by Cindy Sample
I was touched by Peter's thoughtfulness. Although knowing my interfering mother, she probably gave him a list of the top ten ways to woo her daughter. Peter followed me into the kitchen. His six-foot two inches came in handy retrieving my one and only crystal vase from the top shelf of my cabinet.
"How long have you lived here?” he asked, while I attempted to arrange the yellow, orange and purple flowers. I vaguely remembered learning how to do this at some point in my life, but never had any occasion to practice.
"Since Jenna was a toddler, almost fourteen years now.” I finally gave up my power struggle with the flowers and jammed the stalks in the vase.
"That's right. Ben said he had an older sister.” Peter chuckled. “I bet he keeps you on your toes. Are Ben and I going to have a Matchbox matchup before we go?"
"No, he won't be smashing any miniature cars into your wingtips this time.” I smiled remembering the two of them playing on the floor at the Centurion real estate office. “Both kids are spending the weekend with their father in Tahoe. So you have me all to yourself."
Peter took my hand in his. “I'm looking forward to that."
I pulled my hand free. I liked Peter but I wasn't ready for any kind of intimacy just yet. I grabbed my black leather coat and he courteously helped me with it. We were almost out the door when the phone rang.
"I'd better answer it. I've been trying to get hold of the kids all day.” I ran into the kitchen and lifted up the receiver before the answering machine could kick in.
"Hi, Laurel,” said that familiar husky voice.
"Oh, it's you."
"Am I interrupting anything?"
"Yes, a dinner date, so if you'll excuse me.” I waved at Peter who was leaning against the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Why. Are you joining us? Bringing some matching metal jewelry for my wrists?"
"That's not necessary, Laurel. Besides..."
I heard voices shouting in the background. I glanced over at Peter. He was frowning and pointing at his watch.
"Let me call you back in a few."
The dial tone came on and I banged the phone down. Peter gave me a curious look. “Well, that conversation sounded intriguing,” he said. “Was that one of your amateur detective buddies?"
"No. Just some jerk."
We almost made it to the front door when the phone trilled again. I flashed Peter an apologetic look and raced back into the kitchen skidding across the wood floor. “Hello,” I gasped, winded from my twenty-foot run. No doubt about it. It was time to enroll in a gym.
"Ms. McKay, Neil Schwartz from the Mountain Democrat,” gurgled the Draino voice of the reporter. “I'm glad I caught you. We never finished our conversation the other day."
"Mr. Schwartz, I have a dinner date. Can't you find someone else to annoy?” I wanted to hang up but was afraid if I upset the reporter I would end up as a headline on the front page of the paper. Murder suspect seeking new victims to date.
"Trust me, I have information you'll want to hear. Did you know the sheriff's department has identified the murder weapon? The killer used a pipe wrench."
Peter cleared his throat. So far this conversation with the reporter had yielded nothing I hadn't already learned from my own official sources. “Yes, I'm aware of the weapon that was used. I really need to leave now."
"How about giving us a statement regarding the fact that your ex-husband has been hired by the largest plumbing company in Sacramento?” No comment other than the fact that maybe I would receive my child support payments on time.
The reporter zeroed in for the kill. “Your ex has been reported as saying he would kill any man that got near you. Any comment now?"
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THIRTY
I hung up on the nosy reporter and we made it out the front door without any further interruptions. Peter held on to my elbow as he guided me to his luxurious British racing green Jaguar, parked in the driveway. Two more things in his favor—a well-mannered gentleman and financially stable.
I was seething over the reporter's remarks. It took more than motive and a weapon to make a murderer. It took planning as well as guts, both of which Hank had in short supply. But he did have a temper. Could the breakup with Nadine have sent him over the edge?
Although Peter attempted to entertain me by sharing humorous real estate anecdotes during the ten-minute trip into Placerville, I couldn't stop replaying the reporter's implied accusation in my head. I'd read too many stories about husbands killing their wives and children when they cracked.
I fumbled in my purse for my cell phone. Shoot. We were in one of the hilly no service zones. I'd try again after we reached the restaurant.
The Sequoia House had been renovated from a decaying clapboard Victorian mansion into a spectacular first class restaurant. It was obviously a popular dining spot since we pulled into the last vacant parking space. The massive stained glass embossed doors opened into the beautifully remodeled entry. I stepped onto a gorgeous carpet, either Aubusson or Chinese, I never could keep them straight. Rose colored velvet chairs lined the wall for guests who had to wait for a table. Fortunately that did not include us. We were immediately ushered into the Verandah dining room.
With its stained glass windows, patterned tin ceiling and plantation fans, I felt like I had been transported back to a more tranquil time period-the Victorian era. A nice respite from the crazy life I called my own. The hostess led us past a room full of antiques to our table. Once we sat down I realized the velvet chairs were designed for the sole purpose of promoting good posture. Our silver haired waiter approached dressed in a burgundy jacket and black trousers. He brandished two dinner menus along with a wine list.
"Would you prefer a white or red wine?” Peter peered at me over the large red and gold embossed menu. “Or maybe some champagne to celebrate our first date?"
My face colored slightly at the thought of my last date when I swigged almost an entire bottle of champagne.
"I think I'll stick to water for now."
He returned the wine list to the waiter with his request. “We'll have a bottle of syrah. I might be able to talk her into sharing some of it later on."
After the wine was delivered and our dinners were ordered, rare steak and a baked potato for Peter, and blackened salmon accompanied by pesto mashed potatoes and haricots verts—AKA teeny-weeny green beans—for me, we settled back in our chairs.
Peter rested his elbows on the table and leaned in. “You look so stressed. I hoped this would be a nice break from your troubles."
"That's very sweet of you. I wish I could forget my problems but I'm worried about my kids and concerned my ex-husband is involved in the murders."
Peter looked puzzled. “Why would you suspect your ex?"
"Well, for one thing, he's jealous of the men I've dated. I think that gives him a motive."
Peter smiled. “I'd be jealous too if my beautiful ex-wife were dating other men.” His compliment momentarily bolstered my spirits.
The waiter chose that moment to deliver our entrees. My cell buzzed just as he set down my plate. I rifled through my purse and located my phone. The call had come from Jenna's cell.
"Peter, would you excuse me. I need to call my daughter.” I streaked out of the dining room before he could respond. The lobby was packed and noisy so I went into the ladies room, which was surprisingly empty.
It turned out I had two voicemails. The first was from Jenna, bubbly and joyful, the result of picking five out of six winners at the Sports Book. She and Ben were having a wonderful time but would I please quit leaving so many messages and being such a worrywart. I didn't know whether to be relieved the kids were having a great time with Hank or annoyed that I'd been reclassified as a smothering mother.
The second message was from Stan. It was unintelligible and incomprehensible. According to Stan, he had gone door knocking but there weren't any doors to knock on. I dialed his number.
"Ah-choo
."
"Hey, it's Laurel. Are you okay?"
"Go away and leave me alone in sneezy peace."
"I'm sorry, but your message didn't make any sense. What do you mean there weren't any doors to knock on."
His next sneeze exploded into my eardrum. “I drove around and around those streets but there were no houses at any of the addresses you gave me. There's only one huge home with a for sale sign on it and a sales trailer located on a knoll at the top of the subdivision."
"Are you sure you drove through the right subdivision?"
He honked again. “Hey, I may be on my death bed but I'm not delirious. Yet. Bella Lago. Off of Salmon Falls Road. I'm going back to bed."
The dial tone buzzed in my ear while a gazillion questions buzzed inside my brain. None of which would be answered in the ladies room. Something fishy was going on and I was beginning to have an inkling where the stench was coming from.
I returned to the table and apologized for my absence. Peter was empathetic about my maternal concerns. “I can understand why you'd be concerned about your children's safety. When are they supposed to return home?"
"Not until Monday night. But I think I may have been worrying over nothing. My daughter left a message and it sounds like both kids are having a great time."
Peter looked thoughtful as he sipped his wine. “So no more doubts about the ex."
I shrugged as I took a bite of my pesto mashed potatoes which tasted far better than they looked. I had a lot of doubts about my ex but I seriously couldn't imagine him as a murderer.
In the meantime a million questions milled around my brain.
"My mother mentioned you're a developer. How are sales going in this market?"
"It's been kind of slow. But we think things will pick up again soon.” Peter ran a finger around the rim of his wine glass. “The lots have the most incredible views of Folsom Lake. Nothing else like it in the area."
"What's the name of your subdivision again?” I snagged a piece of salmon as I waited for his answer.
"Bella Lago."
The salmon I was gnawing on landed with a sick thud in my stomach.
Peter latched on to my free hand. “I'd love to show you the property sometime. The view of the lake from the top is spectacular.” He ran his finger lightly down my palm. “And romantic."
His touch made me tremble. But not in a good way.
"So do you have any partners?"
"I do.” He drained his wine glass and smacked it down on the table.
Peter's reticence was most unusual. Was it due to the typically competitive nature of real estate agents or something else entirely? I felt like a dog with a bone and I would keep gnawing until I got all of my answers. It was time to find out whose names the “L” and “C” stood for in the TLC partnership.
"How many houses have been built so far?"
He dropped his fork and knife on his plate. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” He stood up and walked away from the table heading, I assumed, to the men's room.
I stared at the mound of pale green potatoes on my plate. They resembled miniature hills. I thought about the subdivision Peter had developed. And the three delinquent loans I'd uncovered. And the empty lots Stan had driven by. What would it mean if Mike Clark prepared appraisals on multi-million dollar homes that didn't exist? Who would benefit from the fraudulent sales?
Our eyes locked as Peter returned to the table.
I had the answer to my question.
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THIRTY-ONE
Peter rested his hand on top of mine. “Laurel, sorry if I seemed a little testy. Bella Lago has become a real sore point. We've had one problem after another. First there were huge excavation costs because of more bedrock than the engineers anticipated, then the county made us realign some of the water lines, which was another unexpected expense. Then...” He reached for the bottle of syrah and poured the remainder in his glass. “But I've taken care of all my issues. Finally."
The waiter arrived to clear our plates producing dessert menus for each of us. Peter snatched the menus and gave them back. “Sorry to end our evening so quickly, but I received a page when I was away from the table and unfortunately we need to get going.” He turned to the waiter. “We'll take the check."
Fine with me. I needed time to evaluate the information Peter had divulged. And the information he'd been reluctant to disclose. We both remained silent as we entered his luxury sedan and headed back to my house.
I had no idea what Peter was thinking but I hoped he didn't have the ability to read minds. Because my cerebral cortex was processing the information that it was very likely I was sitting next to a murderer. And the murderer was about to deliver me to an empty house.
My heart was pounding so hard it was a wonder Peter couldn't hear it. There had to be some place safe he could drop me off. Somewhere I could call the cops.
My mind was mulling over a variety of safe havens when Peter interrupted my thought process. “Laurel, do you mind if we stop at the Centurion office before I take you home? It's right on the way."
I nodded. It was perfect. Peter wouldn't be expecting me to run away and there was a gas station just around the corner from the building.
We arrived at the office in less than ten minutes. We parked in front of the Centurion building and Peter turned off the ignition. I was almost afraid to make eye contact with him, but he grinned at me, his left hand resting on the polished wood steering wheel.
I wondered if my imagination was getting out of control. Maybe I had read too many mysteries. An hour ago my ex-husband had been my number one suspect. Now my date had moved into the first place ranking.
I rummaged through my tote making sure my cell phone was close at hand. One of Ben's leftover cherry gummy bears dropped on the immaculate floor of the car. I picked it up and dumped it in the side pocket of my purse.
Peter pushed open one of the frosted glass double doors and I followed him inside. By now I desperately needed to use the bathroom. A full bladder would not be conducive to a speedy getaway. Plus the bathroom would provide a convenient excuse to disappear for a few minutes.
"Peter, I'm going to use the ladies room."
He nodded and headed down the hallway to his own office. The overhead lights above the large brass plated Centurion Realty sign barely lit the space. The empty desks shape-shifted into distorted monsters ready to jump out at me from the shadows.
My nerves were completely shot by the time I reached the rear of the building. My hand was pressed against the ladies room door when a creaking sound startled me. I turned around to a terrifying sight, one I'd read about in many a murder mystery but never expected to experience myself.
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THIRTY-TWO
I was staring at the wrong end of a revolver. Boy, those mystery novels had it all wrong. When faced with a gun, I didn't want to flee.
I wanted to pee.
Peter grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, the hard end of the gun digging into the small of my back. He prodded me down the corridor into his office then shoved me into one of the visitor chairs. My purse dropped, some of the contents rolling on the navy tweed carpet.
"You killed Garrett,” I blurted out. “And Jeremy."
Peter laughed. Not a pleasant sound. He walked around the uncluttered desk and sat down. The gun never wavered. “Laurel, I swear you are as nosy as your mother. I thought if I took you out to dinner I could find out what you'd discovered. But you just wouldn't stop asking questions."
"I am not as nosy as my mother.” Nobody is as nosy as my mother. I looked at the weapon pointed at me. Maybe my nosiness wasn't the real issue right now.
"Whatever. You've been poking around. I could tell at dinner you were close to figuring it all out. My plans have been screwed up ever since you joined that stupid Love Club. What are the odds you would be out on a date with each of the men I killed, on the night they died? If it weren't for you, no o
ne would have tied Garrett and Jeremy's deaths together."
He cocked the gun right at my heart making me feel like an invisible bulls-eye was emblazoned over my left breast.
"But then it turned out the detectives considered you the primary suspect so it ended up working out in my favor. The only hitch was Mike Clark. Mike was under the impression you accidentally killed Garrett with the cell phone. One day we were talking and I slipped up and mentioned Garrett and I had fought. Mike figured out I killed him. Eventually he realized I must have murdered Jeremy as well. He tried to blackmail me. His partner. Can you believe it?"
Peter looked hurt that one of his merry band of fraud fugitives had tried to extort money from him.
"So you killed Mike,” I stated in a voice far calmer than I felt.
He smirked. “Right again. I'd agreed to pay him in cash and we arranged to meet at the Bella Lago sales office at midnight. Once he took off, I jumped in my truck and followed his motorcycle out of the subdivision and down Salmon Falls Road. You know how windy that road is?"
He looked at me for confirmation.
"It's a dangerous strip of road. What did you do? Ram him in the back of his motorcycle?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yep. Just as he rounded a curve I smashed into his bike and it crashed down into the canyon. I was sure he was a goner but I climbed down the hillside to make sure and he was still breathing. I grabbed the money then hit him on the back of his head with the pipe wrench. You can see I had no other choice, can't you?"
I bobbed my head in agreement. I wasn't sure Mike's blackmail was a perfect rationale for murdering him, but nodding seemed the most expedient response since the gun was still pointed at me.
"I was worried about using the same weapon I'd used on both Garrett and Jeremy but I figured the buzzards would have him for dinner long before his body was discovered. I sure didn't expect those two teenagers to find him so quickly. Don't kids have curfews any more?"
The subject of curfews was a continuing debate in my house but not a top priority right this second. I balanced on the edge of the chair, my hands clasped together, unable to resist asking the obvious. “The murders are all tied to Bella Lago, aren't they?"