I sat across the street from Parker’s house. Sooner or later, he’d emerge with his flavor of the weekend, and when they did, I planned to lure Kristin away and get a little one on one time, woman to woman.
I opened my glove box, rifling around for a piece of gum until I found a pack containing a single, solitary piece. Maddie had taken care of the rest. I pulled out the empty pack and noticed a familiar piece of metal behind it. I took it out, rubbing my finger across the cold, hard surface. Some people threw salt over their shoulders for luck, but not me. I carried around my grandfather’s old FBI badge. It awakened memories of all the times he taught me to remember who I was, a Monroe, and never to forget it. I wondered what he’d think about the world now. So much had changed.
In my boredom I placed a call to Audrey and was grateful when she didn’t answer. Parker’s alibi checking out wasn’t the best news. I left a message.
A car turned up the road, passing me and circling around. It crept along the other side of the street with its headlights off and then parked one house away from Parker’s. In the darkness I couldn’t make out the driver, but the shape of the car told me everything; it was the man in black. When I’d looked up his plates, it turned out they were fakes.
Parker’s garage door opened, his car reversing out of the driveway. I crouched down while Parker drove by, counting seven Mississippis before sitting back up. Parker stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street allowing me time to catch up, but my interest had shifted to the man in black.
I started my car, positioning one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the holster of my gun. The man in black didn’t move. I took a deep breath, put the car into gear, and inched forward. He started his car and turned on the headlights. I pulled up alongside, and his window descended. His face was hard and dimpled in all the wrong places, like someone who’d been through a lot in their life.
I took a deep breath in. “I don’t know what you want with Parker, or why you’re here, or why you left the note you did the other night. But I—”
I’d scarcely uttered the words before another car turned up the road, one I identified immediately.
The man in black looked at me and smiled.
“Who are you?” I said.
He winked and stepped on the gas, speeding down the street.
The other car pulled beside me.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Coop said.
“Leaving.”
“I’m in charge of Parker’s tail tonight, and I don’t need your help.”
“He’s not here at the moment.”
“And how would you know?” he said.
“You don’t need my help, remember?”
I put my window back up and breathed a sigh of relief. With Parker long gone, the mystery man out of sight, and Coop assigned to watch over him, I called it a night. Kristin would be in town until the next day, giving me one last shot at talking to her.
My cell phone rang to an unknown number. I pressed the answer button. The voice on the other end said, “Stop following me!” Only it wasn’t a man’s voice, it was a woman’s.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said. “I’m not following anyone at present.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Who is this?” I said.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Her voice quivered with instability.
“I’d like to know who I’m speaking to,” I said, “or this conversation is over.”
“Then I have…well…nothing to say.”
She sniffled into the phone a few times.
“Bridget,” I said. “If this is you, I just wanted to ask you a few questions. I’m not the police, and I’m not after you.”
I waited.
“If you’re not following me, then who is?”
“Tell me where you are,” I said.
“I don’t know you. Why should I tell you anything?”
“I’m sure Charlotte’s death hasn’t been easy on you. All I need is for you to help me catch her killer. If you’re being followed, you need my help.”
“I…I don’t know. I have to go.”
“Wait, Bridget, please. Let’s try this: I’ll talk and you listen. You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to, and you can hang up anytime.”
There was no response, but the call was still connected, so I continued.
“A couple weeks ago Charlotte’s sister hired me to look into her death. At first it looked like an accident until we discovered she was poisoned. I know you two were close. All I want to know was if you know of anyone who wanted her dead. I know you’re on the run, and if you need my help––”
“I don’t. You said you have suspicions, who do you suspect?”
Try everyone from Parker Stanton to the evil troll lady in the dungeon of the real estate office.
“Parker Stanton, but his alibi checks out.”
“Of course it does. He’s Parker Stanton III, real estate tycoon and multi-millionaire, blah, blah, blah.”
Her tone of voice reminded me of Robin Leach of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.
“I take it you don’t like him?” I said.
“What’s not to like? He’s a rich, snobby brat who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. It’s the Stanton way.”
“The Stanton way?” I said.
“He does whatever to whomever and doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.”
“Do you think he killed her?”
“Parker, no. He’s just a sleazeball.”
Her response surprised me.
“How do you know it wasn’t him?” I said.
“If you asked me if I despise the guy, the answer is yes, but a killer? I don’t see it.”
I started to think she didn’t know Parker as much as she thought she did.
“Did he ever abuse Charlotte?”
“Parker was a little rough with her a few times. I was the only one Charlotte told, and she asked me not to say anything to anyone. The last time he hit her she had a few bruises. She threatened to break it off and he never touched her again. And then she found out about the other women.”
“Which ended their relationship for good,” I said.
“Yes.”
“I know about the altercation between the two of you at a real estate party. Was it over the abuse?”
“I’ve already said too much.”
The line was silent for several seconds.
“Bridget, are you still there?” But it was too late; I’d pushed too far.