Blood Runs Cold rb-1

by Alex Barclay

  Ren looked through the notes that had been left for her by the Sheriff’s Office detectives and the Safe Streets guys. ‘On Saturday morning, January 13th, Jean paid for breakfast at Mort’s Diner in Rifle at nine a.m. She went to the outlet mall in Silverthorne. She bought a shirt in J Crew, a necklace in Zales and a grill pan in Le Creuset. They were still in bags in her house. She then went to the Open Book in Frisco. The owner called here after she saw the news. She remembered Jean, says she was polite, they talked briefly about the weather, that was it.’

  You can go through a day, a week, a month, a year without ever thinking that someone will end up retracing your steps because you’ve never come home.

  ‘Colin Grabien over there,’ said Ren, ‘is our phone expert in Safe Streets. He’s waiting for Verizon to get back to him. So we should have cellphone and office phone records by tomorrow morning. I visited Jean’s office and her home. There was a phone charger in each location, but they were not for the same phone – there was a Motorola charger in her office, which Tiny Gressett confirmed was her regular work phone. And in her home, she had a Virgin charger.’ Ren flicked through her notes. ‘I haven’t seen any references yet to the corresponding phone.

  ‘I’ve taken away her work files from the Glenwood office – she had forty open cases. I’m going to split them between you all, so we can check for possible links to her murder.

  ‘Lists of people with priors in town are currently being checked out by the detectives here at the Sheriff’s Office.

  ‘This evening and tonight, I need people pounding pavements.’ She paused. ‘Thank you for your time.’

  Everyone left and moved back to their offices. Ren gathered up her notes and was walking toward Bob’s office when she heard Tiny Gressett’s voice around the corner. Something made Ren stop: her name and his tone.

  ‘… Bu Babe who probably has Safe Streets wrapped around her little finger.’

  Bureau Babe. Nice. There was a brief silence. Ren wondered had they heard her.

  ‘Uh. Do you think?’ said Todd. ‘She doesn’t seem the type …’

  ‘Really?’ said Gressett. ‘You don’t think she goes in there and –’

  He made a noise – Ren wasn’t sure what it was supposed to represent.

  ‘I’ve never seen her do that,’ said Todd. His tone was ‘wrap it up’.

  ‘Well, look at you …’ said Gressett.

  ‘She’s not my type,’ said Todd. ‘Have you ever seen me with a brunette? What about you, Gressett? You pulling her pigtails, is that what this is about?’

  Gressett snorted. ‘Sure. Yeah. Sure.’

  Ren held her cellphone to her ear and spoke – loud and cheery. ‘Not a problem, I’ll do that. You bet.’ She had turned the corner by the time she pretended to hang up. ‘Hey, guys. What’s up?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ said Gressett.

  17

  Ren walked into Bob’s office with a face to match her feelings about Tiny Gressett.

  ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Ren. ‘Are you ready?’

  Bob nodded and got up, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

  Mike Delaney walked in. ‘Hey, a call just came in from Reign on Main. Hal Rautts says Jean had supper in there on the Monday night – January 15th.’

  ‘Hal Rautts is the owner,’ said Bob to Ren.

  ‘OK, you want to swing by there, check it out?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Bob.

  ‘See you later,’ said Mike.

  ‘Where are you going to go?’ said Ren.

  ‘Me and your friend Robbie Truax are going to hit the bars on Main Street, starting out at the north end – Big Mountain Brewery.’

  * * *

  On quiet sidewalks covered with snow, Breckenridge still had warmth. It was a mining town that had ridden the boom and bust rollercoaster and come out on top; a resort town that managed to keep its charm.

  Ren looked out the window of the Explorer at the thousands of tiny white fairy lights that lit up the trees along Main Street.

  ‘Here’s how I see it,’ she said. ‘Aspen is the beautiful, aloof sister. Breck is the cute one who everyone really wants to be with. And Vail is the one who’s had all the plastic surgery to try to be like the other two.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Bob.

  ‘Even their names sound that way,’ said Ren.

  ‘You’ve put a lot of thought into this.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean people are going to agree with you,’ said Bob.

  ‘It’s not about that. It’s about me working out how I feel about things through the use of analogies.’

  Bob smiled. ‘I like it here.’

  ‘I love it.’

  They drove past the Prospector, a little diner on Main Street.

  ‘A parking space is the gold dust around here,’ said Bob. He drove up Main Street for the second time and took a left on to Jefferson Avenue. ‘Round and round we go …’

  ‘It’s cool,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve –’

  ‘Do not say you’ve just said one of those parking-space prayers,’ said Bob, turning to her.

  ‘They work.’ She pointed to a space on the opposite side of the street.

  ‘Sure,’ said Bob, looking over. ‘Let’s park in front of a doctor’s entrance.’

  ‘Oh …’

  ‘Yeah – oh. We’ll keep on moving.’

  ‘Just do the church car park and we’ll walk.’

  Bob drove around the block. ‘One more shot,’ he said. ‘Hey. Look at that. One right there. Right outside.’

  Ren smiled.

  People resorted to Reign on Main. It was where they went when every other restaurant was full. Every table had a folded coaster under one leg, every waxed tablecloth had a knife wound.

  ‘Hey, Hal,’ said Bob.

  ‘Hey, Bob. Thanks for coming in.’

  ‘Thank you for calling.’

  ‘I saw the photo.’

  Bob nodded. ‘Tragedy, tragedy. Hal, this is Ren Bryce with the FBI.’

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ said Hal. ‘Can I get you guys something to eat?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Bob.

  ‘N …’ said Ren.

  They waited.

  ‘Actually, would you mind?’ she said.

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Hal. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘A cheeseburger is fine,’ said Ren.

  They sat down at a table in the back corner.

  ‘So – Jean Transom,’ said Bob.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hal. ‘She came in, took a table,’ he pointed to the window, ‘she ordered and she split under an hour later. She left cash. I can get you the till receipt, so you can have the exact time.’

  ‘Anything stand out about her?’ said Ren.

  ‘No. Just, she had a formal way about her. Most people in here are more chilled.’

  Stoned. ‘And Jean was …?’ said Ren.

  He shrugged. ‘Just – she didn’t match the place, that’s all.’

  ‘Did she seem anxious or anything?’ said Bob.

  ‘Maybe, like, focused?’ said Hal.

  ‘On anything in particular?’ said Ren.

  He shrugged.

  Ren felt a flash of irritation.

  The cheeseburger arrived with the lid off and a dull pool of grease on top of the meat. Ren’s stomach tightened. Even the ketchup paused. Ren smiled at Hal. ‘Thanks. This looks great.’ She had never eaten a mouthful of food quite like it.

  ‘Oh. I’m vibrating,’ she said, standing up. ‘Excuse me.’ She walked outside and rang Bob. ‘Don’t say my name. And don’t look out the window. It’s me. Ren. I’ll give you ten dollars to start eating that burger.’

  Bob nodded as she talked. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. But if you can make it in to me some time soon, I can look at an alternative. And we can discuss payment at a later date.’ He put the phone down and apologized to Hal. Ren waited two minutes and came back
in. Bob stood up to let her past and put a finger with just enough pressure on the edge of the plate.

  ‘Oh. I am sorry,’ he said. The burger fell to the floor, followed by a shower of fries.

  Hal stood up. ‘Let me go order you –’

  ‘Really,’ said Ren, putting a hand on his forearm. ‘It’s fine. I … I’m good. We don’t really have the time. Maybe we could just move tables?’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ said Hal.

  ‘Positive.’

  They took a small table in the corner of the diner.

  ‘Is there anything else you can think of?’ said Ren. ‘Was Jean checking her watch? Did she look like she was waiting to meet someone?’

  Hal paused. ‘Hmm. I can’t be sure, but I wouldn’t say so. And she didn’t seem to leave in a real big hurry.’ He shrugged. ‘It all seems kind of lame now. I mean, you guys came all the way in here, and now I feel, like … whatever.’

  Ren shook her head. ‘We got to talk to one of the last people who saw our victim alive. That’s really important.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Hal. ‘I kind of hope I remember more, like something will come back to me when you’re gone.’

  This is not a movie. ‘Well, if it does, you can call either of us.’

  They both handed over their cards. Even though it feels like a movie some times.

  As they got up to leave, a group of tourists stood staring through the window, dressed for a nicer restaurant they clearly couldn’t get a table at. None of them looked as if they wanted to be the one to say no and keep the group walking the streets in the snow to find another place that could be full. Do it. Go, go, go. Don’t ruin your night.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Bob when they got out on to the street, ‘was the burger really all that bad?’

  Ren paused. ‘It was the kind of meat that brought you on a journey from hairy abattoirs to small-town processing plants where workers play games like Kick the Cows’ Balls into the Grinder.’

  ‘Bulls’ balls.’

  ‘Yeah, OK. Because that makes it better.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just leave it?’ said Bob.

  ‘I didn’t want to offend the guy.’

  ‘Politeness could kill you some day,’ said Bob. ‘“Please sir, would you mind not firing that gun into my temple? And really, you are squeezing my waist a little too tight. But I must say, the tattoo on your forearm is beautifully drawn.”’

  ‘It’s more I don’t like hurting people’s feelings,’ said Ren.

  ‘Jesus, you’ll go right up the ranks of the FBI with that stony attitude,’ said Bob. ‘Hey, do you think Jean Transom actually ate her meal?’

  ‘If she did?’ said Ren. ‘That’s cause of death locked off.’

  18

  Ren loved the sound, the resistance, the effort of walking through snow. She made her way down Washington Avenue toward Main Street, looking out at the mountains across the lightening, early-morning sky. Four peaks from the Tenmile Range – seven through ten – made up the Breckenridge ski area and were the draw that boosted the population from three thousand to twenty-seven thousand at peak season.

  The Breckenridge Welcome Center was at the corner of the Blue River Plaza on Main Street. Ren walked through the small foyer into the first room of the exhibition on gold and silver mining in the area – eight thousand six hundred acres of shiny economy. And when it all dried up, the only thing that rescued Breck from ghost-town status was the fight put up by the residents.

  Main Street used to be dance halls and saloons, and the merchants had Ridge Street. Now Ridge Street was lined with restaurants, offices, inns and homes. Ren studied a photo montage of the change – the same building and its different roles, different smiling people standing outside each time.

  She went upstairs to find the display on Quandary Peak. It was the highest peak in the Tenmile Range. Jean Transom’s body had been found off the East Ridge trail, which was a recently carved route – less than ten years old. Ren pulled her camera out of her jacket pocket and took photos of the display.

  She ran into Colin Grabien on her way out the door.

  ‘Having a tourism moment?’ said Colin.

  ‘I’m actually researching,’ said Ren.

  ‘Researching is great,’ said Colin. ‘Everything is covered. Do you use coffee as a fuel expense?’

  ‘I’m getting to know Breck, the …’ This sounds dumb.

  ‘You think Jean was killed by the ghost of an old prospector? Or maybe, like the Brown, a dead madam rose up for revenge against the right-minded.’

  Ren frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘You haven’t been to the Brown Hotel? A madam was shot dead on the attic stairs. She was going to turn the place into “a house of ill-repute”.’ Air quotes. ‘The owner vanished,’ said Colin. ‘You should go – weird shit happens in the ladies toilets.’

  They both paused.

  ‘And can I ask?’ said Ren, ‘while you’re giving me a hard time, what that has to do with solving this case?’

  ‘I’m not giving you a hard time,’ said Colin. ‘Who said that?’

  ‘Yeah, like those people who say, “I’m not criticizing you, but …”’ Why am I having this conversation?

  ‘I was meeting the owner,’ said Colin. ‘I thought if Jean had paid the place a visit, he could have something for us.’

  ‘I’m not feeling the whole Jean-in-brothel vibe,’ said Ren.

  ‘But you’re feeling the whole Jean-in-historic-Breckenridge vibe …’

  ‘I’m feeling the need to keep on working here. Gotta go.’

  ‘Dinner later with the guys at Kenosha. Six thirty.’

  ‘Great.’ I’ll be back at the inn, sticking hot needles in my eyes. She looked at her watch. ‘I’m giving a briefing shortly. So I’ll see you back at the Sheriff’s Office then, anyway.’

  He looked at her. She smiled.

  ‘In Bob’s office?’ said Colin.

  ‘Like we’re all going to fit in Bob’s office,’ said Ren. ‘The Sheriff’s Office I refer to is the entire building. It covers all the offices, including Bob’s and the one that has been loaned out to us. Bob’s office is Bob’s office. We’ll be meeting in the conference room.’

  ‘Thanks for clearing that up so slowly,’ said Colin.

  ‘Aw,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks for listening so loudly.’

  Ren was walking the hallway to her office when she heard Mike saying, ‘Oh, good God, she’s a train wreck.’

  His voice was coming from Bob’s office. Ren knocked on the open door and walked in.

  ‘Are you talking about me?’ she said.

  Mike turned and smiled. He pointed at the television screen in the corner.

  ‘Bob, turn that up,’ he said.

  Bob grabbed the remote control and the voice of Casey Bonaventure filled the room.

  ‘… disappearance in February last year of twenty-eight-year-old Mark Allen Wilson, whose body has never been found. Wilson was last seen at the Brockton Filly, a bar five miles outside Breckenridge at the base of Quandary Peak – a mountain that in the past year has cast a shadow over the lives of two families –’

  Bob shook his head. ‘Jesus, Casey is something else. I told her to go off and do some research, and she comes back with this non-story again.’ He turned down the television.

  ‘Hey,’ said Ren. ‘That could have been interesting.’

  ‘Seriously, it’s not,’ said Bob. ‘Missing guy from out-of-town, drinking all evening at the Filly, gets loaded, gets into a brawl, wanders out in the snow, goes to relieve himself in the trees, falls over, hits his head, gets hypothermia, dies. No body, but, hey, that’s the story of our lives around here.’

  ‘That’s it?’ said Ren. ‘No trace of him?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Bob. ‘Last person he was seen hanging out with in the bar was a guy called Terrence Haggart. And when I say “hanging out with”, I mean “getting badly beaten by”. Next thing, Wilson’s reported missing. And never shows up again. So, there you
have it.’

  ‘I see,’ said Ren. ‘Has the family given you guys a hard time?’

  ‘He was an alcoholic they had no time for,’ said Bob.

  ‘That’s very sad,’ said Ren. ‘An illness that seems too recreational for people to do anything about until it’s too late.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Mike.

  ‘Has anyone seen Tiny Gressett?’ said Ren.

  ‘Last time I saw him,’ said Mike, ‘he was in the kitchen down the hall.’

  ‘Thanks, see you later.’

  Gressett was on his way out of the kitchen with a coffee.

  ‘Tiny?’ said Ren.

  He stopped, but didn’t turn around. ‘Yes?’

  She walked around him to face him. ‘I know you probably didn’t have that kind of relationship with her, and that women can be tricky to read at the best of times, right? But can I ask you about Jean’s personal life?’

  Gressett nodded. ‘For what it’s worth.’

  ‘Did she talk about boyfriends or dating? Did anyone ever come pick her up from work, or meet her for lunch?’

  He frowned. ‘Not that I can think of.’

  ‘She never went to lunch with anyone else?’

  ‘She ate at the office a lot … or we went together.’

  God help her.

  ‘I don’t know after that,’ said Gressett. ‘She could have. I’ve seen her in Sacred Grounds a couple times with a magazine. It’s a coffee shop in Glenwood.’

  ‘So, alone?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. Always.’

  ‘Did she seem interested in dating?’

  ‘In dating? Well, she kept to herself. Maybe she liked it that way.’

  Ren nodded. ‘Did you ever get the feeling, maybe, that …’

  ‘That what? She didn’t like dating?’

  ‘Do you think there’s any possibility that Jean could have been gay?’

  ‘I would say absolutely not.’ He almost recoiled.