Midas Murders [Book 3 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries]

by Janet Lane-Walters

  Damon shrugged off Bonnie's hand. “Lars has so many plans for your visit, but he wished you had come in the summer."

  "Maybe next time."

  Don entered the dining room. “Could Dad have gone off with someone to check some potential investment?"

  Bonnie cast a sneering glance at her twin. “I would have known. Besides all our new projects are out of state and I'm handling them."

  "She's right,” Damon said. “He cleared his desk so his guest could have his full attention."

  "Did anyone check for phone calls?” Carl asked.

  "How? Daddy refused to have an answering machine.” Bonnie walked to the living room. “Would someone do something? I can't stand this."

  Damon followed her. “We could search the grounds unless that's been done."

  Bonnie pressed her hands against her chest. “I have a bad feeling about this. I have to go home. If Daddy's been kidnapped, I'll have to cancel the party. What will people think if I do that two days before the event?"

  "Not a good idea,” Carl said. “I've heard that when there's a kidnapping people are supposed to live as though nothing's happened."

  Bonnie nodded. “You're right, but I don't think I can pretend. What excuse could we give to explain his absence?"

  An odd look passed between Bonnie and Carl. Something more than Lars’ disappearance was in the air.

  "Is anyone coming with me?” Damon asked. “Carl? Don? You know this place better than I do."

  Don glanced at me. “Would you?"

  "Stay with Megan, of course."

  Bonnie put on her fur coat and followed the men to the door. “I can't stay here. I'll be at home. If Daddy calls here, let me know. Oh, Aunt Katherine, if you decide to go home, we'll understand."

  "Why would I do that?” She vanished before the question was out. Her departure was welcome. Some of the heaviness drained from the atmosphere. Something about her attitude troubled me. I wondered if she knew more than she had said.

  Don't be foolish. She'd never let anyone harm her father.

  Since her mother's death, Bonnie had clung to Lars. When she and Don had come here for college, Lars had moved to Santa Fe to be near them. Any time he stayed in the East for more than a month, she found a reason to bring him rushing back.

  I returned to the kitchen and found an eye roast in the freezer, then rummaged in the pantry for potatoes and onions. Cooking one of Lars’ favorite meals might nip my fears. In the refrigerator I found the ingredients for one of my chocolate cakes.

  Megan sat on the floor beside a basket lined with towels where the kitten slept. Consuela must have made the nest before she left.

  "Aunt Kaferine, where my pop?"

  "I don't know."

  She climbed on one of the chairs. “What you doing?"

  "Making dinner and baking a cake. Want to help?"

  She nodded. “Daddy don't make cakes. He buy ‘em. Mommy did. Her and the baby fall a long way.” Tears trickled down her cheeks.

  I hugged her. “It hurts when someone you love dies. I know you miss your Mommy, but I bet your daddy takes good care of you."

  She nodded. “I have bad dreams and cry real loud. He come and pet me.” She looked up. “Aunt Bonnie don't like me. Her yell."

  "Does she now?"

  "Her don't like me bringing dirt in her house and making her ‘spensive fings messy. Her yell at Daddy. Then her cry and he say sorry."

  The child's tales of her aunt's behavior didn't surprise me. Bonnie had always been overly selfish with her possessions. She'd also staged tearful tantrums to persuade her father and brothers to give Bonnie her way.

  Her mother had curbed her willful daughter, but after Marie's death, Lars had failed to provide the needed controls. Bonnie's whims and demands had ruled the family. I'd often wondered if this had caused the coolness between Lars and his older sons.

  I put the ingredients for the cake on the table. Using a towel, I improvised an apron for Megan so she wouldn't get her pink jeans and shirt dirty. After seasoning the beef, I put it in the oven. Then we began the cake. Megan stirred while I added flour and sour cream to the egg, sugar and chocolate mixture. Soon the pans were in the oven. Megan watched while I peeled potatoes.

  About an hour after the men left, Don returned. He sat at the table. Megan crawled onto his lap.

  "Find anything?"

  "Nothing.” He hugged his daughter. “Something smells good."

  "Would you and Megan like to stay for dinner?"

  "Yes.” Megan looked at her father. “We make a cake."

  Don laughed. “Wouldn't dream of missing a cake you baked, Button. Aunt Katherine, would you like to stay at our house tonight?"

  "I'll stay here. He might call."

  Doubt filled his eyes. Had he given up? I felt sure his thoughts were colored by memories of waiting for his wife to come home and then learning of her death.

  "Rose Prairie can sleep with you,” Megan said.

  "She's your kitten and needs to get used to being at your house with you and your daddy.” I tested the cake to see if it was cool enough to ice.

  * * * *

  During dinner, Megan revealed her plans for a shopping trip. “Rose Prairie need a bed and a pillow and a bell and food and lots and lots of toys."

  "There goes your budget.” I grinned at Don.

  "Probably."

  "Daddy, let's go now."

  "Tomorrow,” Don said. “Finish your cake so I can help Aunt Katherine with the dishes."

  "Okay. Can I see TV?"

  "I'll put it on.” He rose and headed to the living room.

  After the dishes were done, Don and I lingered over coffee. He seemed reluctant to leave and I was glad he stayed.

  Don slouched in his chair. “I'm leaving Santa Fe and moving back east."

  "Why?"

  "Since Ramona's death, I've felt...restless...out of place...a need to start somewhere new, be somewhere else.” He heaved a sigh. “We stayed here because this was her home and then Dad gave her a job with the company as Carl's assistant. Not that my sister approved. She sulked for weeks."

  "What will you do?"

  "I've been in touch with several galleries about exhibits and I'll pick up some freelance artwork."

  "Have you given your dad some hints? You know how he hates surprises."

  "Tried several times including last night, but he's been distracted and edgy."

  "Will he accept your decision?"

  Don shrugged. “Bonnie says he'll be angry. She also claims they can't afford to buy me out. Not that she thinks I deserve the money."

  "Buy you out?"

  "The way he did my older brothers when they decided to have other careers. When we turned eighteen, he made us partners in the company. Bonnie says since Dad plans to retire, there won't be enough free cash to pay me off. If she wasn't in line for the whole thing, I'd say forget the money."

  "Is the company in financial difficulty?"

  He shook his head. “Don't really know, but according to my sister it isn't. Just that things are tight because most of the capital is tied to long-term loans. She thinks I should become a working partner."

  "Will you?"

  "Never. I'm an artist, not a businessman.” He raised the coffee cup. “Ramona would have been great, but Bonnie carried on when Dad suggested making my wife a partner instead of me."

  I covered his hand with mine. What had Lars been thinking? Bonnie would enjoy having her brother to bully. She never would have accepted a bright lovely woman.

  Lars, what have you done to your children?

  We finished our drinks and went to the living room. Megan and the kitten were asleep on the rug in front of the television. Don carried the kitten and paraphernalia to his house. When he returned for Megan, he gave me his and Bonnie's phone numbers.

  "Call if you hear anything,” he said.

  "I will. You, too."

  Once he left, the house seemed too quiet. I changed the television channe
l to a talk show, not to watch, but to keep my thoughts away from my fears for Lars. The attempt at diversion failed. Finally jet lag forced me to head to bed where I drifted into a sleep full of nightmares.

  * * * *

  The shrill ring of the phone jerked me from a violent and vivid dream. Confusion reigned. Five rings sounded before I remembered I was in the guest room at Lars’ house. I hurried to the living room and grabbed the receiver. “Claybourne house."

  "Is this Katherine Miller?” The voice belonged to a woman.

  "Yes."

  "This is the nurse from the ER at St. Joseph's Hospital. Lars Claybourne is here. He asked me to call you."

  "Was he in an accident? Is he all right?"

  "He's a bit confused. Has some amnesia. No evidence of a head trauma. Has some bruising."

  A deep sigh heralded the relief that made me feel weak. Bruises hurt but they would fade. “Thank heavens."

  "Could you come and pick him up? Though his doctor wants him to spend the night here, Mr. Claybourne has refused. Oh, bring his wallet. It's on the dresser in his bedroom."

  "And a jacket?” I asked.

  "No need. He has one."

  Her statement puzzled me and raised more questions. “Where are you located?"

  After she gave the directions, I decided I didn't know the area well enough to drive to the hospital after dark. I hurried to change, found Lars’ wallet and returned to the living room.

  Before I called a cab, I dialed Bonnie's number. If I didn't let her know about her father, she'd have a fit. After a dozen rings, I hung up and called Don. He answered on the first ring and I gave my report.

  "That's a relief,” he said.

  "I need a cab."

  "Why don't you stay with Megan and let me go?"

  "Two reasons. He asked for me. And if Megan has a nightmare and finds a near stranger there, she might become hysterical."

  "You're right. I'll call the cab and open the gate. Have you let Bonnie know?"

  "I called but no one answered."

  "That's odd. She has an answering machine that's usually on when they're out. After I get you set, I'll try again. Imagine she and Carl had some social engagement they just couldn't miss."

  The bitterness in his voice showed the depth of his anger toward his twin. “Call the cab. Your dad and I will talk to you in the morning."

  "Good enough."

  I grabbed my jacket and purse and waited at the door. A short time later the cab arrived. When we reached the hospital, the driver agreed to wait—for a price I was glad to pay.

  Inside the hospital I stopped at a desk where a tired looking woman sat. “The ER. I'm here to pick up Lars Claybourne."

  She buzzed a number and announced me. A nurse appeared. “Katherine Miller."

  "Yes."

  "Right this way.” She led me into the ER. “I'll let Mr. Claybourne's doctor know you're here.” She opened a curtain.

  "Lars.” I crossed to the examining table.

  "Not the welcome I planned.” He clasped my hands. “How was your trip? Good thing I wasn't meeting you."

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I'm so glad you're all right. What happened?"

  "Sure wish I knew."

  While he spoke, I assessed his physical appearance. He looked exhausted, but he held himself erect. There was a small bandage on his left arm where they must have drawn blood. His eyes were slightly unfocused and the pupils seemed smaller than normal. His speech had a slurred edge.

  A thirtyish dark-haired doctor stepped around the curtain. He flashed a toothy smile. “Mr. Claybourne, I see your friend has arrived, but I really think you should spend the night."

  "No need. Feel fine.” Lars crossed his arms over his chest. “Kate's a nurse. She'll know what to do if I have a problem. Your uncle wouldn't give me a problem."

  I frowned. Did Lars distrust this young man's medical knowledge or was there another reason for the anger I heard in Lars’ voice?

  "Doctor, could I speak to you for a moment? I have a few questions."

  "Sure."

  I followed him away from Lars’ cubicle. “What do you think happened?"

  He shrugged. “Possibly a TIA. Could have been a small stroke, though nothing showed on the scan. He was found wandering the streets. A cab driver brought him here. By the time I arrived, he was oriented times three. Other than some bruising on his upper arms, he's fine."

  "His pressure?"

  "One twelve over seventy-four."

  "Hardly in stroke range. Did you order a blood alcohol and a tox screen?"

  "We did a CBC and an Chem twelve. Results were in normal range. He's certainly not the type to use drugs."

  "That's not why I asked. He was missing for more than twelve hours and he has no memories of that time. I'd like to know why."

  His lips thinned. “Leave the doctoring to me. I can see what Bonnie meant when she said you were forever pushing into things that aren't your business. Should I tell her what you've accused her father of doing?"

  "I've made no accusations. I think it's a logical request."

  "Stay out of this.” His dark eyes shifted from my face. “Since he refuses to be admitted, you can take him home. If he exhibits further symptoms, call. Bonnie knows my number.” He strode away.

  The way he said the last sentence made me wonder how close he was to Lars’ daughter. Though I wanted to force the issue of the test, I didn't think the young doctor would budge. At home I would have known what buttons to push. Here I was clueless.

  Before returning to the cubicle, I cornered the nurse I'd met earlier. “What was Mr. Claybourne's condition on admission?"

  "Pupils constricted. Speech slurred. Blood pressure one hundred six over sixty-eight. Most of the symptoms had cleared by the time Dr. Verdigras arrived.” She shook her head. “Never saw Dr. Cool so rattled. I suggested a tox screen and he nearly had my head. Said Mr. Claybourne was no ordinary patient."

  What did Dr. Verdigras know that he wasn't saying? I felt sure Lars had been drugged, but without the test, we'd never know. What was going on? Lars was a wealthy man, yet no ransom had been demanded. We had to solve this puzzle before a worse incident occurred.

  The nurse pushed a wheelchair into Lars’ cubicle. Once he was in the chair, I pushed him to the admitting desk so he could complete the necessary paperwork. I sat in the waiting room.

  A short time later, he pushed the chair toward me. “Let's go. Where's your car?"

  "There's a cab waiting."

  He shook his head. “Why hire a cab? Thought you rented a car."

  "I did, but took a cab for convenience. It's night and a strange town. I could have taken forever to find the hospital.” I pushed the wheelchair toward the exit. “Don offered to come, but I was afraid Megan might wake and be scared."

  "Guess he told you about her nightmares. What about Bonnie? She'd have been glad to come."

  "She wasn't home."

  "But you left a message."

  "Tried but the answering machine wasn't working. Don said he'd try."

  Lars stood. I left the wheelchair just inside the door. He held my hand and settled in the seat beside me. Neither of us spoke until after we'd reached the house and the cab drove away.

  Once in the foyer, Lars pulled me into his arms and just held me. “Kate, Kate, I'm so glad you're here."

  "The feeling's mutual.” I raised my head. “You have no idea how frightened I was. Where were you? Who did this to you?"

  "I wish I knew.” He brushed my forehead with his lips. “I can't remember a thing."

  Exhaustion added age lines to his face. In his eyes I saw puzzlement and fear. Was it because he struggled to remember or to forget? Was there something he couldn't tell me? Something he couldn't face?

  "We'd better go to bed.” He caressed my shoulders. “It's been a long day for both of us."

  "Are you sure you don't want to talk about what happened?"

  "I'm so tired I can't think. Even if I could there's not
hing there.” He ran his fingers along my cheek. “We'll talk in the morning. Night, Kate.” He released me and strode down the hall.

  As I put on my nightgown, questions circled in my thoughts like swarming bees. What was happening here and why?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 3

  ~

  El Hombre Dorado

  -

  The next morning I rose at dawn and went to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. Though still tired from the time change and the late night visit to the hospital, I hadn't been able to remain in bed. Yesterday's concerns had haunted my dreams, and my thoughts were fogged by clouds of worries.

  While waiting for the water to boil, I strolled into the sunroom and stared at the morning sky. A sullen sun streaked the clouds with angry orange hues. A noise startled me. With a jerk I turned to find Lars standing in the doorway. The light blue V-neck sweater he wore made his eyes a brilliant shade.

  "Morning. Your water's boiling,” he said. “Are you all right?"

  "Jet lagged.” And worried, I thought. After joining him at the counter, I rinsed the teapot with hot water and set about my preparations. “Would you like a cup when it's brewed?"

  Lars filled the carafe of the coffee-maker and started the cycle. “Need a stronger jump-start this morning.” He opened the refrigerator. “You really must have been worried. Looks like I missed one of my favorite meals and your chocolate cake."

  "There's plenty left for lunch."

  "How about an omelet for breakfast? One with a southwestern touch?"

  "Sounds delightful. After we eat we need to talk about what happened yesterday."

  He ran his fingers through his thick hair, once golden but now threaded with strands of silver. “What's to say? There's a giant hole in my memories. Wish I could remember something...anything."

  The defeat in his voice troubled me. I stroked his arm. “You'll think better on a full stomach. So will I. To the stove."

  "Slave driver.” His chuckle heartened me. He put the ingredients on the table and chopped scallions, tomatoes and a variety of peppers. “How was the trip?"

  "Quiet until I left the plane. The cat complained for most of the drive."

  He jerked around and nearly dropped an egg. “You didn't?"

  "What?"