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GORDON’S PULSE TRIPPED. A lead? “Was the agent someone who’d shown the house before?”
Judy checked the pages, looked at the screen, checked again. “No. It’s from an office in Denver. None of the twenty-four were within the dates you wanted.”
“What was the date of the one that doesn’t fit?”
“August twelfth. There was no reason to show the house. It was under contract. Unless ...”
“Unless what.”
“It could have been the buyers wanted to show it to someone else, like a friend or relative. Or there was an inspection scheduled.”
“Shouldn’t you have been involved?”
“For the inspection, yes. If the buyers wanted someone they knew to see it, not necessarily.” She wriggled her nose. “Wait. August twelfth—” She tapped her keyboard. “I had a medical appointment that morning, and took the rest of the day off since I didn’t have any showings.”
“Why would the buyers, assuming they wanted a friend to see a house in Mapleton, use a Denver firm?”
Judy seemed overwhelmed by all the possible explanations.
Gordon suspected she was good at her job, as long as everything went according to plan. “Who found the house for the buyers? Did you?”
“No.” She named a Denver-based firm. “They have offices all over the country. The prospective buyers lived in Denver. They wanted to retire to a small town, but it makes sense they’d have started with a Denver company.”
Judy’s answers merely created new questions. “May I have a copy of the most recent list of showings?” Gordon said.
“Of course.” She handed him the page she’d printed out. “I can access this any time.”
“Would you mind checking off the agents you know personally?”
She hiked a shoulder, but reached for a highlighter from the assorted implements in a mug on her desk and marked eight of them. He took the pages, added them to his folder.
“I assume the house is off limits for showing now,” Judy said.
“Until we’ve cleared the scene, I’m afraid so. I’ll make sure you’re notified as soon as it is.”
What was it with this woman? Not his business. She might be scraping to make ends meet, living from contract to contract, commission to commission. He thanked her, stood, gave another thanks to Vance, and left.
From his SUV, he called the Evergreen Police Department, identified himself, and asked for the officer handling the Budweitz case. “I’m in Evergreen on another case, and I wondered if you had time to chat for a couple of minutes.”
“I’m Lieutenant Oscar Lamar. Pittman’s in charge of the case, but he’s off today. I’m in the loop. A chief of police wants to talk about the case? Is there a problem?”
“None whatsoever. Mapleton’s a tiny force and when we get involved in a homicide, everyone pitches in. Even the chief.”
“Yvonne Budweitz wasn’t killed in Mapleton, though,” Lamar said. “We’ve been relaying our findings to your officer, Ed Solomon.”
Gordon explained the homicide that had brought him to Evergreen. “Since that one is a Mapleton case, Officer Solomon’s focus will be shifted there. We’ve got multiple cases straddling multiple jurisdictions. I’ve found face to face often opens new lines of thought, but if you’re busy, not a problem.”
“I can squeeze in a few minutes. I agree coordinating multiple departments can create complications, but our connection on this one is the husband, who’s been in the wind.”
Gordon didn’t want to continue on the phone, not if Lamar might construe his questions as doubting Evergreen’s force could handle the job. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Tell you what. I’m overdue for a break, and I’m famished. Meet me at the coffee shop across the street from the station.”
Gordon found the shop in question. He went inside, looked around, and a beanpole of a dark-skinned man in uniform rose from a table at the back and waved him over.
“Oscar Lamar.” The man wrapped his hands around a mug of coffee. “Take a load off.”
Gordon sat, ordered a cup of decaf, and ignored the raised eyebrows on both Lamar’s and the server’s faces. “Thanks for meeting with me.” He got straight to the point. “So, no word on the whereabouts of Budweitz or his girlfriend? Not another out-of-town job for him?”
The server returned with his coffee and a bowl of stew for Lamar.
Lamar shoveled in a bite, chewed, swallowed before speaking. “According to his employer, he’s taking some time off. Bereavement leave, after his wife died. The girlfriend—Darlene Willoughby—was overly cooperative, had her alibis lined up like a marching band drumline. Admitted knowing Budweitz, admitted to an affair, admitted she knew he was married, but his wife and he were having marital issues. Next thing we know, she’s gone. Landlord said she paid her next month’s rent in advance, said she was going to Boston to take care of her ailing mother. We’ve called her cell a couple times. No answer. Not enough probable cause to get a warrant for her apartment.”
Gordon had his notebook out, was getting all this down. Darlene’s last name was Willoughby? A far cry from Bud’s statement giving her name as Girard or Gerald. He lifted his gaze to Lamar, gave a head shake. “Boston. Yet another jurisdiction. What about Budweitz’s apartment? Did he pay his rent in advance, too?”
Lamar stopped, a forkful of stew halfway to his mouth, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Budweitz’s address was a fake. He never rented that apartment. Moved in with his lady friend. I’d have sworn Pittman updated your officer.”
“I don’t think Solomon would have forgotten to mention that.”
“I’ll have words with Pittman.” Lamar resumed eating his stew.
“I’ll verify with Solomon,” Gordon said, more to avoid a who said what confrontation than because he thought Solomon wouldn’t have updated him. “I was out of town for a few days, and it’s possible he forgot to mention it.”
Lamar’s expression said letting things slip through the cracks might be a recurring issue with Pittman.
“Any other viable suspects?” Gordon asked.
“Not on this end. Centennial’s looking into the wife. So far, nobody with motive to want her dead.”
“We’ve still got a BOLO out for Budweitz in Mapleton.” Gordon reached for his wallet, fished out a couple of bills. “I’ll make sure Solomon gets these updates for our files.” He paused, turned as if to leave, then pivoted. “I know your force is on top of it, but would you mind if I went to the apartment building, knocked on the girlfriend’s door? Just in case Budweitz is hiding out there? Catch him off guard.”
“Be my guest. Landlord’s supposed to notify us if there’s any activity in the apartment, but he’s not the most reliable resident of Evergreen. Patrol swings by when they can.”
Gordon drove to Budweitz’s apartment building. Rather, the girlfriend’s building. He parked on the street, far enough away so his official SUV wouldn’t be noticed by the apartment’s tenants, and called Solomon.
If anything had slipped through the cracks, it was time to patch them.