"There's a breakfasty restaurant on Evans," Jana said. "They also serve dinner. Nothing fancy, but decent. Meat and potatoes. My kind of food."
"Fine with me." We climbed back into my car. Once we were out of the parking lot, I zigged and zagged up and down side streets, to make sure we weren't being followed. She directed me to the restaurant, located near a tire shop and a dry cleaners. The place was nearly empty and the man at the cashier's station told us to sit wherever we wanted.
Jana opted for the meatloaf special. It didn't appeal to me, so I ordered a Denver omelet.
When our food had arrived, I said, "We can call the Florida DMV first thing tomorrow morning. Maurice already has the number. They probably open at nine, Eastern Standard."
"Come into the twenty first century, my Studmuffin," she scoffed. "We'll get online as soon as we get back to your house. There are probably a dozen websites that, for a small fee, will give us everything we need. I'll be able to tell you everything you want to know about Lindsey McCready, up to and including her bust size."
"That's just what we need to know," I said with a laugh. "But how do you know that Lindsey McCready isn't actually--"
"Isn't what?" she prompted.
Something that had been nagging at me all day finally clicked. I leaned back in my chair and took my time thinking it through.
Finally, she said, "Are you okay?"
"I am. Jana, I think I know who killed Helen Emerson."
I started to explain.
Jana. was skeptical of my theory. "I admit," she said, shaking her head dubiously, "that you could be onto something. But it seems awfully flimsy to me. I'd put the odds at one in a thousand. No, one in a million."
"Maybe, but it would explain the 'how' part of this little drama. I guess we'll find out when we get more information on this Lindsey McCready."
I paid our bill and we left the restaurant. After making sure nobody was following us, we made our way to Fort Larsen. Inside, we headed straight for the little office next to the living room and booted up the computer. In a flash, we were online. I let Jana take the lead, since she was technically the investigator hired by the estate.
Also, she grabbed the mouse out of my hand and commandeered my chair.
I lost track of the time as she navigated from site to site. For twenty-five dollars, she was able to access Lindsey McCready's motor vehicle record, including the photo.
"Nice likeness," I commented drily.
"Son of a bitch! You were right." She eyed me with an admiring expression. "How do you think of these things?"
I shrugged. "They just come to me. Maybe I'm a mystic."
She patted my face fondly. "Maybe you're just full of shit."
"Could be," I agreed. I gestured toward the computer. "Can you do a background search on our new friend, Lindsey?"
"You bet I can."
Half an hour and seventy-five dollars later, we knew everything we needed to know about McCready. The pieces of the puzzle were rapidly falling into place.
I pasted an I-told-you-so look on my face. "Do you still think I'm full of shit?"
"I'm reserving judgment. You may have just gotten lucky. Besides, we're still stuck on your 'how' problem. Let's go double or nothing. How do you spell it?"
"D-e-t-o-n-e-a-t-i-n-e."
She turned her attention to the computer. It took her a long time to find what we were looking for. And, even then, it was iffy. Possible, but definitely not conclusive.
"How do we find out for sure?" she said.
"I'll take care of that. We'll know by tomorrow night."
"Why? What are you doing during the day?"
I grinned at her. "Taking some time for recreation. I need a day off."
Her voice rose with anger. "What the hell are you talking about? We need to--"
"I'm going to hit the slopes," I said breezily. "Have you ever been skiing?"
She stared at me, but then a comprehending expression spread across her face. "Are you kidding? I was team captain my senior year at D.U. You'd better be ready to rumble."
* * * *
We didn't leave for the mountains until nearly nine o'clock Friday morning. There were quite a few distractions, all of them unavoidable.
First, I called the office to let Diana know I wouldn't be in.
"Are you ill?"
"No, I'm fine. I'm a man on a mission."
"Then good luck. Andrew Emerson has called twice. Some family dispute." She chuckled. "In addition to being a law firm, do we now offer twenty-four hour crisis counseling?"
I laughed. "Even if we did, the Emersons are beyond my help. I'll call him. What's the number?"
She ticked off the digits. "It's a hotel. He said they're in room 502."
"Thanks." I dialed the number and the desk clerk put me through to Andrew's room. He answered on the first ring. "Andrew? This is Adam Larsen."
He spoke in a hushed voice. "Oh, thank you for calling me back. Claudia and Joyce are in the next room, screaming at each other."
"I can hear it," I said, which was true. Even through the telephone, I could hear them shouting, though I couldn't make out what they were saying. I did hear the word, "bitch," but I couldn't tell which one of them said it. "I need to meet with all of you. Tomorrow morning, if possible. Nine o'clock. I know it's a Saturday, but this is important."
"That's okay. We can be there."
"Can you keep those two from killing each other until then?"
"Oh, sure. this is nothing new. Actually, they're going shopping together. That's what started it. Tonight is Tonaldo's Spring Moonlight sale, and Joyce wants to buy a wedding dress. She says if Claudia interferes, she and Jason are going to elope."
I smiled to myself. Tonaldo's was one of Denver's most expensive women's clothing stores. Even I, who had never had any reason to shop for women's clothing, knew about their once-a-year midnight sale. How serious could the sisters' argument be if they were fighting over a wedding dress?
"What does Jason have to say about all this?"
"He's keeping out of it. He went downstairs to the bar."
"Smart man. Andrew, other than going shopping, you need to make then promise not to do anything before tomorrow morning. And I mean anything."
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"Maybe. We've found the will."
"And?" he asked.
"Tomorrow morning," I said. "Nine o'clock. Tell your sisters we'll also resolve the issue of the wedding. We also need Wiggins and Jason. I'm inviting a few other people, as well. I'll arrange for Wiggins to be here."
"This sounds awfully mysterious. Can't you tell me--"
"Tomorrow morning."
Jana had padded into the kitchen. "Well?"
I smiled. "The game is afoot."
"What?" she said in an irritated tone.
I waved it away with a flip of my wrist. "Never mind. I have a mission for you." I eyed her, standing there in a faded sweatshirt and blue jeans. "I think you need a wardrobe change."
Something came over her, a fury that quickly spread from her face through her entire body. Her hands balled up into tight fists. "Don't you dare try to remake me into your image of--"
I didn't bother bothering to conceal my amusement. "Calm down, Jana. You look like Xena, Warrior Princess. This is business."
"Yeah?" she demanded, still looking angry. "How do you figure that?"
I explained what I wanted her to do.
Which calmed her down considerably.
My next call was to Dennis Breckenridge. He wasn't in yet, and I left my cell phone number and a request that he call me as soon as possible. Wiggins, on the other hand, answered right away. He didn't ask any questions. He merely agreed to be at my office Saturday at nine.
The last call took some doing. Jana had pulled up the web site on my computer and, after calling the main number and being transferred around, I finally got connected with the person I wanted to talk to. It took some major persuading, but he reluctantly agreed to meet with us at one o'clock.
That done, I turned to Jana. "Let's go skiing."
The Summit Ski Area was located along I-70, about sixty miles past Dillon. The trip typically took about an hour and a half.
As we approached the Eisenhower Tunnel, my cell phone rang. It was Breckenridge. "My office said you called. It sounded urgent."
"Important, not necessarily urgent."
"You know, I'm not sure I want to talk to you," he said with a nervous laugh. "Especially if you're calling to tell me you've found a buyer for Emerson Mining."
"We haven't. I've got an invitation for you. The Emerson family and a few interested parties are meeting at my office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. You and Mr. Raven are strongly urged to attend."
I could hear the tension in his voice. "What's the agenda?"
"It's something that will definitely interest you. Hopefully, in a good way."
There was a long pause. "We'll be there. I don't like this, but we'll be there."
"Too bad you can't bring Mr. Donaldson."
"Why?"
"Because this directly affects him. I assume he's still in custody?"
"He is," Breckenridge said. "So it's like that?"
"It's like that."
"You work fast, don't you? We'll be there. I'm looking to see you pull one of those proverbial rabbits out of your hat."
When we reached the ski area, I pulled the Lumina van into the huge parking lot, which was nearly full. I had to squeeze into a narrow space between a pickup truck and an old Willy's Jeep. March is a busy time for the ski areas, and the place was swarming with skiers and snowboarders on spring break. The morning proved relatively uneventful, except for Jana's insisting we had to ski the black diamond slopes, so she could show off her skiing prowess. I managed to avoid breaking any bones, although I took a nasty spill on something called Devil's Alley, which was steep, rutted, and covered with a crusty snow that the edges of my skis couldn't seem to penetrate.
At noon, I had to remind her why we were there, and we left the slopes to attend the meeting I had set up. That leg of our journey proved particularly fruitful, and nailed down the last piece of the puzzle.
Jana was so pleased that she even stopped complaining about what I wanted her to do that evening.