Unraveled (15 page)

“I’m glad she did, Jayleen,” Kelly said, leaning over the table. “I talked to Burt at lunch and it sounds like Renee is still on top of Peterson’s suspect list.”

Jayleen screwed up her face. “
Damn!
What about that British guy? Didn’t they talk to him?”

“They would if they could find him. Burt said the guy used one of those disposable phones, and they can’t trace anything. They even tracked his name, but it was a dead end.”

“Damnation! Did they talk with anybody in Denver? I mean, Fred made enemies everywhere he went.”

Kelly nodded. “It sounds like they did, but you and I both know, it’s one thing to say you hate someone’s guts, and it’s another thing to go out and kill them. That’s why Renee is on top of the list. She had both motive and the opportunity to do it.”

Jennifer approached with a coffeepot and three mugs. “Here, you go,” she said, setting everything on the table. “Enjoy yourselves. Close that door between the shop and café when you’re finished. Oh, and please leave by Lambspun’s front door. We’re setting the door alarms out here.”

“Will do, Jen,” Kelly said, saluting her friend. “See you tomorrow, maybe. Do you and Pete want to go out to dinner or are you catering?”

“Catering, thank God,” Jen said, untying her waitress apron with pockets full of order pads and pens. “Both tonight and Sunday night. Why don’t you come in for breakfast tomorrow, and I’ll steal some time.”

“Deal,” Kelly said, giving her a wave.

“Take care, Jennifer,” Jayleen said, as Jennifer headed toward the hallway leading to the shop. “She’s a working fool, trying to make ends meet, I imagine. When Fred died, that deal went south faster than a Canada goose in November.”

Kelly poured a mugful of coffee and took a deep drink.
Ahhhh
. A memory fragment floated from the back of her brain. “There’s something I want to show you, Jayleen, and I’m glad Renee isn’t here.” She dug out her smart phone from her jeans pocket. “I took a photo of the gun Fred Turner used. It was lying right beside his hand on the floor. And I wanted you to take a look at it.”

Jayleen gave her a wry smile. “Whooeee, Kelly girl, you really have turned into a detective. Taking photos of a dead man.”

Kelly pulled up her photo gallery on the phone’s screen. “I didn’t take a photo of Turner,” she tried to explain. “I was simply curious about the gun. I think you will be too when you see it.” She found the photo in her gallery file and touched the screen to increase its size.

“Curt keeps telling me I need one of those newfangled phones. But I don’t want to have to learn something new all over again.”

“You can do it, Jayleen,” Kelly said, smiling. “You’re smarter than most people I know. And once you get used to these, you’re hooked. You can’t do without it.” She handed the phone to Jayleen. “Take a look at that gun. It looks pretty old to me. Burt thinks it could even be a World War Two pistol.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. . . .” Jayleen breathed. “That does look kind of like one of those from the War.”

“Have you ever seen any guns like that?”

“Only at gun shows. Or in private collections. Lots of people collect old guns.” She handed the phone back to Kelly.

“Burt told me the crime lab couldn’t find any identifying serial numbers or anything on the gun, though. No prints, either. So it’s impossible to trace.”

“That’s not surprising. Private dealers usually have those guns. That’s probably where the killer bought the gun he used to shoot Fred.”

Kelly peered at the photo again. “It makes me curious though. Why would someone use a collector’s piece like that to kill Fred Turner? I mean, you see stuff on television about how criminals remove serial numbers off guns so they can’t be traced. Why would he go to the trouble to use an old war pistol?”

Jayleen shrugged. “Hard to say, Kelly. Maybe he had it in his family or something.”

Kelly felt her inner buzzer go off again. She clicked out of the photo screen. “Have you gone to many gun shows?”

“Oh, sure. Curt and I went to a really big one in Denver last year. In fact, it’ll be in Denver next weekend, if you’re interested in going and sleuthing around,” Jayleen teased.

Kelly shoved the phone back into her pocket, choosing her next words carefully. “Maybe I will. By the way, you mentioned that Renee Turner was a hunter like you and Curt. So that means she’s bound to have guns at her home, right?”

Jayleen’s smile faded. “Yes, she does. Renee’s a damn good hunter and teaches classes in marksmanship, too. Which I’m sure that Detective Peterson already knows by now.”

“I’m sure he does, Jayleen. You see where I’m going with this.”

“A blind man could see it with a cane,” Jayleen said, frowning. “Renee’s got guns, of course. Mostly hunting rifles and shotguns.”

“Have you ever seen a pistol or revolver at her house?”

Jayleen shrugged. “No, but she probably has one for protection. I know I do.”

“It all goes back to motive and opportunity, Jayleen,” Kelly said, noticing a tall, slender woman dressed like Jayleen in jeans and denim jacket stride through the patio garden toward the café.

Kelly was about to jump up and wave her toward the front when Julie pushed open the café back door. “Are you looking for Jayleen? She’s here inside.” Julie beckoned Renee up the steps.

“Thanks, Julie,” Kelly said. “You can lock up now. We’ll go out through Lambspun.”

Jayleen pulled out a chair at the table, gesturing her friend toward it. “Renee, have a seat. This is Kelly Flynn. Kelly, Renee Turner.”

Renee Turner immediately shoved her hand toward Kelly. “Thanks so much for taking the time to meet me, Kelly.”

“No problem, Renee,” Kelly said, returning her firm handshake. Renee’s palm felt calloused like Jayleen’s, but Renee’s face had a lot more sun wrinkles. Her short, brownish gray hair was close-cropped, and her green eyes stared right at Kelly.

“How was the lawyer meeting?” Jayleen asked as Renee sat down.

Renee clasped the mug of coffee Jayleen offered with both hands. “Scary. He said I should not talk with the police anymore without him present. I swear, Jayleen, I came out of there more scared than I was when I went in.” She took a deep drink from the mug.

Jayleen reached over and patted her friend’s hand. “Hang in there, girl.”

“I’m trying to, I swear, I am. But I’m gettin’ this sinking feeling, Jayleen. I mean, even John Skinner told me it didn’t look good. I mean . . . how can that happen?” She looked around the now-empty café. “He thinks the police will call me in for questioning downtown. And . . . and they might even file charges against me!” She ran her hand through her short hair. “Damn,” she whispered. “I can’t even believe this is happening. I didn’t shoot Fred! Why aren’t they out looking for that Birmingham guy on the phone?”

Jayleen glanced over at Kelly, then back to her friend. “Kelly found out today that police can’t track that guy. He used one of those cheap phones you can throw away, and there’s no way to find him. They don’t have a name. Nothing.”

Renee’s green eyes turned huge, and she looked from Jayleen to Kelly then back again. Kelly saw panic.

Renee sank her head into her hand. “Oh, my God . . .” she whispered.

Jayleen looked across at Kelly with an imploring look of her own. Kelly leaned forward over the table and took a sip of coffee. “Renee, why don’t you tell me everything that happened that Saturday. Start at the beginning.”

Eleven

Kelly
turned her car into the parking lot of a redbrick office complex. Grabbing her briefcase, Kelly exited her sporty red car and headed for the building with Arthur Housemann’s office. Monday morning had dawned clear and cold, but Colorado’s brilliant sun shone bright in the deep blue sky and had warmed the temperatures considerably. Kelly only needed her business suit. Her coat and scarf stayed in the car.

She hadn’t spoken with Housemann in over a week. They continued playing phone tag. She’d leave a message, then another, and no answer. Finally Housemann left a cryptic message that said, he’d “try” to see her this week. Since Monday was the beginning of the week, Kelly figured she’d attempt to catch Housemann at his office. She’d wanted to give him the financial reports he asked for two weeks ago. He’d sounded like he was anxious to see them, so Kelly wondered why he hadn’t asked for them. Arthur Housemann had never been hard to reach before, and Kelly was curious at his sudden unavailability.

Riding the elevator to the third floor, Kelly removed the portfolio from her briefcase, then headed down the hall to Housemann’s corner office. When she stepped inside, she spotted Doris, Housemann’s secretary, who’d been with him for four decades.

“Hi, Doris,” Kelly greeted the older woman. “I was hoping to catch Mr. Housemann in, so I could show him these reports. Is he around?” She glanced toward Housemann’s door. His office was dark. No computer was open atop the desk, which was a sure sign the boss wasn’t there.

Doris shook her head, a concerned expression crossing her face. Her hair was short and curly in tight little curls. “No, he’s not, Kelly. He left a little while ago, and he didn’t say when he’d return.”

That didn’t sound like Housemann. In the year that Kelly had been doing his financial accounts, Arthur Housemann was almost as anal as she was about details. And every time she’d called the office, his faithful secretary Doris always knew exactly where Housemann was and when he would return.

“Darn it. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him for over a week, and he doesn’t return my phone calls. That’s why I came over this morning, hoping to catch him. He’d acted really anxious to see these reports when I finished them.” She glanced around the office. “It’s kind of strange. He’s never been hard to reach before.”

“He seems to have a lot on his mind lately.” Doris’s worried expression intensified. “He’s not as talkative as usual. And he’s canceling appointments. This morning, a man from the county stopped by. He visited Mr. Housemann for a while, then when he left, Mr. Housemann cancelled all his appointments for the rest of the day.” She glanced at the appointment book on her desk and her expresson softened. “Including an interview with that nice gentleman who writes historical books. Mr. Freemont. Such a pleasant man. I was looking forward to learning about his books.”

“That’s too bad. I’ve met Eustace Freemont, and he’s an interesting man. In fact, I suggested he interview Arthur. Maybe they can reschedule.”

“Well, I hope so. I was looking forward to meeting him.”

“I’m curious, Doris. What did the man from the county want? Is he with zoning or something? Housemann always keeps me posted about any impending legal notifications.”

Doris shook her head. “He didn’t say. He just identified himself and asked to speak with Mr. Housemann.”

More curious now, Kelly pressed. “What was his name? Do you remember?”

“Oh, yes. I wrote it down.” Doris scanned the desk pad calendar on her immaculately neat desk. “Edward Peterson. And he said he was with Larimer County Justice Department. He was tall and very polite,” she added.

Kelly tried not to show her surprise. She knew that would cause the elderly woman even more concern. “Really? That’s interesting.” She placed the portfolio of reports on Doris’s desk. “Well, I’ll leave these with you. Please ask Mr. Housemann to call me after he reads them if he has any questions. I hope he turns up soon so you can stop worrying about him.” Kelly forced a smile.

“Thanks, Kelly,” Doris said, taking the reports. “I hope so, too. Take care, now.”

Kelly gave her a little wave as she hastened to the door. Edward Peterson with the Larimer County Justice Department had to be none other than Lieutenant Ed Peterson of the county police. Kelly wondered why Peterson visited Housemann himself. Usually he had his officers do those kinds of interviews. Then she remembered her Warner colleague Ralph’s comment about there being “bad blood” between Housemann and Turner.

Kelly hastened down the stairs instead of the slower elevator, worrying that Peterson had heard the same rumor. She pulled out her phone and punched in Burt’s phone number as she got into her car. Burt answered on the third ring. “Hey, Kelly, how’re you doing?” his warm voice asked.

“I’m okay, Burt, but I’ve got a question.”

Burt chuckled. “Not surprising. What is it?”

“I just left my client Arthur Housemann’s office. He wasn’t in, but his secretary told me Housemann had a visitor earlier this morning. An Edward Peterson from the Larimer County Justice Department. That has to be Detective Ed Peterson.” She waited for Burt’s reaction.

Burt paused before replying. “Really? That’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it now? You can imagine how that aroused my curiosity. I’m wondering why Peterson visited Housemann. Peterson usually has his officers question people first, right?”

“That’s been Peterson’s standard procedure,” Burt replied. “The only thing that comes to mind is Housemann and Turner were in the midst of negotiations on that Poudre Canyon property. Now you’ve made me curious, too.”

“I was hoping that’s the only reason. When I was in Denver the other day, one of my Warner colleagues told me he’d worked on a project years ago with both Housemann and Turner. He said he got the impression there was some sort of ‘bad blood’ between the two of them. So, I wondered if Peterson had learned anything new.”

“Well, Paul will know, Kelly. Let me check with him and get back to you, okay?”

“Thanks, Burt. That’s what I was hoping you’d say. I’ll wait for your call.”

Kelly clicked off, then tossed her smartphone onto the adjacent car seat and started her car. Backing out of the southeast Fort Connor office complex, Kelly turned toward the main highway that headed west toward the central part of the city.

Driving along this large east-west artery, Kelly always spotted new shops or stores, even new mini malls that weren’t there six months before. She drove past a row of new restaurants ; some were familiar chain restaurants, others were newer additions. Another shopping center came into view on the right side of the street. A “lifestyle mall,” it was called. Large anchor stores with popular names, selling shoes, clothing, sporting goods. Another version of Big Box was there, and scores of smaller boutique shops dotted between the bigger stores.