A Killer Closet

by Paula Paul

  She smiled at him, still feeling tired.

  “I’ll fry the potatoes, warm the beans, put it all together, and we’ll eat,” he said, turning back to the stove.

  She sat down at the table and watched him as he moved, assembling the meal.

  “While you’re not an official person of interest, there is something you should be aware of,” Andy said.

  “Oh, dear, now it’s coming, more bad news.”

  “No, it’s not bad news. I just want you to know you could be called back for questioning,” he said. “If it’s determined that you know something more.”

  “I wish I did know more,” she said, “especially about Adelle.”

  He set two plates on the counter next to him. “I believe you, and I believe you’ll let me know if anything happens,” he said over the sizzle of potatoes and onions frying. “And don’t go looking for anything more. Leave that to me. I have some leads. I’ll follow through on them.”

  “Leads? What are they? What have you learned?”

  He smiled. “Nothing I can talk about.”

  “Don’t give me that shit. Adelle is my mother, for Christ’s sake. And she’s missing.”

  “You’ve got to let me do my job. You’ve got to trust me.” He set a plate before her—eggs, potatoes, and beans on a tortilla, covered with chile and topped with cheese.

  “Okay, but you have to trust me as well.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off the plate. “You can tell me about the leads.”

  “No, I can’t, Irene,” he said, as he sat down with his own plate. “I can’t tell you anything except stay away from P.J. Call me if he tries to contact you. Stay away from the lodge. Promise me that.”

  “I think I’m getting the picture,” she said. “That makes three times you’ve said that.”

  “I don’t have to say it again, do I?”

  “I told you, I get the picture.”

  “Good. Let’s forget about it for a few minutes and eat.”

  “This is good!” she said after her first bite. “I didn’t know how hungry I was.” She spoke around a mouthful of huevos rancheros.

  —

  Later, after he’d helped her wash the dishes, he gave her another kiss—a light one on the lips—then he left, warning her to lock her doors and assuring her that a patrolman would be on her street all night.

  He put no pressure on her to allow him to stay. If he had, she might have given in because she dreaded being alone. But after the lights were out and she was in bed, she was glad no one was there to disturb her. She needed to think.

  She hadn’t told Andy about Angel and his plan or about Rafael saying he would find Adelle. She’d dismissed it when Rafael said that, thinking it was probably bravado. Now she wondered. Maybe she should have mentioned it to Andy. On the other hand, maybe she should contact Rafael. Shouldn’t she ask him why he thought he could find her? Maybe not, since she’d promised to stay out of it. She knew she should cancel the trip she and Angel had planned.

  She didn’t want to decide now. She’d slept so little the last several days, and now she was too exhausted to stay awake. She didn’t want to think about anything except maybe the way Andy had kissed her. She hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time. Yet she couldn’t keep her mind off the vault. And Adelle. She wanted to believe Adelle was alive. Rafael said he’d seen her. That should give her hope, but in the gloom of night, hope seemed out of reach.

  Thoughts and doubts tumbled in her mind, and in spite of her resolve to sleep, she lay awake most of the night.

  —

  The first thing she did the next morning when Angel showed up just after she’d opened the store was tell him she was canceling their planned trip to the Mariposa lodge.

  “Why?” Angel asked, frowning. “You know we need to know what’s in that vault.”

  “I think we should leave it to the police.”

  “You told them about the vault?” Andy sounded incredulous.

  “Well…”

  “You did; you told the chief. He showed up at your house, and you told him.”

  “How did you know he came to my house?” Irene asked.

  “I didn’t know,” Angel said, “but I’m not surprised. I mean, you’re an attractive woman. He’s single. Maybe he’s horny.”

  “For Christ sake, Angel!”

  “All right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just meant a mutual attraction doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Well, anyway, I didn’t tell him. Harriet did. But it was the right thing to do, especially if it helps him find Adelle.”

  “I don’t see how it could,” Angel said.

  “I’m not sure myself, but I’d be willing to bet that the answer to why Loraine and Susana were killed and Adelle disappeared has something to do with whatever is in there.”

  “I suspect that. You suspect that. And I want to help you find out what’s in there. You’ve done your duty by telling the cops about the vault. I just don’t see why they have to be the first to know what’s inside.”

  “Don’t confuse me, Angel. Look! A customer just walked in. Go turn on your charm.”

  Chapter 15

  Why should the cops be the first to know what’s in that vault? Irene asked herself that question over and over again, but she didn’t dare answer it. Whatever she came up with would be a weak rationalization. She didn’t want to deal with weak rationalizations. She wanted to find out what was in that vault.

  She pulled the paper addressed to Adelle that she’d found at Mariposa from her purse and stared at the nonsensical message. Harriet hadn’t been able to understand it any better than she had. Irene thought it odd that the message was meant for Adelle rather than Harriet, since it seemed obvious that Harriet was a closer friend to Susana. At least she and George had been invited to Susana and Miguel’s lodge frequently, while Adelle had never been invited.

  Irene doubted that Adelle would be able to decipher the message even if she were present. Adelle had never exhibited the patience for word games—no crossword puzzles, no Scrabble, no cryptograms in the Sunday paper. She’d rather spend her time watching the shopping channels on TV.

  The longer she stared at the message, the more confusing it became to her, but she couldn’t help thinking that if only she could decipher it, she might save her mother’s life. That is, unless it was already too late. Once again she pushed that thought from her mind. She wouldn’t think of Adelle as being dead, but she couldn’t keep away a sense of desperation. She had to find her before it was too late.

  She told Angel Sunday in the early evening just before the store closed that she’d made up her mind to go back to the Mariposa lodge so he could try his luck at opening the safe. He wasn’t surprised. He said he’d already filled his gas tank and would pick her up at dawn.

  They were on their way before dawn, but Irene had insisted they take her car.

  “How long has it been since you had a gig like this?” Irene asked, as she sped along a nearly empty freeway.

  “What? Safecracking?” Angel shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve even tried. And I’ve never had a gig, as you call it. Just worked on that old safe my compadre had.”

  “You sure you can do it?”

  “Of course.”

  Irene cut her eyes toward him without turning her head. He was staring straight ahead with a look of youthful confidence.

  “Good,” she said, wishing she could feel equally confident.

  They made their way through the village of Pecos without stopping. She spotted Rafael’s pickup parked in front of a gas pump at the town’s only gas station. He stood next to the hose that was filling his tank and waved at her as she passed by. Irene returned the wave, then stopped and backed up her car when she realized Rafael’s hand gesture was more than a wave. He was signaling for her to stop. She stopped when she was even with his pickup.

  “Irene!” Rafael said by way of greeting when she rolled down her window. He eyed Angel with a look of suspicion.r />
  “I’ve been waiting to hear from you!” Irene was both irritated and angry—irritated because Rafael hadn’t somehow miraculously produced Adelle, and angry at herself for hoping, against her better judgment, that he could.

  “I was planning to go to Santa Fe later today to talk to you. Had to fill up first.” He gave the lever on the gas hose two clicks to overfill his tank.

  “You have news?” Irene asked, as he replaced the hose on the pump. Her heart raced, eager to hear, yet afraid of what he might say.

  Rafael walked toward her car and bent down so his face was close to the open window. “Can’t talk here. See you in town tonight. After six. Your house. By the way, are you on your way to Mariposa?”

  “Just tell me! Have you found her?”

  “Stay away from Mariposa,” he said. “Nice to see you again,” he added, as he walked away.

  “What was that all about?” Angel asked. He, along with Irene, watched Rafael climb into his pickup and drive away.

  “I wish I knew,” Irene said.

  “Want to go back home? In case he shows up early?” Angel asked.

  Irene didn’t respond at first, weighing what would be best. “No,” she said finally. “At least I have something to do up here rather than just sitting at home and waiting.” She started the car and drove toward the edge of town and the beginning of the wilderness.

  The road that had been nearly impassable with mud the last time she’d been on it had now partially dried into deep ruts dotted with the occasional slick mud puddle. It made for slow, treacherous driving.

  “You got to get a four-wheel drive if you keep coming up here,” Angel said.

  “I have no intention to keep coming up here,” Irene said. “In fact, it would suit me fine if I never saw this part of the world again.”

  “Yeah, I know. Bad memories. But it is beautiful.” He glanced at the thick pine forest that climbed a steep hillside punctuated with outcroppings of granite.

  “I suppose.”

  She was exhausted from the slow, precarious drive by the time they reached the lodge, but once she was out of the car, she walked with a long, quick stride toward the massive front doors, eager to get the deed accomplished. She unlocked the door with the key she had never returned to Harriett and stepped inside, followed by Angel.

  “Wow!” Angel said, looking around at the enormous entry hall and the grand staircase. “This is some fancy digs!”

  Irene moved away from him and opened the double doors leading to the trophy-filled living room.

  Angel ignored the animal heads that lined the walls, and his eyes went immediately to the paintings. “The art! Oh, my God, the art! They’re originals, I can tell. Can you imagine owning even one of these? It’s like the Louvre of western American paintings.”

  “Yeah, impressive.” Irene was already on her way to the door that led to the dining room and then the kitchen and the pantry.

  Angel hadn’t moved. He was still scanning the living room. “Too bad about the dead animals,” he said. “Almost ruins the mood of the marvelous paintings. Although nothing could ruin it completely. These are magnificent.”

  “Come on, Angel. The vault’s in here.”

  His eyes moved once again to the taxidermy. “Not exactly what you’d expect from a couple of Santa Feans. You know, we’re all supposed to be artsy and politically correct. Like, no trophies, no furs.”

  “I guess if you have enough money you don’t have to worry about being politically correct,” Irene said. “Now get your butt over here, I want to get this over and done.”

  Angel hurried toward the dining room. “You nervous?” he asked, as he followed her into the kitchen.

  “A little, I guess. No! More than just a little. What we are about to do isn’t exactly legal, you know.”

  “You gotta live dangerously.”

  “Who says? I’d be perfectly content with a quiet life of running a store on the plaza.”

  “Where you find dead women in your closet?”

  “That I could live without.”

  “What’s that?” Angel said, pointing to a door in the kitchen.

  “Follow me.” Irene opened the door and led the way into the pantry and to the back where the stairs went down to the basement and the vault.

  “Wow!” Angel said. “That thing’s huge. Looks like it belongs in a bank.”

  “Is it going to be too much for you?”

  Angel didn’t answer. He walked with confidence toward the enormous steel doors and studied the lock. He placed his hand on the wheel and turned it several times. His only remark was “Hmm.” Opening the bag he’d brought along, he pulled out a stethoscope and a tablet of graph paper along with a pencil with an eraser on the end.

  “You actually use a stethoscope? Just like in the movies?” Irene asked.

  “Yes, just like in the movies.” Angel placed the stethoscope on his ears and the bell end on the safe. He turned the dial clockwise then counterclockwise, listening and moving the stethoscope bell minutely several times. From time to time, he made marks on the graph paper, then ripped the page out, crumpled it, and started a graph on another page.

  Irene watched intently and had no idea how much time had passed when Angel pulled the earpieces away from his ears and spoke.

  “This may take a while. There are some false notches to deal with.”

  “What does that mean?” Irene asked.

  “It means this thing was manufactured so that it’s hard to crack.”

  “You mean it’s impossible.”

  Angel shook his head. “Not impossible. Just not easy.”

  Irene waited and watched again until Angel spoke once more.

  “Go find something to do. You’re making me nervous.”

  She left, reluctantly, and searched around for something to read. She found several sports magazines as well as a stack of fashion magazines, an art catalog from a gallery in Phoenix, a few pages from a Wall Street Journal crumpled in the log box next to the fireplace. Nothing could hold her interest, no matter how hard she tried to concentrate. She was continually glancing over her shoulder, wondering why Rafael and P.J. had warned her to stay away from this place. Andy had warned her as well, but he was a policeman. It was his business to warn people away from crime scenes. She wandered the house until she found a library room, small and unimpressive. Nevertheless, it held a few fairly current novels she’d been meaning to read. She tried several, but she found herself only looking at printed words and not absorbing anything. Finally, after forcing herself to stay away from the basement for two hours, she gave up and went back downstairs to find Angel.

  He was still hunched over the vault, still listening with the stethoscope. His face glistened with sweat, and there was a large damp spot on the back of his shirt. Several sheets of graph paper lay crumpled on the floor, and a half-eaten peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich rested on a chair against the wall opposite the vault.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  Angel didn’t answer. He kept his eyes closed as he listened and moved away from the safe long enough to make a mark on the graph paper. Irene got a glimpse of the paper and noticed that it looked more organized than the other graphs he’d made. There was an X axis and a Y axis with dots where the two lines intersected.

  Angel finally looked at her with an expression that suggested he’d only just noticed that she’d returned. He looked tired. “There’s another sandwich in the bag if you want it,” he said.

  Irene reached into the bag for the sandwich, grateful for something to satisfy the gnawing in her stomach. “You thought of everything,” she said. “I should have brought something, but it didn’t occur to me that it would take this long.”

  Angel didn’t respond. He’d turned his attention back to the vault. Irene watched him for several minutes more, trying not to be impatient. In spite of the long wait, she was completely surprised when he pulled back from his listening position, grabbed the handle, and opened the vault.r />
  In it were several flat wooden boxes. All of them were marked with four black stenciled letters: FURS.

  Angel gave her a puzzled look. “Susana had a lot of furs, I guess.”

  “Not that many,” Irene said. “My guess is—”

  She stopped speaking at the sound of footsteps on the main floor above them. The sound grew ever closer, and then she heard the door to the kitchen open. More footsteps until the door to the pantry opened.

  Chapter 16

  Irene signaled for Angel to be quiet and reached for the switch to turn off the overhead light while she stood watching for someone to appear at the top of the stairs leading down to the vault.

  There was a moment of silence and then the sound of footsteps moving away. Neither she nor Angel moved for several seconds. Irene strained to listen, trying to determine whether or not the front door opened and closed, but the walls were too thick and solid for her to hear something that far away.

  Finally, Angel whispered, “Who could that have been?”

  “Someone with a key to the house,” Irene whispered in response. “We did lock the front door when we came in, didn’t we?”

  “I don’t know,” Angel said. “Did we?”

  “I’ll go see if there’s anyone up there,” Irene said. They were each still whispering.

  “No!” Angel pushed her out of his way. “I’ll go. You stay here.”

  Irene watched him in the semidarkness as he started up the stairs, but rather than staying where he left her, she followed him, feeling a surprisingly maternal need to protect him. She stayed several feet behind him as he crept through the pantry and into the kitchen and finally out of the kitchen. When he reached the dining room, he looked around with caution. He was startled when he saw her behind him.

  “Madre de Dios!” he said, forgetting to whisper. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Irene put her finger to her lips, indicating for him to stay quiet, then joined him as they made their way through the dining room, into the living room, and finally into the large entry hall.

  Irene held up her hand silently, showing that she wanted him to wait while she went to the front door to open it, but Angel forced himself in front of her and opened the door.