A Basket of Trouble (28 page)

thought it would help her remember who you are.”

Charley frowned. “Yeah, the son who always disappointed her,

compared to you, who could do no wrong.”

“Don’t,” Claire said. “Don’t let her push you into putting your-

self down. You are a capable businessman, a good husband, and a

good son. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But I’ll never be as good as you in her eyes or …”

“Or in your own?” Claire turned on him. “Well in my eyes,

Charley, you’re better than I am. Better at business, better at sports and more fit, willing to take risks I’m not, and more successful.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. No way can you think I’m

better—”

The bathroom door opened and their mother stepped out.

When she saw them, she said, “Oh hello, are you the ones who’re

going to take me to lunch?”

Claire and Charley looked at each other.

He reacted first, took her arm, and led her to her easy chair.

“We already did, Mom. Your stomach feels full, right?”

She sat and put a hand on her stomach. “Oh, I guess it does. It’s time for my nap then.”

234

Claire covered her mother’s legs with the afghan that lay folded

on the footstool in front of the chair and lifted her mother’s feet onto the stool. “Have a good nap, Mom.”

They both kissed her and eased out of the room. Claire checked

the bathroom on the way out, turned out the light, and flushed the toilet her mother had forgotten to flush.

After she closed the door of the room, she turned to Charley.

“God, her doctor said this is likely hereditary, that it could happen to us.”

“If it does,” Charley said grimly, “I hope Jessica will just take me out back and shoot me.”

Claire was silent while they rode the elevator back down to the

first floor. If it did happen, she would go first. Would she not recognize Charley—or Roger—when he came to see her? A shudder

coursed through her.

When they entered the director’s office, they turned down of-

fers of coffee or water.

The director eased his large bulk into his desk chair. “How did

lunch with your mother go?”

Charley frowned. “Not good. She didn’t recognize me and had

forgotten again that I’ve moved here from Durango.”

“She’s still pretty functional, though,” Claire added.

The director nodded. “Both of your observations match our

assessment. We’ve talked to your mother’s doctor, and, unfortu-

nately, there are no other medications he can suggest.”

“What about donepezil?” Charley glanced at Claire. “I did

some Internet research on it after a friend mentioned his father

had taken it and it helped.”

235

The director shook his head. “It’s not compatible with her

heart disease. As you know, Alzheimer’s is a degenerative disease, and she’s not going to get any better. She’ll just continue to slowly deteriorate, and we’d like to make sure she’s in a safe environment and getting proper care.”

He shuffled a few pages in a file on his desk, probably their

mother’s file. “In Assisted Living, we make sure your mother eats all her meals and we administer her medications. So that’s all

taken care of. But, she’s been found wandering the halls alone a

few times. And that’s not safe, because her balance is shaky, and she’s fallen a few times.”

“What do you do when she falls?” Claire asked.

“If a staff member is present when it happens, we keep her still

until we’ve checked for injuries. If she has any pain, we x-ray the area. Thank goodness she hasn’t broken anything yet, but the last thing we want to happen is for her to break a hip. And we certainly don’t want her to wander outside at night.” He nodded at Claire.

“As I told you on the phone, these are signs that a client is ready to move on to the next level of care—our secure memory care unit.”

Charley leaned forward. “How expensive is this next level?”

“It is more costly, because of the additional staff requirement,

but I’ve reviewed your mother’s long-term care policy, and it will cover most of the expense for two years.”

“Then what?”

The director looked from Charley to Claire, his gaze softening.

“With her heart disease, the, ah, prognosis is that she won’t last that long.”

Claire gasped. “Oh, God.”

Charley reached out to squeeze her hand.

236

“Mom’s dying, Charley.”

Charley swallowed hard. “I think we’ve known that for awhile.

We just didn’t want to admit it.” He looked at the director. “We’ll do what’s best for Mom. What papers do we need to sign?”

The director pulled out some forms. The two of them initialed

and signed all of them, Claire as the primary, with her power of

attorney for her mother’s affairs, and Charley as a family witness.

By the time they were through, the words were running together

in Claire’s mind and her emotions ran away with her thoughts.

When they left the office, Claire was choking back tears.

She turned to Charley. “I’m scared, Charley. Scared for Mom,

and scared for me. I’m next, you know. Your older sister is going to become a babbling idiot.”

Charley pulled her into a hug. “Kind of puts my childhood

jealousy into perspective, doesn’t it? It’s pretty darn stupid compared to this.” He pulled back and looked at her. “No matter what happens, you’ll be my big sister and I’ll love you. And I won’t think of you as an idiot anymore than I already do.” His chest rumbled

with a chuckle.

Claire gave him a trembling smile and took a deep breath. “But

will you take me out back and shoot me?”

———

The phone rang in Claire’s house late that evening while she and

Roger were watching TV after dinner. When she picked it up, De-

tective Wilson said, “I’m headed for your brother’s house. Can you meet me there? I have some things to tell you all, and I’d rather not have to say them twice.”

“Sure, Roger and I will head over there now.” She hung up.

237

Wilson had sounded stressed out and wired up. What was so

important that he had to convene a meeting at Charley’s house?

She rounded up Roger and they hustled into the car. After a tense drive, they were soon at Charley’s house. Wilson’s car sat outside.

When they rang the doorbell, Jessica let them in.

“Oh good,” she said. “Detective Wilson hasn’t been here long. I

just brewed a pot of coffee, because he asked for some. Want some too?”

After they both said yes, she waved a hand toward the living

room. “He and Charley are in there. Claire, could you help me

bring in the cups and cookies?”

When Claire and Jessica entered the living room a few minutes

later with trays, the men were standing around awkwardly. They

were making half-hearted comments about the Broncos’ running

game, which Claire knew Charley couldn’t care less about. But

Wilson obviously hadn’t wanted to dive into what they were all

waiting to hear until everyone was in the room.

As Jessica bustled around serving, he settled into a chair, took

a gulp of coffee, then ate a peanut butter cookie and took another.

“Thanks, Mrs. Gardner. I haven’t had dinner, and this hits the

spot.”

“It’s after nine,” Roger said. “You must have been really busy.”

This was Wilson’s opening cue. He swallowed the second

cookie, took another gulp of coffee, then put the cup down. “We

raided Oscar Vargas’s home this morning. Took him and four oth-

ers into custody, and ICE took a dozen illegal immigrants to de-

tention.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Claire asked.

238

“It went down pretty well,” Wilson replied, “thanks to the in-

formation you gave us. Most everyone in the house was asleep,

so we caught them napping—literally. One of Vargas’s guys got a

hand on a gun and fired it, but the shot went wild. He got a bullet in his leg in response and quit firing after that.”

“Thank God,” Jessica said.

“Since then, I’ve been questioning Vargas,” Wilson said.

Charley shifted forward on the sofa, his elbows on his knees

and his hands clenching his coffee cup. “Did he kill Gil and Kyle?”

“Yes and no.” Wilson frowned. “Our lab tested the guns and

rifles we collected from the raid. One rifle matched the bullets

found in Hector Garcia and Gil Kaplan.”

“Was it Vargas’s?” Claire asked.

“It was found under his bed,” Wilson answered, “and we were

able to get two of the other men in the house to identify it as his personal weapon. Plus, his personal gang sign was etched onto the barrel.” He shook his head. “Dumb ass probably didn’t want anyone lifting it, but forgot how that might implicate him.”

He rubbed his hands together as he got into his tale. “I took

that evidence into the interview room. After making him sweat a

bit, I told him he’d likely get the death penalty for one if not both of those murders.”

“I bet he wanted to cut a deal,” Roger said.

Wilson nodded. “He immediately asked what kind of plea bar-

gain he could make. After a lot of wrangling, the DA traded the

death penalty for a maximum of life on both murder charges and

immunity on his other illegal activities. That was in exchange for full disclosure.”

“Wow,” Jessica said. “You let him off easy.”

239

“Not really,” Wilson replied. “Back to back life sentences will

keep him in prison for the rest of his life. Anyway, once the pa-

perwork was signed, Vargas started spilling the beans. He said he killed Hector Garcia because Garcia told a supposed friend that if he was ever picked up by ICE, he’d trade information about Oscar

Vargas’s operation for a green card.”

Claire put down her coffee cup, too engrossed with Wilson’s

tale to drink or eat anything. “Can ICE do that?”

Wilson shook his head. “Wouldn’t have happened. ICE doesn’t

have that authority. Anyway, that supposed friend told Vargas, and Garcia was a dead man.”

“What about Gil Kaplan?” Charley asked.

“Apparently Kaplan started spying on Pedro Trujillo a few

weeks ago. He was following him, probably trying to dig up infor-

mation that proved he was undocumented. Trujillo got scared and

told Vargas.”

“Uh oh, bad news for Gil,” Roger said.

With a nod, Wilson continued. “Vargas told Trujillo to just act

normal, that he had nothing to fear from Kaplan. Vargas thought

Kaplan was just blowing hot air and didn’t do anything at first. But then after that fight between them that you witnessed,” He pointed to Claire, “Trujillo talked to Vargas again. This time Vargas realized Kaplan was dangerous—to Trujillo and to his operation. He told

Trujillo he’d handle it.”

He paused and finished the last of his coffee. “Could I get a re-

fill?” Wilson held out his cup to Jessica, since the pot was nearest to her. She filled it and handed it back to him while the rest of them waited, literally on the edge of their seats.

240

Wilson took a sip then resumed his tale. “I sent a man to the

ICE detention facility to interview Trujillo and confirm all this. He did—after getting multiple assurances that Vargas was locked up

and couldn’t get to him.”

Jessica shook her head. “Poor Pedro.”

“He’s still a lawbreaker,” Wilson said to her. “Anyway, he had

apparently begged Vargas not to kill Kaplan, but Vargas brushed

him off. He told Trujillo to go home and spend the evening with

friends. Vargas drove over to the Kaplan’s home, knowing what

Kaplan looked like and where he lived. He tailed Kaplan back to

the stable around ten and watched him through binoculars from a

distance write the suicide note and take out the gun.”

Claire put her fingers to her mouth. “So Gil actually
was
suicidal.”

Wilson nodded. “Vargas was chuckling while he told me this.

He said he thought Kaplan was going to save him the trouble of

knocking him off and kill himself. But an hour went by and noth-

ing happened. Then Kaplan reached over and turned on the car’s

ignition, so Vargas thought he was chickening out. He marched

over and put a bullet in Kaplan’s head.”

Jessica gasped.

“Then the cold SOB reached in and turned off the ignition.”

Wilson’s mouth turned down in distaste. “We’re checking for his

fingerprints on the car keys now.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everyone in the police department

working on this now,” Roger said.

“It’s the biggest case we’ve had in awhile.” Wilson took an-

other gulp of coffee. “And we’ve got a list of all the illegals Vargas brought into the country, from his payment records. ICE is having 241

a field day rounding them all up.” He looked at Charley. “Pedro

Trujillo was the only one who went to your stable.”

“That’s good.” A slow smile split Charley’s face. “Any go to Peak View Stables?”

Wilson returned the smile. “Now that you mention it, yes, a

couple.”

“Hot damn.” Charley slapped his thigh. “Now Tom Lindall’s in

as much hot water as I am.”

Claire realized her coffee had grown cold and put it aside. “Did

Oscar Vargas admit to killing Kyle Mendoza, too?”

Wilson leaned back and shook his head. “Funny thing is, he

never admitted to that. We even wired him up to a polygraph, and

the technician said he was telling the truth. We have no physical evidence to tie him to Mendoza’s murder. And given how forthcoming he was on all the other crimes he’s committed, I really

don’t think he did it.”

Charley flopped back against the sofa cushions. “Damn. So