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  Bessie stood up and ran to the TV as if it would make a difference, as if Eben would be able to hear her cursing at him. The fervent newscaster again recounted the story that Eben Bean had been in Vail the day of the other major art theft, and it was now believed he might be working with a female partner.

  Bessie’s heart started palpitating. Oh my God, oh my God, she thought. I can’t believe it’s happening to me again. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll go get a drink at the bar before I catch my bus.

  As she scrambled around the room, gathering her belongings, she caught her reflection in the mirror. A sturdy woman with brown hair and eyes, it was hard to tell if she was in her late forties or north of sixty. She was fifty-six. She’d never married but had found satisfaction working for four different families in the past thirty-five years. Having her own home was almost unfathomable, an alien concept, something that other people thought about but not Bessie.

  She yanked the zipper of her tubular all-purpose paisley travel bag and quickly looked around the room for anything she might have missed. Whatever I forgot, Carmel can lend me, she thought. She’d left a message on her cousin’s answering machine saying she was coming down for a few days. Carmel had always urged her to take some time off. And she would be good to talk things out with. Bessie couldn’t believe that there had been a second theft.

  She picked up her bag off the bed. “Let’s go, Mary Poppins,” she said to herself.

  Fifteen minutes later Bessie was seated on one of the comfortable lounge chairs in a bar near the bus stop. Her chair was farther away from the fireplace than she preferred, but you had to get there pretty early to get one of those choice seats. Today she didn’t really care. Usually she enjoyed watching everyone parade around like peacocks in their fashionable skiwear, but today she quickly ordered a gin martini and barely noticed her surroundings. A piano player was tinkling his heart out in the corner, but Bessie’s jiggling leg was moving at three times the beat.

  A couple came through the front door and walked over to the love seat right near Bessie.

  “Judd, how about here?” the woman asked.

  They sat down and the man crossed his legs in that macho position, with one foot resting on his knee, the sole of his black cowboy boot facing Bessie. It took a moment for her to notice, but when she did she froze. A raggedy orange sticker was stuck to the bottom of the shoe. She glanced at the rest of the boot and recognized the silver scroll on the side. That was Santa’s boot! She was absolutely positive it was the one she’d examined. But this guy wasn’t Eben. I’ve got to call Regan Reilly, she thought.

  She jumped up quickly, too quickly, just as the waitress came over with her drink.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said.

  “But the drink is already made…”

  “I’ll pay for it,” Bessie said and pulled out several bills from her wallet. With trembling fingers she laid them on the waitress’s tray. She wanted to get to a phone as fast as possible.

  As she turned to go, her purse slipped out of her hands. It landed at the feet of the man wearing the cowboy boots. When she bent over to pick it up, he leaned down to help. Her face was inches from the sole of his foot when their eyes met. His brown eyes darted between the sticker and Bessie. When a flicker of recognition passed over his face, her whole body shuddered.

  “Thank you,” she whispered and hurried down the long hall to the phone, her purse and travel bag flying behind her. She fished out Regan Reilly’s number and dialed the phone.

  A clerk answered and informed her that Regan was out. Could he take a message?

  “This is Bessie Armbuckle. It’s very important that I talk to her—”

  A hand reached over and pushed down the receiver. Willeen and Judd were standing right behind her.

  “Honey, we’re going for a ride,” he said. “Just act nice and nobody will get hurt. Make a fuss and there’s no telling what will happen.”

  Bessie replaced the phone in its cradle and walked between them out the side door to the parking lot.

  22

  I CAN’T BELIEVE how late it’s gotten,” Regan said as she and Louis carefully guided Louis XVIII through the door of his restaurant. “It’s four o’clock already.”

  “Time for a cocktail,” Louis purred. “A drink to Geraldine. And to you for forcing me to face her.”

  “Sometimes you just have to face these things head-on,” Regan said. “No matter what happens, you usually feel better for getting it over with.”

  “That might be true,” Louis said. “But if Geraldine had refused to keep the party here, you’d be giving me smelling salts right now. Where do you want His Majesty to go?” he asked.

  “Let’s bring him up to my room. I’ll keep him there until I drop him off to get cleaned and framed, which I’ll have to do soon so he’ll be ready for the party.”

  Tripp was just coming out of the office with message slips in his hands. “What a dude,” he said appraisingly as he checked out Louis XVIII in all his regalia.

  “He was the King of France,” Regan said.

  Tripp smiled at Regan. “I figured he wasn’t an Olympic skier. I did take an art history course in college, you know.”

  Regan laughed. “Sometimes I like to state the obvious.”

  Tripp looked down at the messages in his hands. “Oh Regan, you just missed a phone call.”

  “Who was it from?”

  “Some lady named Bessie Armbuckle.”

  Regan raised her eyebrows. “Oh really?” Tripp handed her the slip. “What did she say?”

  “She sounded a little wired. She said she needed to talk to you but she hung up pretty fast. I was like ‘whoa.” ’

  “I just met her today. She can be a little abrupt,” Regan said. “She didn’t leave a number?”

  Tripp shook his head. “No. Also, some guy named Larry Ashkinazy called. He said to meet him at Little Nell. He’ll be there between four and six. That place really hops at that time.” He looked at his watch. “He must be there now.”

  Regan turned to Louis. “We were going to have a drink….”

  Louis waved his hand at her. “Don’t worry, darling. Go have some fun. I’ve got to get ready for the dinner crowd anyway. We’re pretty booked tonight. I’ll have to go back to the kitchen and start bothering them. We’ll get together later.”

  Regan smiled. It would be good to get out for a little while. She’d only been in Aspen for twenty-four hours and wouldn’t mind seeing what the rest of the world was up to. “All right. But first I’m going to go upstairs and change. I’ll give Bessie a call at the Grants’ to see what’s going on with her.”

  “Please, God, don’t let it be anything that further incriminates Eben,” Louis said. “I’m going to be on an emotional roller coaster all week.”

  Don’t I know it, Regan thought. Carrying the painting, Louis and Tripp followed her up the stairs. When she closed the door behind them, she immediately picked up the phone and dialed the Grants’ number. Yvonne answered.

  Regan introduced herself. “… so I was wondering if Bessie was there.”

  “No, Regan,” Yvonne said. “We just came back from a wonderful afternoon of skiing. You should really get out there and try it.”

  “I know,” Regan answered. “I intend to. So Bessie’s not there?”

  “She was taking the bus to Vail around this time. You saw her today. She’s a little frazzled. We did have a lot of parties in New York and I think we wore her out. So we decided we should really give her a few days off to go down and see her cousin.” Yvonne laughed. “For all our sakes.”

  Regan sat down on her bed. “She wanted to talk to me but didn’t leave a number. Do you have her cousin’s number?”

  “It must be around here somewhere. I’ll have to look. When I find it, I’ll call you back.”

  “Thanks, Yvonne.” Regan hung up the phone and sat there thinking. She couldn’t get Eben off her mind. Where was he? Regan stood up. At least I’ve accomplishe
d something today. For the time being, unless something else happens, Louis’s party is still a go.

  There was a knock at the door. Now what? she thought. She walked over and pulled it open. Standing in front of her was her good buddy from Connecticut. “Kit!” she exclaimed and gave her a quick hug. “You’re here!”

  “Am I ever!”

  “Come on in!” Regan grabbed her suitcase. “I’m afraid to ask. What happened to the guy?”

  Kit looked disgusted and fell back on the bed. “He told me his old girlfriend showed up with a Christmas present. A present she bought for him before they broke up.”

  “The oldest lie in the world.”

  “No kidding,” Kit said. “Now they have to ‘work some things through.’ He said he’d call me ‘when the dust settles.” ’

  “What did you say?” Regan asked eagerly.

  “I told him to get a can of Pledge.”

  Regan laughed. “Good!”

  “It’s pathetic. I thought he was different. I thought this New Year’s would be different. Like maybe I’d have a date.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here. We’ll have fun and I need you for moral support. You wouldn’t believe what’s been going on around here; I have to fill you in. But let’s get ready. Mr. Drill, Fill and Bill is meeting us at Little Nell for drinks.”

  “Go, Larry,” Kit said. “Nothing like jumping right back in the swim of socializing. I’ll probably just meet a nerd and start to get all depressed again.”

  “No, you won’t.” Regan chuckled.

  Kit rubbed her eyes and yawned. “By the way, Regan, I hope you don’t mind sharing the room. Louis says they’re all full but they can put a cot in here.”

  “That’s fine,” Regan said. “It’ll be like our college days.”

  “Does that mean we’re going to sleep till noon?”

  “No. It means we can lie in bed and analyze everything going on in this town. Maybe we’ll catch a few criminals while we’re at it.”

  “Criminals?” Kit sat up. “Reilly, I thought you were on vacation.”

  “I guess skiing isn’t enough for me,” Regan said. “Besides, we don’t want things to get too dull, now do we?”

  “Dull is all I know these days,” Kit said wearily.

  “Get ready,” Regan said. “You never know who we’ll meet.”

  23

  DAISY DROVE TO the Woods’ house, never tiring of the scenery of Aspen. The small Victorian picture-book houses, many of which were painted bright pink or lime green or turquoise, and trimmed in equally flamboyant colors, made her smile. Painted cows on mailboxes lent a certain whimsy. And, as always, the sight of the mountains in any season made her feel alive.

  Everything in Daisy’s life was going so well, even if her mother’s three-month visits did get to be a little trying.

  Christmas week was a busy time for her. With all the people in town to ski, massages were in great demand. Things stayed pretty busy through the winter months. Only in the spring did business quiet down a bit, but then the crowds came back in the summer for the music festivals and all the other outdoor activities.

  As she pulled into the driveway, she found herself smiling. The Woods were nice people. She always enjoyed coming to their house. It’s just so hard to believe about Eben, Daisy thought, pulling her massage table from the car.

  Kendra greeted her at the door. “Come on in, Daisy. We’re drawing straws over who gets to go first. And none of us even skied today.” She introduced Daisy to Luke and Nora.

  “We had a tough day,” Luke drawled. “It consisted of going out to lunch and coming back to read.”

  Daisy laughed. “That makes my job easier. You’re already relaxed.”

  “I know what you mean,” Luke said. “I work with bodies, and it’s much easier when they’ve relaxed.”

  “Luke!” Nora squealed.

  “What do you do?” Daisy asked innocently.

  “I’m a funeral director,” Luke said proudly. “Only after rigor mortis has passed can we prepare the body.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “I’ve worked on some bodies that were so stiff they felt like they were in the throes of rigor mortis. It’s usually the first day of their vacation.”

  “Honestly, Luke,” Nora said and turned to Kendra. “He never used to talk about his clients like that.”

  Sam, who had been stoking the fire, spoke up. “Well, why not? They can’t talk back.”

  Kendra noticed Daisy looking around at the bare walls. “It’s the minimalist look, Daisy.”

  “I just can’t figure out what happened to Eben,” Daisy said. “I didn’t think he had it in him.”

  “The evidence is piling up,” Kendra said matter-offactly. “Nora found a receipt that shows Eben must have been in Vail the other day when there was a big art theft there.”

  “That reminds me,” Nora said. “I want to talk to Regan about it. I wonder what happened with her today.”

  “Well, Nora, you get to go first. So why don’t you call Regan when you’re finished?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll sit here and figure out what we should do for dinner.”

  “Make reservations,” Sam suggested.

  Kendra turned to Daisy. “Now that my friend Eben is gone, we have no one to do the shopping and cooking.”

  “Except us,” Sam said, sitting down and picking up the newspaper.

  Kendra continued, “We’d planned to be lazy this week. Eben was good at taking care of everything when we were here. He left us some prepared food in there but not enough for the week.”

  “He got greedy,” Luke mumbled.

  “So now, disaster of disasters, we’ve got to figure out every meal for ourselves. And go out and do the shopping. What a pain.”

  Daisy hesitated. Her mother was a good cook, not gourmet, but she could make some decent dishes that would taste good, especially if you’re starving after a day of skiing. And she could shop for them. Should she say something? She wouldn’t recommend her for the White House, but Kendra and Sam were low-keying it this week and probably wouldn’t expect seven-course meals. Why not?

  “My mother,” she began, “is in town visiting us from Ohio. She works part-time at the dry cleaner’s but I’m sure she’d be happy to work for you a couple hours a day. She’s a pretty good cook. Nothing too fancy…”

  Sam put his paper down. “I knew I always liked you, Daisy. When can she start?”

  24

  WILLEEN SAT IN the back of the car with the gun they kept in the glove compartment pointed at Bessie’s head. Bessie was resting uncomfortably on the floor.

  “Hurry up, Judd,” Willeen said. “Step on it.”

  “Willeen, the last thing I want to do is get stopped.”

  “It would serve you two right,” Bessie shouted.

  Willeen nudged her with the pistol.

  “Shoot if you must this old gray head,” Bessie said. “But you won’t get away with it.”

  “Listen lady—” Judd started to say.

  “Bessie’s my name. Miss Armbuckle to you.”

  “Miss Armbuckle, we don’t want any trouble—”

  “That’s why you dressed up as Santa and stole the painting. I should never have let you in the door.” Bessie tried to get herself into a more comfortable position. At my age, I’m crumpled on the floor like a pile of laundry, she thought. She was so angry that her fear had subsided. She was still in shock and, as usual, reacted by opening her mouth and letting it flap.

  When the car finally stopped and Judd opened the door, Bessie started to feel a sense of dread. As long as the car was in motion, she didn’t have to face what was really happening, like a baby who can ride in a car happily sleeping but the moment you stop to pay a toll starts to screech. Bessie’s nerves reacted the same way.

  “They’re looking for you, you know,” she said. “Regan Reilly is a young investigator staying in town and she’s doing some first-class snooping.”

  Judd a
nd Willeen exchanged a glance. They led her to the back door of the house, unlocked it, and turned on the kitchen light. Bessie’s hands were tied with rope they kept with the gun in the glove compartment.

  “Don’t you two just think of everything?” Bessie had asked sarcastically.

  Judd ordered her inside the house as Willeen went around turning on the lights.

  Bessie wrinkled her nose when she got a good look at the place. “This joint could stand a cleaning.”

  “Maybe you’re just the person to do it,” Judd remarked.

  “Fat chance,” Bessie muttered under her breath.

  “Say what?” Judd asked.

  “Nothing,” Bessie answered, wondering just what they were going to do with her. It didn’t take long to find out.

  Willeen opened a bedroom door off the living room. “Eben,” she said. “We’ve got some company for you.”

  “Eben!” Bessie said. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Sprawled on the double bed with his hands tied behind him was the man who was supposed to have played Santa, the man whose mug she’d just seen on television that afternoon.

  “Will the real Santa Claus please stand up?” Judd joked.

  Eben looked at Bessie. “Bessie! What are you doing here? Forgive me if I don’t get up and shake your hand.”

  Willeen laughed. “I tell you, Eben, I love your sense of humor. Say hello to Eben, Bessie.”

  Bessie stared at him. “You’re the slob who got mud all over my carpet last year. Which means you’re the one who got me into this mess. If I hadn’t been so worried about Santa’s boots the other night, I wouldn’t have been paying attention to this bird’s shoes.”

  “A silly little thing called fate,” Eben said tonelessly. To think I’d been longing for company, he mused. This is what I get. Mrs. Clean.

  “Well, I got news,” Judd said. “You two are going to have time to get to know each other because you’re going to be sharing this bed.”

  “What?” they both protested in unison.

  “What about the couch?” Eben asked. “I’ll take the couch.”