Cold Case Colorado

by Cassie Miles

  “Can I say, no comment? I’ve always wanted to say that. Makes me feel like I’m on the TV.”

  “Knock yourself out, Gert.” This was an all-hands-on-deck situation. All hands meant him and seven officers. “I want you to contact all the deputies and tell them to report to me at the Castle.”

  “Randall and Chuck have already gone home for the night.”

  “I need them. As soon as possible.”

  “You got it, Sheriff.”

  He ended the call. From outside the closed door, he heard rumblings from the dinner guests who had just become suspects. Someone among them had already contacted the CBI. Probably Simon; he seemed like the sort of guy who always wanted to talk to the person in charge, whether it was the CBI or FBI or the governor himself. Ty didn’t much care what the higher-ups had to say. Status wasn’t important to him. He’d come to be sheriff as an outgrowth of ski patrol and S&R; his goal actually was to serve and protect the citizens of Tremont County. Never before had he handled a murder.

  He glanced toward the door. One of the people out there probably killed Bethany, and he needed to start the investigation. But where? And how? He paced to the door and leaned his forehead against the solid oak. He needed to think. What came first? The blood. The killer would likely have blood on his or her clothes. As soon as his deputies arrived, he’d make one of them responsible for checking wardrobes and shoes.

  Another deputy would secure the crime scene. No one would be allowed to enter Simon’s bedroom until a forensics team recorded the evidence and the body was removed for the autopsy. Those tasks would be passed on to the CBI. Good old Doc Ingram—though he’d been coroner for more than fifteen years—wasn’t qualified for postmortem analysis. And as for forensics? Ty mentally scoffed at the idea of a CSI team in Tremont County where taking fingerprints was considered high tech.

  Ty ought to speak to Lowell Burke and tell him about his wife’s death. But Burke was a suspect. Notification could wait until the deputies arrived and Ty got things under control.

  Simon banged on the bedroom door, jolting it. He yelled, “What the hell is going on?”

  Ty stepped back. He would have preferred hiding in here until his backup arrived, but he had to face these people and take charge. That was what a sheriff did. That was his job. He straightened his shoulders and emerged from the bedroom onto the wide balcony, closing the door behind him. All conversation stopped. Every eyeball focused on him.

  Standing along the balcony were Simon and his wife. His business partner, Keith Gable, leaned against the bannister. Vanessa stood closest to the bedroom door. Her gaze was wary and nervous, though she was the only person who had a solid alibi. She’d been with him the whole time Bethany was locked in the bedroom.

  Ty peered over the bannister into the Grand Hall where he saw the doc and his wife sitting at the table, nibbling bread. Burke was deep in conversation with Yuri Kirov. The lawyer didn’t seem too concerned about his wife and why she had locked herself in the bedroom. He’d told them that Bethany was a passionate woman. Was that passion a motive for murder? Macy, in her spangled tights, stomped around the table and complained loudly about how hungry she was. Tall, gorgeous Gloria Gable posed with a wineglass in hand and observed the others with the cool disdain of a supermodel.

  Simon got up in Ty’s face. His complexion was on fire. “What’s the deal, Sheriff?”

  “Did you call the CBI?”

  “I want the best people working on this.”

  “On what?” Ty met and returned Simon’s hostile glare. Did the master of the house know there was a dead woman in his locked bedroom? “What do you think happened?”

  “Nothing good, that’s for damn sure.” He strode toward the closed door and reached for the handle. “Let’s find out.”

  Ty got there first, nudged Simon out of the way and locked the door, which he should have done as soon as he exited. If Simon had charged inside, he would surely compromise the crime scene. “I can’t allow you to enter.”

  “It’s my damn house.”

  Ty wouldn’t allow himself to be goaded into an argument. “I appreciate your cooperation. Before you make any more phone calls, consult with me.”

  Sirens from the police vehicles wailed in the distance. Ty moved to the bannister and addressed the entire group. “My deputies will be here in just a few minutes. No one will leave the house until we’ve taken your statements.”

  “Statements about what?” Simon demanded. “What the hell happened in there?”

  “I’m not ready to discuss the situation. Not yet.” He turned toward the housekeeper. “Mona, will you tell the kitchen workers and crew that they need to give statements before they go home. Vanessa, come with me.”

  As he pulled her into the bedroom and closed the door, he realized that bringing her into the crime scene wasn’t smart. For all he knew, Vanessa might be the type of woman who puked at the sight of gore or burst into tears. He positioned himself so she couldn’t see around him. Bethany’s body wasn’t visible. “I should have asked before dragging you in here. Are you squeamish?”

  “For the past four years, I’ve been taking care of Dad while he went through every kind of invasive cancer treatment imaginable. It takes a lot to shock me.”

  “Bethany was murdered.”

  In spite of her brave words, she cringed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Her eyes cast downward, and her thick lashes formed crescents on her cheeks. He knew that she wasn’t close to Bethany, but the murdered woman was still family. He reached over and patted Vanessa’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess I’m not as tough as I thought.”

  “Guess not.”

  She leaned against his chest. They weren’t embracing, but their physical connection seemed to comfort her. She exhaled a sigh. “Is she...is she in here?”

  “On the other side of the bed.”

  She pivoted away from him. “How do you know it was murder?”

  “Cause of death was blunt force trauma from severe head wounds. I doubt Bethany could inflict that kind of physical damage on herself.”

  “Oh, my God, this is terrible. We’re lucky that you happened to be here tonight.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that. This investigation felt way out of his depth. He hadn’t taken the recommended classes on interrogation, researching suspects and gathering evidence. He wasn’t organized. Already, the threads were slipping through his fingers.

  “It’s my first homicide,” he admitted.

  “My first time being a suspect.” She tried to smile but failed. “That’s right, isn’t it? I’m on the list.”

  “You’re the only person I’m sure is innocent. We were together the whole time.”

  “What about the others? The doc and his wife, Macy the skier, Simon himself...” Her voice trailed off. “One of them killed her.”

  “It’s possible there was someone else.” But not likely. “Does the Castle have surveillance cameras?”

  “It does.” She turned to face him. “There must have been a reason you brought me into this room. Why?”

  “You impress me as an efficient person, someone who can handle stress.”

  “Most women would rather hear about their mysterious, stormy eyes or their cascading hair, but efficiency is high praise. I like it. Actually, I prefer it.” A slight blush colored her cheeks. He could tell that she was mostly recovered from her initial shock. “How can I help?”

  “I need for you to wrangle the guests and employees. Make sure nobody leaves. When my deputies get here, point them in this direction.”

  “I can handle that.” She gave a quick nod. “Later on, I can help you take statements. I’m all set up for recording in the library.”

  Somehow, he’d known that he could count on her. “For now, I’ll stay here in the bedroom to make sure nobody disturbs
the scene.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the door. “That’s the only way in or out.”

  And that door had been locked.

  The police sirens were right outside the front entrance. His team had arrived, and he was about to take on a homicide investigation with the kind of locked-room crime scene that baffled great detectives, starting with Edgar Allen Poe. Before he got entangled in the investigation, there was one more thing he wanted to do. He took the necklace from his pocket and held it so she could see. “Bethany was holding this.”

  “Let me see.”

  When she reached for the locket, he pulled back. “You should be wearing gloves before you handle evidence.”

  “So should you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking.” He hadn’t been prepared to deal with a murder, needed to get a grip, stop making mistakes. He opened the locket and showed her the photo inside. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  “It’s my aunt Dorothy.”

  “Did Bethany often wear this necklace?”

  “I don’t think so, but it doesn’t look new.”

  He tucked the necklace back into his pocket. It was evidence, and he had a feeling that it was going to be useful. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to meet my deputies. Bring Deputy Randall up here and we’ll get organized.”

  “No problem.”

  As soon as she went out the door, he put through a call to Agent Morris at the CBI. Ty had never met Morris but was familiar with the crisp, official tone of voice. In less than two minutes, he laid out the scanty bit of evidence he had.

  “Blunt force trauma,” Morris said. “Are you sure she’s dead?”

  “I’m a trained paramedic. I worked in S&R for five years.”

  “I know who you are, Ty Coleman. You’re the young guy, the former ski bum, who stumbled into a job as sheriff without taking any training or instruction. You don’t think you need advice or expertise.”

  “No, sir, I need all the help I can get.”

  “You’ve never reached out before.”

  “Haven’t needed to.” Tremont County wasn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity. Ty and his small department managed to handle the break-ins and drunken brawls and domestic fights without much problem. They had a traveling judge who opened the courtroom for a few hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Their small, sparsely populated county should have allowed itself to be absorbed into neighboring Pitkin County, but a long-ago feud kept them separate.

  “What’s your angle?” Morris asked.

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Because of Simon Markham, the Castle and Macy Kirov the competitive skier, this murder is going to be high-profile. This investigation might be something that would boost the career of a sheriff in a small mountain county.”

  Ty ignored the hint. He hadn’t sought this position and wasn’t a political animal. “I’ll say it again, Morris. I need your help. I need your forensic team to process the crime scene. And your computer experts. And I want to hand over the body. Our county coroner doesn’t do autopsies.”

  “Sounds to me like you want the CBI to do all your work.”

  “Your people know what they’re doing. They have experience. We haven’t had an actual murder investigation in Tremont County in years.”

  “Are you willing to cede jurisdiction?”

  “In a heartbeat,” Ty said. “This is your case and welcome to it.”

  “I have an agent in Aspen. He’ll be in touch within the hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting for his call.” Ty couldn’t wait to drop this ticking time bomb into somebody else’s lap.

  Chapter Five

  An hour later, Vanessa sat at the long table in the library, waiting to interview her first suspect. Outside, the night had become turbulent. A fierce wind howled past the windows.

  Glad to have something to keep her busy, she looked down at the notebook in front of her. Several of her to-do items had already been crossed off. Though this was the first homicide-investigation list she’d ever made, the organizational principles were the same as a housework list or a work project. She started by jotting down the primary goal, which, in this case, was interview suspects. Then she itemized her needs for the project, including pens, paper, recording equipment and drinking water. Then she listed the dinner guests.

  Ty had been right about her. One of her best talents was efficiency. Working together, they’d already delegated several tasks to his deputies. One stayed at the crime scene and took photos on his cell phone. Another checked for traces of blood on clothes and in the guests’ bedrooms. Fingerprinting and collecting DNA evidence would wait until the CBI agents arrived with forensic teams.

  One of the deputies escorted Keith Gable into the library. She gave him a friendly wave and said, “Keith, would you please take a seat?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m doing preliminary interviews for the police. I need to record your name, address and approximate whereabouts at the time of Bethany’s murder.”

  A few days ago, she’d set up an area in the library where she could talk to Simon and record his recollections for the memoir. The arrangement was perfect for suspect interviews.

  “Am I the first?” he asked.

  “You are.”

  She didn’t know him well, even though they’d both lived at the Castle off and on. Keith’s primary offices for the Simple Simon’s franchise restaurants was in Denver, and she’d considered going to work for him after she finished ghosting Simon’s memoir. Not that he’d invited her.

  Self-interest was Keith’s trademark. If she’d had something he wanted, he’d be all over her. Otherwise...nothing. He was an average-looking guy with a million-watt smile—a talented salesman who convinced the patrons of Simple Simon’s that a common hot dog was a gourmet treat. He perched on the edge of the chair opposite her, leaned forward, rested his elbow on the table and shaded his eyes as though the light was too bright. “Let’s get rolling, Vanessa.”

  As if he has somewhere else to be? “I assume our addresses and phone numbers for you are correct.”

  “Of course.”

  “Where were you tonight between six thirty and eight?”

  “In the kitchen. I was trying to convince Simon to add croquettes to the Simple Simon’s menu—chicken, crab and veggie.”

  “Crab?” She was surprised by the addition of an expensive item.

  “Imitation crab. Do you think I want to go broke?”

  She’d think that he’d want to serve his patrons the best crab croquette possible, but didn’t press the point. “During that hour and a half, did you ever leave the kitchen?”

  “I suppose I had a bathroom break.”

  She remembered the conversation she and Ty had with Bethany’s husband. “Lowell Burke was looking for you. Did you find each other?”

  He tilted back in his chair, focused on her and flashed the sparkling smile. “Why are you working with the police, Vanessa?”

  “The sheriff needed some help.”

  “Sheriff Ty Coleman,” he said. His smile grew broad and seductive. “I noticed that you changed into skinny jeans and a low-cut T-shirt. Very sexy. Are you dating Sheriff Ty?”

  “I just met the man tonight, and the atmosphere hasn’t exactly been romantic, what with the blunt force trauma and all.”

  “So that’s how Bethany died. Somebody beat her over the head. Did you see the body? Can you tell me anything else?”

  Vanessa dropped an embarrassed glance at the recorder that was taking down every word of her lapse in judgment. She shouldn’t have said anything about the murder, shouldn’t have allowed Keith to manipulate their conversation.

  “Bethany’s husband,” she said. “Did you see him?”

  “I did, and we agreed to talk later.”


  “Other than the bathroom break, did you leave the kitchen?”

  “I checked on the breads in the Grand Hall baking area. And I went into the employee locker room to get a clean jacket.” He smoothed the front of his pristine white chef coat. “Some idiot pastry chef slopped cherry compote on me.”

  “How long were you gone on each of these occasions?”

  “Come on, Vanessa. You can’t really think that I hurt Bethany. Especially not by bludgeoning. I’m a chef. Obviously, my murder weapon of choice would be poison.”

  “What are you telling me?”

  Abruptly, he stood. “We’re done here.”

  She agreed. Her job wasn’t to interrogate him. All she needed was a statement of his alibi to give the real detectives a starting point. She followed Keith to the library door. When he exited, Martha Ingram and Ty entered. Martha flew into Vanessa’s arms and wrapped her in a tight hug. The gray-haired lady was so skinny that Vanessa could count every rib.

  “My dear, dear, dear young lady,” Martha said, “I’m so very sorry about your cousin’s death. You must be devastated.”

  Devastated was a strong word and not altogether appropriate. Though unhappy about Bethany’s murder, Vanessa wasn’t deeply affected. She expected the husband to handle the funeral arrangements and such. Still, she agreed with Martha. “It’s a terrible thing.”

  “To think, she’s still up in that room. The police haven’t removed her body. That is downright disrespectful.” She exhaled in a huff, and Vanessa caught a strong whiff of whiskey on her breath. Martha stared at Ty. “Can’t you do something about poor sad Bethany?”

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Ingram. Everything is under control.” He took her elbow, guided her to the library table and seated her in the chair Keith had vacated. “Vanessa is going to ask you a few questions. Just answer as best you can.”

  Talking to Martha should have been easy, but she’d been drinking and seemed upset. Vanessa wasn’t sure she could handle the woman. She looked to Ty. “Maybe you should do this interview.”