“Guess what I’ve got?”
“A way to make all these cars disappear?”
“Better,” he said.
At the moment, I could think of nothing better than that.
“I have the address of Charlotte’s assistant and I’m on my way there now,” he said. “Care to join me?”
“Do you need to ask?”
“Meet me off the Summit Park exit and we’ll ride over together.”
Nestled along the hillside amongst a myriad of pine trees, Summit Park is the first area visitors come upon when they descend into Park City’s valley. From the highway a mix of old and new homes dotted the landscape. A week earlier I drove up its steep, narrow roads and watched a family of moose cross the path in front of me. Another car stopped on the opposite side and there we sat, each at an impasse. The other driver cracked his window and stuck his cell phone out and snapped a few photos. He looked at me and I looked at him and neither of us moved. A minute later the family of moose crossed into a thick of trees and the wonderment was over.
I exited the off ramp and got into Nick’s car.
“Took you long enough,” he said. He rested the palm of his hand on my shoulder. “How’s the head?”
“No headache today.”
His wide grin showed his dimples. He was pleased with his patient’s progress.
“How did you manage to find her?” I said.
“You’re not the only person who knows how to detect.”
He steadied one hand on the wheel and rubbed the back of my neck with the other.
“Good day?”
“Remember that girl I told you about, the one at Parker’s house the other night?”
“The damsel in distress?”
I nodded.
“I went to see her. I thought she needed to know the truth about Charlotte’s death.”
“How’d that go?”
“She didn’t care,” I said. “Or she pretended not to. I’m not sure.”
“And you’re bothered by that.”
He knew me so well.
“I don’t want to see anyone else to get hurt, not if I can prevent it.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault,” he said. “There’s only so much you can do.”
“I’m obligated to these women. They need me whether they know it or not and I don’t want to let them down, any of them.”
“Do me a favor and catch your breath for a minute. I don’t need you to hyperventilate on me,” he said.
I breathed in and out a few times until I felt a sense of calm. A few more days on the meds and I’d be done. I could do it.
“Feel better?”
I nodded.
Nick parked outside a dingy run-down apartment complex. In its finest day the stucco exterior displayed an attractive shade of white. Now all that remained was an ashen gray color. It was weak and crumbly and unable to fare against the elements. Bits and pieces of the exterior lay on patches of dead grass strewn between an overabundance of cigarette butts. On the sides of the buildings were the numbers 1-2-3. One for each level.
“She lives here?”
“I guess we’re about to find out,” he said.
“What’s the chance she lives on the main level and I don’t have to hike up those stairs?”
Nick laughed.
“Slim to none,” he said.
A series of stairs ran alongside the building.
“Third level I take it?”
Nick signaled in the affirmative and we began our ascent. We stopped at the second door on the third level and knocked. It had a brass plate on the outside that displayed the number 3. The second number had fallen off leaving an outline of a 9 in its place.
A scruffy-looking kid cracked open the chained door and poked a bloodshot eyeball at us.
“Sup?”
“I’m looking for Bridget Peters,” Nick said.
“What for?”
“We wanted to ask her a few questions. Can we come in?”
“You two cops or somethin?”
Nick reached for his badge. I placed my hand on his arm and we exchanged glances.
“I’m friends with Audrey, Charlotte’s sister,” I said.
“Good for you.”
“I wanted to see how Bridget’s doing. I heard she took Charlotte’s death pretty hard.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not here.”
“When do you expect her?” I said.
He shook his head, or at least it looked that way from my vantage point.
“Mind if we ask you a few questions?” I said.
“Whatever you two are after, it don’t have nothin to do with me.”
Nick’s jaw tightened and locked in position the way it does when his patience has been exceeded.
“We want a few minutes of your time, and that’s it,” I said, “then we’ll leave.”
“And the two of you ain’t cops?”
I squeezed Nick’s arm, but I was too late. He whipped out his badge and shoved it through the crack in the door.
“Detective Calhoun,” Nick said.
“Aw shit man, I got nothin to say to you.”
The door slammed. Nick balled up his fist and pounded on it.
“I’m homicide not vice,” he said. “If I wanted to bust you for drugs, I would have done it already. You can either open the door and let us come in or I can get the vice squad out here and they can search your house. Unless you want to sit your sorry ass in jail, I suggest you open the door, now.”
Thirty seconds later and the door didn’t change position, but from the sound coming from the other side, he was still there.
“Please,” I said. “We just want to talk. Charlotte Halliwell is dead and the person who killed her is out there somewhere living their life. It would be a shame if something bad happened to Bridget.”
He stepped away from the door and shuffled some things around. Then he lifted the chain and let us in.
I held out my hand.
“My name is Sloane.”
He snickered at me and held his hands up in front of him like I invaded his personal space.
“Whatever lady.”
“And you are?” I said.
“Tommy.”
Tommy’s pupils were dilated.
He bent over and picked up a plate of stale pizza from off the floor. The band around his underwear displayed a famous name embroidered all the way around the top edge and when he stood back up not all of his pants stood up with him. He grabbed both sides and yanked them higher but it didn’t do much good.
“I ain’t got all day. You two gonna ask your questions or what?”
Nick flipped open his black notebook and pulled out a pencil.
“When was the last time you saw Bridget?” he said.
“Yesterday.”
“So she didn’t come home last night?”
“We don’t live together or nothin like that,” he said.
“I thought the two of you lived together,” I said. “This isn’t her place?”
His eyes darted around the apartment.
“She’s clean and I’m well, messy. It’s better this way. She knows she could move in if she wanted to.”
“Have you talked to her since yesterday?” Nick said.
“I called her cell like a hundred times. I even left messages.”
“And you’re not worried?”
“We got in a fight; I figured she needed to cool off.”
“What caused the fight?”
“It was stupid. I thought maybe she had girl problems like PMS or something. I asked her about it and she went all crazy on me and said she needed to get out of here. She wanted me to pack up and leave with her and when I said no, she flipped.”
“Why do you think she wanted to move,” Nick said.
“I don’t know, she didn’t say.”
“And you didn’t think to ask?”
“Look man, when Bridget gets mad I give her space so she can sort all that girl stuff out. She always comes back.”
What a winner the boyfriend turned out to be. No wonder she left.
“What about her new job?” I said.