Killjoy (9 page)

“Aspen.”

“You couldn’t be lost then. There are signs all around you. Aspen’s just a few miles away.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “But I was trying to locate an area called Land of the Lakes or Around the Lakes. Have you ever heard of such a place?”

“If you’re talking about Land Between the Lakes, then, yes, I sure have heard of it. My name’s Walt Gentry, by the way.”

“Avery Delaney,” she said as she offered her hand to shake his.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. He moved his coffee so he wouldn’t knock it when he stacked his hands on the table and said, “You won’t find the place on that map, so you might as well stop looking. Most folks outside of Colorado wouldn’t even know about it. You see, people come in here from California and Washington and buy a couple of acres of land. Then they build themselves a big house, and they think they ought to name the place, like it was the Ponderosa or something. Now, a fella named Parnell, Dennis Parnell, purchased about forty acres of prime land up high above Aspen some time back. He shouldn’t have been able to buy it, but he did,” he added with a shrug. “Then, about six years ago, he decided to build his dream home up there. It took more than two and a half years to finish it, and Parnell made those environmentalists crazy tearing up that beautiful, untamed land the way he did. Big old semis going up and down the mountain, tearing out trees to make room for a road. It was a crying shame what he did, but Parnell got away with it because money talks, and he got every kind of permit he needed. Don’t think that could happen today,” he added. “In the last couple of years, we got stronger laws passed protecting our land. Anyway,” he continued, “when Parnell’s house was all finished, he put up a big fence all the way around it. I heard the house came in at eight million, but that was a few years ago, so I’m sure the price has more than doubled. It was rumored that Parnell paid cash and owns the house and the land free and clear. I didn’t believe that gossip, but folks around here did, and then, of course, they had to speculate as to where he could have gotten his hands on so much money.”

Avery was caught up in the story. “How did he?”

“Folks thought it must be drug money, but turns out Parnell owned a little computer company out in Silicon Valley. One of his engineers designed a new computer chip that revolutionized the business. Don’t understand any of it,” he admitted. “But since that engineer worked for Parnell, he got the patent. He made his fortune, sold the company before it went belly-up, and moved here.”

“He doesn’t still own the place, does he?” she asked, thinking that Parnell must have sold it to the owner of Utopia to use as a retreat for important visitors.

“He does and he doesn’t,” Walt replied. “This is where the story takes a sordid turn. Parnell got married at the church about a mile from here. It was quite an event too, and cost a fortune. Five hundred people were invited to the reception,” he said. “I heard it took a year to plan the big party. They even had flowers flown in from Europe. I guess the flowers in the United States weren’t good enough. Anyway, the planning of the marriage lasted longer than the union. Parnell was only married eighteen months when he filed for divorce.”

He paused to shake his head. Then he got sidetracked. “I sure don’t understand this modern world. Me and my wife, Ona May, have been married forty-seven years, and sure, there have been times when I wanted to leave and never come back. I imagine she felt the same way every now and again, but we stayed together because we said our vows and we meant them. Now I read in the papers about this new trend called ‘starter marriages.’ Have you ever heard of them?”

She smiled. “I’ve heard the term.”

“I don’t understand it,” he said. “Those couples ought to just live together and leave the vows out of it. I think Parnell thought he was in a starter marriage, the way he filed so quick. It’s been a real nasty divorce with lots of mudslinging, which of course hits the papers. People gobble that trash right up. He filed over a year ago, and it’s still dragging on. Everyone’s waiting to hear who’s gonna end up owning that house. The soon-to-be-ex-wife swears he promised it to her, and she thinks she ought to be able to keep it. The judge is deciding now which one of them is going to get it. Pamela Parnell says she’ll die before she lets him have it, and he says that’s fine with him. They’re both acting like five-year-olds, if you ask me. Just last week Parnell gave another interview and was quoted as saying that no matter what the judge ruled, he was never gonna let his ex have that house. Those two are quite a pair,” he added. “But the folks around and in Aspen are just as bad. Do you know they got a lottery going?”

“You mean they’re betting over which one gets the house?”

“That’s right. The odds are ninety to ten in favor of Pamela Parnell getting it because of the shady way Dennis got himself those permits. There’s talk he’ll be indicted. And the judge who’s deciding which one of those sorry characters will get the house is a real dedicated environmentalist. Time will tell, I suppose.”

He leaned forward, tapped the map with his forefinger. “Right there,” he said. “That’s Land Between the Lakes. It was so named, you see, because it sits between two big, clear-water lakes. Have you got a pen on you? I could circle it for you.”

Avery dug through her backpack, found a ballpoint pen, and handed it to Walt. His fingers were crippled with arthritis. He had trouble holding the pen as he made the circle.

“From where we’re sitting, it’s about a two-hour drive away. There are some other fancy homes up there, but you won’t get near any of them because all the roads are privately owned and gated.”

“I thought my aunt was staying at a retreat called Land Between the Lakes, but I must have been mistaken. Maybe I didn’t hear her correctly. There was a lot of static on the line.”

“Could she have said Twin Lakes?” he asked. “Now, Land Between the Lakes is up north, but Twin Lakes is south of here, and it is marked on the map.”

He pointed to the location. Avery nodded, then folded the map and put it in her backpack. She shook his hand again as she stood. “Thank you for helping me,” she said.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied. “You be sure to buckle up, darlin’. There are some crazy drivers out there, taking those winding roads at seventy miles an hour. They’re begging for death. Don’t you let them take you with them.”

She got back in the car and started out again. Guilt prevented her from taking any side trips. Besides, she had soaked up a little local color when she’d visited with Walt. He was a genteel old man, and she’d thoroughly enjoyed listening to him.

Maybe she could talk Carrie into doing a little hiking. That thought was so absurd, she laughed. Avery had heard that her aunt actually had been quite a jock in high school. She’d played volleyball, basketball, and just about every other sport that was offered. Avery remembered playing with Carrie’s tennis trophies. Did her aunt still have them, or had she thrown them away? Oh, well, no matter. Carrie definitely wasn’t an outdoors girl now. She detested exercise.

Carrie’s goal for her stay at Utopia was to be pampered, not whipped into shape. Avery sighed loudly. She hoped to heaven Carrie didn’t make her do all that girly stuff with her, like mud baths and seaweed wraps. It wasn’t that she had anything against being pampered, but she didn’t have all that much time to have fun, and she would rather get muddy exploring the countryside.

Avery drove through Aspen and continued on. An hour later she was certain she was lost. She was about to pull over and check the map again when she spotted the sign for Utopia. The road curved sharply, then climbed and narrowed to a gravel driveway. Then the gate came into view. She stopped to give her name to the guard on duty.

“Your name isn’t on the list for today’s check-ins.”

“I have a reservation,” she insisted. “My name should be there.”

He moved closer to the car and smiled. “I’m sure it’s just a mix-up. You can straighten it out at the front desk.”

“Thanks,” she called out as she drove through.

They certainly were friendly at the spa if the guard was an indicator. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw him standing in the middle of the road watching her drive away.

His salt-and-pepper hair reminded her of her uncle Tony. Oh, Lord, she forgot to call him last night. As soon as she checked into her room, she’d do just that. Tony was such a worrier. Avery knew that he and Carrie were having problems, but she hoped that they would be able to work them out. Carrie was probably the reason they weren’t getting along. Although Avery loved her aunt with all her heart, she wasn’t blind to her faults. Carrie could be a real pain sometimes. Marrying Tony was the best thing she had ever done, and maybe, while she was relaxing at the spa, she would take the time to think about her priorities. She had always taken Tony for granted, and no marriage could survive long that way. Fortunately, her uncle had the patience of a saint. He’d hung in there longer than any other man would have.

She went around another sharp curve. For Pete’s sake, where was the spa? Since passing through the gate, she had to have driven halfway up the mountain, and she was completely surrounded by wilderness. Then, when she was sure she must have taken a service road by mistake at the last fork, Utopia came into view.

It was aptly named. “My goodness,” she whispered. The place was gorgeous and seemed to radiate tranquillity. The buff-colored stucco buildings were nestled in the lush landscape of towering evergreens. The main structure looked as though it were part of the sloping mountain. Small bungalows dotted the hillside with stone paths winding in and around the thick pines. There were wildflowers everywhere. She could hear the sound of rushing water. She turned and saw a fountain of steps built into the side of the lower hill. The bubbling water rolled down the slate and splashed over a golden sphere suspended in a circular pool.

A maintenance truck pulled out in front of Avery’s car from a service road. She braked and waited as the crew quickly unloaded some barrels, her gaze taking in the beauty and serenity of her surroundings. A young couple, obviously in love, caught her attention. They were holding hands as they strolled down the path parallel to the fountain. They stopped halfway, turned to each other, and kissed passionately.

Avery felt a pang of envy and forced herself to look away. And then she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at the couple and noticing the way they looked into each other’s eyes. They were probably newlyweds, she thought.

The truck moved out of her path, and with a sigh, she drove up the steep incline. At the crest was a cobblestone circle drive. Huge clay pots overflowing with ivy and pink and yellow flowers were placed liked sentinels in front of the marble steps leading up to the entrance.

People were coming and going, all at a sedate pace. Like the lovey-dovey couple on the hillside, the guests were dressed in identical navy blue jogging suits. On the jacket, above the breast pocket, was a little logo of a sphere with the name of the spa printed in gold thread.

Avery put the car in park as the doorman rushed forward. He opened her door, put his hand out to assist her, and said, “Welcome to Utopia.”

Chapter 6

M
ONK WAS IN LOVE.
T
HOUGH HE HADN
’
T BELIEVED SUCH
A
miracle could happen, he had met the woman of his dreams, and since then he had been acting like a crazy, ridiculous fool. Jilly was his soul mate. No doubt about it. They were absolutely perfect for each other, for they shared the same dreams, the same fantasies, the same goals, and most important of all, the same sense of unfair play.

She had hypnotized him from the moment they’d met in that dirty nameless little bar and grill on the outskirts of Savannah. His breath had caught in his throat when she walked in, a vision in a silky red dress and red stiletto heels. She was simply . . . magnificent. As he had instructed over the phone, he was waiting in the corner booth with a blue folder in his hands. When she saw him, she smiled, and in that instant, he knew he was lost.

The bloom of first love hadn’t worn off. He still ached with his love for her. Even when he was supposed to be working, he couldn’t stop smiling. These days his mind only had room for thoughts of her. While he was doing the necessary drudge work of surveillance, one of his favorite ways to pass the time was to recall, to the most intimate detail, the first time they had made love. It had happened exactly three hours after they had met. Jilly had taken him back to her hotel room, stripped him of his clothes and his inhibitions, and had made passionate love to him. He closed his eyes in bliss as the memory flooded his senses. The sweet taste of her in his mouth, the musky scent of her perfume, the heat of her silky body pressed against his, the deep, almost animal sounds she made when he touched her just so. She had been wild, forceful, and rough—just the way he liked it—and yet, at the same time, she had been exquisitely vulnerable.

Monk marveled over his lack of discipline when it came to Jilly. Never in his wildest imagination would he have believed he was capable of silly romantic behavior, or that he would ever marry. Yet, two months ago he had proposed—down on one knee, no less—and she had thrilled him with her acceptance. He told her he would do anything for her, anything at all, and then set about proving it. Desperate to please her, he knew he was putty in her hands, yet he couldn’t seem to mind.

Jilly was the first person in the world whom he completely trusted to keep his secrets. He knew all of hers too. They had been living together for four months when, late one night, after they had made love and were cuddling together on the sofa in their silk robes and sipping chilled champagne, he opened up to her and told her all about his bleak life on the dried-up patch of farmland in Nebraska with his dried-up, stern, joyless parents. His father hadn’t believed in sparing the rod, and his mother, a weakling who was afraid of her own shadow and who never went anywhere or did anything outside of the home except church on Sunday mornings, would stand with her hands folded behind her back and watch as her husband tried to whip the wanderlust out of their only child. Monk learned early in life never to complain to her because she always told his father what he had said. By the time he was ten, he hated both of them and would fall asleep at night dreaming of new ways to torture them.

His life had been claustrophobic. He stole money from the church safe—just a little here and there on Sundays. After he graduated from high school, he packed up his bag, a grocery sack actually, and left the farm. He went to college in Omaha. He had enough saved to pay for the first semester and received government loans to pay the rest of the tuition, loans he never intended to repay. Four years later, he left the state of Nebraska, vowing never to return.

To this day, he didn’t know if his parents were dead or alive, and he didn’t particularly care.

He’d never really cared about anyone—until now.

He told Jilly everything about himself. He told her he had committed his first murder at the ripe old age of twenty-two. He also told her he had once had dreams of working in the theater. He loved getting into costume and taking on different roles. And he was a good actor, he boasted, so good that he tried out for a major part in a summer stock play. Another actor mocked his performance and humiliated him in front of the director. Monk became so rattled by the heckling that he made a mess of his audition and, of course, didn’t get the part. Vowing to get even, he bided his time, and two years later he went after the boy. He’d used his knife that time and had found the experience both exciting and liberating.

“When did you change your name?” she asked.

“The day I enrolled in college,” he said. “I had a fake birth certificate, and I managed to make it look real enough to fool the administrator’s office. It was really quite crude, but it got the job done.”

“I didn’t get to go to college,” she told him. “I wanted to, but my mother didn’t think I was smart enough. She took the money I’d saved and used it to pay for Carrie’s education.”

“What was your life like growing up?”

Jilly’s eyes welled up with tears. “Loveless,” she said. “I don’t remember my father. He left when I was little. It was because of her.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes,” she said. “She drove him away. He ran off with another woman, but looking back, I can’t blame him. Mama was a cold and bitter woman. She never showed me any affection, and I think that’s why I got into trouble . . . you know . . . got pregnant. I was looking for someone to love me. I shamed the family. I can’t tell you the number of times my sister and mother shouted those very words at me.” She shook her head and then whispered, “I was such an innocent fool. I was so sure that, once I had the baby, my mother and my sister, the golden girl, would forgive me and help me raise her. I wanted to do the right thing by my child.”

“But that didn’t happen, did it?”

She gripped his hand. “No, it didn’t. It was so awful. Mama and Carrie came to the hospital. I thought they were going to take me and my daughter home.”

“What happened, my love?” he asked when she was too overcome to continue. He leaned forward to pour more champagne into her glass.

“Carrie left the hospital room with my daughter. She never said a word to me. She just went to the bassinet, picked her up, and left. Mama grabbed my arm when I tried to go after my sister. I asked her where Carrie was going with my beautiful baby, and she said that she was taking little Avery home. ‘Avery.’ That’s the stupid name my mama came up with for my daughter.” She wiped the tears away from her face with her fingertips. “They wouldn’t even let me name my own child. Carrie was making all the decisions, telling Mama what she ought to do, and Mama went along with whatever her golden girl decreed.”

“And then what happened?”

“Mama told me I had to leave town and that I could never come home again. She said I had humiliated her and Carrie for the last time. I couldn’t get through to her, and even though I begged her to forgive me, she wouldn’t. I can still see that ugly, pinched look on her face. It was just like Carrie’s. She called me terrible names, and then she opened her pocketbook and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. She threw it in my face and walked out of the room.”

“Wasn’t there anyone who would help you?”

She shook her head. “Mama was real tight with the chief of police. She had him wound around her little finger. He used to drop by late every other night when Carrie and I were supposed to be sleeping, but one night I heard all this groaning and grunting going on, and I snuck down to see what was happening. I peeked in the living room, and there was the chief sprawled out as pretty as you please on our sofa with his pants down around his ankles. Mama was kneeling between his legs, servicing him. The fat pig was a married man,” she added. “And he’d do anything to keep Mama from telling his wife about their sordid affair. Mama told me that the chief would lock me up in jail if I didn’t leave town right away. I knew she had the power to make him do it.”

She was sobbing uncontrollably now. He put his arm around her and held her close until she was able to calm down. Then he asked, “What happened to your daughter?”

“Carrie raised her and brainwashed her against me. My sister has always hated me. She wasn’t . . . pretty the way I was, and she was eaten up with jealousy. Stealing my baby was her way of getting even with me, I suppose.”

“How did you meet Dale Skarrett?” he asked.

“After I left Sheldon Beach, I worked odd jobs to support myself. I was trying to save up enough money to hire a lawyer and get my baby back. I didn’t have any training to do much of anything, so I worked in bars and restaurants. I stole money a couple of times to help pay the rent, and I slept with men too. Twelve in all,” she admitted. “I kept count . . . I don’t know why, but I did, and I took every precaution so I wouldn’t get any disgusting diseases. I hated doing it, but I needed the money. I was so desperate to get my daughter back.” She turned away as she recalled the anguish. “Then, one night when I was working at a flea-infested bar down in Savannah, I met Dale Skarrett. God, he disgusted me,” she said. “But he had money. He made sure I saw the wad of bills, and he wanted me. We lived together off and on for what seemed an eternity. I tried to move on with my life, but he kept coming back. And then one night he told me about this jewelry store he and his buddies, Frank and Larry, were going to rob. Larry was shacking up with the daughter of the owner of the store, and she liked to talk about her family’s money. Dale pretty much planned the robbery, but I helped with all the details.”

“So you were an accomplice.”

“Yes,” she said. “The robbery went off without a hitch, but Frank had a big mouth, and he started talking about all the money he was going to get when Dale sold the diamonds. Dale had hid the uncut stones, and we had all agreed to wait at least six months before fencing them.”

“But things went wrong, didn’t they?”

“Oh, yes. An informant told the police about Frank’s bragging. They picked him up for questioning, and he ended up making a deal with them. He gave them Larry’s name, but he didn’t give them Dale’s or my name until later. He was holding out for a better deal, I guess. Larry called us and warned us in time, and we were able to get out of town. Larry didn’t make it, though. There was a shootout, and Larry killed a policeman before he was killed.”

Jilly started crying again. “I didn’t care about the diamonds. Dale promised me that he’d help me get my daughter back. That was going to be my cut for helping him with the robbery. We drove back to Sheldon Beach, and he went to Mama’s house to get Avery. I didn’t look at it as kidnapping. I was simply taking back what my sister had stolen from me. I didn’t know Carrie had made Mama go to court to have Carrie named Avery’s legal guardian. The court took away all my rights as a mother and gave them to my sister. She stole my baby from me, Monk. She stole her . . .”

“I know your heart’s breaking, my love.”

“Avery was just a little girl when Dale went to get her, but Carrie had already turned her against me. Dale told me he tried to calm Avery down by telling her how much I loved her and that she would be happy with me. Avery became hysterical. God only knows what horrid lies Carrie had told her. She fought him like a tigress, kicking and trying to scratch his eyes out. He said he took off his belt to tie her hands together and that he gave her a couple of swats to get her to stop her tantrum.”

Monk handed her another Kleenex so she could wipe her tears away. “Go on. You’ll feel better after you get all that poison out.”

She nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Avery’s screams woke Mama. She came running out with a gun in her hand. The chief of police had given it to her for protection. She tried to kill Dale. He told me he was backing away with Avery when she fired the gun. She shot my daughter by mistake.” She shuddered. “Dale didn’t tell me about that for a long time, so I didn’t go to the hospital to see her.”

“What happened with your mother?”

“When she saw what she had done, Dale said she screamed, then suddenly clutched her chest and fell down. She was dead before she hit the floor . . . according to Dale.”

“Heart attack?”

“Yes, but I didn’t cry about her dying. She had turned against me, and I pretty much did the same to her. I didn’t shed a single tear,” she said proudly.

“I understand.”

“Dale tried to keep his promise to me. He followed Avery when she went to live with my sister in California. He watched her school, thinking he could grab her when she came outside. She had a bodyguard, though, an FBI agent looking out for her. Carrie obviously convinced them that Dale would come after Avery. My sister is very clever,” she added with a sneer. “She must have alerted the principal because he told the security guards that Dale was dangerous. There was always someone watching her. Dale tried to grab her as she was crossing the campus, but the FBI agent spotted him and tackled him to the ground. Dale wasn’t armed,” she added. “He was arrested and sent back to Florida to stand trial for my mother’s death.”

“And he was convicted.”

“Yes. The autopsy report proved Mama had a heart attack, but the jury still believed Dale was responsible.”

“And you don’t?”

“I really don’t care if he was responsible or not, but Mama did have a bad heart. I have something to confess now, darling. Please don’t be angry. Let me explain before you react.”

“I could never become angry with you. I promise,” he said.

“Do you remember the money you gave me to pay off all my debts?”

“The thirty thousand?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Her hand slid under his robe, and she began to caress his chest. “I gave most of the money to an attorney as a retainer.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why did you need an attorney?”

“I hired him to help Dale. I want to get him out of prison, and now it looks like that might happen. When the attorney was going through the boxes of evidence, he found a bill from a cardiologist in Savannah. He went to see him,” she continued. “And the doctor told him my mother’s condition was fatal. More important, he said that he had come forward and told the prosecutor that he had treated Mama, but the prosecutors withheld that information from the public defender who had been assigned to represent Dale.”