Iced

by Carol Higgins Clark

  Last year there’d been a nice little write-up in the local paper on the Grants’ party. Eben had been a little disappointed that they hadn’t used one of the pictures he was in, but he was happy they mentioned the “spirited” Santa who made the “children of all ages” smile and laugh. What did they have to say about Santa this year? he wondered. Santa the Swindler?

  It wasn’t until about eight o’clock that he heard voices in the living room. The walls were thin and the place was small. On top of that, Eben had been blessed with excellent hearing. But as he listened, he was shocked to realize that it was not Willeen and Judd talking.

  “I enjoyed meeting the Smiths from Arizona. It was their first time at the Timberline too,” a cultured woman’s voice was saying.

  “He’s in reinsurance, dear,” a well-modulated man’s voice answered back.

  Who are they? Eben wondered. Should I try to attract their attention? Who could they be? Then, at the next words, he realized what was going on.

  “Geez, Eben, it’s a pain in the butt trying to talk nice,” Willeen yelled. The door swung open and she walked over to the bed. “Did we fool ya?”

  “You deserve an Academy Award,” Eben said sourly. “But I’d keep your day job.”

  Judd joined Willeen. “We took elocution lessons. They were expensive.”

  “Demand a refund,” Eben snapped.

  Willeen laughed heartily. “You’re a card, Eben. Hey, Judd, let’s let Eben stretch his legs and use the can. Eben, you can even sit in the living room and have breakfast with us. But don’t try anything.”

  “I won’t,” Eben replied as Judd freed him from the bed.

  A few minutes later, Judd was pouring coffee into Eben’s cup. A gun lay on the table next to Willeen.

  Eben sipped the bitter black brew and almost choked. “Do you have any sugar?” he asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Willeen said. She got up and flipped on the radio.

  “You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille,” Kenny Rogers was singing mournfully.

  Eben found himself tapping his foot.

  When the song ended, Marty, the DJ, said, “Well, that’s a song the Wood family could be singing this morning, referring, of course, to their caretaker, Eben Bean. Come on now, Eben, how could you do it? We at the station are hereby nominating you for America’s Most Ungrateful Criminal.”

  Judd’s laugh was a series of braying snorts punctuated by slaps on his thigh.

  “But seriously, folks,” Marty continued, “the police are putting up Eben’s picture around town and want you to be on the lookout for him. Of course he’s probably in Tahiti by now!”

  Willeen widened her eyes and pointed at Eben. “There he is!”

  “Shut up, Willeen,” Judd ordered as he turned up the volume of the radio.

  “… possible link between Eben Bean and a Mace attack three days ago on an elderly dude in Vail in which a painting worth mucho bucks was stolen,” the DJ concluded.

  “Oh my God.” Eben’s tone was barely audible.

  “Perfect,” Willeen declared as Judd snapped off the radio. “Everything is working out just beautifully.”

  The clock on the nightstand that used to hold Eben’s Vicks and tissues read eight-fifteen.

  “Darling, I can see why that Eben fellow slept in this bed. It really is rather comfortable,” Nora murmured as she rolled over and faced Luke.

  Luke pulled her close. “Nothing like helping yourself to a few perks. Remember the guy I had at the first home who kept stealing the flowers?”

  “Wasn’t he dating a bunch of girls at the same time?” Nora asked drowsily.

  “I’ll say. I knew something was up when we got to the cemetery to bury a client and there weren’t as many flowers in the hearse as there’d been at the home. That it was Valentine’s Day made it even more suspicious. When we got back I pretended that I was thinking of buying a car like his and could I get a look at his trunk space.” Luke chuckled at the memory.

  “When I opened it, there were two big bouquets staring us in the face. One was from the Moose Lodge and the other was from the Shriners.”

  “That’s terrible,” Nora said as she rubbed her eyes. “Thank God he didn’t have a bigger trunk. Or the only flowers around your client’s grave would have been the daisies he eventually pushed up himself.”

  “You’re sick,” Luke declared.

  “It runs in the family. Ohhh”—Nora stretched her arms—”I guess it’s time to get up. It’s so nice not to have to hurry.”

  Luke kissed her. “I’ll jump in Eben’s shower first. Sam said we should take a day to get used to the altitude before we ski, so why don’t we take them out to lunch? It’ll take their minds off all those blank spaces on the walls.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t pass too many art galleries,” Nora said as she pulled the covers around her. “I’ll just rest my eyes for a few minutes longer.”

  Fifteen minutes later Luke opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom, drying his hair with a scraggly hunter-green towel.

  As he had expected, Nora was fast asleep. He tiptoed over to the bed, leaned down, and was shocked when her arm reached up and grabbed the towel.

  “I’m going to do this to you when I’m in one of your caskets,” she threatened, then looked with distaste at the towel she was holding. “Where did you get this rag? Surely Kendra’s decorator didn’t select it.”

  “A towel is a towel, my dear. It was in the linen closet in the bathroom. As far as I can tell, it was serving its purpose until you so rudely grabbed it.”

  Nora sat up and pushed back the apricot quilt. “Look at this. It’s disintegrating.” A shower of green nublets had settled on the bed, and some had drifted onto the beige carpet.

  “Would you have minded if they matched?” Luke asked.

  “Oh, be quiet,” Nora chuckled as she swung her legs onto the floor, walked across the room, and shut the bathroom door behind her. She turned on the shower and glanced at the thick monogrammed towels on the racks. A suspicion formed in her mind. I’ll bet anything Eben brought in his own towels when he stayed here, she thought.

  Twenty minutes later she was convinced that her guess had been accurate. When Luke helped her make the king-size bed, she noticed a slip of paper between the nightstand and the dust ruffle. When she picked it up she realized it was a receipt from the Mishmash Bargain Store in Vail. The items purchased included a dozen bath towels at ninety-nine cents each. The date on the receipt was December 23.

  “Luke, look at this,” Nora said, showing him the receipt. “Your towel might be brand-new.”

  Luke studied his wife. He recognized the analytical frown of Nora the mystery writer’s investigative mind. It always amused him that Regan had that same expression when she was puzzled.

  “He just bought them a few days ago,” Nora said. “Why wouldn’t he take them with him?”

  “He must have taken some of them,” Luke said. “There aren’t more than five or six in the closet.”

  “Then he might have forgotten them,” Nora reflected, “but on the other hand, the fact that he was in Vail could be significant. Maybe he has a connection there. I’m going to call Regan and talk to her about it.”

  12

  AT NINE O’CLOCK on Monday morning, Regan and Louis met with Detective Matt Sawyer, who had been assigned to investigate the Christmas-weekend thefts.

  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

  WHILE 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

  REGAN 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

  IDA 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 bubb
le, 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 grand-children’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.