Her Last Letter (14 page)

Should I use gloves? Well no, of course not. No one was going to be looking in here for fingerprints, and certainly they’d expect to find mine, considering it was my house. And it was my house, in my name only. I’d never changed it. There was never a reason to. It would all go to Trevor anyway if I died. I’d named him in the will, along with my sister, should anything happen to Trevor.

I cautiously opened the top right-hand drawer to his desk. Pens and pencils lay side by side, along with a small tube of white glue, a box of paperclips, a paper hole punch, a small stapler, and a roll of stamps.

In the drawer below I found a stack of business envelopes. I laughed softly under my breath. My, lots of incriminating stuff so far. I tried not to disturb the envelopes as I checked far back in the drawer for possible notes from Trevor’s lover, or a romantic card Trevor had been too enchanted with to throw away.

The first drawer on the left-hand side of the desk had bank statements held together with rubber bands. These would be his business statements, or maybe some personal account I wasn’t aware of. I kept the household bank statements in my studio, since again, everything was in my name except for a small account that Trevor had access to, containing less than fifty thousand dollars. I’d thought about changing it all to include his name, but as long as Trevor had enough cash when he wanted something or could use a credit card, he didn’t seem to care.

And, as I had thought before, money was only one possible motive to murder Kelly, and probably not the right one.

His file cabinets were filled with copies of real estate transactions, probably spare copies matching the ones at his office, and, of course, he kept everything on disk.

I returned to the bank statements and studied them, but didn’t see anything to raise an eyebrow there.

I perused his desk, then picked up his large maroon address book and began going through the names, starting on page one. Here, Trevor wasn’t so neat. His handwriting was practically illegible, but oddly he could read it. I stared at the names, listed alphabetically. I was able to decipher an Aberton, Aiken, Allen, and Ashton, all with male first names, clients or former clients, or at least no one I knew. I stopped at the first female name listed, Alicia Averhill. There was a phone number, a local one, but no address, and nothing to set it apart from the hundreds of other names in the book. I looked carefully at each page, searching for any special notation, something unusual to raise my suspicions, but couldn’t find a thing.

What about phone records? Not for the phone in the house, I saw that statement every month. But where did Trevor keep the records for his cell phone? Surely, if he were having an affair, he would be calling his girlfriend frequently on that phone, and the calls might be longer. I realized, with a lurch of my stomach, that those statements didn’t come to the house, and were probably billed to his office. Trevor considered it a business phone, so, of course, he would have the bills sent there. And, of course, that worked out perfectly since I would never be able to look at them.

It was the same with his Visa. He had two cards, one card he used strictly for business-or at least that’s what he told me. The other card-in both our names-we used for everything else. Those statements came to the house. But the business Visa statement, like the cell phone statement, likely went to Trevor’s office.

I peeked into Trevor’s wastebasket, but I knew before I looked that it would be empty. Trevor was very neat and orderly, not one to do anything sloppily.

Still, after I’d finished in his study, I thought it might be a good idea to check the pockets of his coats in the foyer closet, and his suit pockets upstairs. But after another half-hour, the only items I turned up besides the usual folded tissue and small change, were two ticket stubs, maybe from a movie, or a concert, or even a raffle. And though the stubs might mean nothing, might even be from some event I’d attended with Trevor myself, I sat on the bed and studied them, my thoughts fixated on Trevor and his mysterious secret lover.…

Lascivious pictures of the two of them rolled like an x-rated film through my head. Trevor, standing naked facing her, one hand threading his fingers through her thick lustrous hair, the other hand pressing firmly against her smooth round ass-lifting her, sliding himself into her wetness. She’d groan from the force and fullness of him, and they’d move together in hot sexual rhythm, his mouth pressing against hers, their tongues probing. His muscular body would pump ceaselessly, slowly at first, then faster and faster, incensed by her cries of lusty pleasure. Finally, they’d fall to the bed and wind their bodies into the sheets, continue the tortuous build-up of tension and heat, his touch on her shoulders, his kiss on her breasts, lips teasing, traveling down the soft flesh to her belly, then slowly, slowly, going lower, finding the soft throbbing nest.…

Somehow, I eventually managed to get back to sleep. I woke groggily the next morning, opening my eyes to see sun shining through the blinds. Rising to my knees on the bed, I peeked out the window at the sparkling beauty of the newly fallen snow, thick on the evergreens.

The sight of it instantly lifted my spirits, and I knew what I was going to do. Today was not a day to be spent worrying and wondering. Today was a day to spend outside, enjoying nature’s gift. Today I would go cross-country skiing. Better yet, I’d call Caroline and we could enjoy it together. I grabbed the phone.

“Rise and shine, my dear,” I chirped. “Up, up, and away.”

“Huh? What time is it?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.

“After ten. Why, did you have a late night?”

“Sort of. What makes you so cheery this morning?”

“Look outside. There’s got to be two feet of new snow.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Let’s go cross-country skiing. I need to get out. Can you do it?”

Caroline yawned loudly. “I suppose. I don’t have to be in today until late. But please, can you let me sleep for a couple more hours first?”

“No, I don’t want to wait. Are you
that
tired?”

“Yeah, but you don’t want the truth. Okay, I’ll drink a couple pots of coffee-as soon as I can get my eyes open. Call me back in a half-hour.”

“All right. Don’t fall back to sleep.”

I scampered around the bedroom, yanking drawers open and throwing underwear and ski tights, socks and hats, on the bed. I wasn’t going to let Caroline wiggle out of this. If necessary, I’d go over to her apartment and physically drag her out of bed. We’d drive up to the cross-country ski center located at the base of Sunlight Mountain Resort, ski the groomed trails like we often did in winter, and it would leave us both feeling young and alive and full of energy. Then I’d buy Caroline lunch in town, to thank her for climbing out of bed and making her best friend happy.

I showered and dressed, then sat down to a bowl of oatmeal and an English muffin topped with strawberry preserves. I found my skis, poles, and boots in the storage locker in the basement, then carried them out to the garage and put them in the Jeep. I located my fanny pack and washed two plastic bottles to carry water in, one of them for Caroline, since she’d be sleepy and might forget.

Exactly a half-hour later, I called back.

She answered on the second ring. “Okay, I’m up. Tell me what I’ve forgotten.” She proceeded to name off all her equipment and clothes.

“Do you have goggles or sunglasses?” I asked.

“Nope, forgot that.”

“Sunscreen?”

“Not going to bother. I want to tan.”

“Bad idea, you know you’ll burn.”

“I don’t care, and I don’t have any sunscreen.”

“You can use mine.”

“Whatever.”

“What about gloves?”

“Forgot those too. Wow, you are good.”

“And bring your fanny pack, or else I’ll give you one of mine. I already washed two bottles and filled one for each of us.”

Caroline chuckled. “Thanks, Gwyn. Bring the extra pack. I don’t have a clue where I put mine. Are you ready to go? I still have to get something to eat.”

“Well, looks like I’ll have to clear the snow in front of the garage or I’ll never get out. My snowplow guy didn’t show up yet. Probably swamped.”

“Meet here in a half-hour then?”

“Sure.” I smiled and hung up the phone.

As we pulled up to the cross-country ski center, Caroline was still cradling her coffee cup and in no hurry to move from the warm Jeep. I jumped out and started unloading our equipment. The snow grooming machine had already been by this morning, the path for the trail well marked. I could see three skiers farther on ahead, sliding gracefully along. Anxious to begin, I stepped into my skis to do a quick warm up. Using traditional classic skis, the type I preferred, I skied over to the trail, slipped my skis into the pre-made slots grooved into the snow, and took off. I swung one arm forward with my long pole, briefly touching the snow with the sharp tip, while the other arm dropped back. My legs slid forward in sequence too, and it was like accelerated walking, though much more athletic the way I liked to do it-fast and free-charging on the uphills, descending fast on the downhills. But this portion of the trail was mostly flat, so I skied up a few yards, then back, continuing to watch for Caroline to make her move from the Jeep.

“Hurry up, woman,” I called out happily as Caroline finally emerged and stepped into her skis. I slid over to her.

“Do we really have to do this?” she asked, but was already moving toward the trail.

“You’ll be awake in a few minutes, and I’m going to treat you to a great lunch when we’re all done.”

“You are?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“Good. I’m always starving after this, and you owe me big time. I’m seeing spots I’m so tired.” Caroline swayed, pretending to be on the verge of fainting. “I think I only slept five hours, and that was off and on.”

“How come?”

“Overtired. I was up late. The place was packed last night, new country western band. But I made some serious money in tips.”

I never let Caroline pay for anything when we were together, considering the discrepancies in our incomes, though sometimes she insisted. I’d also made a point to include her in the living trust I’d arranged through an attorney, leaving her a considerable amount of money, though I hadn’t told her about it. She wouldn’t want to hear it, would laugh it off, say I’d outlive her anyway. Caroline didn’t seem to care about any of that. As long as she could live in the mountains and do as she pleased, she was happy. I did wonder sometimes if she ever felt lonely.

We moved side by side into the deeper reaches of the forest, the sun shining high above the mountains, the trail before us glittering with snow.

“This was a good idea,” Caroline said as we skied a little faster up a gradual hill. “I’m awake now.”

“Told you.”

“So when’s Trevor coming home?”

“I guess tonight, but probably late. I don’t know and I don’t care.”

Caroline glanced sideways at me. “That didn’t sound good.”

I didn’t say anything, debating whether to tell her the whole truth.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I slid to a stop and unzipped my fanny pack, pulling out the water bottle. Caroline stopped too.

I took a long drink, then made my decision. “I think Trevor is having an affair.”

She didn’t react right away, then shook her head. “What?”

“I think he’s screwing someone.”

“No. What makes you think so?”

“The weekend I was away, for that art show in Denver, I think he had her over to the house.”

“How do you know?”

“I came home and he was asleep and he’d left like two dozen roses for me in the kitchen, and this romantic note, but he hadn’t had time to call me all weekend, and then I climbed into bed and I smelled her.”

“Huh?”

“Her perfume was on my pillow.”

“Her perfume was on your pillow. You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Did you recognize it?”

“No.”

“Have you ever smelled it on anyone, anyone you know?”

“No. I don’t think I’ve ever smelled it before. It was sort of sweet, but light. Expensive, I think. I’d know it if I smelled it again.”

“But that’s all it was? Perfume?”

“Yes. Why? Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Well, I guess so. But it’s not a lot to go on. Is there any other way it could have gotten there on your pillow?”

“I don’t see how.”

I was beginning to think she didn’t believe me. Maybe she thought I’d imagined all of it, considering my history. I’d gone off the deep end in a big way after Kelly died. Caroline hadn’t forgotten.

I could feel a rush of emotion filling my chest, and I didn’t want her to see me cry. I picked up my poles and pushed off, charging down the trail-fast.

“Hey, hold on,” she called out. “Come on, Gwyn, slow down.”

I kept on going, but eventually braked, sliding to a stop.

She finally caught up. “Listen, I know you’re … upset with me. But you have to admit, it’s not a whole lot of evidence.”

“No? Then why would perfume be on my pillow? I didn’t put it there. And I didn’t imagine it either.”

“I don’t know why, but let’s talk about it, okay?”

We resumed skiing at a steady walk speed.

“Okay, you smelled perfume on your pillow. You’re absolutely sure, right?”

“Yes.”

“I mean-maybe Trevor washed the sheets with a new detergent or something. It’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Not a chance.”

“I want to believe you, Gwyn. But sometimes … sometimes you let things get blown all out of proportion. You know? You do … do that sometimes.”

“I’m not doing that. I used to do that. I don’t do it now.”

“Did you confront him?”

“No. I don’t want him to know that I know.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. At least right now. He’ll give himself away sooner or later. Then I’ll decide.”

She nodded slowly.

We didn’t talk for a while, just kept skiing, then I remembered something. “Did you tell Josh where I lived?”

“Ah, I don’t know. Let me think. I guess I could have.”