Iced (6 page)

“Jewelry theft.”

Kendra and Nora both unconsciously grabbed at their necklaces.

“Why didn’t you say anything before this, Regan?” Nora asked.

“I didn’t find out until after Kendra and Sam hired him and he was already working here. I didn’t think it was my place to interfere.”

Kendra hesitated, then said, “If you knew before I hired him, it might have made a difference. But he did do a good job and I wouldn’t have fired him if I had found out.” She paused. “So he’s an ex-con?”

“No wonder he never wore stripes,” Sam said.

“Did Louis know when he recommended him?” Kendra asked.

Regan gritted her teeth. “Well-l, I guess so. But he seemed to be such a nice guy and so accommodating. There was nothing Louis asked him to do that he wasn’t perfectly happy to do.”

“That much is true,” Sam grunted. He waved his hand around the room. “We just didn’t know how much in perks he was taking on his own. And how much he was planning to take.”

“I was thinking of giving him a raise.” Kendra sighed.

“He was so agreeable. You know, I looked in the refrigerator and he’d done some of the food shopping.” Then she looked at Regan and shook her head. “Regan, I’d have given him a break if I were in your shoes. Louis is a different story. The way he praised Eben I thought he was his long-lost brother.”

Officer Madden had his notebook out and began firing questions at Regan. “What name did this guy go under? Was that his real name? Where was he in prison?”

“He was in prison in New York State. I think it’s his real name but I don’t really know.”

“I’ll talk to this Louis guy. Some friend,” the cop muttered. “Pass off a jailbird on you.”

Deep in thought, Regan wandered over to the bathroom and glanced inside. This place is bigger than my living room, she thought. All done in tones of apricot, there was a large Jacuzzi, a separate shower with a gleaming glass door, a toilet set off on its own with a view of the snowy mountains right in the backyard, and a long countered area with two sinks and a mirror covering the whole wall. You could have an aerobics class in here, she mused. A pair of big black boots with jingle bells attached sat under the counter on a green towel.

“Look at these,” she called as she picked them up and carried them into the bedroom. “Wouldn’t these be the type of boots you would wear if you were going to play Santa? They look as if they are all shined and ready to go. Even the bells are attached. But there’s no sign of the rest of his outfit.”

“We can check his apartment,” Sam said.

The policewoman, Officer Webb, opened the closet door. A man’s terrycloth bathrobe was hanging by itself. A few brightly colored polyester shirts were on the floor. Several hangers were askew. “It looks like someone might have left here in a hurry.”

You would think that anyone who loves his Vicks would have brought along his terrycloth bathrobe, Regan mused. People get attached to their bathrobes like children to their security blankets, wearing them to tatters, often throwing them away only after a long-suffering family member buys them a new one.

Nora had her arms folded and a thoughtful look was on her face. “Maybe he came back here after he was at the Grants’ and then took off.”

“That would be taking a big risk,” Regan said. “If they discovered right away that the painting was gone and they knew who Santa was, this is the first place they’d have looked for him.”

Officer Madden nodded in agreement. “That’s right, ma’am.”

I hate being called ma’am, Regan thought.

Regan was still holding Eben’s clunky boots. “Well, since it looks as if he left here of his own volition, I say there’s something strange about him not taking these with him.”

“Very often when criminals are in a hurry, they make stupid mistakes,” Officer Madden said flatly. “But I wouldn’t wear boots with bells if I wanted to make a quick exit and disappear.”

Regan was agitated. The whole thing didn’t sit right with her, and she was determined to find out what the heck had happened. When she’d met Eben at Louis’s place in California he’d told her how much he enjoyed being a caretaker. “I get to live in the place while the owners are away making money to support it.” When Louis admitted Eben’s past, she had questioned him on the recommendation to Kendra.

Louis had said, “Regan, I believe Eben when he said that he wouldn’t even steal a salt shaker from a restaurant. He hated prison.”

What had changed his mind?

Luke was talking. “As I was saying, why don’t we check Eben’s apartment and see what else he might have left behind?”

Not bothering to put on their coats, they exited the side door and headed back to the garage apartment. The door was unlocked and they hurried up the steps.

This place isn’t so bad, Regan thought. The living room was small but cozy, with a little kitchenette at the end.

Sam pushed open the door to the bedroom. “The bed is neatly made,” he pronounced. “Why wouldn’t it be? He probably hasn’t slept in it for months.”

Well, Regan thought, I can see why he preferred the main house. The room was small. A portable television was resting on a folding chair near the bed. But the quilt is cheery enough, and you can’t knock the view of the Rockies. And it’s certainly peaceful.

In Los Angeles, Regan regularly had to scare off a group of early-morning walkers who often paused outside her first-floor bedroom window for a loud chat before they went on their separate ways. It always called for an indignant “DO YOU MIND?” Eben didn’t have to worry about that here. It was a perfect place to find solitude. Or a perfect place to be secluded if that’s what you wanted, she thought.

Ceremoniously, Sam opened the closet. A couple of sweaters were folded on the shelf. A handful of work shirts, jeans, and corduroys were hanging on old wire hangers. Scuffed-up shoes were thrown around the closet floor.

“Not many clothes here, Luke,” Sam said. “No Santa suit, either.”

“Come to think of it, I don’t think he owned a suit,” Kendra said. “As I recall, he had a blue blazer that he sometimes wore.” She turned to Luke. “He wasn’t the type to get too dressed up.”

“No sign of a blue blazer, no, sir,” Sam said.

The top drawer of the dresser was not closed properly. It looked as if it had gotten stuck on the tracks when someone tried to shove it shut. It squeaked as Sam pulled it open. “It looks to me as if he didn’t want to leave without his socks and underwear. A man can’t do without those, now can he?” He held up a raggy pair of B.V.D.s and two mismatched socks. “I can’t say that I’m surprised he left these behind.”

“Sam!” Kendra shook her head.

“Yes, sir, here’s a man who knows that you should never wear underwear with holes in it. What will the emergency-room personnel think if you get hit by a truck?”

Regan always thought that the doctors and nurses in emergency rooms probably had better things to do than discuss the state of their patients’ underwear.

“Well, he obviously didn’t care about what we thought when we found it,” Kendra observed.

“Need any more rags for the maid?” Sam asked before he dropped Eben’s personal effects back into the drawer.

“Eben was the maid!” Kendra moaned. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Let’s check the bathroom,” Nora suggested.

They all shuffled over to the doorway. The bathroom could best be described as functional. White tiles, white toilet and small sink, white bathtub with a green vinyl shower curtain. Regan doubted that the towel racks were heated. In a way Regan couldn’t blame Eben for being tempted by the amenities in the guest-suite luxury bathroom, like the Olympic-size Jacuzzi.
But that didn’t make him an art thief.

The police officer opened the medicine cabinet. Another source of potential embarrassment, Regan thought. She had a friend who at parties would always make sure to use the bathroom before leaving in order to peek in people’s medicine chests and behind their shower curtains.

But Eben’s medicine cabinet was empty except for a bottle of Tums on the top shelf. Stress, Regan thought. There was no sign of a toothbrush. There hadn’t been any toilet articles in the bathroom of the house, either. Another sign that he had planned his departure.

“You say you met Eben Bean through Altide?” Officer Webb asked. “Did he have other references?”

“No. Louis was so enthusiastic and Eben was currently working for him, so we just accepted his word.” The betrayal was starting to get to Kendra. Her face turned scarlet. “I can’t believe Louis did this to us. I could throttle him.”

There was a phone in the caretaker apartment. She went over to it, dialed information and got the number of the Silver Mine. When she was put through to Louis, she did not mince words. “I just want you to know that your highly recommended caretaker friend has ripped us off. You may already know about the Grants’ painting. Ours weren’t nearly so valuable but they were expensive, and they were selected for very personal reasons over the past twenty years.”

Sputtering could be heard from the other end of the phone.

He’ll be a basket case by the time I get there, Regan thought.

Kendra cut through the tearful apologies. “Oh, shut up,” she said as she slammed down the phone and marched out of the apartment.

Over dinner, Sam and Luke made a determined effort to cheer up Kendra. “We’ve got each other and our children,” Sam said, “although they seem to avoid us in favor of the VCR. Come to think of it, I’m surprised Eben didn’t put that in his sack too. And we have our good friends.”

“Don’t forget your health,” Luke added. “Your most valuable possession.” He paused. “Of course if it went on for everyone indefinitely, I’d be out of business.”

“One time years ago, the police came to our home when we weren’t there because the alarm had gone off,” Nora contributed, as she ground pepper over her salad. “When they saw the mess in Regan’s room they were sure someone had broken in.”

“Mom!” Regan protested.

Nora shrugged. “Oh, honey, it’s a good story. Well, thank God, we got home before they started dusting for fingerprints. We had to inform them that that was the natural state of affairs in Regan’s room. The wind had tripped the alarm,” she explained.

“Thank you for sharing,” Regan said as she helped herself to a piece of bread. She tried to sound light-hearted, but inwardly she was troubled. I’m a trained investigator, she thought. I knew Eben was a thief. Not the kind of thief who had one brush with the law but one who’d been a career criminal until he picked on the police commissioner’s wife. I’m going to find out what happened to him.

Then she laid down the bread.
Not, what happened to the art and where Eben had taken it, but what happened to Eben?
Why did some instinct warn her that this was not a cut-and-dried case of a recidivist felon?

9

R
EGAN, THANK GOD, you’re here!” Louis screamed as the cabdriver helped her into the lobby with her bags.

From the expression on his face, Regan could see that Louis was in his frantic mode. “It’s going to be all right,” she assured him. “Say, you’ve got a classy joint here.”

For a brief, shining moment, the terror evaporated from his countenance. “I know,” he acknowledged.

The lobby had a clubby atmosphere, with oriental rugs covering the old oak floor, high-back chairs, a grand fireplace big enough for a weenie roast, glass-topped tables supported by antlers. Antlers, Regan realized, seemed to be a big theme in Louis’s decorating. They were also sprouting from the chandelier and peeking under lamp shades.

Red wallpaper was the background for numerous paintings and portraits. Beyond the reception desk, a grand staircase led to the second floor.

“The restaurant’s in the back,” Louis explained as he picked up her suitcase and headed for the stairs. “Let’s drop your bag in your room first.”

Regan followed him across the lobby. As they passed the reception desk, the clerk, who had the tanned look of a perennial skier, called, “Louis, do you want me to get someone for the bags?”

“Too late now, Tripp,” Louis shot back as he trudged up the steps.

He’s tense, Regan decided. Louis’s receding brown hair was pulled back into a little ponytail. Flecks of gray were evident, probably multiplying by the minute, she thought. Despite the fact that he was a nervous wreck, in his splendid red dinner jacket and gray slacks Louis still looked the part of lord of the manor.

“Where did you get all these great portraits?” Regan asked, pausing to examine them briefly as she ascended to the second floor.

“They just look expensive,” Louis said defensively. “I started collecting them when I bought this place. You’d be amazed how many people dump their ancestors’ portraits into garage sales. They give an old place like this atmosphere.”

“How old is it?” Regan asked, as they reached the second floor.

“Exactly one hundred years old. That’s one of the reasons I got the big benefit. This place was originally the Silver Mine Tavern, built by Geraldine Spoonfellow’s grandfather. She’s the moving spirit behind the Rescue Aspen’s Past Association. She’s donating a painting to the association and it will be on view here at the party . . . if the party stays here.”

Regan’s room was near the staircase. Louis led her into it. “It’s my best,” he said, waving his hand. “Hope you like it.”

“I love it,” Regan said as she took in the old-fashioned wallpaper, fluffy quilt and sleigh bed. “It makes me feel like Emily Dickinson. Maybe I’ll write a poem.”

As the words rolled off her tongue, she knew they weren’t falling on appreciative ears. She waited.

Louis sank into the green velvet rocker by the window. “Regan,” he moaned, “I’m in big trouble.” Nervously he smoothed the hair on the sides of his head and pulled at his ponytail. “There’s a lot of money invested in this place.”

“It looks it,” Regan agreed and then wished she hadn’t said that.

“I have all my own money in it and investors’ money and it’s very important that this place starts to make some of that money back.”

“Running are staurant is tough, ”Regan said and realized she should maybe go for a Dale Carnegie course. Think positively. Make the other fellow feel better. “You’ll make it back,” she added lamely as she thought about Sam’s comments on the plane.