“That bad?” I said.
“Parker’s alibi checks out. Kristin flew in this afternoon and Parker brought her in himself so she could vouch for his whereabouts at the time of the murder.”
“It doesn’t mean he’s not responsible. Parker has family money. Maybe he hired someone to do his dirty work for him.”
“What about the evidence, have you found anything new?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I’m not about to give up,” I said.
“I would expect no less.”
CHAPTER 41
I sat across the street from Parker’s house and watched and waited. Sooner or later Parker and his flavor of the weekend would emerge and when they did I planned to lure Kristin away somehow so I could get a little one on one time, woman to woman.
I opened my glove box and rifled around for a piece of gum until I found a pack. It contained a single solitary piece. Maddie took care of the rest. I pulled the empty box out of the glove compartment and noticed a shiny piece of metal. I took it out and rubbed my finger across the cold, hard surface. Some people throw salt over their shoulders for luck, but not me. I carried around my grandfather’s old FBI badge. It awakened memories of all the times he taught me to remember who I was––a Monroe, and never to forget it, and it reminded me of my duty to stand as a beacon of hope to others who count on me when they can’t fight the good fight alone.
It was hard for me to believe how long he’d been gone and that he died before seeing me aspire to a field not unlike his own. I wondered what he would think about the world now. So much had changed. And Gabrielle, if he lived to see what happened, maybe he could have saved her before it was too late.
In my boredom I placed a call to Audrey and was grateful when she didn’t answer. Parker’s release was not the best news. I left a message.
A car turned up the road and went to the top of the cul-de-sac and circled around. It crept along the other side of the street with its headlights off and then parked one house away from Parker’s. In the darkness I couldn’t make out the driver, but I recognized the shape of the car. It was him, the man in black. When I ran his plates before they had been fakes. They weren’t even registered. He sat and I sat and neither of us moved.
It took about fifteen minutes for Parker’s garage door to open and for him to back out of the driveway. I crouched down and he reversed into the street and then drove past me. I counted seven Mississippi’s and sat back up. His car stopped at the end of the street which gave me time to catch up, but in that moment I found myself more curious about the identity of the man in black. The note he left should have made me think twice or even three times about approaching him, but it didn’t. I wanted to know who he was and why he left it.
I started my car and positioned one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the holster of my gun. The man in black didn’t move. I flashed my lights on and off. Still no movement. I took a deep breath and put the car into gear and inched forward. He started his car and turned on the headlights. I pulled up alongside and his window descended. I put my window down and we studied each other for a moment. His face was hard and rimpled and depicted a man who had witnessed a lot in his life. I tried to form words but they didn’t come. I took a deep breath in and resolved to get the words out.
“I don’t know what you want with Parker,” I said, “or why you are here or why you left the note you did the other night.”
I scarcely uttered the words before a car turned up the road, one that I identified immediately.
The man in black looked at me and smiled.
“Who are you?” I said.
He made an upward gesture with his head and then stepped on the gas and sped down the street.
The other car pulled beside me.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Coop said.
“I was just leaving.”
“I’m in charge of his tail tonight, and I don’t need your help in case you’re wondering.”
“He’s not here at the moment.”
“And how would you know that?” he said.
“You’re in charge of him, you figure it out.”
I put my window back up and breathed a sigh of relief. With Parker long gone, the mystery man out of sight, and Coop assigned to watch over him, I called it a night. Kristin would be in town until the next day and that gave me one last shot to talk with her.
My cell phone rang. The caller ID said unknown. I pressed the answer button and the voice on the other end said, “Stop following me!” Only it wasn’t a man’s voice, it was a woman’s.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said. “I’m not following anyone at present.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Who is this?” I said.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Her voice quivered with instability.
“I’d like to know who I’m speaking to,” I said, “or this conversation is over.”
“Then I have, well, nothing to say.”
She sniffled into the phone a few times.
“Bridget,” I said. “If this is you, all I wanted was to ask you a few questions. That’s it. I’m not the police and I’m not after you.”
I waited.
“If you’re not following me, then who is?”
“Tell me where you are,” I said.
“I don’t know you. Why should I tell you anything?”
“From what your boyfriend told me, you and Charlotte were close. I’m sure her death hasn’t been easy for you. All I’m asking is that you help me get her the justice she deserves. And if someone is following you then you need my help.”
I wanted to get it through to her that she could trust me and that I could help her, but she had no reason to believe me.
“I, I don’t know. I have to go.”
“Wait, Bridget please. Let’s try this, I’ll talk and you listen. You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to and you can hang up anytime.”
There was no response, but my phone indicated the call was still connected so I persisted.
“A couple weeks ago Charlotte’s sister hired me to look into her death. At first it looked like an accident and then we discovered she was poisoned. After that I had my suspicions and, after I learned you two were close, I wanted to find you and talk to you about what happened to Charlotte. All I wanted to know was if you knew of any reason why someone wanted her dead. I know you’re on the run, and if you need my help––”
“I don’t. You said you had suspicions, who do you suspect?”
Try everyone from Parker Stanton to the evil troll lady in the dungeon of the real estate office.
“Parker Stanton, but he has an alibi that checks out.”
“Of course he does.”
“Why do you say it like that?” I said.
“Why do you think? He’s Parker Stanton III, son of Parker Stanton II, real estate tycoon and multi millionaire, blah, blah, blah.”
The way she said it sounded like he was being featured on an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.
“I take it you don’t like him?” I said.
“What’s not to like? He’s a rich, snobby brat who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. It’s the Stanton way.”
“The Stanton way?” I said.
“He does whatever to whomever and doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.”
“Wow,” I said. “Do you think it’s possible that he killed her?”
“Parker, no. He’s just a sleazeball.”
I was surprised by her response.
“How do you know it wasn’t him?” I said.
“If you asked me if I despised the guy, the answer would be yes, but a killer––I don’t see it.”
I started to think she didn’t know Parker like she thought she did.