Cheryl Bradshaw - Black Diamond Death

“That gives me a good place to start.”

“Go get him, sister,” Maddie said. “And jack his shit up.”

CHAPTER 21

In light of what happened to Daniela and the fact Charlotte was poisoned, I decided the time had come for my big reveal.

I knocked on door 312.

No answer.

I tried again.

Still no answer.

Maybe last night’s antics turned him off women for the moment. Then again, for a womanizer such as himself, that didn’t seem logical.

After the third try I gave up and went back down the hall. A door opened behind me.

“Sloane, hold up.”

Jackpot .

I casually turned my head.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s me.”

I gave it a minute to sink in. It didn’t.

“It’s the hair,” I said, “no hat today.”

The dumfounded look on his face turned into a smile and he bobbed his head up and down.

“Wow, I thought you were a brunette under the hat you had on, but the black––I like it.”

“Thought you would,” I said, and I stepped into the dragon’s lair.

“What do you think?” he said.

“It’s nice, very umm, contemporary.”

I hated contemporary. The metal fixtures around the room reminded me of a jail cell. They were stale and ugly and felt hard and cold. The style suited him.

“Would you like to look around?” he said.

“I thought we could get to know each other better first.”

“I hoped you would say that,” he said.

“Can I offer you a drink? Wine, beer, or perhaps a cocktail of some kind?”

Knowing what I needed to say, I considered it. But, I knew better. I shook my head.

“Mind if I do?”

“Go right ahead,” I said.

He walked past me to the kitchen with a slight limp.

“Hurt yourself?” I said.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I had a long night.”

“Sounds like quite the party.”

Parker smiled but stayed quiet while he mixed a frilly girly drink that consisted of vodka and cranberry juice and some other juice that might have been grapefruit. He even took the time to squeeze some fresh lime into it before he walked over and sat down on the sofa. He patted down the space next to him and looked at me.

I bit my lip and did my best to muster a smile and sat instead on the adjoining love seat across from him. He was undaunted by this and seemed to enjoy the friendly game of cat and mouse.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“Why don’t we discuss you first?”

He crossed his legs and leaned toward me.

“Alright then, shoot,” he said.

I knew all I needed to know already except for whether he committed the murder. Time to find out.

“Do you know any real estate agents in the area?”

“That’s an interesting question to lead with. Don’t you have one already?” he said.

“I did.”

“I know every agent worth knowing around here, who was it?” he said.

“Charlotte Halliwell, know her?”

He sat his drink down on the table and cleared his throat––three times.

“Charlotte Halliwell, huh.”

I pushed harder.

“Do you know her or don’t you?”

“Oh, uh, no. Can’t say that I do,” he said.

I smiled and relaxed back into the sofa.

“Hmmm.”

“What’s so funny?” he said.

“You are.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I know you know her.”

“But I just said I didn’t,” he said.

“You know what I find interesting, Mr. Stanton?”

He jerked his shoulders.

“That someone like yourself could be engaged to a person they don’t even know. I mean, how does that happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“And how did the others feel when they found out about the wedding? Were they jealous, heartbroken, or did you keep it to yourself?”

“Others?” he said.

He uncrossed his legs and stood up next to the sofa. I wondered if the hair on his arms stood up with him.

“The other women, of course. You never told them about Charlotte did you? None of them had a clue, did they?”

“Sloane, if that’s even what your name is, I assure you I––”

“I suppose the names Zoey and Daniela don’t ring any bells either, hmmm?”

Beads of sweat formed like a miniature rainforest on his upper lip. And I was just getting started.

“How do you know all this?” he said.

“Honestly, Mr. Stanton. If you want me to answer your questions maybe you should answer some of mine.”

He turned away from me. I had done something the other women couldn’t do and placed him in a position he wasn’t familiar with. I had become the cat, and the game wasn’t fun for him anymore.

“Do you know how Charlotte died?”

“Yeah, some accident at that Wildwood ski place,” he said.

“So you do know her then.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’re wrong, you know. It wasn’t an accident.”

“What the hell are you playing at,” he said.

His surprise, while unfeigned, was good. But not convincing enough to win the Oscar.

“Do you want to know how she died?”

“I already told you,” he said.

“The autopsy told a different story. Care to try again?”

“You tell me, you seem to know so much about it.”

He shook his head and picked his drink back up and ingurgitated all of it.

“Alright then,” I said. “She was murdered.”

He spat out some of his drink and it trickled down like a stream of water onto the sofa.

“You’re friggin nuts!” he said.

“Does the large amount of poison that the ME found in her body sound crazy to you?”

“I don’t believe you. No fucking way.”

“So that leaves me with one question.”

“And what’s that?” he said.

“Where were you the day she died?”

“We broke up. She went her way, I went mine,” he said. “None of this is any of your business.”

“And the text messages you sent her the day she died?”

“I don’t know who you are, but I don’t see a badge or a gun so I take it you’re not the police. I’m not saying another word.”

Just because he couldn’t see it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

“We’ll see about that.”

He slammed the empty glass down on the table and glared at me.

“Get out!”

I rose from the sofa and looked at Parker and smiled.

“One last question before I go. Hit anyone lately?”

It took a moment for my head to adjust after being forced up against the wall, my neck pinned by the weight of his fingers. I allowed it. He may have controlled his women in the past, but I wasn’t about to give him the same satisfaction. The rancid alcohol on his breath was strong, and his eyes were like huge saucers and looked like they were ready to bulge out of his head. He held me against the wall to let me know he was in control and when he felt confident that he had dominated me, he pulled back and raised his hand to strike. I suppose he thought he was going to teach me a lesson. His mistake. I snaked his arm with my free hand, yanked it backward toward me, and struck above his palm. This left him no choice but to open up his fingers. I slammed the bottom of my hand into his fingers which bent them back almost all the way and then watched him retract in pain.

“You bitch!”

Parker massaged his fingers with his uninjured hand. I opened the door and pulled back my jacket just enough to reveal the gun holstered on my hip and curved my body so I faced him.

“Keep your hands off Daniela, and if I hear you’ve smacked around any other women, broken fingers will be the least of your worries.”

CHAPTER 22