Lauren poked her head in the door around two o'clock in the afternoon.
She brought concern, a sweet smile, a little shake of her head that amply conveyed
"You are so pathetic but I love you anyway," and lunch in a bag. I was grateful for three out of four. After Lauren kissed me she informed me wryly that she should also have fetched a toothbrush and a razor.
The most important gift she bore was her legal acumen, which she feared I greatly needed.
I asked about the baby and how she felt after the long drive. As she touched her belly her eyes told me everything was fine. She explained that she had called Sam and asked him to drive her over the Divide so she wouldn't get so exhausted by the trip. Satoshi had insisted on coming along, too. I was comforted to know that Sam was close by and hoped I would get an opportunity to be the one to tell Satoshi exactly what had happened to her sister.
I was also hungry for news.
While I ate, Lauren talked. She wasn't able to provide much of an update on Kimber. All she knew was what she had heard on the car radio on the drive up from Boulder-that he had survived his gunshot and was in surgery at the local hospital.
Raymond Welle's detention by the Routt County sheriff was the day's big event.
Lauren's impression was that none of the national news organizations had pieced together the intricacies of the story. No one was yet reporting anything about the two girls who had died in 1988 at the Silky Road Ranch. And no one was reporting anything about the crazy denouement in the blow down on the Routt Divide or the discovery of Dorothy Levin's body. But having a United States congressman under suspicion in the attempted murder of an ex-FBI agent was big enough news for the time being. Lauren said that she expected dozens of satellite crews to descend on Steamboat within the next few hours. She also said that she was sure that the right-wing blonds on the cable news talk shows were already piecing together the skeleton of a "make-my-day" defense for Welle to employ for shooting Kimber. Shortly after they had all checked in for about the hundredth time on the Monica Lewinsky pathos, Lauren had decided that she wasn't fond of the right-wing blonds on the cable news talk shows.
I asked what defense Welle might concoct for arranging to have his wife, Gloria, murdered by Brian Sample.
Lauren smiled and said she couldn't think of a single one.
It became clear that Lauren wasn't at all concerned about the ill-advised decision that Kimber and I had made to enter Raymond Welle's home while seeking shelter from the storm of Kimber's panic attack. Based on my rendition of events she was far more concerned about my claim of self-defense for burying the butt of Kimber's gun into the side of Phil Barrett's head. She pointed out that my only corroborating witness was unconscious the last time I had seen him. After a few more questions, our much-too-brief reunion was over. Lauren kissed me again and left. She had some negotiating to do on my behalf.
The minutes passed like a gallstone. Waiting, it turned out, had been much easier when I was asleep.
After a half hour she returned.
"I need you to think carefully," she said, her back to the closed door.
"Have you told anyone but me about Welle's responsibility for Gloria's murder?"
"No. I didn't have a chance to say much of anything before they started treating me like a criminal."
"And you're absolutely certain about what Welle told you?"
"Yes, he confessed to arranging Gloria's murder. It was an insurance scheme with Brian Sample. Ray walked me through motive, plan, everything."
"You'll testify against him?"
"Of course."
Her eyes brightened.
"Good. The police don't seem to know anything about it. I'm going to offer them a little trade. I think it will be your ticket out of here."
"Great. Any news on Kimber?"
"He survived the surgery and corroborated your account of Phil's death."
I hissed, "Yessss," as I thrust my fist into the air like Sam always did at Avalanche games.
She walked up to me and ran her fingers from the back of my head to the base of my spine and embraced me tightly.
"I don't usually do this with clients," she purred.
"But occasionally?"
"I try to take it one client at a time."
* * *
The interview with the assembled authorities lasted over three hours.
Lauren stayed with me for the duration. The discussion covered the entire previous night. The meeting with Rat. The trip to Clark. The blow down Phil Barrett's demise. Cathy Franklin's demise. Douglas Levin's stalking of his wife and shooting at her at the Welle fundraiser in Denver. Barrett killing Dorothy.
The apparent discovery of Dorothy Levin's body. Rescuing Flynn and Russ from their Lincoln Log jail. Kimber's panic attack and the decision to seek shelter at the Silky Road Ranch. The confrontation with Ray Welle and Welle's admission that he had arranged for his wife's murder. The closet.
Everything I knew. Three times.
At ten minutes after six they handed me an envelope with my car keys and my wallet in it and told me I was free to go. I'd find my car outside in the lot.
Sam was waiting for Lauren and me at the bottom of the concrete steps.
"If you were my kid," he said with a big smile when he saw me, "I wouldn't let you go out of the house without a helmet on." "Or at least a lawyer in tow," I said as I kissed Lauren on the cheek.
"Thanks for driving her up here, Sam."
He shrugged.
"Gotta keep that baby of yours happy. I take it you're free to go?"
"Apparently. I traded my freedom for that of a congressman."
His eyebrows reached for his hairline.
"Welle?"
I nodded.
"He murdered his wife, Sam."
His eyebrows reached for the sky.
"No? I told you the story of that kidnapping was goofy. You have details? You know how he did it?"
"I do. How about I fill you in a little later?"
"Sure." He pointed toward his Cherokee. Satoshi was sitting on the front seat.
She waved. Sam said, "Satoshis anxious to hear what you learned about her sister. Are you up to it?"
"Yeah. Let me get a shower, wake up a little. I want my head to be clear when I tell her what happened to Mariko. Ask her if that's okay."
Sam sauntered over and spoke to Satoshi before he returned to my car.
"She said that she's waited years and that minutes and hours are irrelevant."
* * *
While I was spending my day in custody, the bedrooms at the B and B had been shuffled. Satoshi was going to share Kimber's room with Flynn, and Sam was bunking with Russ. I was delighted to make room in my bed for Lauren.
I showered for almost twenty minutes. The shower could have been better only if Lauren had offered to soap my back and any other parts of my body particularly in need of attention. But she didn't.
Russ had made arrangements with Libby for us all to dine together privately in the breakfast room of the B and B. As barter he had offered her gossip-laden details that wouldn't be in the next mornings paper about what had transpired in the blow down Libby had made some calls to get enough food delivered for a feast and was supplying the beer and wine herself. Russ suspected that she was angling for an invitation to the repast. But it wouldn't be forthcoming. He asked me what I thought about Libby attending. I voted no. He asked me if I wanted to invite Percy Smith. I voted no again. This was going to be a very private party.
The aromas of nourishment greeted me-I thought I smelted abundant garlic and a blast of curry-as I toweled off from my shower and began to shave away the whiskers of the last thirty-six hours. I scraped my face in short strokes in an effort to keep my hand from shaking. The reality of what had transpired since the previous sundown was descending upon me with a gravity that left me fighting back tears. I felt a sense of guilt about what had happened to Kimber but found most of my compassion directed to Dell Franklin, who seemed th
e most complete victim in the whole tragedy.
Lauren could tell that I was taking too long in the bathroom. She finally entered without knocking and embraced me from behind.
"We're all okay," she whispered.
"All three of us." I stopped fighting back my tears, and together we slunk down to the damp floor. We huddled together on the tiny octagonal tiles until most of our fears were soothed away.
The night started in the kitchen of the B and B and ended where everything having to do with me and Locard and the two dead girls had begun-on Joey Franklin's time-share jet. The party that occurred in between wasn't a festive affair. It was more like a hybrid between sitting shivah and attending an Irish wake. There was no shortage of lives to celebrate and unfortunately no shortage of lives to mourn.
There were a lot of stories to tell.
The first thing I did after I finished dressing was search out Satoshi. I found her where she had been waiting for me in the parlor. I took her by the hand and led her into the deserted kitchen of the B and B so we could be alone.
She hopped up to sit on the Up of the granite-topped island. She said, "I have a feeling I shouldn't be standing."
I sat on a stool.
"I probably shouldn't be standing either." I caressed my tired eyes with my knuckles.
"Are you ready, whatever that means?"
Satoshi nodded.
"I've been waiting a long time."
"Okay." I started with
"I know how your sister died," and told the story of Mariko's senseless murder deliberately so that Satoshi could chew each detail separately and digest it slowly, the way she had nibbled away her carton of yogurt the day we'd first met at Stanford.
She wept almost nonstop while I spoke, but she refused my offers of comfort.
"They were both heroes," she said when she was certain I was done.
"Mariko and Tami."
"Yes," I agreed.
Her next question surprised me in the way that people often do. She asked, "What's going to happen to Mr. Franklin? Do you think there's a possibility that I can talk to him?" I said I didn't know. I said it twice. Then I added, "He knows what Joey did to you, Satoshi. He just found out."
She raised her chin, stretching her smooth neck. She lowered it, and turned her head once left, then right, before she said, "Your voice? I'm beginning to know its melodies. You're wondering if I've changed my mind, if I'm going to press charges against Joey, aren't you?"
"Yes. I am."
"I can't prove what happened back then. And if I accuse Joey, you know that he'll deny it." She examined the flesh on the palm of her left hand as though God's own advice was inscribed there.
"What I'm thinking right now is this: My parents managed to survive this tragedy with one child remaining. Perhaps so should Dell Franklin."
She smiled at me with warmth, but no mirth, and asked to be left alone for a while.
When I rejoined the group, Sam and Lauren were listening to Flynn and Russ describe how they had been lured to the blow down to help with the recovery of Dorothy Levins body. Flynn excused herself at the conclusion of that part of the story so that she could keep a promise to visit Kimber at the hospital.
Everyone but Sam was done eating before it was my turn to describe how Kimber and I had been lured to the blow down and what had happened afterward in the Routt Divide with Phil Barrett and with Dell and Cathy Franklin.
It was near midnight before Russ answered the last question about what had transpired after dawn with Raymond Welle at the Silky Road Ranch.
Lauren said, "I'm ready for bed, I think. If I'm this tired, the rest of you must be exhausted."
"I sure am," said Satoshi, who had finally rejoined the group.
Just then Russ's cell phone chirped in his pocket. He stood and carried it to the bay window before he began speaking. I couldn't hear many words of his conversation.
When he walked back to the table he held the phone out in front of him and said, "Apparently Flynn and I are going back to the District tonight. Kimber wants to be in his own fortified castle-which isn't surprising-before the press discovers everything that happened here. He apparently talked the anesthesiologist into giving him a scale the block-it's a nerve block of his arm and shoulder-so he's not going to be in any pain for the next ten hours or so.
The surgeon isn't thrilled about his leaving, but…" Russ shrugged his shoulders.
"Kimbers hired a nurse to accompany him home. Dell Franklin arranged to have Joey's jet waiting at the airport. I'm supposed to go upstairs and pack up Flynn's things and meet them at the plane."
"Is Dell out of jail?" I asked.
"Apparently on personal recognizance."
"Thank God."
Lauren turned to me and said, "We need to say good-bye to Kimber, Alan. It's important."
"And I'd really like to meet him before he goes," said Satoshi.
"I want to thank him."
We made it to the Yampa Valley Regional Airport about forty-five minutes later.
Satoshi, Lauren, and I spent the drive crammed together in the backseat of Sam's old Cherokee.
The jet was ready when we arrived. So was Hans. He stood tall at the top of the short stairs with his hands behind his back.
Flynn greeted us on the tarmac. Her eye patch was plastered with tiny iridescent stars. It looked just like the night sky above the Routt Divide. She said, "Kimbers already on board. He'd like to meet with Satoshi alone before we take off. Because of his… uh, condition… he's never had the chance to meet any family members after Locard has finished one of the investigations.
It's important to him that he talk with her."
Satoshi hesitated. She gestured toward the jet with her chin and said, "It's not really Joey's plane, right?" Russ said, "Nah, it's a rental."
She mouthed something to herself and climbed the stairs to the cabin. Hans escorted her inside.
Flynn said, "He seems fine, Kimber does. He has an IV running. But because of the nerve block the nurse said the pain won't start until after he gets home." "Is his shoulder going to be okay?" Lauren asked.
"Apparently. But the recuperation is going to be painful."
I helped Russ transfer the luggage to the plane. Sam and I promised to ferry the Taurus over to the rental car company lot and drop the keys into the after-hours box.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, Satoshi emerged from the jet cabin and asked us all on board.
"Mr. Lister wants to say good-bye to everyone."
Lauren preceded me up the steps. At the landing she paused and made a little sound that was somewhere between a yelp and a coo.
"Are you all right?" I asked, startled.
When she turned to me her face and eyes were lit with a smile. She lowered both hands to her abdomen and said, "Sweetie, the baby just moved."
It took us a minute or two-maybe three-to make it the last few feet through the door. The plane seemed much smaller with so many people on board.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Although I found Steamboat Springs on my own, Lester Wall pointed me toward the splendors of the Elk River Valley and Larry and Marilyn Shames planted the seeds that led me from there to the blow down in the Mount Zirkel Wilderness.
I'm grateful for their guidance.
While writing and revising, I received invaluable advice from trusted friends and colleagues Harry Ma clean Mark Graham, Elyse Morgan, Jaime Brown, and Tom Schantz. Over the years I've learned to rely on their counsel as I rely on their friendship. Each completed book reminds me of the first, which would not have been possible without the help of the Limericks, Patricia and Jeff. My gratitude to them endures.
As always, my most precious thanks to my family, especially to my mother, Sara Kellas.
***
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Cold Case Page 37
