Unraveled (28 page)

Burt looked at her with what Kelly recognized as his patient expression. “And he could be an auto mechanic in Toledo, Ohio. Give it up, Kelly. There’s no connection to follow. Birmingham was simply a client who didn’t show up. Or, who showed up, saw police cars, and skedaddled back down the canyon and far away.”

Kelly released a long sigh. “Yeah, but why did her brother take the pistol?”

Burt shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he wanted to get a valuation. Maybe he wants to mount it in a fancy case. It’s okay, Sherlock. You can give it up. Not all clues pan out.”

Kelly knew Burt was speaking the truth . . . as he knew it. Not all hunches panned out. But Kelly also knew that
hers
did. In her four years of poking her nose into murder investigations, Kelly did so because her instinct told her to. She had a hunch, a feeling about something, and she simply had to follow up on it. Kelly couldn’t stop herself any more than she could stop breathing. She had to keep searching until she found answers to the puzzle.

Knowing Burt understood her frustration and was trying to make her feel better, Kelly gave him a little smile. “I know. But I don’t like running into brick walls, Burt. I like answers.”

“Well, to be honest, the answer to this puzzle may have been right in front of us all along. Peterson and his guys have found two suspects, and each one had a stormy past relationship with Fred Turner. One of them is the killer. Or, maybe they worked together and both are guilty.”

Kelly’s smile vanished. That answer didn’t sit well with her. It never had. Every time she pictured Arthur Housemann shooting Fred Turner, Kelly got a funny feeling inside. Kind of like static on the radio. It didn’t fit.

Renee Turner, however, was different. Kelly didn’t really feel anything when she tried to picture Renee shooting Turner. Maybe that was because she didn’t really know Renee. She’d met her, sure. But she’d also met some charming and completely believable liars these last few years. People who could lie right to your face, and you’d never know it. They acted and looked and sounded completely sincere.

“I hear you, Burt, but I don’t like that possibility. I was so hoping I could search out this Birmingham and discover he was the villain in this story.” She let out a resigned sigh.

Burt reached over and gave her arm a fatherly pat. “I know you did. But sometimes, the guilty person is right under our nose and in front of our eyes.”

“Yeah, I know,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Tell you what. I’ve got to go up front and help Mimi before she starts classes, but I can stop in the café first.” Burt pushed back his chair. “You look like you could use some coffee. Why don’t you set up your computer and work right here in the midst of the yarns, Kelly.”

Kelly had to smile. “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse. Thanks, Burt.”

“Oh, yes . . . Eustace and Lizzie should be coming in soon. When they do, would you ask him to put the date on the title page, please? Eustace autographed my copy of his book,
Cowboys and Heroes of the Old West.
” Burt pointed toward the middle of the long table. “I left it there so I wouldn’t forget to add the date.”

“Sure, Burt. I’ll ask him as soon as they come in. They’ve gotten into a regular schedule, like an old married couple,” Kelly joked as she pulled her laptop from her briefcase.

“Hey, watch it with those comments about old married couples,” Burt teased. “Mimi and I are coming up on our first anniversary.”

“That calls for a party,” she said as he walked away. Kelly fired up her computer and dug out her portfolio, ready to return to her financial analysis. Talking with Burt always made her feel better.

Reaching across the table, Kelly picked up Eustace’s history book and placed it beside her portfolio. That way she wouldn’t forget Burt’s request, even if she was sucked into the spreadsheets and the “financial zone.”

Hefting the book, Kelly felt its weight.
That’s a whole lot of cowboys in there,
she thought as she flipped through the pages, picking up on names she’d heard since childhood. Wyatt Earp. Wild Bill Hickok. Kelly turned past the table of contents to the title page and saw Eustace’s autograph. It looked like it had been written in ink pen, instead of ballpoint. That fit, she thought as she read the inscription.

To Burt Parker, a modern-day marshal of the New West. Thank you for your many years of service protecting the citizens of the community of Fort Connor, Colorado. Eustace M. Freemont.

What a nice thing to say, Kelly thought with a smile, as she flipped the page, past the Acknowledgments, to the Table of Contents....

Kelly held still, the next page in her hand. Something stopped her.
What was it?
Something she saw. She flipped back to the Acknowledgments page and let her eye read rather than skim the words written there.

There are so many great researchers who have proceeded me in this work, and I stand on their shoulders. But before I list each and every one who has spent his or her lifetime researching our rich Western history in these United States, I want to thank one special person in my life. The woman who first ignited that spark, that love of history within me . . . my mother, Claire McAllister. She has been a lifelong student of American history and made sure I learned the stories of our great country early on, practically in the cradle. When other children were hearing childhood favorites like “Little Red Riding Hood” or
Peter and the Wolf
, my mother told me stories of Colonial patriots and Civil War heroes. Unfortunately, my mother passed away at the time this book was published, but she did live long enough to read and enjoy my first historical work,
Outlaws and Villains of the Old West
. She may be gone, but her presence is with me still.

As for the many historians whose works have inspired me, I will have to list them alphabetically so as not to infer preference. . . .

Another paragraph followed listing one author’s name after another, but Kelly didn’t bother to read it. She kept staring at the name in the first paragraph.
Claire McAllister
. Eustace Freemont’s mother.

Oh . . . my . . . God . . . Kelly took in her breath.
Eustace
. Eustace is Claire McAllister’s son. He’s Patricia Turnbull’s brother. He’s been right here in northern Colorado all this time. And . . . he brought his mother’s pistol with him.

Kelly stared out into the yarn bins across from her, stared at the spring colors while her mind raced. Eustace came here to kill Fred Turner. He must have. Otherwise, why would Eustace bring the pistol? He had the perfect excuse to be here and gain access to Fred Turner. As an author he would gain Turner’s trust in their interviews. No one would ever suspect such a mild-mannered scholar like Eustace of plotting violence.

But that’s exactly what Eustace did. He posed as a British property buyer to lure Fred Turner into the canyon that morning. Turner would have been surprised when Eustace suddenly appeared, but he wouldn’t have felt threatened. After all, he trusted scholarly Eustace, which is exactly what Eustace depended on. How else could he walk up behind Turner and smash a rock into his head?

Kelly’s pulse raced almost as fast as her thoughts. That was Eustace’s car neighbor Benjamin saw at the property. The police thought it was another real estate agent who’d come to see the property. Nothing about Eustace’s movements had ever aroused suspicion. All the time he was interviewing Turner, Eustace was planning the crime. Planning his murder. Sweet-natured, polite, and sociable Eustace was in reality a cold-blooded killer.

Kelly sank back into her chair, letting the book lay open on the table. Eustace had stayed in Fort Connor, conducting interviews and writing his new book. Had that all been a ruse so he could keep an eye on the police investigation?

Lizzie’s smiling rosy-cheeked face appeared in Kelly’s mind next. Oh, no . . . poor Lizzie. Had Eustace been using her as a diversion to give him cover to hang around the knitting shop and keep an eye on the investigation? Poor Lizzie.

Kelly glanced up and saw Burt walking through the central yarn room, two mugs of coffee in hand, heading her way.

“Here you go. This ought to perk you up, Kelly.” He set a mug next to her laptop.

“Something else just perked me up,” she said as she turned Eustace’s book around and slid it across the table for Burt. “You have to read the Acknowledgments.”

Burt fished his reading glasses from his shirt pocket. “Is there someone I know in there?”

“Ohhhh, yeah.” Kelly watched Burt peer at her quizzically, then leaned over the book and began to read. After a couple of minutes, she watched Burt’s expression change.

“I’ll be damned,” he said softly, then glanced at Kelly. “Are Eustace and Lizzie here yet?”

“Nope. But they should arrive any minute. And when they do, I think you and I need to have a serious talk with Eustace. What do you think?”

“Ohhhh, yeah,” Burt echoed Kelly’s earlier reply. “Let me ask Mimi if she can distract Lizzie. Maybe have her help with a class, while you and I invite Eustace for coffee.”

The sound of tires on gravel caught Kelly’s attention, and she glanced out the wood-trimmed windows to the driveway in front of the shop. She glimpsed a small black car approaching the shop. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like Eustace was driving.

“A small black car, exactly like neighbor Benjamin observed,” she said, pointing outside. “My money’s on Eustace and Lizzie.”

“I agree. Let me go talk with Mimi. You stay here and act normal. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” Burt said as he turned away.

“Sure,” Kelly replied, not really sure if she even knew what was normal anymore. Her life had changed so much these last few months, she felt like she was constantly checking her balance. Trying to find true north on her internal compass.

The tinkling doorbell sounded in the foyer, and—sure enough—Lizzie and Eustace appeared, walking side by side toward the knitting room. Kelly felt her stomach clench.
Damn
. Why did it have to be Eustace?

“My goodness,” Lizzie chirped when she entered. “You’re here bright and early, dear. I see you’ve already started to work.”

“Good morning, Kelly,” Eustace said as he set his professor’s briefcase on the table. “I believe this is the first time you’ve ever arrived before Lizzie and me.”

“Well, I have a great deal of work to do for one of my clients. Analyzing investment properties takes time,” she said, pulling out a sheaf of income statements from her portfolio. “I thought these warm and fuzzy surroundings would help me get through all of it.”

Eustace helped Lizzie remove her coat, then helped her seat herself comfortably. “Thank you, Eustace,” Lizzie said, sending him a dazzling smile.

“My pleasure, dear,” Eustace replied as he slipped off his suit jacket and arranged it on the back of his chair.

Kelly’s gut tightened, watching them go through these small but loving actions with each other. She felt awful.

Just as Eustace settled into his chair, Burt walked into the room. He gave Eustace a smile. “Morning, Eustace. Would you mind writing the date on the cover page of my book, please? It’s going in a special place in my library.” Burt reached over and closed the volume, then slid it across the table toward Eustace.

“Why, certainly, Burt. I’d be happy to,” Eustace said as he slipped a fountain pen from his tailored shirt pocket.

Kelly watched him turn to the cover page and write the date at the top. Just then, Mimi hurried into the room, looking slightly flustered.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Lizzie. I could really use your help with my class this morning. They’ll be arriving any minute. Do you think you could help me?”

Lizzie set aside the new turquoise afghan she’d started. “Why, of course, Mimi. I’d be happy to,” she said and pushed back her chair.

Eustace quickly rose to assist her. “You go and help Mimi. I’ll be right here, starting that new chapter I mentioned.” Lizzie sent him a bright smile in answer, then followed Mimi into the central yarn room.

“Thanks, Eustace. I appreciate it,” Burt said, holding up the autographed book. “Why don’t we go into the café and chat for a few minutes. Kelly, you come along, too.”

“Sure, I can always use more coffee,” Kelly said and rose from her chair.

Eustace hesitated a moment. “I really should return to my writing. Perhaps, closer to lunchtime?”

“Why don’t we do it now?” Burt suggested with a small smile. “It’s quieter there, and customers will start to come into the shop pretty soon.”

Eustace glanced from Burt to Kelly and back, his eyes widening. “Of course. After you, please.”

Kelly followed Burt through the central yarn room and down the hallway leading to the café, Eustace bringing up the rear. Burt chose the small table farthest away from the other customers. Kelly spotted Jennifer and tried to catch her eye but couldn’t.

“Would you like some coffee, Eustace?” Burt asked as he sat down at the table. Kelly settled into a chair beside him.

“No, no, thank you. I’ve had enough caffeine for the day,” Eustace said, as he sat across from them.

Burt folded his big hands together on the table in the manner Kelly recognized as his serious talking pose. She leaned her arms on the table and tried to look relaxed. In fact, her pulse was racing.

How best to approach Eustace? Dance around the edges? Go straight to the point?

“I thought we should have a little private chat with you, Eustace, because some information has come to our attention that has caused both of us concern.”

Eustace looked at Burt, his pale blue eyes wide. “Really? What is it?”

Burt placed Eustace’s book on the table and turned to the Acknowledgments page, then angled the book toward Eustace. “You mention your mother, Claire McAllister. Was that her maiden name?”

“Why, yes, it was. Mother kept her maiden name after her marriage to my father, Ralph Freemont. She was ahead of her time for her day,” Eustace said with a little smile.

“I wondered if she was the same Claire McAllister that was listed on the court records as the previous owner of Fred Turner’s Poudre Canyon property.”