Black Diamond Death (A Sloane Monroe Novel, Book One)

by Cheryl Bradshaw

Over the next hour we poured over the files Travis Walker was involved with and it turned out they were all bank foreclosed homes or short sales which the purchaser bought on the cheap, made some changes, and then relisted with Vicki. I felt like I had found several pieces to a puzzle and just needed to put them all together.

  Bridget opened her mouth wide and yawned.

  “You better get some sleep,” I said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  I pointed to the clock on the microwave which displayed a time of 3:34 am.

  “Let’s both turn in for what’s left of the night. We can try and make sense of all this in the morning,” I said.

  Bridget walked down the hallway to the guest room and turned toward me before she went through the door.

  “Hey Sloane?”

  I looked in her direction and recognized the inquisitive look on her face. It was the same one I had seen countless times before whenever I mentioned Gabrielle.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “The answer is no,” I said. “They didn’t ever catch my sister’s killer.”

  CHAPTER 54

  “I’m excited to see Tommy,” Bridget said. “I know now that I should have talked to him about everything in the first place.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” I said. “Just do your best to live your life and be the best person you can. My advice would be to take the time to figure out who you are and what you want in life and then to do it.”

  I sounded like the perfect self-help instructor. If only I followed my own advice.

  “Taken from someone who knows firsthand it sounds like.”

  “I’ve endured my share of trials in life, just like everyone else,” I said.

  “I hope he understands.”

  “If he’s the man you say he is, he will.”

  I pulled into the apartment complex and Tommy was perched outside on a plastic chair. Once he recognized Bridget in my passenger seat he took the joint from his mouth and smashed it into a piece of snow on the sidewalk. He didn’t seem worried that he could get caught. He then stood up and walked over to the passenger side. She opened the door and got out and they embraced.

  “I missed you baby,” he said.

  “I’m sorry; I should have told you everything from the start.”

  “Stop that, okay? You’re here now and that’s all that matters to me.”

  Tears ran down her cheeks and he used the palm of his hands to wipe them away. The crass, belligerent boy disappeared and a softer side emerged. He started to close the passenger door and then hesitated and leaned in and an overwhelming stench leaned in with him.

  “Thanks for bringing her home lady. We cool?”

  I nodded.

  “Take good care of her.”

  He shaped his hand into a fist and held it out to me. It took a few moments to register what I needed to do and then I flashed to a memory of a famous actor on TV. I made a fist and we bumped. And just like that, I felt young again.

  I backed away and waved at Bridget and hoped she would heed the warnings I gave her about staying out of sight and by Tommy’s side until I could get some answers, the first of which I hoped to get from Vicki. I took out my cell phone and dialed.

  A chipper young female voice on the other end of the line said, “Ellis & Marshall Real Estate, can I help you?”

  “Vicki Novak please.”

  “She’s not in at the moment.”

  “Can you tell me when you expect her?” I said.

  “I’m not sure, can I take a message?”

  I declined and ended the call and then turned the car around.

  CHAPTER 55

  I entered the small corner office of Walker Appraisal at one minute to noon. A girl with the body shape of a baby elephant sat behind the desk. She didn’t look old enough to share a glass of wine with. Her cell phone was glued to her hand and she was typing at a rate I couldn’t comprehend. I walked over to the counter and leaned over just enough to disrupt her sense of privacy.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I have an appointment with Travis Walker,” I said.

  “He’s not back yet.” She gestured with her cell phone over to some chairs. “You can sit there and wait for him.”

  I sat and she swiveled her seat around so that her back faced me and went back to typing away. So much for hospitality.

  Ten minutes went by and still no sign of him.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Do you have any idea where he is at the moment?”

  She wound her chair back around and shook her head.

  “Can you find out?”

  She tapped hard on the keys on her cell phone for a minute and then tossed it to the side and picked up the office phone. She waited several seconds and then rolled her eyes and hung up.

  “He didn’t answer. I don’t know what to tell ya.”

  It was easy to see why Charlotte rarely used his services. With her cell phone to the side, I took advantage of the situation.

  “Have you worked here long?” I said.

  She placed both elbows on the table in front of her and cocked her head to the side.

  “Off and on. I help out with the phones.”

  “Someone I know referred me, Vicki Novak. Do you know her?”

  She sprung forward in her chair. Any interest she had in her cell phone was gone.

  “She a friend of yours?”

  “Someone I know, why?” I said.

  “Because Vicki Novak’s a home wrecking bitch, that’s why.”

  It wasn’t where I thought the conversation would go when I started it, but I wanted her to talk so I dumbed myself down and climbed aboard the bitch train.

  “We were supposed to do a couple deals together, but she talked to my clients behind my back and now they’re listing with her,” I said. “I haven’t talked to her since.”

  It wasn’t the most elaborate lie I had ever told, but I hoped it was good enough to get me where I needed to go.

  She leaned over the counter and glared at me.

  “Vicki Novak is a slut, I hate her!”

  A bitch and a slut. Interesting.

  “I take it you know her personally,” I said.

  “Not me, my dad.”

  “Your dad?”

  “Yeah,” she said, and pointed to the sign on the door.

  Travis Walker was her dad. It made perfect sense now.

  “I take it your dad and Vicki were involved?” I said.

  “Things were great between my dad and my mom and then she came in one day and asked if he could do some appraisals for her and then she started calling him all the time. First she wanted him to come over to one of her houses and fix a problem with the sink and then he went to see her one night and he didn’t come home until the next day. My mom tried to tell me that he’d already left for work when I got up in the morning, but I’m not stupid.”

  “That must have been hard on you,” I said.

  “I can take care of myself. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.”

  It was obvious she didn’t mean a word of it, she was just angry and that was understandable. The cell phone on the desk vibrated and she reached over and grabbed it. She typed some words on the keyboard and threw it back down again.

  “Does your dad still see Vicki?”

  She shook her head.

  “What about your mom?” I said.

  “My dad moved out and my mom filed for divorce last week.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Have you talked to your dad about it?”

  She shook her head.

  “The only reason I’m at the office is because my mom thinks we need to spend time together, but he’s not even here. And when he is, he acts all weirded out or something.”

  Or something seemed a lot more likely to me.

  The office door opened and in walked a tall man around my age except for the grey hair on his head. He looked like he had fasted for several days. His eyes darted from the desk t
o the chair where I sat.

  “Are you my twelve o’clock appointment?”

  I nodded.

  He shifted his notebook from one hand to the other and stuck his hand out to me.

  “I hope you haven’t been here long.”

  “Twenty-five minutes or so, are you in the habit of making your clients wait?” I said.

  From the look on his face I could tell he was taken aback by my frankness, and I was just getting started.

  “I’m sorry; I hope I haven’t messed up your day.”

  I didn’t respond. There was nothing like a few moments of awkward silence to get things going.

  He swung his arm in the direction of the hall, although it wasn’t long enough to call it that.

  “Why don’t we step into my office?”

  He continued on in and I got the sudden urge to powder my nose. I stepped into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror and did nothing. When I felt my time spent achieved its desired effect, I made my exit.

  If his office offered any indication about his own personal style, he needed some. Everything was brown from the walls to the carpet. Even the trim was brown. One solitary window about the size of a cereal box offered the only light into the room.

  “What can I do for you Mrs. Monroe?”

  “It’s Miss. And you can tell me how you came to work for Vicki Novak,” I said.

  “Sorry? I thought you came in on behalf of a client who needed some appraisal work done.”

  “Let me get to the point Mr. Walker. We have a mutual client in common, Charlotte Halliwell. Know her?”

  He made a face like someone who had just seen their mug shot on a television screen and had no idea they were wanted.

  “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t work with her much.”

  “And Vicki Novak?” I said. “What about her?”

  He broke eye contact and shifted positions in his seat. I reached into my bag and pulled out the files. They made a slapping sound when they landed on the desk.

  “Are you sure you don’t know Vicki, because I think you do.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “How about the truth?” I said.

  “And you think if you chuck a few files on my desk I’ll give you that?”

  “It’s the least you can do for an innocent woman who didn’t deserve to die,” I said.

  He shook his head.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “And you’re busted. Tell me Mr. Walker, was it worth it?” I said.

  “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

  “Right,” I said. “And I suppose you and Vicki were never romantically involved either.”

  “Of course not!”

  “That’s not what your daughter told me,” I said.

  “I don’t care what she told you, she’s a teenager. They lie all the time.”

  I picked the files up from the desk and leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs.

  “Perhaps. I’m headed over to speak with Jack Montgomery. Since you claim you don’t know Charlotte or Vicki, I may as well let you know that he’s the one in charge at Ellis & Marshall. And after I speak to him, I’m going to give the real estate board a call.”

  I stood.

  “Nice meeting you Mr. Walker.”

  I turned toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  CHAPTER 56

  Travis Walker reached over, picked up the phone, and pressed the “0” key.

  “Courtney honey, why don’t you go on home for the day? I’ll take it from here.”

  He set the phone down and buried his hands in his face.

  “Let’s start over shall we,” I said. “I’ll go first.”

  I sat back down and started again.

  “My name is Sloane Monroe. I am a Private Investigator hired to look into the murder of Charlotte Halliwell.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Figures.”

  “Now you go,” I said.

  “Straight to prison.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re here, which means you know already.”

  I didn’t know, but I liked that he thought I did.

  “Why don’t you indulge me for a moment?” I said.

  “You women never let up do you.”

  “Tell me how you know Vicki.”

  He scratched behind the side of his ear.

  “What do you want to know about first, business or personal?”

  “I’ll take business for $1,000,” I said.

  “About six months ago Vicki contacted me and said she’d heard good things about the work I’d done in the past and she wanted me to do a couple appraisals for her. If I did a good job she would use me on a regular basis. So I did two or three and they went well.”

  “And then?” I said.

  “She asked me on a date. Didn’t know if I had a wife and didn’t care if I did.”

  “And you went out with her?”

  “I told her I was married and that I had a daughter and said I wasn’t interested, but she didn’t take no for an answer.”

  “So one day you said yes,” I said.

  “Worst mistake of my life.”

  “Why do you say that?” I said.

  He grabbed a bottle of water off the side of his desk and twisted the cap off and downed the entire thing it in less time than it took me to put my lipstick on.

  “If Vicki coerced you into doing something, maybe I can help.”

  “No one can. It’s too late. I’ve lost my wife, my daughter, and my business. You don’t understand. I wanted to get out, and I told her I wouldn’t do it anymore.”

  “How did that go over?” I said.

  “She said I needed to keep my mouth shut or she would take me down with her. She threatened to tell my wife, but then I realized my wife already knew.”

  “Mr. Walker, do you know who murdered Charlotte?”

  Sweat formed in the creases of his forehead.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I have my suspicions, but I didn’t do it, I swear.”

  On the corner of the desk was a photo. I presumed it was his family. I picked it up and looked at it for a moment. They looked so happy, like most people do when they pose for a family portrait. Smile for the camera and we’ll all pretend not to see the cracks. I wondered about his life before Vicki entered the picture and destroyed it. I tried not to care. I knew whatever he did he brought on himself. But as I sat across from him I felt compassion, not so much for him, but for his wife and daughter.

  “You have a lovely family. It’s a shame, what happened.”

  I placed the framed picture in front of him on the desk.

  “Don’t you owe it to your family to come clean?” I said.

  He thought about it for a moment and I let him.

  “I shouldn’t have allowed it to go this far. I thought if I kept my mouth shut, this would all go away, that I could have my life back like before, before that woman came around and destroyed it all. She played me, used me like some worthless piece of garbage and all for what, so she could have a few more dollars in her hand? It makes me sick.”

  “Tell me what she did, and I’ll make sure she pays for it,” I said.

  “What could you do for me now?”

  “Connect you to the right people. If you help me I can promise you one thing. I will make sure Vicki goes away for a long time. And I will also speak on your behalf.”

  He clenched his hands together and stared at them.

  “Agreed?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “You told me you did a few appraisals for her and then she asked you out. What happened after that?” I said.

  “We started having an affair and then one night at her house she told me she had some great business proposition for me and said if I wanted in, there would be money in it for me. She had an investor who would buy any home she offered him. All we needed to do was flip it and make a profit. I wrote the appraisals
and she took care of the rest.”

  “Sounds legitimate,” I said. “I don’t see the problem.”

  “The appraisals were fraudulent.”

  “In what way?” I said.

  “Vicki would find an investment property, usually a short sale or a foreclosed home.”

  “Or someone who was desperate to sell,” I said.

  He nodded.

  “She would get her investor to front the money and then once she closed the deal, we waited about four months and she relisted it.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You relisted it for a significantly higher amount.”

  “We hired someone to come in and clean, maybe slap on some paint and make a few changes, but in the listing we fudged the truth.”

  “How so?”

  “We mentioned the improvements that were done, and they had been, but we also said there were others.”

  “Ones you never made?”

  He nodded.

  “Vicki had a way to make a hundred dollars of work look like several thousand.”

  “When in fact, most of the changes and upgrades never took place?”

  “It depended on what shape the house was in. She would hire guys on the cheap to make a few fixes to certain items that were easily noticed and then she would lie about other items that weren’t visible in a walkthrough. I chose comps in the area of higher-end homes and made it look like they were similar to the home we had for sale so that she could market the listing for an inflated price and the purchaser thought they were getting a good deal. And because I signed off, there was never any question about the validity.”

  “And the money?” I said.

  “Vicki gave me a cut and kept the rest for herself.”

  “Was the investor in on it too?”

  “That’s the interesting part. A couple months ago she admitted there was no investor. The money came from a trust fund she received when her parents died. She’d blown through most of it, but this scheme of hers was a way for her to maintain the lifestyle she wanted.”

  “How did she manage to pull the deal off without the so-called investor there to sign?” I said.

  “Most homes in Park City sell to people who live out of the area so she forged the signatures and at closing, she produced a document that she was granted attorney-in-fact privileges on behalf of the investor, and that’s all she needed.”