Chapter Fifteen
Sven stepped into Wilhelm’s hotel room and gave Wilhelm what little information his sources had uncovered on Ralph already. It wasn’t much, but it made him look suspicious as hell. Debt, erratic behavior in a couple of casinos he ended up getting thrown out of in Vegas, and an unconfirmed affair with a high-class hooker he seemed to like to purchase expensive gifts for.
Expensive gifts on credit that he couldn’t afford.
He thanked Sven and left a message for the detective detailing these things, as well as the custody call. The information might be nothing as far as the investigation went, but at least it would help ensure that no judge would hand over two small babies to such a man.
He lay down and tried to think of pleasant scents and smells—the woods after a rain, the clean crispness of the first winter snowfall, freshly baked bread. Anything to replace the charred scent of death that clung in his memory.
* * *
Wilhelm woke to a knock at his door. When had he fallen asleep? He checked his watch—he’d slept for at least three hours. He licked his lips and opened the door to find the detective, his hand raised to knock, a manila file folder in his other. “You have something,” Wilhelm said. It wasn’t a question. It was written all over the detective’s face.
“Yes, and I thought this news was better delivered in person.”
He moved aside so the detective could come in. They sat at the round table in the corner with its free envelopes and pad of stationery in the middle. Detective Frasier slid the folder in front of Wilhelm. “After you told me about the call from Carol’s brother, I checked the station’s phone logs and found he’d called several times since the accident—even more than you. But rather than asking what happened or wanting to get to the bottom of it, his concern is having the case closed.”
Wilhelm opened the file to find a page of handwritten notes on top. Frasier’s handwriting, he guessed. He scanned them, but didn’t have the patience. “You think he did this?”
“I don’t know, but I consider him a person of interest. He calls several times a day, wanting an official determination of accidental death to be made as soon as possible. He thinks it’s ridiculous that we haven’t already moved on. I checked him out and found that he’s in a bit of a financial mess, and I suspect he’s counting on inheriting Carol’s part of the estate to dig him out. From what I can gather, he and his sister weren’t particularly close, so his sudden interest in caring for the twins raises my eyebrows a bit. Do you know if he’s in his sister’s will?”
Wilhelm flipped through the pages in the file. “I have no idea.”
The detective leaned back in the chair and stretched, then laced his hands behind his head. “I’m going to find out. If my hunch is right, he’s counting on getting custody of his sister’s kids to ensure that he also inherits her financial assets. Wanting the kids for the money doesn’t mean he had anything to do with the accident, of course. That just makes him an asshole who’s taking advantage of a sad situation. But it raises questions I’d like answered.”
“Me too.” Wilhelm wanted to pop his claws and shred the file in front of him, then find Ralph and do the same to him. “How are you going to figure out whether he’s a murderer or just an opportunistic prick?”
“I’m going to go have a talk with him under the guise of wrapping up the case. See if I can get him to slip with something I can use.” Detective Frasier stood and smacked Wilhelm on the shoulder. “Now that you’ve seen the car and have all the information I have, there’s no need for you to stay in Aspen, Wilhelm. You should go home and take care of your family.”
The detective said it so easily with no hesitation. Take care of your family. The only family he’d had for a long time had been his brother, and they didn’t speak. The idea of having family to take care of now sounded so foreign to him, but at the same time it felt so right. He found he missed the babies already, and longed to hold them both. He’d do the best he could to take care of them.
And Juliette. Juliette was his family, too.
With a tightness in his throat, he nodded. “Yeah, I should get back. But I could go with you to see Ralph—”
“That’s not going to accomplish anything. If he’s guilty, he’ll be on the defensive if you show up. And if he’s not guilty, but he feels guilty about the money situation, he’ll still probably shut down and not give me a chance to get good info.” The detective turned for the door. “Go home and let me take care of this. I’ll update you every step of the way.”
The tiger in him wanted to ignore every word the detective said, find Ralph, and threaten to rip out his throat if he didn’t tell the truth. It was unnatural to let someone else handle his business, especially when it came to family. But the detective’s hunches hadn’t let them down so far. Wilhelm guessed he could trust the man at least a little longer.
Wilhelm rose and opened the door for him. “Find who did this,” he said as the detective stepped out into the hall.
He turned and gave Wilhelm a half-smile. “I’ll stay in touch.”
As Frasier walked away, the phone in Wilhelm’s pocket buzzed. It was Sven. “Want me to pick up some food or do you want to go out?” he asked.
“We’ll get something on the way to the airport. Have the plane readied to leave as soon as possible, then pack up and meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes.” Wilhelm hung up and called Juliette, who answered after the third ring.
“We’ll be flying out as soon as the plane is ready and a take-off time is cleared.”
Her exhale was audible. “Good.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, better now that I know you’re on your way back. I thought maybe sending Bonnie home would do it, but I’m still on edge.”
He wished he could put his arms around her and set her at ease. “Gunther’s still there, right?”
“He hasn’t left our side,” she said with a little laugh. “Any news on the investigation?”
“Yeah. But I’ll tell you all about it when I get home, okay?”
“Okay.” A tiny squeal came through the phone, and Wilhelm smiled.
“They keeping you busy?”
“They’ve been sleeping a lot, but it looks like they’re waking up and ready to be fed.”
“I’ll let you do that, then. I’m going to pack up here and head to the airport.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Juliette? I love you.”
A pause. “That so sweet of you, Wilhelm. I love you, too.”
That was what he needed. Tension started to melt from his neck and shoulders, so they said goodbye and he gathered his things so he could leave Aspen and get back to Juliette and the twins as fast as possible. Get back to his family.
Sven was sitting on one of the low leather couches in the lobby when Wilhelm arrived. “A car will arrive any minute to take us to the airport,” Sven said as he stood and reached for Wilhelm’s suitcase.
“Thank you.” Wilhelm followed him out of the hotel and took a deep breath of the fresh air once they’d gone through the door. He could still smell smoke, and car exhaust kept the air from being the crisp, clean air he’d find in the woods, but it’d have to do. It might take a few days of hot showers and freshly laundered clothes before the smoke scent in his nostrils faded.
A black, shiny car turned the corner, and Sven stepped forward toward the curb. The car didn’t stop, it merely slowed. The passenger window rolled down, and the driver—
Sven tackled Wilhelm to the ground as a shot fired out, and tires squealed as the car tried to race away. But Wilhelm and Sven bounced to their feet quickly enough that Wilhelm read the license plate, committing it to memory, and traffic on the side street next to the hotel wasn’t prepared for a car to cross at high speed. The black car collided with an airport shuttle, sending them both spinning in opposite directions.
That gave Wilhelm and Sven enough time to catch up with the car, even if they did use supernatural speed. Wilhelm couldn’t have given a damn if anybody noticed. He’d explain it away somehow. The only thing that mattered was catching that car.
They reached it as the driver regained control and tried to race away going the wrong way in the lane. That slowed his escape enough that Wilhelm reached the driver’s door and drove his elbow through the glass, impacting the driver’s face and knocking him over in the seat. The car slowed as Wilhelm wrenched the door open and slammed it into park as Sven opened the passenger door and blocked the driver in.
The driver lifted his gun to shoot Sven, but Wilhelm snapped his wrist, disarming him easily. The driver screamed in pain, trying to cradle his broken wrist as Wilhelm dragged him from the car with a handful of his collar and a handful of hair. He threw the man onto the pavement and pounced on top of him, one hand around his throat and one squeezing the wrist he’d just broken, grinding bones together.
The driver clawed at him with his other hand, but he was in too much pain to struggle much.
“Why did you shoot at us?” Wilhelm ground out.
To his credit, the driver tried to withstand the pain. He clenched his teeth together as if to show that he wasn’t going to say a word. Another squeeze to his battered wrist, and he cried. “Okay, okay! It’s nothing personal, just business.” He screamed as Wilhelm tightened his hold.
“Who paid you?”
“I don’t know his name!” He tried to pry Wilhelm’s hand away from his wrist. “He just pays me to take care of things.”
A crowd of people had gathered around them, with Sven standing protectively behind Wilhelm. Sirens sounded faintly in the distance. Wilhelm did trust the detective, but he also knew that he could get answers out of this piece of trash, if only so many people weren’t watching.
“What kind of things?”
No number of pins would fix this bastard’s wrist, because Wilhelm squeezed with crushing force, making him scream and making some of the people standing around start to protest what they were seeing.
“I’ll stop if you tell me,” Wilhelm promised.
“I don’t know, he had a beef with his bitch sister, and now you.”
Wilhelm grabbed his face, squeezing his chin, and had never been more tempted to rip someone’s face clean off. “His sister?”
The sirens had arrived, and Wilhelm caught the sound of a few police-issued pistols being cocked.
“Wilhelm!” Detective Frasier grabbed his shoulder as if to pull him off. “Come on. We’ve got this now.”
Reluctantly, Wilhelm let go of the driver’s wrist and stood, the detective holding his arm and trying to lead him away. Two officers rushed in to cuff the man, which pulled another satisfying scream from him.
“Are you hurt?” the detective said, leading Wilhelm to lean against an ambulance that had arrived with the police. A medic approached, but Wilhelm waved her away.
“He shot at us, but missed. I’m fine.” Wilhelm peered past Detective Frasier and watched another medic tend to the driver. A man who’d shot at him so there’d be no one to fight over custody of the twins. He was convinced Ralph killed his own sister just to get those twins because of the money that came with them.
He stole the babies’ parents from them, stole their lives, for money.
“He said the person who paid him to shoot me had a beef with his bitch sister. If you’ll give me five more minutes with him, I guarantee I can get better answers than that.”
“I don’t doubt it.” The detective’s expression was sad, but one corner of his mouth turned up. “We don’t need more right now. I have enough to bring Ralph in on suspicion of murder. I have little doubt we’ll get this guy,” he said, gesturing to the driver, “to roll over on him to save his own hide.”
Wilhelm and Sven had to make statements about what had happened, but it didn’t take very long. The detective did everything he could to make it fast and easy, because he seemed to think the best thing would be for Wilhelm to go back home like he’d planned. They had what they needed to bring Ralph in, and as much as Wilhelm wanted to be there to see it, he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.
When they were finished, and there was nothing more Wilhelm could do but sit and stew, he and Sven left for the airport. He’d call Juliette to let her know exactly when they were flying out, so she’d know when to expect him. She’d sounded so uneasy earlier, and he thought it would help. He knew talking to her would help him, though he wouldn’t tell her he’d been shot at until he saw her in person and she could see with her own eyes that he was fine. He didn’t want her to worry.
It was hard for Wilhelm to leave when he felt like there was unfinished business he needed to take care of. His brother needed justice. He had to trust the detective to get that for him.
Because if Wilhelm ended up in the same room with the man who killed his brother, he wasn’t sure he could control his tiger.
He’d end up being the one going to prison on a murder charge, while Ralph Marcoby would only end up in the morgue.