Audrey’s alleged murder declaration piqued my interest. “Forgive me, I’m not trying to discount what you’re saying, but from what I understand, your sister ran into a tree while she was skiing.”
“I know how it looks,” she said. “I tried giving the cops my theory, and they laughed it off like I’d just escaped from the loony bin. My sister wasn’t some newbie. She started skiing at the age of two.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect, but even experienced skiers crash now and then.”
“By the time Charlotte was twenty she’d been to the World Championships twice. She has a silver medal, for heaven’s sake. She skied at Wildwood just about every day.”
“I didn’t know,” I said.
Audrey gestured toward the window with her hand. “Look out there,” she said.
I looked outside but saw nothing. Maybe she was crazy.
“Take a good look. Nothing but blue skies all week. Now you tell me, how does someone with my sister’s experience run into a tree on a clear day?” She bounced her shoulders up and down. “I guess that doesn’t point to murder though. You probably agree with the cops.”
In all my years as a PI, no one had ever presented a similar case to me.
“Can I ask you some questions?” I said.
She nodded.
“Did your sister ever sustain any skiing injuries that might have caused an accident?”
“A broken arm a couple of times when she was a teenager and a broken leg once.” Her eyes flashed. “Now that I think about it, Charlotte fell out of the back of our dad’s truck when she was a kid and hit her head on a boulder. She almost died. It knocked her unconscious, and when she came to, she said she’d been to the other side, you know, died and stuff.”
“I wonder if that would––”
“It wouldn’t. When the doctor checked her out, he said she was fine. She was in perfect health the day she died.”
“Did she take any medications?” I said.
She shook her head.
“You said she wanted your advice. Any idea what she needed to discuss with you?”
Audrey fidgeted with the bottom of her sweater. It rolled up at the ends and she smoothed it back down with her fingers, but as soon as she let go, it rolled back up again. “She didn’t say. She said we’d talk about it when we were in person. I figured I’d find out later, so I didn’t push it.”
“What about her tone of voice during the conversation…did it seem like anything was wrong?” I said.
“She sounded nervous, and Charlotte never got nervous. She had a glass half full approach to life, even when she had a good reason to be stressed.”
Sometimes the aloof ones had the most to hide.
“How were things at work?” I said.
“She liked her job, but she wanted to transfer to another agency.”
“Any idea why?”
“Money, I guess. She was offered a better commission somewhere else.”
“What about her co-workers, any problems there?” I said.
“From what I know, she got along fine with everyone.”
“Did she tell anyone she planned on leaving?”
“Her partner, Vicki, and her assistant, Bridget, of course. I assumed the three of them were going together. They worked as a team.”
“So if it wasn’t a problem with work, then––”
Audrey leaned forward. “Let me save you some time. I want you to check out her fiancé, Parker Stanton, or ex-fiancé, I should say.”
“Why him?” I said.
“A couple months ago, she broke off their engagement.”
I sipped my hot chocolate. It was cold, but spitting it back into my cup in front of the client seemed an indecorous thing to do, so I swished it around and swallowed, hard.
“What was the reason for the break up?” I said.
“Parker spent a lot of time away from her. He traveled to New York and was always in meetings and stuff for the family business. They kept him away three, sometimes four days a week. Then he’d fly back to see Charlotte. Toward the end of their relationship, he only came home about one day a week though.”
“Is that why she ended it?” I said.
I felt like a therapist engaged in a game of twenty questions.
“Charlotte acted like it didn’t bother her, but I could tell it did. One weekend we went on a girls’ trip together, just the two of us. Charlotte called Parker several times, but he didn’t answer. Then on Sunday night, he called to say he’d been having phone problems and hadn’t received any of her messages. He talked to her for a few minutes and then made some lame excuse about how he needed to go meet with his dad.”
“How did Charlotte react?”
Audrey rested both elbows on the desk. “She broke off the engagement.”
“What about Parker?” I said.
“He called, sent gifts, and even booked two tickets to Hawaii. He said he would do anything…all he wanted was a second chance.”
“And did she give him one?” I said.
“She told him she didn’t ever want to see or hear from him again.”
“I guess she meant it.”
A cold chill swept across my face, and I realized the window was still open. I closed it.
“What did you think of Parker?” I said.
“Spoiled rich kid who spends his life doing his daddy’s grunt work. In my opinion the only reason he involves himself in the business in the first place is to convince everyone he can make it on his own. But everyone knows he’s daddy’s lackey.”
“Wow,” I said.
“Don’t get me wrong, Parker played nice. He treated my sister like a princess, showering her with gifts, showing her what it was like to have money. But there was something off about him. I don’t know how to explain it, but the guy gave me the creeps.”
The way her face wrinkled when she said the word creeps reminded me of a baby eating their first spoonful of creamed peas.
“How so?” I said.
“He’s the only man I’ve ever met who can sweet talk his way out of anything.”
“Until she dumped him and called off the wedding,” I said.
Audrey slumped back in the chair. “He called me.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago. He wanted me to help him get Charlotte back.”
“And did you?” I said.
“I told him he could go to hell.”
“Point taken.”
“Look, I wasn’t privy to all the details of their breakup, but she called it quits, which was good enough for me. Parker flipped when I said no. He said he’d get Charlotte back with or without my help.”
“Do you think he’d kill Charlotte—like if he couldn’t have her, no one could?” I said.
Audrey paused. “That’s what I want you to find out.”
I tapped my pen on the desk, considering what she’d said. Audrey shifted in her chair and awaited my verdict.
“Please, Ms. Monroe. I can’t stop thinking about the urgency in Charlotte’s voice the last time we talked. Something was off.”
“Let me see what I can dig up,” I said, “but you need to understand, I might not find anything.”
“Maybe not, but it’s a start.”
We went over the necessary fees, and I had her sign the paperwork. I stuck my hand out and she gave it a firm shake. “I’ll be in touch,” I said.
Audrey walked to the door and glanced back. “Thanks for not treating me like I’m crazy.”
“For what it’s worth, you seem perfectly normal to me, and I’m sorry about your sister.”
“There is one more thing,” I said. “I requested an autopsy, but they’re backed up right now, and I don’t know how long it will take for the results to come back from the lab. I can’t get anyone to return my calls.”
“I might be able to help,” I said. “But I would need access to Charlotte’s body.”
“She’ll be transferred to the funeral home today. Will that work?”
I nodded.
“And now I need a favor from you,” I said.
“Name it.”
“I’d like to take a look at her place. Do you have a way to get in?”
Audrey stuck a hand into her purse and pulled out a key ring. She tinkered with it until the shiny silver one broke free. “1233 Powderhorn Street. Let me know if you find anything.”