that she decided to drive up here while the new client is meeting with Turner. If she went into one of her tantrums, she could kill the deal. That is
so
not smart of her.”

Kelly watched the river flow beneath the concrete bridge across the Poudre as the car drove over. “I love to watch that water.” She looked out at the river winding around the bend in the distance. “This is truly gorgeous. Housemann wasn’t exaggerating. No wonder he wants to buy it. Boy, he’s going to be so disappointed if someone else gets it.”

“Nothing will happen until we have a contract offer from Birmingham. When we do, then I’ll contact Housemann’s agent and ask her if he’d like to make a counteroffer. These guys may get into a bidding war.”

The car drove through a thick stand of aspens, their winterbare branches crossing above. The road curved and turned into an open pasture setting. Up ahead sat a small rustic log cabin. “That’s not as big as I thought. Is there a bedroom?”

“Two actually, but they’re tiny,” Jennifer answered as she angled the car into a space beside a black truck that was already parked. No other cars in sight.

“Well, I guess Birmingham has come and gone. Maybe Turner’s wife drove him away.”

Jennifer groaned. “Don’t even think that.”

Kelly stepped out of Jennifer’s compact car and stretched, arms above her head, then down to the dirt beside her cowboy boots. She was used to more legroom for her long legs. Her sporty red car fit her just right. She turned in a circle, admiring the beautiful setting. Canyon walls rose up in the distance behind, the Poudre River flowed peacefully right beside the property, and aspen trees and evergreens were scattered everywhere.

“Now I know why Housemann fell in love with this place,” Kelly said, following Jennifer toward the cabin’s front porch.

“It’s beautiful, all right,” Jennifer agreed, glancing around as she walked to the door. “Listen, why don’t you wait on the porch while I find out what’s up with Turner and this Birmingham. Then, I can give you a tour.”

“Take your time. I’m going to enjoy the view.” Kelly stood by the split-log railing.

Jennifer knocked on the door once, then pushed it open. “Mr. Turner? It’s Jennifer Stroud,” she said as she entered. “Anita called me and said a Mr. Birmingham had expressed interest in the listing.”

Kelly watched a red-tailed hawk float on a wind current overhead, obviously searching for some tasty morsel in the brown grasses below.

“Mr. Turner, where are you?” Jennifer’s voice came from inside.

The hawk floated for a second longer, then swooped lower, spying something. Kelly tracked the hawk, watching him swoop lower, then lower . . .

“Mr. Turner!
Oh, my God
. . . Kelly!
Kelly!
”

Kelly snapped out of her nature watch and ran inside the cabin. She could tell from the sound of Jennifer’s voice that something had scared her. “Jen, what is it?” she cried as she rushed inside.

Jennifer stood beside a wooden table, her arm outstretched, pointing toward the floor. There was barely any furniture in the cabin. “He’s . . . he’s dead,” Jennifer whispered. “Oh, my God . . . he shot himself.”

Kelly rushed up to Jennifer and saw what had frightened her friend. There on the bare wooden cabin floor, a man lay on his side, a bloody wound on the side of his head. His eyes were open and stared vacantly. A gun lay on the floor beside his hand.

“That’s Turner?” Kelly asked, feeling her body and mind react to seeing death up close and personal, yet another time.

“God, yes . . .” Jennifer whispered, her face drained of all color. Chalk white. “I . . . I think I’m gonna be sick . . . I can’t look at this. . . .”

“Go outside, Jen, now,” Kelly instructed, pointing to the door. “I’ll check for a pulse.”

“Oh, God . . .” Jennifer turned away, hand to her mouth, and ran through the door to the porch.

Kelly approached Turner and slowly knelt beside him, making sure she didn’t disturb his body. She steeled herself and placed two fingers on the spot on his neck where she should have felt a pulse. Nothing. Turner was dead.

As she knelt beside the body, Kelly looked at the gun more closely. It was a pistol, not a revolver. And it looked different from the other pistols Kelly was used to seeing at Curt’s and Jayleen’s houses and had fired herself on their properties at target practice. There were a lot of guns in Colorado. But this gun didn’t look like any she’d ever seen. It looked older than the other guns.

Kelly dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out her smartphone, touched the camera option, and snapped two photos of the gun. One close-up and one showing Turner’s hand beside it.

“Is he still alive?” Jennifer asked, peeking around the corner.

Kelly stood up. “No, he’s gone. It looks like he did shoot himself, Jen.”

Jennifer walked away from the doorway. “I don’t understand. I talked with him yesterday. He was fine. He was fine.”

Kelly was about to join her frightened friend, then turned and studied the body on the floor again, then the cabin’s open room. There was little furniture and nothing else looked disturbed. Only the chair where Turner had obviously been sitting was sideways on the floor.

She pulled out her phone again and snapped another photo, then shoved the smartphone back into her pocket as she returned to the porch.

“Had he ever acted or sounded depressed to you?” Kelly asked.

“Never. He was one of the most driven real estate guys I’ve ever met. I cannot imagine what would make him shoot himself.” Jennifer paced the porch. “We’ve gotta call the police, Kelly. We’d better call them now.” She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. “Does nine-one-one work up here?”

“It should. It worked years ago when you and I walked in and found Vickie Claymore dead.” Kelly said wryly.

Jennifer looked up, her brown eyes huge. “Oh, my gawd! I can’t believe we’ve walked in on another corpse. Kelly . . . we can’t come into the canyon together anymore. Not alone, anyway.”

“Jen . . .”

Jennifer’s hand flew up. “No. I’m making a vow. No more driving into canyons alone with Kelly Flynn. There’s something about the two of us together in canyons that is bringing bad juju or whatever Jayleen calls it.”

Kelly didn’t reply, because the police department answered, and Jennifer began to explain that they’d arrived and found the dead body of her real estate client lying on the floor, obviously shot in the head. Kelly stood by the railing again and searched for another hawk while Jennifer related all the details to the county police. That meant Lieutenant Peterson would be investigating. She wondered what he’d say when he learned that she and Jennifer had stumbled onto another death scene. Again.

A slight movement at the corner of her eye caused Kelly to turn ever so slightly to the right. Brush and heavy bush grew between the aspens there at the side of the clearing. She searched to see what had caught her eye. Then, she saw it. A brief glimpse. A man’s dark blue plaid shirt. Kelly stood absolutely still, so as not to draw attention to herself. Jennifer’s voice was loud enough to carry on the breeze, so whoever was listening could hear every word.