“Who do you want to start with?”
“Her husband,” Edna said almost without thinking and wrote Rice Ryan's name in large block letters on the napkin. “I overheard them saying at the office that he'll be at a restaurant in the Omni Hotel later this morning. Seems he spends a long lunch hour there every Friday. Arrives around eleven, if I remember correctly. I think if I drop in on him in a relaxed atmosphere and on his own turf, he might be quite talkative.” She liked the sound of that, “on his own turf.” It was something she'd heard on television.
Ernie looked at his watch. “I can show you how to get there, but we have some time yet.”
She nodded in agreement before she said. “What do you make of all the accidents that have happened recently? We know Anita's mother and father died in an accident. Lia Martin, a close friend, was killed in an accident.” She hesitated before adding, “and Michele Davies, another close friend, suffered a fatal accident.”
Ernie straightened up, looking uncomfortable. “Oh, gosh, I almost forgot. I heard from my buddy who talked to the kid that was on the slope when your daughter-in-law died. He says her death really was accidental.”
“How do they know for certain?”
“Well, according to the official report, several witnesses said she was skiing too fast, hit a mogul and lost control.”
“I know that's what they said. We got the report that she crashed into a tree, but couldn't someone have pushed her? Tripped her up somehow?”
“Apparently not.” Ernie lowered his head and looked away from her. He was obviously uneasy with the conversation. “According to everyone they questioned, nobody else was near her. She was out of control, skiing dangerously.”
Trying not to visualize the scene that had been replaying itself in her imagination off and on for the past ten months, Edna included Michele's name at the bottom of the list beneath a column labeled ACCIDENTS on her paper, but added a question mark to differentiate her daughter-in-law from the rest.
Looking at the names she had written above Michele's, she asked, “What do we know of the other accidents? Lia Martin died in a hit-and-run, but we don't know who the driver was, so we don't know if he did it on purpose or not. Have you seen a police report on the Colliers' car? Did it say whether the brakes had been tampered with?”
Ernie gave her a startled look. “What makes you ask that?”
“From what I read in the newspaper, I thought an inspection of the brakes might confirm whether it definitely was an accident.”
He took his small pad from a jacket pocket and jotted a note. “I'm still waiting for a call-back from Nick, a guy I know on the force. He's the one who's been keeping me posted on the Martin case.”
“Can he find out about the Colliers' brakes?”
“That's a closed case. It's already been ruled an accident.” Ernie must have seen the stubbornness that she was feeling at that moment because he hurried on before she could speak. “But I also know a gal in the yard where they keep the wrecks. I'll ask her to look for me, too.” He scribbled hastily in his notebook before glancing at his watch. “Since we have some time to kill, why don't I drive you over and show you where Anita lives.”
“Yes, okay,” Edna said. “Is it close to where Lia was struck down? I'd like to have a look at that park, as well.”
Twelve
“Tell me a little about yourself,” Edna said to Ernie as he drove out of the Safeway parking lot and turned west. She had learned that people in this part of the country tended to think in terms of compass points instead of left and right. Maybe it was because the Rocky Mountains provided such a gorgeous point of reference, due west. Whatever the reason, she was getting used to it.
“Not much to tell.” His voice interrupted her rambling thoughts.
“You've mentioned a wife. Do you have children?” When he didn't reply immediately, she began to wonder why it was so hard to pull information out of him. Was Grant right? Did Ernie have his own agenda? Was there really a dying great-aunt back in New York, or was that a story invented to ferret out Anita? And for what purpose?
Again, his voice cut into her thoughts. “Two boys. Guess I should call them men. Younger one's twenty-eight.”
She tried to picture the type of father the lumpy man in the driver's seat would be. “Do you have grandchildren?”
“Nope,” he said after a second or two during which he seemed to concentrate unnecessarily on his driving. The traffic was light, and they were traveling on a four-lane-wide boulevard.
“Does your wife work outside the home?”
Again, his response was delayed. “Nope.”
“Tell me if I'm being too nosy,” she said, turning to look out the window.
“It's okay,” he said. “Guess I'm more used to askin' questions than answerin' „em.”
“Tell me about your wife,” Edna said, turning back to look at his profile. “I'm curious as to what sort of woman would put up with you.” She grinned, then laughed aloud at the startled look he threw her. At last she had succeeded in shaking him up, if only slightly.
After another second or two, he sputtered a laugh. “Got me there.” He paused and chuckled again before becoming serious. “She's been sick. Gotta have an operation soon. She don't say much, but I think she's scared. Guess I am too, a little.”
At that moment, Edna felt her heart go out to this big, rumpled man, as she realized his feelings went much deeper than she'd given him credit for. For the flash of a second, he'd made her think of her own Albert, who, typically jovial and teasing, turned quiet and introspective when he was troubled.
“We're coming up on the spot where Lia was killed,” he said, turning onto a two-lane road. The street took them through a residential area with an occasional car or truck parked on the street. Elm and cottonwood trees, towering over single-story houses, dropped occasional gold and orange leaves over the terrain.
She studied the passing landscape, waiting for him to point out the crime scene. When they had gone another mile in silence, she realized that he had purposely distracted her, probably because he didn't want her asking more questions about his family.
Finally, he slowed and pulled over to the curb. Ahead of them on either side of the street was a greenbelt area bisected by a shallow stream which flowed through a duct beneath the street. She could see a graveled playground with brightly colored plastic slides and swings in the distance to her right. A paved path meandered several feet from the water's edge and curved upwards to join the sidewalk when the stream disappeared under the road. She stepped out of the car to get a better look at the site. Ernie came to stand beside her.
“There.” He pointed to the left. “She came from over there.” He moved his arm slowly, still pointing, as if following someone crossing the road. “She was hit about the time she reached the sidewalk. Here.” His hand stopped and steadied on a spot not more than ten feet away near where the stream was funneled through a duct beneath the city street. “Impact sent her twenty feet into the grass.” Abruptly, he dropped his hand.
Edna shuddered at the image he'd put into her head. It was such a peaceful place, quiet and lovely to look at. After a minute or two of silent brooding, she shook herself. “Grant told me it happened at dawn. Was the sun in the driver's eyes? Could it be that he didn't see her until it was too late?”
“From the direction the body went, the driver was coming toward us, more northwest. Not into the sun. He had to have crossed over to this lane to hit her. Struck her from behind, drove over the curb and back onto the street. No tire marks indicating he put on his brakes.”
“Do I remember correctly that there was a witness?”
“Yep. Guy walking his dog over there by the swings. Said he was too far away to get a good look at the driver or the license plate, though. All he could say for sure was that the vehicle was a dark colored SUV.”
“Nobody else around?” She looked right and left. Several houses and some apartment buildings were nearby. “Didn't an
yone see the accident from one of these homes?”
“Nothing on the police report. Fella with the dog was the only one who came forward. He's the one dialed nine-one-one.”
“Did he actually see the SUV driving toward Lia?” Edna was horrified at the thought of witnessing such a thing.
“Nope. Said his dog started barking and pulling at the leash. He turned just in time to see Lia hit the ground. The vehicle was on the sidewalk, heading back onto the road.”
“What did he do? Did he at least yell at the driver to stop?”
“Said he shouted and ran toward the street, waving his arms. He'd let go of the dog's leash. Dog ran over to the body. When the guy realized the SUV wasn't stopping, he turned back to Lia and called in the emergency. Police station's less than a mile away, and the emergency guys got here pretty quick, but she was already dead.”
Ernie leaned against the car, crossing his arms over his chest, and fell silent. Finally, Edna said, “I've seen enough. Let's go.”
The image of the idyllic location for such a horrific death stayed with her as Ernie drove the few blocks to the complex where Lia and Anita both owned townhomes. Remembering how much the two young women had looked alike and what Grant had told her about Anita being the one to run at dawn, Edna said, “Do you think whoever killed Lia mistook her for Anita?”
He looked startled, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. After frowning through the windshield briefly, he looked at her and shrugged. “Guess we won't know the answer to that until they find out who did it.”
“Mightn't they find out who did it by looking for whoever had a motive?” she asked, thinking of the television crime shows she'd seen.
“I'll let the police work that one out. Right now, I'm more interested in finding Anita.” He winked, taking some of the sting out of his words before he changed the subject completely. “I'm going to take you back to your car. The Colliers' house is on the way to Broomfield, closer to where you're going to meet Mr. Ryan. You can follow me from Safeway.”
She had a momentary feeling of panic. She wasn't familiar with the area and had no idea of how to get back to Grant's from here or from the Omni Hotel. She voiced her anxiety to Ernie.
“Denver streets run pretty much north-south, east-west,” he explained, then proceeded to give her a lesson in the numbered and alphabetically-named streets, with the odd-numbered addresses always being on the north and west. “At least in the older parts of town, before the dang-blasted developers started with their circles and horseshoes.”
These last words almost undermined the confidence she was feeling about getting around the city. Good thing Grant had left a map in the car with his house's location circled and marked with a red “X.” And she always had her cell phone, if she needed to call Karissa for directions home.
When they reached the Safeway parking lot, Ernie wrote some basic directions on a slip of paper torn from his pocket notebook. First, they would swing by Standley Lake where the Colliers had lived. Then, he would drive to the Omni. On the reverse side of the paper, he added directions for getting back to Grant's house from the hotel. “Got me a new cell, too, if you need to reach me.” He wrote his phone number in large numerals at the top of the paper before handing it to her.
She got into her car and at first concentrated on following him, making certain he didn't get more than a car length or two ahead of her. Eventually, she began to relax and study the street signs and, where she could see them, the numbers on the buildings. Glancing at the mountains to her left, resplendent in their peaks of white, she knew she was heading north and that the street she was on was Kipling. As she kept up with Ernie's white Ford Fairlane, she noticed the developments began to look newer, the trees younger and the houses larger, closer together. Most of the developments in the area had tall wooden fences shielding them from the street traffic.
“Oh, my.” The words came involuntarily as her breath caught in her throat. Having followed a curve in the road, she was headed west and down a slight incline to a traffic light. Before her, the view opened up to reveal a large lake with snow-capped mountains rising majestically in the background. With the bright sun throwing sparkles on water that reflected the deep blue of the sky, she found the scene spectacular. She was constantly being surprised and delighted by the offerings of this western metropolis. Now, here was this gorgeous, big lake in the midst of sprawling housing developments.
Edna had time to enjoy the view for several seconds as Ernie slowed down to turn onto 88th which ran beside the lake. Then almost immediately, he turned away from the water, making several more turns before pulling over to the side of the road. She parked the Toyota behind his Ford, and by the time she'd turned off the engine, he was opening the car door for her to get out. Leaning against the rear of the car, he nodded toward the house diagonally across the street. “That's the Colliers' place.”
Standing beside him, she studied the two-story white building with its blue-gray trim. It was an expensive house in a quiet neighborhood. No cars were parked on the street, nor were any in sight. Nobody was walking a dog or puttering around a yard. It almost looked like nobody lived in the development.
“The Colliers had money,” she remarked.
“Enough,” he said. “Not nearly the fortune he was going to inherit from his aunt. Not enough for his daughter to retire on.” He looked pointedly at Edna.
She thought for a moment, remembering her earlier suggestion that the Colliers' accident might have been planned. “I didn't say Anita tampered with the brakes of her parents' car,” she said, feeling his accusatory stare.
“Never said you did, but I got the impression back at Safeway you might be thinking it,” he replied, returning his gaze to the house.
“All I want to know is if the police found evidence of tampering.” The frustration over too many questions and not enough answers began to build like a bubble in her stomach and edge its way into her chest. “Don't you think there's something strange going on?” She pushed his shoulder, throwing him momentarily off-balance. She wanted him to say something, agree with her, disagree. She didn't care which as long as he started talking, telling her what he thought.
“Okay, okay,” he said, regaining his footing and leaning once more against the old red Celica. “Yes, I think something smells, but I don't know what it is yet. Can't get my head around it.”
“Well, how about beginning with all the supposed accidents that have recently happened to people close to Anita? Who would have a motive to kill her parents or her ex-roommate?” She decided not to mention Michele, since Ernie seemed convinced that her death was an accident. “You've spoken to all the neighbors?” she asked.
“Yep.”
She looked at him expectantly, but he seemed to be concentrating on the house across the street. “I suppose you'd tell me if you've learned anything from anyone around here.”
He turned to give her a curious look. “'Course I would. We're partners, aren't we?”
She was surprised at the words but found that they pleased her. “Yes, I guess you might say we're partners in this.”
He looked at his watch. “We'd better get going if you want to be at the Omni by eleven.”
Feeling the weight of her questions pressing down on her shoulders, she got back into her car, knowing she wouldn't get any answers from Ernie this morning. She kept his car in sight as they turned north toward Broomfield and the hotel that he had told her was at the east end of an industrial park known as Interlocken. His earlier description of Flatirons Crossing, one of the newer “mega” shopping malls in the area, did nothing to excite her. She was not in the mood for shopping, no matter how many or how grand the stores. Rather, scenes from this morning's tour whirled in her head. Images of the park where Lia had been killed mixed with the spectacular lake view, the Colliers' large house and Ernie's words, “We're partners.” Partners. But overlaying everything was the one thought that always remained prominent: Where was Anita?
Thirte
en
At the Omni, Ernie didn't stop when Edna turned into the parking lot but waved as he drove away. Proud of herself and relieved that she had reached her destination without having lost sight of his vehicle, she hurried into the hotel. She hoped she had arrived before Rice. It fit her plan better to be at a table before he walked in, nervous as she was over confronting him.
Off the main lobby, a pleasant young man greeted her at the wide entrance to the restaurant. At her request, he seated her at a small table where she could keep an eye on the door. She said she was meeting someone and would have a cup of tea while she waited. It was five minutes to eleven when she looked at her watch after the waiter left to fill her order.
Glancing around, she saw only three other people in the restaurant. A young woman dressed in a navy blue business suit was leafing through a stack of papers while eating a salad, and an older couple (retired, Edna thought) talked quietly over coffee. The waiter brought her tea and poured for her before setting the small pot on the table. She took a sip of the Earl Grey and was setting her cup back into its saucer when Rice walked through the door. He was studying the young woman, alone at her table, as he drew nearer to Edna. His selective vision would have ruled out the older people in the room. Edna was certain he hadn't seen her.
“Excuse me.” She caught Rice's attention as he was about to walk by. “Don't I know you?”
He turned, frowning for a second or two before giving her a charming smile. “You look familiar to me too. By any chance, have you worked at Office Plus? Is that where I might have seen you?”
She forced a delighted laugh, hoping she sounded sincere. “No, but my son does. I was there yesterday, but I would have remembered if I'd met you.” She waited to give him a chance to place her, feeling somehow it would please him to do so.
After studying her for a few seconds longer, Rice snapped his fingers. “Grant Davies. He's your son, isn't he?”