A Basket of Trouble (21 page)

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Authors: Beth Groundwater

Tags: #Mystery, #a river ranger. When a whitewater rafting accident occurs, #it was poison. Tom King was a rich land developer with bitter business rivals, #The Arkansas River is the heart and soul of Salida, #including her beloved Uncle Bill—the respected owner of an outfitting business, #and infuriated environmentalists.Mandy cooperates with the local sheriff's department to solve the murder. But little does she know how greatly the case will affect those she loves, #who cheated on his wife, #refused to support his kayak-obsessed son, #but a man dies anyway. But it wasn't the river rapids that killed him, #Colorado. It fuels the small town's economy and thrums in the blood of twenty-seven-year-old Mandy Tanner, #she deftly executes a rescue, #out of whose raft Tom King fell. She goes on an emotionally turbulent quest for the truth—and ends up in dangerous waters.

BOOK: A Basket of Trouble
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on a false grin, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Charley slumped, resting an elbow on the table and his head in

that hand. “Trying to do the work of the two missing staff along

with my own work is killing me, though. I don’t know. Maybe I

should just chuck it all in, admit I’m no businessman. I haven’t

been able to turn a profit in two years. This move was supposed to change things, and I’m only deeper in debt.”

“None of this is your fault, Charley.” Claire stared at Jessica and jerked her chin at Charley to prompt her to encourage him.

Jessica sat up straighter. “Claire’s right. You’ve got great horse sense, Charley, and running a stable is what you were meant to

do. All the things that have gone wrong lately—the two deaths, the run-in with Peak View Stables, the city getting spooked—would

have stymied even the best businessman. Even someone who’d

gotten a business degree and learned the ropes before plunging

into owning his own business, who’d started small and built up

gradually.”

Claire stared at Jessica in horror.
Could the woman have said
anything worse?

“Like Claire did, huh?” Charley said through gritted teeth. “Got

her college degree, made her parents proud, then married some-

one with the funds to bankroll her business.”

Roger set his beer down hard and made a move to jump into

the conversation, probably to defend her.

172

But Claire gripped his arm and shook her head. “Charley,

there’s no way you can say my art degree prepared me to own my

own business. I started out knowing nothing, just like you, and

just like a lot of other small business owners. And my business is miniscule compared to yours. You’re the successful businessman

in our family, and I’m sure Dad would be proud of you if he were

still alive. And Mom, too, if she was still lucid.”

Claire winced internally at this tactless reference to their

mother. Claire had visited her again at the Alzheimer’s facility that morning. This time her mother hadn’t been in a mood to talk at

all. When Claire tried to engage her in conversation, she just rolled over in bed, turning her back to Claire.

“Jessica, wouldn’t you say my business is nothing compared to

Charley’s?” Claire widened her eyes and nodded her head toward

Charley’s, which was sinking lower into his hand.

Jessica finally seemed to catch on. She swept her hand in a

pooh-poohing motion. “Oh, yes, she doesn’t have any employees

to worry about, or animals …”

Claire relaxed a bit.
Good, she’s on the right track.

“And, you know, how hard can it be to cram a bunch of stuff

into a basket and tie it up with a pretty bow?” Jessica seemed to warm to the subject of belittling Claire’s work. “It doesn’t take any special artistic talent.”

Oh yes it does.

“There are amateurs who make gift baskets all the time that

look just as pretty.”

But there’s no theme or color scheme or attention to the interests
of the recipient.
Claire was beginning to feel prickly. She plastered on a fake bright smile.

173

“And it doesn’t take any special training, like my occupational

therapy degree for the hippotherapy I do.” Jessica beamed, as if

sure she had set things right. “So you see, Claire’s business is nothing special, Charley.”

Charley raised his head and glared at his wife. “Her business is

too something special, Jessica. She’s an artist.”

“Thank you,” Claire said quietly.

Jessica looked stricken, as if wondering what she had done

wrong.

Roger stepped into the silence. “Well, there’s nothing we can do

about any of this tonight except try to forget it. We’re here to have a good time, right?” He stood and picked up his beer. “Come on,

Charley, I challenge you to a game of pool upstairs. Let’s escape from the women for awhile.”

Good move.
Claire smiled at Roger.

When Charley hesitated, Roger said, “Loser buys the win-

ner a beer, and I can tell you that I play a lousy game of pool.” He grinned and pointed with his chin toward the stairs.

Finally Charley rose. “Okay. Lead the way.” He followed Roger

up the stairs.

Once the men were out of earshot, Claire turned on Jessica.

“You do know, don’t you, that you managed to insult both Charley

and me to the core in the space of a few minutes?”

Jessica’s eyes widened. “But you wanted me to agree with you

when you said your business was nothing compared to Charley’s.”

“I meant small, not talentless,” Claire said. “And the whole

point was to build up Charley’s self confidence, not tear down

mine.”

174

“I’m sorry. I screwed it all up, didn’t I?” Jessica’s shoulders

slumped.

Claire scooted her chair closer to Jessica. “I really don’t care

what you say about me. It’s Charley I’m worried about. His self

worth is shredded. And instead of making him feel better, you’re

constantly cutting him down.”

Jessica drew back, eyes wide with shock. “What?”

“You’re always nit-picking at him, telling him he’s doing things

wrong. You say he doesn’t have a woman’s touch, and his decisions aren’t well thought-out. Even if all that’s true, you don’t need to keep shoving it in his face.”

“Oh, hell.”

Jessica’s stricken expression made Claire say, “Do you even re-

alize what you’re doing?”

A tear trickled down Jessica’s cheek. “No, but now that you’ve

pointed it out, I can see it. Damn, I’ve been so selfish.”

“Selfish how?”

“You may think Charley lacks self-confidence, but he’s down-

right cocky compared to me.”

Now it was Claire’s turn to be shocked. “But you’re so good at

what you do!”

Jessica stopped in mid-motion of wiping away the tear. She

looked at Claire as if to check if she was serious then finished the action. “Thank you. But I’d throw it all away if I could have Faith back, if I’d been able to prevent her death.”

“There’s no way you could have prevented it, Jessica.”

“I could’ve fought the insurance company harder, and faster,

when they turned her down for a bone marrow transplant. I

175

could’ve pushed the hospital to look for a match even though we

hadn’t figured out how to pay for it yet.”

Claire put an arm around Jessica. “The transplants are still not

proven to work, even this many years later. You may just have pro-longed her agony—and yours and Charley’s. I think you both did

everything you could have done.”

Jessica tucked her hands in her lap and looked down at them.

“Just like with Faith, I get so discouraged sometimes with my clients. I love the kids, and the disabled adults, too. And I want so much for them. But sometimes I feel like I’m spinning my wheels,

that the therapy isn’t helping them, not permanently. That all I’m giving them is a fun horse ride.”

“It is helping them, Jessica. It is. Even in the short time I’ve

been volunteering with you, I can see benefits. You can’t solve all their problems or take their disabilities away, but you’re certainly making their lives easier—and happier.”

Jessica nodded. “I hope you’re right about that.” She sighed.

“But I know you’re right about what I’ve been doing to Charley.

While I’ve been trying to build myself up, I’ve been subconsciously cutting him down.” She looked at Claire. “I’ll try to do better. Really.”

Claire smiled. “That’s all I’m asking. And I think it’ll improve

your relationship with each other, too.”

“God, I hope so. I’m afraid these murders are going to tear us

apart.”

———

176

“Why do I always end up lugging these bloody things?” Roger tot-

tered under the weight of Claire’s huge horseback riding themed

gift basket.

It was Saturday night, and they were making their way from

the parking lot to the ballroom of the Colorado Springs Marriott

hotel. It was the night of the fundraiser for Jessica’s hippotherapy nonprofit. Claire had already given Jessica her family game night themed basket, but she had been working until the last minute on

this one.

She held open the glass lobby door of the Marriott for Roger.

As he went through, she peered at his face behind the fly whisk

and two-piece lunge whip sticking out of either side of the basket.

Is he kidding?
She hoped so.

His sardonic smile said yes, so she adopted a teasing tone in re-

sponse. “Because you’re such a strong, handsome lunk, that’s why.”

And he
was
handsome in his dark blue suit and crisp white shirt.

“And you’re such a beautiful babe in that hot number that we

couldn’t risk mussing a hair on your head,” Roger shot back.

She looked down at her slinky topaz gown, the hem of which

brushed her calves.
Not bad.
She had worn two-inch heels to make her legs look longer, but she was feeling very unsteady on them.

“I’d kiss you for that, but the basket’s in the way.”

Instead, Claire slipped a hand under the back of his suit coat

and gave his rump a stealthy squeeze. She wanted him to know

that she appreciated having him back in town and back in their

bed. And, she wanted him to know that there might be a repeat

performance of the welcome home they’d had Friday night after

returning from Phantom Canyon. Absence did indeed make the

heart grow fonder.

177

Roger winked at her. He had gotten the message.

Following the strains of the high school jazz trio that Jessica

had asked to play for tip money, Claire preceded him into the

ballroom. She found the spot on the silent auction table that was reserved for the gift basket. With a whoosh of relief, Roger set it down and stepped back. Claire adjusted the position and made

sure the list of contents could be read by anyone wandering by. A squeal of delight from behind her made her turn.

A woman stepped in beside her. “Oh, I’m bidding on that!” She

picked up a pen and wrote her name on the bid sheet with a flour-

ish.

A warm glow infused Claire. She put a stack of her business

cards next to the basket and gave the woman one. “Thank you, and

if you ever need a gift basket, please call me.”

“I will, definitely. This one is beautiful.” The woman slipped

the card into her purse and moved down the table to scan the rest of the auction items.

Roger linked his arm in Claire’s and led her toward the bar-

tender’s station. “We’re off to a good start.”

Claire looked around the ballroom and made a quick men-

tal count of the attendees. Not quite the hundred that Jessica had hoped for—at least not yet. Claire crossed her fingers and prayed for a successful outcome for this drinks, desserts, dancing, and silent auction event. In between therapy sessions, phone calls and

paperwork for the stable business, and interruptions due to the

murder investigations, Jessica had been working on the fundraiser non-stop. Hopefully if the event succeeded, it would shore up her confidence and she could share some of that with Charley.

178

After getting his beer, Roger went off in search of desserts, but Claire decided she had better stay as far from that table as possible. She sipped her white wine and looked for Jessica and Charley.

She spotted them talking to a distinguished-looking older couple

that Claire recognized from the society column in the
Gazette

frequent charity event attendees. The woman’s huge diamond en-

gagement ring and matching earrings were a brilliant beacon to all that they had money, and lots of it.

Claire held back, not wanting to interrupt if Jessica was solic-

iting funds from the couple. After they said their goodbyes and

moved off to the silent auction table, she sidled up to Jessica and whispered, “Are they going to donate?”

Jessica held up two crossed fingers. “They have a grandson

with autism. I invited them to bring him out sometime next week

for a free trial session. If that goes well, maybe I can talk them into donating.” She looked Claire up and down. “You look lovely!”

Claire blushed, stopped herself from saying, “Oh, this old

thing!” and gave a small curtsy instead. “Thank you, and so do

you. That wine color goes very well with your hair.”

Jessica smiled and smoothed her hand down the front of her

floor-length gown. She linked her arm in Charley’s. “And how

about this handsome stud. Doesn’t he look dashing in his tux?”

Charley tugged at his collar. “I don’t know how I let you talk

me into wearing this. I don’t see anyone else here in a tux.”

“As Jessica’s escort, you’re the most important man here,”

Claire said. “So you should—and do—look the best.”

Jessica patted his arm. “And that’s why I’m hanging on to you.

I’ve already caught a couple of women eyeing you. I want to make

179

it clear that
you’re
not on the auction block. It’s not often a good provider comes in such a handsome package.”

Charley rolled his eyes, but his smile showed he enjoyed the

praise, even though it was lathered on a little clumsily and thick.

Claire gave Jessica a knowing look. Then she asked the ques-

tion that had been nagging her. “Did you sell enough tickets?”

“Just barely,” Jessica said. “They’ve covered the cost of the food, bartender, and room, thank God.”

“And I’m glad we were able to give two tickets to each of our

staff,” Charley added. “They’ve worked hard these last few days

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