Iced (8 page)

The information Sawyer gave them about Eben’s background was not pretty. Regan had known that Eben had not been a first offender when he was sent off to prison but she had had no idea of the extent of his lawless past. With increasing anxiety she listened as the information on Eben’s rap sheet was laid out for them.

When Detective Sawyer read that during his plea bargain Eben had confessed to thirty years of jewel thefts, even boasting that he could have lifted Queen Elizabeth’s crown from her head during the coronation ceremony, Regan thought Louis was going to burst into tears.

Louis’s feeble protest that he hadn’t realized the scope of Eben’s activities obviously did not impress Sawyer.

“Mr. Altide, you’re new here,” Sawyer snapped, scowling at him. “We take great pride in this community. Aspen is a place where celebrities and wealthy people come to get away from big-city life, to feel free and safe. A lot of the local people wish they would stay home, but that’s the way it is. It is our job to protect them.”

His voice rose a pitch. “We can’t do our job if people like you recommend convicted felons who admit to a long history of grand larceny for positions that give them entry to these people’s homes. Thanks to you, Mr. Bean was able to shop at leisure in the Wood home and walk out of the Grant house with a masterpiece in his sack.”

Dismayed, Regan listened, knowing that this was exactly what everyone in town would be thinking. But the next words out of Sawyer’s mouth chilled her. “On the other hand, the Woods and the Grants may have been lucky. Three days ago, on the twenty-third, an elderly man in Vail was Maced and tied up in a closet. A Beasley painting was taken from his home. Luckily he was wearing his medical-alert necklace and was able to summon help when he recovered consciousness.”

There was a knock on the office door. Louis barked, “I said do not disturb! Damn it! Doesn’t anybody ever listen to me?”

“Kendra Wood obviously did when you recommended Eben Bean to her,” Sawyer said sarcastically as the door opened and one of Louis’s young attractive waiter/clerk/ receptionists looked in.

The staff here reminds me of the Up with People group, Regan thought.

“Brendan, what the hell is so important right now?” Louis demanded.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” he said, “but Regan’s mother is on the phone and she says it’s important.”

Louis grabbed the phone on his desk and handed it to Regan.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Regan asked quickly. Then, as she listened, she frowned. “Oh boy, that is important. Thanks. I’ll fill you in later.” She hung up the phone and looked directly at Sawyer. “My parents are staying in the suite Eben was using at the Woods’ house. This morning my mother found a receipt from a store in Vail on the bedroom floor. It’s dated December twenty-third.”

Louis finally burst into tears and laid his head down on his desk. “I’m ruined,” he wailed. “Completely ruined.”

13

W
HILE HE WAS eating breakfast, the Coyote observed the antics of Willeen and Judd practicing the King’s English for Eben’s benefit. He shared their delight that Eben was being linked to the crimes that he and they had committed independently. “Poor slob,” he muttered as he used his buttered toast to mop up the last of his sunny-side-up fried egg.

After Willeen and Judd had again secured Eben in his makeshift holding pen and gone back to the kitchen, the Coyote paid rapt attention as they once again went over their plans for the benefit.

So, when the time is right, Judd and Willeen will strike too, huh? They plan to ring in the New Year with something to hang on a client’s wall. Well, we’ll see about that.

14

R
EGAN HELD LOUIS’S hand as Detective Sawyer phoned his counterpart in the Vail Police Department and tersely informed him that Eben Bean might very well have been in Vail on Friday.

As Louis continued to sniffle and moan, Regan pulled out her handy pocket tissues.

The detective gave Louis a dirty look as he struggled to absorb the information he was receiving from Vail.

“Keep the rest,” Regan said, handing Louis the dainty package of tear absorbers. “I’m afraid you’re going to need them.”

“You’re a big help,” Louis mumbled as he dabbed his eyes.

Regan watched as Detective Sawyer’s round face creased into lines that straddled his forehead. He probably was only in his late forties, she guessed, but he didn’t look as if he spent a lot of time on the ski slopes or his NordicTrack. His jacket bulged at the seams and he seemed to wear a permanent disgruntled expression. But his eyes showed a keen intelligence and it was clear to her that he was listening to vital information.

A moment later, when Sawyer dropped the phone back on the hook, it became obvious that her guess had been right.

“If your friend Eben did pull the Vail robbery, he had a lady friend along with him to help him carry out the Beasley painting. Not that anyone had to eat that much spinach to have the strength to lift it—they cut it right out of the frame.”

“A woman was with him?” Regan asked.

“Yeah. The poor old guy was dazed and confused. When he came to in the closet, he heard a man and a woman.”

Regan turned to Louis. “Did Eben have a girlfriend?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Louis protested.

Regan was becoming exasperated. “Well, Louis, how much did you see him? . . . What are you doing, Louis?”

Louis took his hand off his wrist. “I was taking my pulse. I’m getting overexcited.”

Regan didn’t dare look at Sawyer. “Louis, come on. What do you know of Eben’s social life around here?”

“He kept to himself. He didn’t want anyone to know about his past. What a joke, huh? When I first got here, he stopped by when we were doing the renovations. After we opened last month he’d drop in for an occasional beer, always on a night he was going to the movie theater down the block. He loves the movies.”

“He had plenty of time in prison to develop a fondness for them,” Sawyer said wryly.

Regan ignored the remark. “So he liked going to the movies. What else?”

Louis looked up at the ceiling as if the next answer would materialize there. “He mentioned something about going to McDonald’s after the show.”

Sawyer’s face took on that you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “If you were such good friends, why didn’t he eat here?” he asked.

“He likes Big Macs,” Louis said defensively.

Detective Sawyer stood up. “I don’t think there’s anything more we can do here,” he said. “I assure you I’ll keep in touch. I trust you’ll be sticking around, Mr.Altide?”

“If I’m not run out of town,” Louis sighed.

When the door closed behind Sawyer, Louis turned to Regan. “Regan, this is your vacation. You came here to ski. Forget about me.”

Regan took in the pathetic demeanor of her friend. “A friend in need is a friend indeed,” she assured him.

“How corny, Regan. I can’t believe you said that.” He gave one final blow on the last tissue.

“I can’t believe you told me to forget what’s going on. How can I forget it? Thanks to you I’m an accessory after the fact.” She paused. “Besides, you know me. I like to ski, but it wouldn’t compare with the satisfaction of tracking down Eben-eezer.”

In Los Angeles, Regan had just finished a case where she had traced a guy using stolen credit-card numbers. He ordered merchandise to be delivered to an address that was temporary, to say the least. Regan had been only too happy to deliver the purchases to him in person, ending his shopping spree for good. And, as always when a case like that wrapped up, she felt anxious to take on another challenge.

She just never guessed it would come so fast and hit so close to home.

Standing up, she said, “And I’m going to start by getting Kendra to arrange a meeting for me with the Grants. I want to hear firsthand the whole family’s version of old Saint Nick’s performance the other night.”

15

I
DA COULDN’T GET her mind off all the excitement going on in Aspen as she spooned out the pancake batter into perfect circles in the frying pan. She couldn’t get over the shivery delight of being close to celebrities who had just been robbed. To think that a star like Kendra Wood and her husband Sam the producer had called her daughter Daisy practically the minute they knew. She couldn’t wait to hear the reaction from her bridge club when she got back to Ohio. This morning she’d talk about it with the customers who came into the store with their dirty holiday clothes.

As she stood there watching the batter bubble, she counted the blueberries in each pancake. Fair is fair, she thought, and the kids would notice any difference in the blueberry count.

“Zenith! Serenity!” she called. “Grandma Ida’s pancakes are almost ready!”

Daisy appeared in the kitchen in her flannel bathrobe. Stretching her arms, she yawned and said, “Thanks, Mom. You didn’t have to do that.”

“My grandchildren mean the world to me. When I’m here I like to spoil them. Besides, that whole-grain cereal starts to taste like cardboard after a while, don’t you think?”

“It’s healthy for them,” Daisy protested. She grabbed some oranges from the refrigerator and started cutting them up to make fresh-squeezed juice. “You’re going down to work this morning?”

“God willing.” Ida was concentrating hard. It was a delicate art, deciding when the right moment was to flap the jacks.

“Are you on the schedule?”

“Yes, dear.”

“The kids and I are going to take an environmental-awareness walk this morning.”

Her back to Daisy, Ida rolled her eyes.

“. . . and then this afternoon they’re going to a play group while I go over to Kendra Wood’s to do a few massages.”

“The crime victims,” Ida observed. “They could probably use massages to ease the tension.”

“Let’s hope nothing else happens in this town. At least no one was hurt. I thought I knew Eben better than that. He just didn’t seem like the type to do it.”

“COME AND GET IT!” Ida bellowed. “Whoever did it, I hope they catch him and string him up,” she said as she carefully arranged the steaming-hot pancakes on her grandchildren’s plates. “In the meantime, we all better be on the lookout for strange happenings. I know I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” She turned to Daisy. “Maybe I should drive you over to Kendra’s this afternoon and wait while you work. It might not be safe to drive alone after dark.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine.”

Darn it, Ida thought. I’d just love to meet Kendra Wood.

16

I
THOUGHT YOU were going skiing early today,” Bessie Armbuckle barked at her employers, Yvonne and Lester Grant. “Does this mean you’re going to hang around for lunch?”

She’s been a wreck since the robbery, Yvonne Grant reminded herself. She shot a warning look at her husband, who was never known to take guff from his employees: Be patient.

“We’ll have lunch on the slopes, Bessie,” she said patiently. “Right now we’re waiting for Regan Reilly, a private investigator who is a friend of the Woods. She wants to talk to us about the other night.”

“A private investigator?” Bessie exploded. “Haven’t we had enough people around here asking questions?”

Yesterday afternoon, after they’d learned about the missing painting, there’d been an onslaught of police and media types. Aspen was teeming with photographers and reporters covering the activities of celebrities during the holiday week. They’d gotten wind of the robbery not long after Bessie discovered it; the phone and the doorbell never stopped all day Sunday. In desperation, the Grants had escaped to a friend’s house for Christmas dinner, leaving Bessie to hold down the fort. By now, Monday morning, her nerve endings were jangling.

“She wants to help us,” Yvonne said patiently. “What time is your bus to Vail?”

“Not soon enough,” Bessie replied.

After breakfast Lester had informed Yvonne that either she had to fire Bessie, give her a couple of days off, or spend the rest of the vacation without him. Bessie had jumped at the chance to go visit her cousin in Vail and get off her sore feet for a couple of days. “It’s about time I had a day off,” she added. “You people have run me ragged with your parties in New York, the party here, and the fancy caterers with their sloppy help who I had to clean up after. This is getting to be too much for me.”

Yvonne’s lips tightened. She was about to say, “Maybe it is,” but when she looked at Bessie’s weary and stress-filled fifty-something face, she knew that this was unusual behavior for her. She’d been with them for seven years now, traveling with them among their various homes; her dependability and efficiency made her aggressiveness bearable. Bessie’s elbow grease had made every nook and cranny of their three homes sparkle. Yvonne knew that anytime anything went wrong in the Grant household, Bessie felt responsible. The theft of the painting was the biggest thing that had gone wrong since she’d been in their employ. She just needs to get away for a few days, Yvonne told herself.

The doorbell rang. Please let that be Regan Reilly, so we can talk to her and then get out of here. To have to escape your own home, Yvonne thought wryly. How do these things happen?

Outside, Regan stood waiting, glancing around at the sloping street lined with condos. The house backed right into the mountain, which of course meant easy ski-in, ski-out access. Because the Grants lived in town, they didn’t have as much property as Kendra, but Regan supposed that having the ski lift practically in your own backyard more than made up for it.

The stone exterior of the house was most impressive. A massive carved oak door was adorned with antique hardware. It looked as if it could have been ripped off from Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. But it was no kindly cleric who answered the door asking, “What can I do for you, my child?”

Instead, a stern, hefty woman wearing remarkably unflattering steel-gray glasses and a gray uniform stood before her. Looking at the hairdo gave Regan a headache. The woman’s locks were tightly braided, yanked back and plastered to her skull with hairpins that looked as if they had removed at least her first couple layers of scalp.