It was only the one time, and I hadn’t thought about it since. After all, Kelly was a born flirt, but I’d always believed she meant nothing by it. It was just her way. She’d never step over the line. She had flirted with Wolfgang too, and Josh, yes, lots of times, and he had good naturedly put up with it, but never gave me any reason to doubt his loyalty. Besides, Kelly had Craig, a guy she seemed pretty taken with. Why would she go after anyone else’s boyfriend?
I had met Craig only a few times, usually when I stopped over to the house to visit Kelly. The two weren’t living together. Craig had his own place. Kelly hadn’t known him long, maybe four or five months, but he was often there when I came by. He seemed okay, friendly enough, but I hadn’t tried to get to know him. Kelly might have a new guy by the next week, though she did seem to have a thing for Craig. With his long blond ponytail, rock-star good looks, and “whatever-baby” attitude, he seemed to have a lock on what Kelly was all about.
I’d been certain he’d murdered my sister, and so it appeared had the police. He didn’t have an alibi, and a young woman at a party store thought she’d spotted him earlier in the evening with Kelly, though the girl wouldn’t swear to it. The police had questioned Craig later. Shortly after that, he’d left town in a big hurry, leaving most of his possessions behind. No one had seen him since. Possibly no one ever would.
But now that I’d found Kelly’s letter, I wished I could talk to him and find out what he knew. Maybe there’d been a good reason why he’d left town in such a hurry. Maybe he knew who’d actually killed Kelly, and was afraid he would be next.
Chapter 11
“Gwyn, is Trevor home yet?”
It was Tuesday afternoon and Linda was on the phone, speaking slightly above a whisper.
“No.”
“I’ve got it.”
“The report?”
“You guessed it.”
“What’s it say?”
“I can’t read it to you now. Wolfgang could walk in here at any second. I’m upstairs. I’m not even sure-he might be out of the bathroom already.”
“He could also pick up the phone. Are you sure he’s not listening in?”
“I’m on my cell. He can’t listen in on that.”
“Come over to the house,” I said. “No, let’s meet somewhere. I’d be too nervous looking at it here. Can’t you tell me anything?”
“I’d rather you look at it yourself.”
At that, my stomach flipped over. “Why, is it bad?”
“Don’t start second-guessing. Where should we meet?”
“Not in a public place, someone might overhear us. What about in a parking lot? How about behind the library?”
“Okay, way in the back. For sure, no one I know will be there.”
“What time?”
“As soon as you can.”
“What about Wolfgang?”
“Oh, I’ll tell him I’m going to the drugstore, that I need cotton balls or something. He’s in the middle of his workout. He won’t even care.”
“Okay, I’m leaving now.”
I could barely keep my mind on my driving. In the space of a few hours I would know more of Trevor’s history than in the whole two and a half years I’d known him. He didn’t talk much about his past, mostly about current things, the business, friends he’d made in the business, his hopes for the future, and things we could do in our free time, ski trips, vacations we could plan.
He also talked very little about his family, who lived in Sacramento, California. I had met his mother, Ester, a petite shy lady, at the wedding here in Glenwood more than a year ago. And he had a sister, Laurel, whom I didn’t meet, who had apologized over the phone for not being able to attend. She was in the hospital for surgery, a torn ligament in her shoulder, as I remembered. His older brother, Joseph, was at the ceremony and was pleasant enough, but came alone. I’d talked to him at the reception and learned he’d never been married, though according to Trevor, his brother had a sometime girlfriend, but for whatever reason, didn’t invite her along. Trevor’s old childhood friend, Stan, a prominent lawyer with extensive land holdings in California and a lot of influential political friends, showed up for the wedding and stayed for part of the reception. Trevor had shown more animation and spent more time with him than with anyone else.
Trevor’s father did not attend. Trevor had shrugged, said his dad didn’t want to upset his mother. Though still legally married, his parents had separated years ago at his mother’s request. Trevor didn’t seem too upset about it, or surprised that his parents had not taken the final step and divorced. I wasn’t sure if Trevor ever contacted his father. He never said so. At times when I mentioned his dad, Trevor changed the subject-jokingly, but still he changed it. He did phone his mother fairly often, but he hadn’t seen her since the wedding, and he didn’t have any future plans to visit as far as I knew. Not exactly a close-knit bunch.
Linda’s Audi wasn’t in the library parking lot when I arrived, so I cruised the last row, surprisingly full of cars, and realized that parking was becoming scarce the closer it got to Christmas. I found an empty space and pulled in. A few minutes later, Linda pulled up behind me. She waved her arm, beckoning, and I hopped out and got into her car.
“Do you believe this?” she said. “How many of these people are really in the library?”
“Drive around,” I said, glancing around the car for the background check.
“In the backseat.”
I reached over and grabbed the manila envelope. “Are they both in here?”
“No, just yours.”
I frowned at her. “Where’s yours?”
“At home, where I left it.”
I noticed that though the envelope was glued closed and clasped, it wasn’t anything Linda couldn’t buy at an office supply store. But if I asked if she’d looked at the contents and transferred them to a new envelope, Linda would freak-and it wouldn’t change a thing. “How come you didn’t bring yours?”
“Because it’s private, and certainly I’d tell you if there were anything that needed telling.”
I held the envelope and silently counted to ten-very, very slowly. “I thought the idea was to share information.”
“Yes, but only if it might lend some light on Kelly’s death. I thought you might want to keep Trevor’s matters private also. Are you going to open it?”
“Give me a minute.”
“I agree. It’s scary.”
Linda located a narrow parking space and edged in.
I slowly released the clasp and pried the envelope open, then reached in for the papers. I held them at an angle so Linda wouldn’t be able to see. I saw my husband’s name, Trevor Taylor Sanders, first, then our home address, his business address, and Trevor’s social security number. No aliases. I took that as a good sign.
It listed previous addresses, and I briefly perused those. Several were in California, but one was in Denver, and I calculated that it must have been shortly before I met Trevor, before he came to Glenwood. I thought he had told me he’d moved directly from Sacramento to Glenwood, or at least that’s what I remembered.
It listed relatives: mother, father, brother, sister, aunts and uncles, many more than Trevor had ever mentioned, and their last known addresses and telephone numbers. It listed our current neighbors and their addresses and phones also.
I looked up, but Linda was staring absently out the window. “You can drive,” I said. “I can’t study all of this here.”
“I know. It’s a lot of stuff.”
I brought the papers into my lap. “So there wasn’t anything questionable in Wolfgang’s background?”
“No, it was almost boring there was so little of interest.”
“He was telling the truth about his parents dying in an avalanche?”
“Yes.”
“I’m only asking, you know. It’s not like you’re volunteering anything here.”
“It was just such a waste of time.” She turned her face
toward me. “Unless there’s something in yours you haven’t told me about.”
“No, but I’ve barely read it.”But I bet you have. I’d even be willing to bet that Linda had been studying it for several days, since she’d called on Sunday.
I turned back to the papers, flipped through the pages, skimming information, then stopped-and focused. The word, “incarceration,” brought me to an immediate halt.
Ronald J. Sanders, alias Roger Sutter, alias Randolph Simms ... Pueblo Minimum Center, Pueblo, Colorado, currently serving a five-year sentence, convicted on racketeering charges, eligible for parole on …
They were talking about Trevor’s father, in prison, in Colorado. I thought quickly. No, I would not give Linda the satisfaction. I wouldn’t admit to her that Trevor’s father was a jailbird. Though Linda wouldn’t say it, she certainly must have thought it-that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree-and perhaps Trevor, more rotten than his father, had taken it a step further.
“Do you want to stop somewhere?” Linda asked, “or do you want to go back?”
“We should go back. Isn’t Wolfgang waiting for you?”
“He won’t be worried, believe me.” She drove around the block, heading toward the library. “If nothing shows up in the report, nothing incriminating or suspicious, what are we going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think we should let the police know what’s going on?”
“No. I haven’t even read this thing yet. I need some time. And the only evidence we have so far is Kelly’s letter, and that’s no proof of anything.”
“True…. Make sure Trevor doesn’t see you’ve got that.”
“Of course I won’t.”
“Call me if there’s anything, anything at all in the report. We have to be super careful. I don’t want us tripping over any land mines.”
When I returned home I sought a good hiding place for the report. Later tonight, after Trevor went to bed, I’d read it in depth. I’d decided that my discovery didn’t mean a thing, that if anything, having a father in prison had taught Trevor one thing and one thing only. Don’t end up there. Look how diligently he went about his business, about his life. Of course he didn’t want his father’s mistakes to reflect on him. That’s why he’d kept it a secret.
His family had kept it a secret from me also. I wondered if Trevor had coached them, or if they regularly forgot to mention Ronald Sander’s imprisonment.
And I wondered why Trevor hadn’t trusted me, his own wife, with this, then realized a moment later that the background check would have been totally unnecessary if I’d fully trusted him.
I hid the envelope in my darkroom. It was the one place Trevor rarely stepped foot in, and if I needed to, I could close the door and lock it and Trevor wouldn’t question me about it. He’d assume I was developing pictures.
I placed the manila envelope in the midst of other envelopes containing actual prints. I didn’t have time now to look at the documents further. It was already five o’clock and Trevor could walk in soon and would expect to find me in the kitchen making dinner. I also needed to get my thoughts together and calm myself, so I wouldn’t inadvertently say something that would give me away.
I took two packages of frozen shrimp out of the freezer and poured them into a metal bowl to soak in water, then filled a saucepan with water to heat for the redskin potatoes. I washed fresh asparagus and put that aside. What else? I poured myself a glass of wine, a small one, to steady my nerves.
By the time Trevor arrived, the dining room table was set, candles were burning, and music, a piano concerto by Bach, filled the rooms. At the last minute, I turned on the gas jets for the pass-through fireplace.
Trevor was smiling as he walked into the foyer, and his arm was behind his back, hiding something.
“You must have been a good girl,” he said, grinning mischievously. “‘Cause Santa stopped by the office today and dropped off an early Christmas present for you.”
“Santa did that?”
“Yes he did, and I’m wondering if the old elf’s got a thing for you.” He held out two small boxes exquisitely wrapped in gold foil and ribbon, tiny gold bells attached.
“Well, if he has a thing for me, wouldn’t he have brought the presents here?”
“Subterfuge. Won’t look suspicious this way.”
“Should I open them now?”
He crossed his arms. “Sure, open them now, because I have another surprise for you after that.”
I carefully unwrapped the smallest package. Inside was a lovely blue-velvet box. I flipped the lid to reveal astonishingly brilliant diamond-encrusted earrings. “Oh Trevor, they’re absolutely beautiful, just gorgeous.”
“Uh huh, now open the other one before you start with the big wet kisses.”
I unwrapped it as slowly as the first. “You know, it’s still three weeks until Christmas and I don’t have anything to give you back.”
“Not to worry. I’ve been known to barter in flesh.”
Again, it was a blue-velvet box, but larger than the first. Inside was an equally astounding and brilliant gold and diamond tennis bracelet, at least fifty diamonds running down its center.
“Wow,” I exclaimed. “Santa must really love me.”
“Yeah, he really does.”
I looked at him, wanting to believe him. His face, so incredibly sincere-how could he possibly be lying? Why go to all this trouble to convince me?
We kissed and I hugged him tightly, pressing my cheek against his warm chest. Why couldn’t all of this mess just go away? Why didn’t I just drop it? But no, I couldn’t drop anything. Someone had viciously murdered my sister, and that someone deserved to be caught and punished, whatever the reason for the crime … and certainly before they might feel compelled to kill again.
Finished with dinner, I sat near Trevor at the end of the dining room table. I played with a stalk of asparagus, steering it with my fork around my plate like a swimming eel. Though full, I continued to nibble, because we were having such a nice time together. I reached for Trevor’s hand.
He took mine in his and squeezed it, then reached for his wineglass, sipping the last of his wine. “You tell me when you’re ready for my next surprise.”
“You’re spoiling me, Trevor.”
“I know.”
“Okay, I’m ready. Go ahead.”
“Well,” he said, drawing it out. “I’ve made arrangements for us to spend the weekend in Aspen, a mini ski vacation.”
“Really? You have the time? You can take a whole weekend off?”
“Yes and no … just listen. First, we’ll have luxurious accommodations, a private two-bedroom condo, adjacent to the slopes and a short walk into town. We’ll be dining on steak and lobster and grilled calamari, chilled caviar. I know, you don’t like caviar, but if you want it you can have it.”
“Just the two of us?”
“In our condo, yes. For the weekend, no.” I sat waiting for the obvious catch.
“We’ll be the guests of Sylvia Breslin and Robert Morris.”
“Oh,” I said, then realizing I should appear more excited, added, “well that’s wonderful. We’ll have a great time. They want me along?”
“Of course. You’ve met Bob. I know you don’t remember him, but you might when you see him again. He remembers you.”
“At Linda’s party. I remember you said I did, but I don’t remember him. Short guy?”
“Hardly. He’s six-two. Dark hair, wavy. Skin a little craggy. About forty years old. Always has a good-looking woman at his side.”
“Not married?”
“Divorced some years back.”
“Where will they be staying?”
“In another condo, same complex.”
“Together?”
“Yes, but there’s nothing going on between them. They’re business partners. Actually, partners isn’t the right word. It’s more like-what benefits one benefits the other. Associates, I guess
.”
“And they ski?”
“Yes, they ski. I don’t know how well, enough that we can ski together. It will be fun.”
I smiled. Sure, a weekend with the woman who was after my husband. Of course, what could be more fun? And if Trevor were lying, it might have progressed far beyond that. Sylvia might have already caught him.
I cleared the dining room table and Trevor helped me, following me into the kitchen. While I rinsed dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, Trevor perused the small stack of mail he’d tossed on the kitchen table earlier.
“Something from your sister and Wolfgang. Looks like an invitation.”
He brought it over.
“Open it,” I said, my hands wet.
“It is. Your sister’s giving another party.”
“When?”
“Two weeks from Friday. She calls it a ‘Holiday Hiatus’.”
“I had a feeling she’d try to put something together before they left on vacation. She probably didn’t want to disappoint her friends.”
“Kind of short notice.”
“Yes, for Linda, but Wolfgang surprised her with that Hawaiian vacation. She probably thought she’d have more time.”
“It would be nice for the two of us to take a trip, if I could arrange to get away. If I had the time. Things might slow down eventually. This weekend will be fun though. We can try out the new skis.”
“Can’t wait,” I said, closing the dishwasher and setting the dial.
I hoped Trevor would go to bed early, but it was almost as if he could read my thoughts, and frustrated me by first staying up to watch a gross program about sharks and shark attacks, then wanting to make love. I kept thinking about the envelope in my darkroom, and how odd it would look when I crawled out of bed to go downstairs, when normally after sex I’d roll over and fall asleep.
I decided I’d have to wait until Trevor was asleep himself, then sneak downstairs. If he woke up later on, I could always say I was restless or something. He probably thought I was half crazy anyway, the way I’d been acting lately, and wouldn’t see anything I did as too unusual.
Her Last Letter Page 14