Double Shot (28 page)

“Did Albert admit fathering the child?”
Nan looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know. But all of a sudden, Ted and Ginger Vikarios had money again. They moved from Colorado Springs back to Aspen Meadow this year. They bought a condo, they bought an SUV, they began eating out in new clothes, and they became members of the country club. And most weirdly, they were all reconciled. The Kerrs and Vikarioses became friends again.”
“Friends? After the Vikarios Victory over Sin empire had been ruined?”
Nan shrugged her rounded shoulders. “If it looks like a payoff and smells like a payoff, maybe it is a payoff.”
“A payoff — “ I began, but was interrupted.
Liz and Julian had walked up to us and now stood side by side at one of the dining-room tables. They both looked extremely uncomfortable.
I turned my attention away from Nan. “What? The tent’s coming loose from its moorings?”
Liz and Julian looked at each other, as if each was afraid to tell me the news. Liz pressed her lips together and stared at the ground. Julian blinked. Nan, suddenly curious, seemed to enjoy my being in suspense.
I flipped the photo album closed. Tears stung my eyes as I faced Julian. “Something’s happened to Arch?”
“No, boss.” he replied, his voice quiet. “Just . . . don’t worry about cleaning up from the picnic. Liz and I can do it.” He cleared his throat. “The problem is that — “
But he was spared being the bearer of news. From the corner of my eye, I caught Detective Blackridge entering the dining room. My skin went colder than the inside of our freezer.
“What the hell — “ I began.
“Mrs. Schulz?” asked Blackridge as he walked up. “You need to come with me.”
<17>
I glared at him. The detective didn’t back down. I said, “Forget it.”
“Mrs. Schulz, please.” Was that a hint of entreaty in Blackridge’s voice?
I turned to Julian. “Where’s Tom?”
“We don’t need Investigator Schulz,” Blackridge interjected. “Just you.”
I gave him as scathing a look as a woman scared out of her wits could summon on short notice. Nan, meanwhile, scuttled off. I turned back to my assistants. To Julian, I said in a low voice, “Could you please find Tom and tell him I need him?”
Julian nodded and took off in the direction of the kitchen. I addressed Liz. “Would you be willing to call Brewster Motley? He’s my attorney, and he’s in the phone book. If at all possible, I need him to meet me down at the sheriff’s department.”
“I’m not taking you to the department.” Blackridge again.
“You’re not taking me anywhere.”
Liz took my cold hand in her warm one. “Goldy. He says he’s not here to arrest you. He just needs to talk to you.”
Perspiration trickled inside my uniform. “I don’t think so.” Unfortunately, I knew all about how cops were allowed to deceive suspects to get the truth out of them. And of course I applauded the practice when law enforcement was dealing with a real criminal. But this was not one of those times.
“Let Julian and me clean up here. Please, Goldy, it’s okay.”
“Thanks, Liz, but it is not okay. Not two times in one week.” I turned to Blackridge. “If you just want to have a conversation, what’s wrong with the telephone?”
Blackridge closed his eyes. Then he rubbed his forehead and let out a huge sigh. Women! Finally he said, “Should we start over here?”
“Thank you, but I don’t want to.” If I was trying to teach Arch to be more polite, I needed to set the same standard for myself, right? And I recognized, belatedly, that I hadn’t been exactly civil to this detective. On the other hand, we had a history, and not a happy one. “Sorry, but I need to finish up here, and I have my family to take care of.”
Blackridge turned abruptly as Tom strode into the dining room. I could sense the difference in Blackridge immediately: a deferential attitude, and something like relief. And did I see in my husband’s rapid walk, lifted chin, and commanding presence a hint of his old confident-investigator self? Relief surged through me, too.
“Schulz,” Blackridge said under his breath. He moved off to confer with Tom, out of earshot.
My cell phone chirped. “Mom?” The connection was weak, and I could barely make out Arch’s crackly voice. Even so, I was sure I detected a note of fear in his voice. “There are a couple of cops here at Todd’s. They want me to . . . “ His words dissolved in a storm of static.
“What? Arch? Arch!” The cell phone was silent.
Tom left Blackridge and approached me. “They need Arch’s and your help.” A not of authority underlay his soothing voice, and this made me uneasy. “You don’t have to go with them, and neither does he. But I think it would be a good idea.”
“They need our help for what, Tom?” My voice cracked.
My husband’s handsome face softened. “First, you need to know that the firearm test came back. Korman wasn’t killed with bullets from your thirty-eight. They’re from a twenty-two-caliber Ruger.”
“How comforting. So my gun was just dropped by his body?”
“Apparently.”
“Then am I cleared?”
Tom’s green eyes sifted through the gaggle of departing women outside. “not totally.”
“Tom!”
His mouth turned down at the edges as he returned my gaze. “The GSR test on your hands came back positive. Your weapon was found at the scene. They can’t clear you yet.”
“So their theory is that I used a twenty-two to kill him, but dropped my thirty-eight there because I’m terminally stupid?”
Blackridge coughed, as in hurry up.
Tom took my hand. “They’re hoping you’ll go with them to Korman’s house now. If you want, you can give permission for Arch to be taken there — “
“John Richard’s house?”
Tom paused. “Two men showed up at Korman’s house a few hours ago. A neighbor thought they were investigators. But everyone over in the country-club area is so skittish now, the neighbor called the department to be sure. Our crime-scene guys pulled up stakes yesterday, so the department dispatched a car to investigate. By the time our deputies got there, the place had been ransacked. By the time our deputies got there, the place had been ransacked. The pair of vandals making the mess had taken off.” Tom sighed. “But they weren’t just vandals. They were looking for something.”
“Besides money-laundering, what was John Richard up to?” I shook my head. “I mean, it must have been something big.”
“Our guys don’t think the murder was a professional hit. Still, they have to try to figure out if the vandals took anything, and if they did, what it was.”
“Tom, please! I haven’t spent any time in that house.”
“No, but Arch has.” I snorted, but Tom went on: “Sandee the stripper can’t leave the Rainbow now to help them out. This afternoon, she’s dancing or whatever it is she does. So our guys are looking to Arch and you. And, since Arch is a minor, you have to be there.”
Desperation rose in my throat. “I don’t want Arch to have to look at his dead father’s house, especially if it’s been trashed. It could be too much trauma for him to absorb.”
Tom put his arm around me. “Why don’t we go outside?” He held up his hand to Blackridge, indicating that he didn’t want us to be bothered.
Outside, I said. “I don’t know, Tom.”
He held me tight. “I understand. Whether you two do this or not is up to you. I’m not going to pressure you, don’t worry. You’re the mom.”
A sudden breeze washed down from the pines above the gold course, bringing the scent of smoke. Despite the recent hailstorm, the second forest fire the women had mentioned at that morning’s breakfast seemed to be gaining. Fear lurched around in my chest: fear of fire, fear for Arch again being overwhelmed by grief. And something else: I was afraid to go into John Richard’s rental house. Tom always said he could pick up the emotions of a homicide victim at the scene: the panic, the terror. I was worried for Arch, yes. I was also worried about myself.
“Tom, are you sure they don’t suspect me of breaking in?”
“You’re not two guys.”
“Right.” Still, I hesitated. My interrogation at the department had been no fun. The visit from Blackridge, when I’d give him the letter Cecelia had mailed me, had been very much less than delightful. “You’re sure this isn’t a trap? Blackridge trying to get me to say something incriminating? ‘Whoops! There’s my butcher knife I dropped here, too!’ ”
Tom shook his head. “He pulls that kind of stunt, he knows I’ll make his life hell.”
As if on cue, Blackridge approached us. “Mrs. Schulz, please,” he begged. “Your ex-husband’s place is a wreck. If we can develop leads from the scene, we’ll have a much better chance of closing this case.”
“I want to talk to my son first. This might be too hard for him. If he doesn’t want to go into his father’s house, I’m not going to make him.” I softened my tone. “You do understand, don’t you?”
Blackridge pursed his lips and nodded.
“And I want my lawyer there,” I added.
“We already called him.” Blackridge seemed eager to please, like a puppy dog that’s pooped inside and now wants to be pals. “Motley’s meeting us at Korman’s house,” he added.
“All right,” I said. “Just a minute.” I checked the tent. A few stragglers were disassembling the centerpieces and helping pick up trash. When I got back to the parking lot, I said, “I want to go over there in my own van. If I go in a police car, everyone will think I’ve been arrested.”
“Suit yourself,” Blackridge replied.
Tom promised to stay with Julian and Liz until the picnic detritus was cleared and Front Range Rentals had taken down the tent. I climbed into my van, followed Blackridge’s sedan through the clot of departing cars, and gunned the accelerator toward Aspen Meadow Country Club.
Again the smoky wind whipped down from the mountains. Fluffs of dandelion and cottonwood scattered from the road and rolled into a ditch. Dust slammed my windshield, just like on Tuesday afternoon, the last time I’d ventured to John Richard’s house. I took a deep breath and inhaled more smoke.
Just before we turned into the Aspen Meadow Country Club area, my tires chewed into a mound of dirt that had washed onto the highway from a house-construction site. I cursed and hit the brakes, then noticed a group of women ranged on a deck overlooking the club entrance. They were pointing first to Blackridge’s police car, then to my van. They were talking excitedly. Neighborhood watch? Or neighborhood gossips, who’d be paid twenty-five dollars by the Mountain Journal for a news tip? In the absence of Cecelia, folks’ desire for dirty laundry was still unquenchable. And the last thing I wanted was to face more reporters at John Richard’s house.
No other vehicles awaited us in the Stoneberry cul-de-sac. Blackridge signaled for me to park. I pulled into another mound of shiny grit that had washed onto the street. I cut the engine and stared at the street, where glimmering pebbles speckled the drying mud. A fresh wave of dizziness assaulted me. well, I was most assuredly not going to just sit in my vehicle getting anxious for Arch to arrive. I picked up the cell and dialed Tom.
“The team from the rental company is just starting on the tent,” he informed me. “How are you doing?”
“I’m seeing spots in front of my eyes, so I’m not doing so hot. Speaking of which, have you heard anything about this new fire? I know it’s up in the wildlife preserve.”
“It’s already covered a thousand acres, and they have zero containment.” He yelled directions to somebody who’d called to him, then came back. “I heard something else, though.” My heat plummeted as I imagined the gossips calling the newspaper, the newspaper calling the department, and everyone wanting to know what was going on at Dr. Korman’s house. “It’s about the bullets,” Tom said, his voice terse. “The firearms examiner thought he recognized them from another homicide in Denver. They’re doing the tests now.”
I blinked. “What? A criminal who killed someone in Denver might have also shot John Richard? Have they solved the other homicide?” I looked up the driveway to John Richard’s rental and wondered, Who shot you? What were you doing? Would you not give them what they wanted?
“They haven’t solved the other case. But they’re looking for connections. Look, I gotta go help these people, the wind is making their job tough.”
The call waiting beeped, so I signed off. I hoped it would be Arch. To my dismay, the caller ID read “Rainbow Men’s Club.” Just what I needed.
“Hello, Goldy? It’s Sandee. Whatcha doin’?”
“Not much, Sandee. What are you doing?”
She giggled. “Getting’ ready to take my clothes off. Listen, your friend Marla called me. She wanted to give me a ride to, you know, John Richard’s funeral tomorrow. My boyfriend’s, like, jealous, and I’m afraid to just leave. If I tell him I’m going to a church meeting with a friend, that ought to work.”
“Sandee.” My voice faltered. I wanted to scream, If you would just tell him the truth? Maybe ya’d get along better with him? “Sandee . . . I know he’s the jealous type. He beat up that bald guy who was paying attention to you in the club.”
“Whoops!” Her voice sounded gleeful.
“And he was watching you and John Richard at Dr. Kerr’s funeral lunch on Tuesday.”
“He was? That prick!”
“So,” I said with as much calm as I could muster, “what do you suppose the chances are that Bobby followed the two of you back to John Richard’s house and then Bobby shot John Richard?”
“Gosh, I don’t know!”
“Sandee! Does your boyfriend own a gun?”
“He used to. But he lost it.”
Wait a minute. “What kind of gun did he lose, Sandee?”
“Ruger? Does that sound right?”
“What caliber was the Ruger?”
“Isn’t Kaliber a beer?”
“When did he lose the gun?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did he say he lost it?”
She sighed. “I mean it. I don’t know. His elevator doesn’t exactly go to the top floor, ya know?”
“Where is he now?”
“Now?”
I rubbed my forehead. Talking to an actual parrot would have been easier. What had John Richard seen in her? Not her brains, clearly. “Yes, Sandee,” I replied. “Now.”
“Practicing with the band? At the house? They’re going on tour next week. well, I keep telling him, this isn’t really a tour, man — “
“Where’s the house, Sandee?”
“What house?”
“The house where Bobby is practicing.”
“Oh, 2468 Ponderosa Pass. He won’t let me practice with them. If he’s so jealous, I keep asking him, how come he won’t take me with them? You know, Nashville Bobby and the Boys, Plus the Girl with Boobs? But he says — “
Blackridge knocked on my window and I flinched.
“I have to go, Sandee.”
“Wait a sec! So did they get to Dr. Korman’s house? Tell those cops I want my stuff back!”
I signed off and rolled down the window.
Blackridge said, “We’ve got a team canvassing the neighbors, seeing if anyone caught a better look at the two guys who made the mess inside. Also, your son will be here shortly.”