Chapters (57)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Part One
- Claudine
- Zara
- Henry
- Zara
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Part Two
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Part Three
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Zara
- Claudine
- Zara
- Henry
- Part Four
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Part Five
- Claudine
- Henry
- Henry
- Zara
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Zara
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Henry
- Claudine
- Zara
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
Dave sat up front next to the driver, Pip and I buckled safely in the back seat as we cruised down Main Street. With the weather what it was, it was a smart move having a local driver. Besides, he could call out some fun history along the way. Over there’s where silver was first discovered. Right there is where the army trained skiing soldiers for World War II, the 10th Mountain Division. Had I heard of Jerome Wheeler? Aspen’s original developer. He built tons of things, like the opera house and our destination, the Hotel Jerome. I didn’t care about any of that. There was only one place I wanted to see.
“Where’s the courthouse?” I asked.
Burned in my mind was that picture of Claudine Longet and Andy Williams, miracle ex-husband, walking down the sidewalk, up the steps, a united front. Proof that the only thing that ever mattered happened in the present tense. No one would have blamed him if Andy’d just like stayed in L.A. or wherever he was. But he flew in right away. To be with her. With the kids. They were the picture of solidarity. Her high boots, the double-breasted fitted coat, those gloves. It was everything. Andy held her hand every day as they walked into her murder trial. Pure class.
The driver pulled up in front of the building.
“Take a close look at the statue perched above the main doors,” he said. “Notice anything strange?”
I stared at it for a few seconds. I was terrible at puzzles like this. Always hated Where’s Waldo? I shook my head no.
“Lady Justice is usually blindfolded. Here she isn’t. Makes sense when you think about Aspen. We’ve never had blind justice. No such thing as being impartial. Don’t let all these fancy shops and famous people fool you. Always has been and always will be the Wild West.”
I got out of the car and walked to the front of the courthouse. There were nine steps up to the main doors. I climbed them trying to imagine what it must’ve felt like for Claudine back then, wondering if being there gave me more clarity about whether or not she did it. Even after reading so much about the case, I honestly wasn’t sure. Did Claudine shoot Spider accidentally or intentionally? With the snow floating down around me, I still had no idea.
I got back in the car and we drove down the block to the Hotel Jerome. They were on the same street.