Hiding in my littered little office, I leaned over the computer keyboard and pretended to be engrossed in what appeared on the screen. The truth was, I had stared at the same property description for ten minutes. I'd even resorted to turning off the continual-motion screensaver—a breathtaking view of sparkling glaciers and mountain lakes—otherwise, anyone who passed my office door would know I was watching test patterns. I wanted to appear busy. Perhaps that would dissuade more sympathetic comments and the myriad questions.
My associates and fellow real estate agents at Shamrock Realty had been shocked that I'd walked in on a murder scene. Suicides were one thing, but murder? They all offered their sympathies, along with their questions. People couldn't help it. They were curious..Murder was not a common occurrence in Fort Collins. Sixty miles north of Denver, we had a gorgeous climate that spoiled us rotten, recreational opportunities for the rugged or the retired, more cultural amenities than we could ever take advantage of, and few of the big city problems. Folks just didn't go around stabbing each other in the throat.
I rubbed between my eyes, trying to make the memory go away. A woman's voice interrupted. "Why don't you go home, Kate. You look tired."
Spinning my chair around, I watched Veronica Kelly settle into the comfy client chair before my desk. Slender, sixtyish, and silver-haired, Ronnie started Shamrock Realty twenty-five years ago, right before the recession hit Colorado. Somehow, she had survived while other agencies, far larger and richer, had gone under. She was my mentor and could be counted on for calm, considered advice, no matter what the problem. And in real estate, there always seemed to be a problem. We regularly put out fires. Ronnie, as owner and managing broker, was the voice of experience. She'd seen everything, and she was tough as nails.
I leaned back in my chair and exhaled a deep breath. "I can't, Ronnie. I have to write an offer for the Kerchoffs, then take it over to the other agent. After that, I had planned to go to Amanda's."
Ronnie peered at me. "Have you heard from Amanda yet?"
"No, not yet. She's probably still in shock."
"You will. Especially since you were the one to find Mark. She's going to want you to tell her all about it. I don't care if they were divorcing, she's his wife."
"I know. I'm dreading her call." Meeting Ronnie's direct, blue gaze, I said, "She still loves him... or loved him. You know that, don't you? Despite everything, Amanda never stopped loving Mark. That's why she stayed all those years."
Ronnie pursed her lips and tapped a sculptured nail against the chair arm. "That may be, Kate. But the message she left on your voice-mail was damning. The police don't have the benefit of years of friendship to color their perception of Amanda's behavior. You said yourself that Bill was acting suspicious, even before he knew about the message."
I sank my elbows on the desk and rubbed my temples. "I know, I know. I can't believe she left that message. It's one thing to say in private, but—"
"But that's Amanda. Tempestuous, headstrong, and willful. She's always been that way, Kate. Like it or not, she's going to be Murder Suspect Number One."
"I don't even want to think—"
"Well, well, well! If it isn't Nancy Drew," an unwelcome voice sounded at the doorway.
I shut my eyes, not wanting to look. The most obnoxious real estate agent in all of Northern Colorado had suddenly appeared in my doorway. I recognized the voice from his annoying television commercials. At least his bus stop signs were silent. Just Larry Banks' blinding capped-tooth smile grinning out at you. And I thought the day had started off badly.
"What brings you over to our shop, Larry?" Ronnie asked, slanting a smile at the tall, impeccably-tailored man leaning against the doorframe. "What deal are you working?"
"I've got a buyer for Diane's Sunstone listing," he said, flashing his expensive smile. "And since I was here, I thought I'd drop by and see Kate. I didn't know she moonlighted for the cops."
Surprised that Fort Collins' mega-real estate agent even knew my name, I made an effort to smile. "You've got me confused with someone else, Larry. I'm just a hardworking broker who had the bad luck to walk into something awful."
Larry crossed his arms and slouched into a more relaxed position, as if he planned to stay a while. "Who was it, Kate? Any idea?"
I didn't have to feign amazement. "How would I know? That's for the police to find out."
"Aw, c'mon, your brother-in-law's the chief detective. You can't tell me he didn't give you a hint."
"The only thing Bill told me was to go home. That's all."
Larry's smile turned sly. "I bet Amanda did it. They've been fighting for years, and now he's divorcing her for some Denver chick."
The cold spot returned to my stomach. Ronnie was right. People were speculating already, and Amanda was Suspect Number One. Fortunately, I didn't have to respond.
Ronnie rose from her chair and observed, "Oh, that's like saying the butler did it, Larry." She took his arm, nudging him away from the doorway. "Can't you be more creative than that? Mark had been involved in a lot of deals over the years. Some of them went sour. You and I both know he'd made enemies."
"More than a few," Larry said, no longer smiling. Since Ronnie was directing him down the hall, he gave me a parting wave. "See you around, Kate."
Not if I see you first, I vowed. Relieved to be able to return to my computer search, I bent over the keyboard once more.
"Hey, Kate," another voice cut in. "I just heard. Man, that must have been gross! I mean, really."
"Yeah, it sure was, Ben." I nodded solemnly to our newest associate. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Ben Babbitt was fresh out of college and full of energy. He cut a broad swath on campus. Students loved him, and so did parents. He had made a killing in kiddie condos last year.
He raked his shaggy blond hair from his eyes. "Geez, was there blood everywhere or what? Did you touch the knife? Who do you think finished him?"
That was it. I was out of there. I sprang from my chair. "Yes, no, and I don't know. And don't ask anything else, Ben. I'm trying to forget." Snatching the Kerchoffs' offer from my desk, I shoved all four copies into my briefcase and headed for the door. The back door.
* * *
It was late afternoon before I'd obtained both Kerchoff signatures on the offer and delivered it to the listing broker's office. Once again, the sun was fast approaching the mountaintops as I drove to Amanda's. I involuntarily shivered. Just like yesterday. This was the same time I drove to the Schusters' house and found Mark.
My cell phone jangled its musical little sound. Amanda. It had to be. I hadn't heard from her all day. My daughter's voice sounded, instead.
"Mom? How are you? Uncle Bill just told me what happened. How awful for you. I'm so sorry you had to see that." Jeannie's voice radiated concern.
"I am too, Jeannie. I'm trying to forget I ever saw it."
She paused. "Who do you think killed Mark, Mom? He was so... well, so respected by everybody. Who do you think?"
Suppressing my annoyance that everyone seemed to think I had an inside track on the investigation, I sighed loudly. "I have no idea. Everybody's asked me that today, like I know something. I'm just as clueless as everyone else."
"You don't think Amanda did it, do you?"
Appalled that my own flesh and blood could so easily suspect my old friend, I snapped, "Of course not! That's crazy. She loved Mark. She really did. Divorce or no divorce. She couldn't have done it. I know everybody suspects her. Damn, that's so unfair!"
"Okay, Mom, okay. It was just a question. Don't get mad."
I exhaled a loud and purposeful breath. "I'm not mad. It's just that everybody's been asking, and I'm worried the police will think that, too." I deliberately refrained from mentioning the voice-mail message. That was privileged information and Bill had warned me not to tell anyone. I'd already slipped with Ronnie, but I knew I could trust her.
"Well, I just wanted to know how you were doing. Do you want to come over and have dinner with me tonight?"
I pictured my daughter, the graduate student, living on a tight budget and student loans. Her idea of dinner would be tofu. Yummy. Oh, the sacrifices of motherhood.
"Gee, sweetie, that would be great. I'll be over a little later, though. I've got to go see Amanda first. She's still in shock, I think. She hasn't called."
"Okay, see you later. Love you."
"Love you too, Jeannie. Bye."
Somehow, the few moments of hearing her voice had chased away the chilly apprehension that had crept up all afternoon. What was I scared of, I wondered? That Amanda would appear dry-eyed and elated that her cheating husband would humiliate her no more? Had a whole day of other people's suspicions caused me to create my own?
* * *
A brilliant orange sunbeam reflected off the townhouse door knocker. I had to step aside or be blinded. Amanda opened the door. Unable to stop myself, I scrutinized her face for signs of grief. No makeup could disguise her eyes, bloodshot and deeply-shadowed beneath. Lack of sleep, probably. But no red puffiness which would indicate crying.
"Amanda, I'm so, so sorry," I offered. It was the only thing that came to mind at the moment. I reached out and hugged her. She hugged me back tightly for a long moment before breaking away.
"Come in, Kate," she said in a weary voice, stepping inside. "I was hoping you'd come. I called last night after Bill came, but your phone just rang, so I couldn't leave a message."
Feeling guilty, I said, "I'm sorry, Amanda. I just couldn't deal with anything more last night. And today I've been busy with clients until now. Otherwise, you know I'd have been here sooner. You haven't been alone, have you?"
She waved her hand as she sank heavily into the living room sofa. "Friends have been coming over all morning, nonstop. Marilyn brought me lunch, but I couldn't eat it." Amanda closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, as if trying to remember. Lines that I'd never noticed before seemed to have sprouted overnight. "Some of Mark's friends from the club were here till three. And then Jonathan and Sharon. They just left a little while ago."
Suddenly I felt enormous pity for Amanda, who had no children to come to her side at such a heartbreaking time. She and Mark had never had the time or the desire to have kids. Or so she'd said. I often wondered if it was really a shared decision or mostly Mark's. He had a certain lifestyle established. Kids definitely slowed you down.
I sat beside her on the sofa, sinking into the leather's embrace. Placing my hand over hers, I whispered, "Amanda, I can't believe this happened. Who would want to kill Mark?"
"You'd be surprised, Kate," she said in a husky voice, her eyes still closed. "Mark's done a lot of things over the years. A lot of deals. Not everyone in Fort Collins was in his fan club." A shudder seemed to run over her, and she sat up quickly. Fixing me with a piercing stare, her voice gained an edge. "I need to know what happened, Kate. What did you see? Was there a sign of anyone else over there?"
"No, Amanda, no one. But I did hear the officers talking about finding clothes spread all over the bedroom upstairs."
She peered at me. "Women's clothes?"
"I don't know, Amanda. Honest. I just overheard a comment Bill obviously wished I hadn't."
Amanda sank back into the sofa. "Start at the beginning, Kate. And don't leave anything out. No matter how awful. I want to hear everything."
I swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling that rose in my throat, took a deep breath, and did as my friend requested.