Black Diamond Death

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  I tried not to, but I cracked up anyway.

  My plate contained a steak, mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables.

  “And the fourth and fifth course?”

  “We have some lovely rolls for zee lady and some red wine, lots of zee red wine.”

  I took a bite of my steak. It was delicious and cooked to perfection. Nick hovered over me like Lord Berkeley did when he wanted praise.

  “Excellent,” I said, “best bet I ever won.”

  One meal and two glasses of wine later I felt satisfied. I rested my head on the back of Nick’s sofa and indulged in the last of my wine. I couldn’t decide what I enjoyed more, the warmth of the fire or the peace that came in silence. Nick came over and sat next to me with a perplexed look on his face.

  “What’s on your mind,” I said.

  He shifted his body weight to the side and faced me.

  “You said we could talk about us that night at dinner and we didn’t.”

  “I know I did. It’s just that we were having such a great time. I hoped it could wait,” I said.

  “That’s what you always say when I try to talk to you.”

  “I know, but––”

  “Whatever you need to say, say it. Get it out. Putting it off until tomorrow or the next day or six months from now won’t make a difference.”

  Therein lay the problem. I cared too much about his feelings to just put the words out there so they could hang in the air like a bunch of tiny daggers. It didn’t matter what I said, I had the uncanny ability to always say the wrong thing, and in this instance, I didn’t want to have any regrets.

  I patted him on the thigh.

  “I should get going,” I said. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Let’s do this later, okay?”

  I started to get up and he grabbed my waist and pulled me back down.

  “You over think everything,” he said. “Don’t you know that?”

  “No I don’t.”

  “Like hell. I can tell when I look at you. Your face gives it away. How can we ever have a decent relationship if we can’t communicate with each other?”

  “We think so differently,” I said.

  He buried his head in his palms and stared at the carpet.

  “Does that mean we shouldn’t try?”

  My attempt to stall him only made it worse. No matter how many times I went over this moment in my head I still didn’t know what to say. I knew he was frustrated with me, and I was even more frustrated with myself for not being able to make a decision.

  “You know what you want, Nick. But I’m not sure I do,” I said.

  “What does that even mean?”

  “You see our lives together, our future. You want to make plans, take the next step in our relationship,” I said.

  “And you don’t? I thought that’s what we both wanted.”

  “I like what we have right now. I don’t know why we need to change it,” I said. “You have your place, I have mine. We are together almost every night. Why isn’t that enough––what is it about living together that means so much to you?”

  “It’s what I want.”

  The conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and I didn’t know what else to say so I said nothing.

  Nick shook his head and then stood up and went into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Lord Berkeley raised his head to check on the commotion and then curled back up in a ball again. My body felt like it was trying to shut down, and there was no auto pilot I could engage to make me feel any better.

  I sat on the sofa for the next ten minutes while Nick remained in his room. Part of me wanted to go in after him and the other wanted to leave. After a few more minutes, I left.

  CHAPTER 17

  I kept a low-profile distance between myself and Parker. The canary yellow proved an unworthy adversary in a sea of otherwise white and grey cars. My Audi held steady as it zigged and zagged down Parley’s Canyon in an attempt to keep up.

  Today my long hair was fastened with a rubber band and concealed beneath a brown paisley newsboy hat. I felt confident Parker hadn’t seen me a couple nights before, but I didn’t want to take any chances. When we reached the city, the sky changed color, a defenseless victim of the inversion. The once luminous skies mutated to ashy shades of gray that reminded me of murky pond water. I recalled a conversation I once had with a native of the beehive state who asked where I was from, and upon hearing my answer, turned up his nose at me in disgust. I believe the terminology used was eww as if my sunny California air paled in comparison to the crisp, clean air in Utah. I wondered what he thought of his skies now. Eww indeed.

  Parker merged onto the interstate at the bottom of the canyon and became harder to keep track of. With the additional lanes, he had a lot more room on which to perfect the art of the weave. He passed several exits before he bid farewell to the freeway and took the off ramp on sixth south. We approached the first red light and Parker revved his engine and sped right through it leaving me stuck behind two other vehicles. I drove around for the next fifteen minutes, but I saw no sign of him anywhere. According to Audrey, Parker’s schedule dictated he would fly out that night which meant today was my last chance if I didn’t want to wait another week.

  I rounded third south and caught a glimpse of a shiny yellow diamond in the rough stationed in front of The Rusty Nail, a new restaurant in town. I parked my car and waited. The restaurant door opened some fifty minutes later and a woman in a bohemian style cap and long hair in loose braids stepped out and out stepped Parker with her. Her arm was intertwined with his. She tilted her head back and laughed and then nuzzled into his shoulder. He lifted back a piece of her blond locks and whispered something in her ear. Halfway across the street blondie stumbled a bit. I wondered if it had to do with the ridiculous four inch wedge shoes she wore, or if happy hour was to blame. She reached out to open the car door and he yanked her back and then grabbed the handle himself and opened it for her. What a perfect gentleman. Before she entered the car he dipped her backward and planted an impassioned kiss on her lips. With her back arched and her right heel raised, it had all the makings of a Billy Wilder movie. Time to roll the credits.

  Blondie drove by and I jotted down her license plate number. I started to enter it into my computer when Parker started his engine. I assumed he would head straight for the airport so it came as a surprise when he turned his car in the opposite direction. His next stop was the flower shop where he emerged with a bouquet of lilies. He threw them in the passenger seat and drove to the Lakewood Chateau Townhomes. The valet at the front took his keys and with flowers in hand, Parker headed inside.

  I parked non-valet in the only parking spot I could find at the end of the street and went in after him. I managed to slide inside without much notice and saw Parker enter the men’s room. Now all I had to do was wait. I stood a few feet away and examined a brochure of the place until he exited.

  Show time.

  I crossed him diagonally and bumped him hard enough that the book and pen I carried fell from my hands and crashed onto the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  He bent down and grasped my pen while I went for my book.

  Our eyes locked and he grinned.

  “No need to apologize,” he said.

  I took my pen from his hand and our eyes connected again. This time I held his gaze a bit longer and smiled a half-sweet, half-seductive smile.

  “Well,” I said, “thanks again.”

  I turned and started for the door.

  “Wait just a minute,” he said.

  Hook, line, and sinker. It was too easy.

  “At least give me your name before you leave.”

  “Alright then. It’s Sloane.”

  He stuck out his free hand.

  “Good to meet you Sloane, I’m Parker.”

  “Nice flowers,” I said.

  He scrutinized them for a moment like he forgot they were there.
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  “Oh these, I bought them for my mother,” he said. “It’s her birthday tonight.”

  It sounded truthful enough, but his eyes told a different story.

  “Well, Parker. Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “You live around here?”

  “Not too far,” I said.

  “I haven’t seen you before. I’m sure I would have remembered.”

  “Big city,” I said.

  He shook his head.

  “I meant here at Lakewood. Are you a resident?”

  “Oh, right.” I said. “Not yet. I’m in the market though so I thought I’d check it out.”

  “I see.”

  “What about you, do you live here?” I said.

  “Sometimes.”

  “And other times?” I said.

  “I have a house in Park City, but I travel a lot for work. My family has a private jet so I can’t complain.”

  One would assume that line fascinated the ladies. A man with a house in Park City, a townhome on the side, a private jet, and a sports car that looked like a hornet. Most women would find him hard to resist. I wasn’t most women.

  He looked at his watch.

  “Would you recommend this place?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “My townhouse isn’t like the others you’ve probably seen. You can take a look at it if you like.”

  “That’s nice of you, but I don’t want to––”

  “I insist,” he said.

  He glanced at his watch again.

  “How about tomorrow?” he said.

  “Sounds great.”

  “I’m number 312. Does eleven o’clock work for you?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said. “Oh, and enjoy your mother’s birthday party.”

  He picked a lily from the bouquet of flowers and extended it to me.

  “I look forward to tomorrow.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  More than he knew.

  CHAPTER 18

  Parker had been so swept up in our tête-à-tête he failed to notice the bug I planted on him during my little mishap. Now I just needed it to pay off. I hoofed it through the parking garage and ensured his car remained in its space, and then waited for the fun to begin. I passed the time by running blondies plates. They belonged to one Zoey Kendrick with an address off 18th and Walnut in Sugarhouse.

  There was a knock on Parker’s door, followed by the click-clack of heels. Blondie perhaps?

  “I’ve missed you,” Parker said.

  I wondered how much you could miss a person you spent time with a few hours earlier.

  They shuffled around and then kissed.

  “For you,” Parker said.

  “They’re beautiful,” a woman’s voice said.

  “And you’re even more beautiful.”

  “Come, sit down,” he said. “Tell me about your life since I last saw you. I want to know everything.”

  “I’ve been good.”

  “Are you happy to see me?” he said.

  “Of course.”

  I wasn’t convinced. Something about the tone in her voice wasn’t right.

  “Why don’t you lie down on the bed and let me give you a back rub, it will be just like old times.”

  There was urgency in his voice and a sense of inquietude in hers.

  “I’ve got something for you,” he said.

  “The flowers were enough.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

  She was silent.

  “Take your clothes off,” he said.

  The man wasted no time.

  “But I thought…”

  “Our dinner reservations aren’t for another hour,” he said. “That gives us plenty of time, and I don’t want to waste another minute of it.”

  “You said we could take it slow.”

  “There’s no need to play coy with me. I want you,” he said.

  “Can’t we talk? I just got here.”

  “Come on Daniela, please,” he said. “Don’t make me beg.”

  Daniela? Unless blondie changed her name in the past few hours the proverbial poster boy of love lacked a faithful bone in his cheating, philandering body.

  The bed creaked.

  “Would you like to remove your clothes or should I do it for you?” he said.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  There was movement on the bed and then something ripped.

  “Stop, you’re hurting me.”

  “And what about me, Daniela? Have you considered what you’re doing to me, haven’t I treated you nice? I bought you beautiful flowers, I made arrangements for an expensive dinner for the two of us, and this is how you show your appreciation––by refusing me.”

  “Stop it Parker, please.”

  “Stop it Parker, you’re hurting me,” he said.

  His attempt to taunt her went unanswered.

  “I’ll teach you to refuse me you ungrateful bitch.”

  His voice took on an incensed tone, a far cry from the gentleman that wooed me earlier that evening.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  I turned the key in the ignition and slammed my foot on the petal. I didn’t want to blow our meeting the next day, but no woman deserved this.

  There was a crash and then a thud and something hit the ground.

  “Get back here!” he said.

  The door slammed.

  I pulled up in front of the building and a dark-haired woman sprinted out. One look at her disheveled hair and bare feet and I knew I had the right woman.

  “Daniela,” I said, “get in.”

  “Why should I, I don’t know you.”

  “I’m a friend. Trust me please.”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  I grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open.

  “It’s okay,” I said, “let me get you out of here.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “Who are you, and how do you know my name?”

  I owed her an explanation, but how much of one I wanted to give, I didn’t know.

  “Where to?” I said.

  “Cottonwood Heights.”

  “Are you okay?” I said.

  She shook her head.

  “And Parker?”

  “His family jewels might be sore for a while, but I’m sure he’ll survive. He always does. Wait, how did you…?”

  “How do you know Parker?” I said.

  She gazed at me.

  “You first.”

  “It’s a long story. He’s the ex-boyfriend of a friend of mine’s sister. Have you known him long?”

  “About a year.”

  “Were you two involved?” I said.

  “If you mean in a romantic way, yeah.”

  “For how long?” I said.

  “About nine months. I broke it off a couple weeks ago.”

  It crossed my mind that Charlotte found out about his dirty little secret and that she paid for it with her life.

  “Why did you break up?” I said.

  She sighed and looked out my car window.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “When did he hit you last?” I said.

  She looked startled that I knew, or assumed to know. At this point it was more of a hunch and I knew I had pushed her with my questions, but right now she was stuck in my car and unless she opened the door and flung herself out, she had no place else to go.

  “Look lady, I don’t even know you so what’s with the twenty questions?”

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

  She massaged her arm with her left hand which jerked a tiny bit every time she touched it.

  “Are you hurt?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “I wanted to break it off for good this time. That’s why I went to see him. How could I be so stupid, sono cosi stupido!”

 
I wasn’t sure what she meant, but it didn’t sound good.

  “You loved him, didn’t you?” I said.

  She hung her head but didn’t say a word.

  “Do you know a woman named Charlotte Halliwell or Zoey Kendrick?”

  She shook her head back and forth.

  “Should I?”

  “From what I understand they were both involved with Parker,” I said.

  Her face hardened. She didn’t know.

  “What makes you think there are others?”

  “Up until a few months ago Parker planned to marry Charlotte Halliwell, but then she called it off,” I said.

  She contracted her hand into a fist and thrust it into my leather seat––two times.

  “That bastard!”

  “If it’s any consolation, I believe he kept all of you in the dark. I think he wanted it that way,” I said.

  “And you think this Charlotte person, she didn’t know either?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said.

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Because,” I said, “she’s dead.”

  She took her hand and shielded her eyes and squeezed both temples.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” I said. “It would help me if you could tell me more about your relationship with him.”

  “How did you know I was going to meet Parker tonight, and how did you happen to drive up at the exact time I ran out, like you expected me.”

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  “Fine by me, you don’t answer my questions, I don’t answer yours.”

  It seemed we were at an impasse. I didn’t want to give up my true motive and she didn’t want to pour her life story out to a stranger. One of us needed to relent. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were closed––the answer was obvious.

  “Alright,” I said.

  For the next several minutes I fed her rudimentary details about my interest in Parker Stanton and hoped she would keep quiet long enough for me to confront him myself. I made no mention of my earlier run in with him that evening.

  “That’s crazy,” she said, when I finished.

  “Now can you see why I need your help?” I said.

  “And you want to know if I think Parker is capable of murder?”