Iced Page 11
“It’s not long enough and it doesn’t pull out,” Judd informed him.
Where’s Bernadette Castro when you need her? Eben wondered. He’d give anything for one of those Castro Convertible couches that pull out so easily, even a child can do it. Like little Bernadette did in the commercials for her father’s company all those years ago. If I get out of here alive, he thought, I’ll have to write her a letter.
“Maybe you two will fall in love. You’ll have lots of time to share your innermost thoughts and feelings. Just like me and Willeen. Right, honey?”
Willeen wrinkled her nose. “You don’t share your innermost—”
“Shut up.” Judd turned to Bessie. “Now lay down. Eben gets a bathroom break and then he’ll jump back in the sack with you.”
“Another bathroom break so soon?” Eben said as Judd unshackled him. “I’m overwhelmed.”
“No comments from the peanut gallery,” Judd ordered.
“By the way,” Willeen said to Bessie, “who is this Regan Reilly?”
Eben’s ears perked up. Regan Reilly, he thought. Her parents were staying with Kendra and Sam. He’d met her through Louis, and knew that she was a private investigator.
Bessie realized that she shouldn’t have blabbed about Regan Reilly. If Regan was going to be any help to her and Eben, she couldn’t have these two losers after her. She’d have to keep it vague.
“Who is she?” Willeen demanded.
“A private investigator. She’s here on vacation.”
“Where is she staying?”
“I don’t know.” Bessie stared at them with a stone face.
“Fine,” Judd said. “Just fine.”
When he and Willeen climbed back in the car to head into town once again, Willeen looked worried.
“Who is this Regan Reilly, Judd? This is what I don’t like about being here so long. We were supposed to spend the week skiing and meeting rich people and then get out of here after the party. Now we’re baby-sitting and have the cops scratching their heads and sending out bulletins.”
“Willeen, what do you want? After Eben saw me, we had no choice. We had to get him out of the way if we wanted to pull off the benefit job. It’s all working out. Everybody thinks he pulled off the other jobs, so he’s the one they’re looking for.”
“I hope that’s the trail this private investigator Regan Reilly is on. I want to find out who she is.”
“We’ll find out, Willeen. Don’t you worry. We’ll find out.”
25
THE COYOTE WHISTLED as he showered and rushed to join the après-ski crowd. As he towel-dried he snapped on the television and stared in amazement.
“What the hell is going on now?” he said to himself.
As he dressed he hung on every word between Eben Bean and the broad being brought into his bedroom. “So, Eben, you got yourself a girl,” the Coyote chuckled.
Several times he burst out laughing. He’d never been on a job that was this much fun. Willeen looked nervous. What were they saying? Regan Reilly is a private investigator? Let her investigate.
On the other hand, one of the cardinal rules in this business was not to underestimate anyone, whether it’s the cops or your competitors. Judd and Willeen hadn’t bungled the job in Vail. They had no way of knowing that he had a mole inside their ring. Theirs had actually been a well-planned heist. But as they’d learned, even the best-laid plans can sometimes go awry. The Coyote laughed. His plan wouldn’t fail.
He waited until Willeen and Judd, having secured Bessie and Eben, left to go back into town. As he turned off the TV, he waved good-bye to them. “Maybe I’ll run into you later, kids.”
26
AFTER HER UNEXPECTED guests left, Geraldine returned to the barn for another couple of hours. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in being so generous to that Louis fellow, but she liked Regan Reilly. She seemed to be a square shooter and she was smart, not like some of those hippies who had invaded Aspen in the sixties and did nothing but pluck their guitars and sing about peace.
It was nearly five o’clock when Geraldine realized that she was stiff and cold. Except for a lunch pail that looked as though it must have been used in Pop-Pop’s early mining days, the afternoon had been unrewarding. Everything she had looked through was junk. Pure and simple junk.
Geraldine was about to give up for the night when something made her stand on tippy-toes to make sure the shelf she’d been working on for the past hour had been completely cleared. Was there something still there? The overhead light dangling from a cord did not penetrate the dark corners where the shelf met the sloping roof.
She reached for the flashlight attached to her workbelt. She carried it to help ferret out possible hidden treasures that might be entombed under mounds of whatnots and useless debris. Pointed at the shelf, the beam spotlighted a thick book, like a bookkeeper’s ledger or a photograph album.
Geraldine pulled over a chair, stood on it and stretched out her arm. The shelf was so deep that only the tips of her fingers could curl around a corner of the book cover. Tugging at it, she finally managed to yank it out. Quickly training the flashlight on the cover, she hoped against hope that it might contain early photographs of Pop-Pop and her family. She brushed the grit from the leather cover and gasped in joy as Pop-Pop’s initials, in raised silver lettering, gleamed against the maroon leather. B.S.
Her eyes filled with tears as she opened the first page.
THE STORREY OF MY LIFE BY BURTON SPOONFELLOW
With both arms she hugged it to her. Barely remembering to turn out the light and lock the barn door, she rushed back to the house and poured herself some Wild Turkey. She lit the fire, positioned herself in the rocking chair that had been Pop-Pop’s favorite perch, and glanced up at the portrait she so loved of him, standing in his Sunday best, stroking his goatee. She raised her glass to him and offered a toast.
“As you would say, honorable Grandfather, ‘down the hatch.” ’ Geraldine swallowed the bourbon in one gulp and wiped her mouth. “Now I’m ready to find out your secrets.” There was one she especially hoped he’d written about.
27
AS DAISY HEADED home in her Jeep, she hummed to herself. Everybody loves a massage, she thought. The Woods and Reillys had been appreciative of her hard work kneading their tensed-up muscles and relaxing their weary joints.
When she had worked on Kendra, Daisy had put on what she thought was her most soothing tape. Daisy liked it because it was the sounds of the ocean, waves lapping peacefully against the shore, with the cries of a few seagulls thrown in for atmosphere. Unfortunately it reminded Kendra of one of her favorite paintings, a seascape she had bought on Cape Cod, that was now among the missing.
“I think maybe you’d better change the tape,” Kendra had said. “I’m getting aggravated.”
“Not a hassle,” had been Daisy’s reply. “I thought you might like it because our bodies are made up of mostly water. And so is the whole planet. It’s why we’re drawn to the sea, ya know?”
“Just like Eben was drawn to my paintings,” Kendra had said, shutting her eyes. Daisy knew they’d reached that moment where the client doesn’t want to have to move another muscle, including her jaw. The massage would continue without another word exchanged. Daisy used this time to think about her TO DO list.
Now Daisy pulled into her driveway and smiled. It was good to get home.
Inside, Ida was standing in front of a bowl of ground meat, shaping patties with her hands. “Don’t worry, dear, they’re turkey burgers,” she said as she pushed back her glasses with her knuckles.
Daisy laughed. “I didn’t say anything.” She hung her jacket on the wall rack by the back door where a jumble of coats and scarves was already hung and boots were resting on the floor in tiny puddles of melted snow.
Ida reached into the freezer, pulled out a box of frozen corn, and laid it on the counter. Picking up a hammer, she gave the box a good whack. “How was your day, honey?” she asked.
“I got you another job.”
A pained, saddened expression came over Ida’s face. “Another job? Do you think I’m around too much?”
“What? Of course not!” Daisy put her arm around her mother and thought, well, maybe a little. “I know you’ve been trying to earn some extra money and I thought that this particular job might be something you would like.”
“I’m listening,” Ida said, her face grim. “Since Kendra Wood’s caretaker disappeared, she doesn’t have anyone to shop and cook and straighten up. It would just take a few hours in the afternoon. I thought you might like to do it. It’s just for this week.”
“If she wants me all day, I’ll dump the dry cleaner’s,” Ida sputtered.
Daisy laughed. “No, Ma. I don’t want you to do that. It’s a steady job and you like working there when you’re out here.”
“Not many celebrities have come in this year. It’s been a little boring. But to work for Kendra Wood! And didn’t you say Nora Regan Reilly was staying there too? She’s my favorite author!”
“She’s there with her husband,” Daisy said.
“Didn’t I read somewhere that he has some crazy job?” Ida asked.
“He’s a funeral director.” Daisy shrugged. “Some-body’s got to do it. I’ll call Kendra and tell her you’ll be over there tomorrow afternoon.” She walked over to the phone and began to dial.
Ida fluttered around the kitchen. “I’ve got to get some extra film for my camera.”
Daisy put down the phone. “No camera, Mom.”
Ida looked crestfallen. “But—”
“No camera,” Daisy said firmly. “They’re private people.”
Ida waved her hand at her daughter. “Oh, okay.”
As Daisy went back to dialing, Ida opened a jar of apple sauce with a strength she never knew she had. With gusto, she dumped the whole thing into a bowl. The mental Rolodex in her head was spinning off all the titles of the TV movies Kendra Wood had starred in. Ida couldn’t wait to talk to her about every single one of them. Maybe then she’d pose for a few pictures.
28
KIT’S PRESENCE WAS like a shot in the arm for Regan. On the way over to Little Nell, Regan filled her in on the events of the last couple of days. “Do you remember Eben?”she asked. “He was at Louis’s pool party in California a few years ago. He was helping to serve the hors d’oeuvres.”
Kit stopped dead in her tracks. “I remember him! He was funny! As a matter of fact, he was serving me a drink when that producer was thrown in the pool. I said something to Eben about hoping she didn’t lose all that jewelry she was wearing and he muttered that it was all fake anyway. Then he told me to be careful because the clasp on my bracelet looked bent.”
“He said that?” Regan asked, incredulous.
“He said that,” Kit confirmed.
“Oy. What else?”
“I asked him how he knew so much about jewelry.”
“What did he say?”
“He got embarrassed and said he was just kidding. But he was right! The clasp on my bracelet was broken. Can you believe it?”
“Yes,” Regan said as they resumed walking. “I’m afraid our friend Eben decided to broaden his horizons by expanding into the art world. And he knows his stuff there. The Grants’ painting was very valuable. The painting from Vail was too. What I don’t understand is why he went after Kendra’s paintings after she’d been so good to him. As she said, they had more sentimental value than monetary worth. They weren’t cheap but she liked them because they were bought on trips she and Sam had taken to Europe and Cape Cod.”
“No thief like an old thief,” Kit declared. “Once it gets in your blood… But I’m surprised too. It’s like he was thumbing his nose at them. There was something about that guy that was endearing.”
“I thought he’d turned over a new leaf,” Regan said. “I swear, it just doesn’t add up.” She shrugged. “Well, it won’t do any good to worry about it now. Isn’t it a beautiful night?”
“Gawjiss,” Kit said.
As they walked through town, they passed skiers heading home with their skis flung over their shoulders. All the watering holes along the way were crowded. The town felt alive. They looked in the glass front of Mezzaluna, which was packed with diners and barhoppers.
By the time they got to Little Nell the bar was filled to capacity. They had to wait in line behind a velvet rope until some of the après-skiers filtered out.
When the velvet rope finally parted and they were allowed to join the crowd, Regan turned to Kit. “Sound the trumpets.” They squeezed their way through the well-heeled revelers and headed for the bar, keeping their eyes open for the dentist to the stars.
“I see him,” Regan said. “In the midst of the action.”
Kit grinned. “Blinded by his dazzling smile, no doubt.”
Larry was sitting at a corner table with two couples who were obviously just leaving. As they approached him, he jumped up.
“Regan! And Kit! I didn’t know you were coming,” he said, kissing them both.
“It was a surprise to me too,” Kit said wryly. “But what do you know, I was freed up, so here I am.”
“You two are going to have such a good time,” Larry promised. “I already know of a couple of parties and I’ll see if I can get you in.”
“What do you have to do, promise them a free teeth cleaning for everyone you bring along?” Regan asked.
“You’re mean to me, Regan.” Larry laughed.
“No, I’m not. I’m the little sister you never had.”
“There are lots of guys here. Do you want me to introduce you?”
Regan turned to Kit. “See, he’s trying to get rid of us already.”
Kit smiled. “Haven’t we had enough small talk?”
Larry rolled his eyes. “You two. Let me get you something from the bar. It’ll be faster. Here, sit down and hold the table.”
He took their orders and slithered over to the bar, stopping to say hello to a few members of the female sex along the way.
“I think Moses crossed the desert in less time than it takes Larry to cross a barroom floor,” Regan said as she looked around.
“I should have told him I have to be back in Connecticut next week,” Kit said, taking in the whole scene. “I’m so glad to be here.”
“Me too,” Regan said. “We’ll have fun this week. Louis’s party should be great.” She rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Please, God, don’t let anything get in the way of that party. Louis will freak.”
“Here we go, ladies,” Larry said, handing them their drinks as he took a seat.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Regan said, holding up her glass.
“The good doctor comes through with the medicine,” Kit said, taking a sip.
“Hi, Derwood,” Larry said to a man who seemed to appear from nowhere.
“Hi, Lar. Okay if I join you?”
“Sure. Meet my friends Regan and Kit. Regan and Kit, this is my friend Derwood.”
Derwood, a quiet, mild-mannered, mid-thirtyish guy who seemed attractive enough with his curly brown hair and hazel eyes, slipped into the chair next to Kit and sipped his beer. Within a few minutes it was determined that he was a computer specialist with his own business and hailed from Chicago. Unfortunately, Kit told him she was in the market for a new computer. For what seemed like an eternity he gave an earnest nonstop dissertation about hard drives, bytes, modems and printers. Even Larry couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He rolled his eyes at Regan but then looked over her shoulder and gave a vigorous wave of his arm to a broad-shouldered, auburn-haired, athletic-looking man in his late thirties.
“Hi, Stewart,” Larry called.
Regan turned to see who was the recipient of Larry’s greeting. One glance was all it took. Hubba, hubba, she thought.
He was wearing a rust ski sweater that complemented his brown eye
s and accentuated the reddish tones in his hair. His warm smile was attractive and seemed to be reflected in his eyes.
Kit noticed him too but was stuck hearing about the importance of keeping your computer disks from extreme temperatures.
“I wasn’t planning on taking them skiing.” Kit chuckled halfheartedly as Stewart the dreamboat sat down next to Regan.
Kit is ready to kill herself, Regan thought as they were introduced.
Stewart shook Regan’s hand. “I guessed you were Regan Reilly. I met Larry last night when I was at a party and went into the bedroom to get my coat. He was in there talking into his pocket recorder.” Stewart mimicked Larry holding the device up to his mouth. “Call Regan Reilly tomorrow.”
They all laughed.
“Everybody’s picking on me,” Larry said. “Would you have forgotten about me otherwise, Larry?” Regan asked.
“No. It shows I was thinking of you. I ended up telling Stewart all about you. He even read one of your mother’s books.”
“Several of your mother’s books,” Stewart corrected. “I seldom read fiction, but I really enjoyed them.”
At least he didn’t say he never bothers with fiction, Regan thought. She smiled. “I guess I should buy you a drink then.”
“What? No way! I have a children’s clothing business, you see. It’s very lucrative…”
A woman with silky blond hair down to her waist tapped Larry on the shoulder. He jumped up as though struck by lightning.
“Danielle,”he crowed happily and yanked out the empty chair next to him. “Sit. Sit.”
29
I DON’T BELIEVE this,” Bessie said. “Our hands tied behind our backs, our legs shackled to the bedpost.”
“And we’re not even in love,” Eben commented.
“Very funny.”
“I hope you don’t think this is my idea of a good time, Missy.”
“My name is Bessie.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
Bessie harrumphed. “I believe we’ve met before. I wish we never had—then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”