by Sherry Lewis
Ramsey? It couldn’t be. He’d seriously over-extended himself a few years ago, made some bad investments, suffered a few losses, and he’d been struggling ever since to maintain his standard of living on a shoestring.
“Not Ramsey personally,” Fred said. “It must have been the bank.”
Kate rolled her eyes at him. “Within the last three months he’s invested close to a million dollars in property around Shadow Mountain. Cash. No lienholder listed and it’s all in his name.”
Fred gave a low whistle. “A million? He doesn’t have that kind of money.”
“Well, he got it somewhere. Private loan maybe. All I know is what the clerk told me. I sort of bribed her with lunch at the Lamplighter and pretended to be on the lookout for an investment in property that would almost guarantee a big return. She told me all about it. She gave me the names of the people I ought to contact. It seems that plans are in the works to develop Shadow Mountain as a ski resort. They want to make it another Aspen—maybe bigger.”
“What?”
“Thousands of condominium units, ski runs, an airport, restaurants. They even want to recreate old Silver City’s Main Street.”
“But that would ruin the entire area!”
“It would change it, that’s for sure.”
Fred felt almost sick to his stomach. “You know what’s happened in Aspen, don’t you? They’ve increased property values so much the families who’ve lived there forever can’t afford to stay. Everything that made the area interesting is being destroyed. That’s exactly what would happen here!”
Kate waved off his protest. “If a big development comes in here, you’d make a lot of money off that lakefront property of yours.”
“My property wouldn’t be for sale—at any price.”
She shrugged indifferently.
“You don’t get it, do you?” He said, desperate to make her understand. “You think everything is about money. Doesn’t tradition mean anything to you? Or security?”
She looked blank.
“You don’t understand about people like me whose roots have grown so deep we never want to leave.”
Kate sighed. “Why don’t you face reality? The world isn’t like that anymore. People are mobile. Our whole society is based on change. What’s so great about this little town anyway? If I had to live in a place like this, I’d lose my mind!”
Fred had had enough. He stood and glared down at her. “Let’s not ever test it,” he snapped and turned on his heel. He stalked toward the front door and heard her scramble out of the booth to run after him.
He ignored her and strode outside. She fell into step beside him. “Look, Fred, I know you don’t like me, but I’m going to ask you for a favor anyway.”
“I don’t like you? What gave you that idea?”
“You don’t approve of me. That’s very clear. But I’ve gone as far as I can go with this thing alone. I tried to talk to a couple of people earlier on the list the clerk gave me today, but they won’t tell me anything. But people like you. They’ll talk to you. When I try to ask questions, everybody suddenly develops amnesia. I need your help.”
Fred had never been so proud of the people in his hometown. Not for the world did he want Kate to know how attractive her request sounded to him. He frowned at her and made his voice gruff. “To do what?”
“Find out about Shadow Mountain.”
“Why?”
She sighed and gave him a doe-eyed look. “Maybe I want to invest in it, get in on the ground floor.”
“Forget it.”
“What? Why?”
Fred stopped walking and faced her squarely. People never ceased to amaze him, even after all these years. “Do you really have to ask?”
“Apparently, I do. You were the one dragging me into this investigation a few days ago. Why won’t you help me now?”
“Because I’m not going to do anything to help somebody destroy this land for a profit.”
“Okay. Fine. What if the real reason I need your help is because I think there’s something fishy going on with the development and I want to find out what?”
“Why should I believe that?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
She had his full attention now. “Why do you think there’s something suspicious going on?”
“Because you think at least one of the people involved in this thing shouldn’t be. And somehow Joan was involved in it. And because the developers are trying to destroy all this beauty for a profit.”
He’d almost believed her until she said that. He started walking again.
“All right,” she said, slightly out of breath, “you want the whole truth?”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. “The truth.”
“I have to do something. I can’t sit here in this podunk town and rot on your front porch while I wait for your Sheriff to make an arrest. I want to know why Joan was involved with this project and nobody involved in the actual development is talking, at least not to me, and that makes me suspicious. And because I don’t trust the developer.”
“Who is the developer, did they say?”
Kate’s lips curved upward slowly. “They said.” The smile reached her eyes. “A company called Basin Development. Its general partners are listed as Brandon Cavanaugh and Tony Striker.”
sixteen
Fred had always believed in putting first things first, and he didn’t propose to tackle the puzzle of Shadow Mountain any differently. Kate had asked for his help, but he knew—they both knew—that they really wanted to figure out who murdered Joan. And they believed the murder was somehow connected to Shadow Mountain. Find the answers to one and he’d find the answer to the other.
He was sitting across from Kate at his kitchen table with a sheaf of paper between them. He wanted to make a list of suspects, knowing that then they could identify possible motives and alibis.
He pushed a pen toward her.
She pushed it right back. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”
“Would it kill you to agree with me once in a while?”
She glared at him. “Can we just put the paper away? What good will it do to sit here and make a list? Let’s go talk to Logan Ramsey again. Let’s find out who else invested in Shadow Mountain. There are probably half a dozen people we could talk to, so let’s go already!”
Didn’t she wear herself out, always being in such a hurry? She didn’t even take the time to think. Her legs started getting nervous if she sat still for more than thirty seconds. If she kept going at this rate, she’d be old before her fortieth birthday.
Ignoring her anxiety, Fred pushed a piece of paper at her and followed it with the pen. “Just slow down for a minute. There’s no need to rush off half-cocked. First we’ll work through it on paper then we’ll go.”
Kate expelled her breath and rolled her eyes. “By the time you get around to doing anything, the development will be finished and a hundred families will have moved in.”
“I don’t think so. Life moves at a different pace up here. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Maybe so, but I’ve already been gone from work too long. I need to get back to San Francisco. Or are you under the impression that I’m going to move into your guest room permanently.”
“I never thought that for a second,” Fred assured her. “But that’s exactly why a little preparation is in order. It will save us time when we’re actually out there talking to people.”
Kate threw up her hands. “Okay. You want to make a list of suspects, we’ll make a list of the suspects. One. Brandon.”
“Brandon Cavanaugh,” Fred said as he wrote the name. “Motive?”
“Maybe he really was having an affair with Winona. Can you believe that woman? How could she have gone behind Joan’s back like that after Joan took her in and set her up in business? Not that Joan didn’t get exactly what she deserved, but—”
“We’ll get to her in a minute,” Fred said, trying to rein her in before s
he got too far off-track. “Stick with Brandon for now. The affair. Maybe he killed Joan because she found out he was sleeping with Winona. What else?”
“Money, of course.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would he kill her over money? Come on, now, Kate—focus.”
She jumped up and began to pace as she thought. After a moment, she stopped in front of him. “They could have been having an affair and Joan probably found out about it, but that still wouldn’t be enough of a motive to kill her—unless it affected Brandon in some way.”
“It might have if Joan threatened to divorce him,” Fred suggested. “He’d lose her money.”
“He’s lived the good life for a long time, and he’d do anything to keep things the way they are. But I don’t believe Joan would have divorced him.”
“Even if he was sleeping with her sister?”
Kate’s eyes narrowed and darkened before she turned away. “Even then.”
“That seems odd, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine many women finding something like that out and being happy about it.” He made a couple of notes, thinking aloud. “If she and Brandon were tied together by the Shadow Mountain project, things could have gotten messy.”
“I suppose,” Kate agreed grudgingly. “But Basin Development still wouldn’t have been affected unless they’d already sunk money into the property. They probably never signed a contract or made the agreement binding since Joan and Brandon were married. She was incredibly naïve when it came to things like that. If Brandon had already plowed money into Shadow Mountain, he might take a hit financially.”
“Wait a minute,” he held up one hand and wrote furiously. “You’re going too fast.” He finished making his notes and then looked at her curiously. “If she did divorce Brandon, wouldn’t he still be a wealthy man?”
Kate shook her head. “They signed a prenuptial agreement. You can bet he didn’t want to, and he almost had her convinced but my father’s attorneys were insistent. Joan’s money was well protected against a possible divorce settlement.”
But not against death. They stared at each other in silence as if each had reached the same conclusion.
Fred looked away first. “Who’s our next suspect?”
“I already told you—Winona.”
“You think she killed Joan so she could marry Brandon?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Kate said glumly. “Besides, if she’s sleeping with Brandon she has a stake in the Shadow Mountain deal somehow. Bet on it. Women like her always do.”
You’d never believe Kate and Winona were sisters to hear either one of them talk. Fred shook his head. “Winona had to have a stronger motive than that. After all, Joan did sign the store over to her. Sounds like they were fairly close.”
“Close?” Kate snorted a laugh.
“Well why else would she give the store to Winona?”
“Guilt maybe. Maybe she felt sorry for Winona because of the way my father treated her in his will. Joan had a bleeding heart when it came to stuff like that.”
“So then why would Winona want her dead?”
“I said Joan had a bleeding heart, not Winona. Maybe she didn’t think Joan gave her enough. Maybe she wanted Joan out of the way so Brandon could inherit all her money. Then he’d be free and she could move in and become the next Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
“Or,” Fred said slowly, “what if Winona was actually the one stealing the art from Summer? What if Joan found out and threatened to expose her?”
“Those paintings can’t be worth that much, can they?”
“I have no idea,” Fred admitted. “But I’ll write it down as a possibility.”
“If Winona did it,” Kate said, kicking her feet onto a chair, “I’ll kill her myself.”
Fred glanced up, worried. Though Kate’s eyes had darkened and her voice was cold, he didn’t believe she actually meant what she said. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “That’d solve everything.”
“Be quiet.”
“Then talk sense. I’m not going to help you if you’re going to talk like that.”
She curled her lip and raked her fingers through her dark hair. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Who’s next?”
“What about Summer Dey?”
“Motive?”
“Her stolen art.”
Fred made a face. “I have a hard time believing she’d kill Joan because of those horrendous paintings of hers.”
“The quality of her work is beside the point. The art theft upset her enough to make a lot of noise about Joan. Enough noise that Joan threatened her with a lawsuit just days before she died.”
“Anyone who’d paint those awful things is probably capable of anything.” Fred agreed, and added her to the list. “Who’s next?”
“Logan Ramsey. He’s been buying up property around Shadow Mountain and you say he’s heavily overextended. He’s got a lot riding on that development.”
“True, but then why kill her? It sounds to me like she was the only one who could make it happen. Without Joan, the whole thing would fall apart.”
Kate stopped pacing and stared at him. “What did you say?”
“Without Joan—” he met Kate’s eager glance and felt his pulse quicken.
Kate finished the thought for him. “—the whole deal would fall apart. What if Joan pulled out?”
“Would she have done that?”
“I don’t know, but what if she did? Who’s going to lose if she did? Brandon. Ramsey. Probably Winona.”
“Don’t forget Tony Striker,” Fred reminded her.
“All right. Brandon’s partner in Basin Development. Same as above. Come on, Fred, just make the little ditto marks and let’s get on with it.”
Fred wrote it all out, thought a minute and added a few more lines. When he’d finished, he had a list of suspects and possible motives and a list of questions he wanted answered. They still didn’t know if anyone in town had heard either of the Cavanaughs talk about divorce. Why had Logan Ramsey visited Joan the night she died? How much money were Summer’s paintings actually worth? And had Joan really threatened to file a lawsuit against her? Enos said that Brandon had an alibi for the night of the murder, but what about Winona? Could she have disappeared during the party? They didn’t have access to the guest list, but maybe Tony would tell them the truth.
And they still hadn’t found Joan’s truck. If they could find it, Enos could check it for fingerprints and find out who had driven it to Summer’s house at one-thirty in the morning—after Joan died.
He glanced up to find watching him intently, her eyes deep and swimming with an odd expression. “Are you sure you want to do this? You know the Sheriff isn’t going to like it.”
“Of course I want to. I said I did, didn’t I?” In fact, he wanted this more than anything he could think of at the moment. Investigating this murder, dealing with Kate, arguing with Enos, eavesdropping on conversations, all of it had brought him more fully to life again than he’d been in years. A few days ago he’d thought it was over and life had slipped back into its routine. Now, with Kate dragging him back into the investigation, he realized that for more years than he cared to count, he’d been painfully bored.
Kate nodded solemnly. “Then do you mind if I ask you one thing?”
“Not at all. What is it?”
“Can we please do something and quit making these lists?”
Fred stood and reached for his jacket. “A few days ago when I wanted you to go one or two places with me to ask a few questions, did you want to go? No. But now—now that it’s all your idea, you expect me to run out the door at the drop of a hat.”
Her lips curved “You’ve made your point. Now, can we go?”
Fred pushed past her and out the back door. He heard her coming after him, but he didn’t wait. “One more thing,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m doing the talking.”
The door banged closed hard enough to rattle its windo
w. “Oh, no you’re not. Not all of it.”
But this time, he didn’t intend to let her get the best of him. “You asked me to help you because nobody in town wants to talk to you. If you start asking questions, you’ll ruin everything. You don’t have what it takes to get along up here. You don’t have the slightest idea how to treat people.”
“I get along very well with people in the real world. I don’t need lessons on social graces from you.”
Fred crammed his cap on his head. At least he asked how people were before he started pumping them for information. Most of the time. “Your problem is that you don’t respect these people. I haven’t figured out yet whether that’s the way you are with everybody or whether you just think folks who live here aren’t as smart as the ones in San Francisco. Maybe you are more pleasant with folks there.”
“I don’t think I’ve acted any differently toward you and your friends than I do toward anyone else.”
“Then you do have a problem,” Fred said and set off toward town.
They quarreled all the way to Main Street, loud enough to bring Loralee Kirkham to her front door as they passed. Like children, they argued almost for the sport of it. Fred baited Kate and took great delight in watching her attempts at controlling her anger. And he enjoyed every minute of it.
Fifteen minutes later, they’d walked almost to the east end of town without resolving the question of which suspect to talk to first. Ahead of them, between the slush-covered pickup trucks parked in front of The Frame-Up, Brandon’s silver BMW stood out like a sore thumb.
Fred groaned inwardly. Couldn’t the man show a little restraint? Maybe play the part of the grieving widower for a few weeks before he paraded his infidelities before the entire town? Reluctantly, he met Kate’s gaze. She must have read his suspicions in his expression, because her eyes widened. She looked at the car for only a second or two before she sprinted toward the store.
Trailing her, he hoped she really hadn’t meant it when she said she’d kill Winona. She certainly looked capable of it at the moment.
The Frame-Up’s showroom was empty when they burst inside. Even the merry tinkling of the bell over the door didn’t bring a response. If he’d been alone, Fred would have waited until someone came to help them, but Kate didn’t share his reservations. She darted across the room and disappeared behind the curtain.