Midas Murders [Book 3 of the Katherine Miller Mysteries]
Page 7
Lars backed onto the drive. “Your first body, wasn't it?"
"Lars!"
He patted my arm. “Bonnie and Carl have their flares, but by the time we return, they'll be in each other's arms."
"What brings these quarrels on?"
"Her flirting. His gambling. He needs help, but he refuses to seek counseling."
"Why do you keep him on?"
"He's a great number cruncher. No instincts for new businesses though. Twice he's recommended ventures that have failed."
"Lately?"
Lars shook his head. “Who would listen to him? Bonnie's learning and so is Damon. Sure wish Don would take an interest. A man likes to leave his business to his son."
I shook my head. “Do you hear yourself? Why this insistence on Don? I'm sure Bonnie resents that. Can't you be content to leave matters to your daughter?"
"I'd never cut her out. She and Don can work together. He refuses to try. Always in some kind of creative fugue. He needs a solid direction."
That wasn't my impression. Don was an artist, but he was also a good single parent. “I think you're wrong about him. I think the two of you need to talk."
"When we have time. I suppose you know what's on his mind."
"I've a good idea, but it's not my place to tell you."
"You're right.” At the gate, he used a gadget like a garage opener.
* * * *
Lars pulled the car into the garage of the La Fonda Hotel. He popped the trunk and took out our suitcases.
"What are you doing?"
"We're staying here tonight."
"Lars, that's silly. We're fifteen minutes from your house."
"Are you pinching my pennies?"
"I just don't see the necessity."
"If we return to the house, Bonnie will want to rehash the party. Then she'll go on and on about the quarrel with Carl. Don will demand that talk I'm avoiding until I've marshaled my arguments. Look at this way. You'll be spending the night on historical grounds. Since people settled here, there's been a hostelry here."
I laughed. “You win."
"Wish it was always this easy to persuade you."
Though I still questioned his motives, I wouldn't argue. Maybe he had another reason for leaving the house. Not fear or concern about another attempt to grab him. If that had been the case, we would have left right after I brought him home from the hospital.
I grabbed the bag of mint and followed him inside. As we walked toward the lobby, I paused to look at the displays of pottery, jewelry and clothes.
Lars turned. “We're not shopping."
"Just browsing and storing ideas for the day to come to buy."
He grinned. “Better you than me."
After we settled in our suite, Lars suggested we walk around the old section of town. “We'll follow a bit of the Santa Fe trail."
I pulled on my gloves and strode to the door. We left the hotel and headed toward the Loretto Chapel and the miraculous staircase to the choir loft. As we rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man. He ducked into a doorway. I jerked to a halt.
"What's wrong?” Lars asked.
"I thought I saw...there was a man with dark hair. He looked suspicious."
He squeezed my hand. “You're jumping at shadows. Do you know how many men with dark hair there are in this town?"
"I imagine there are a lot. I'm just a bit edgy."
"And foolish."
He could be right. His daughter could be the one who'd hidden him in hopes I would go home.
"Let's go into the chapel. Every time I come here the sight awes me. No nails and no visible supports to hold the thing up."
I'd read about the staircase, but nothing in the books prepared me for what I saw. “Pictures don't capture the reality."
Lars smiled. “I know."
For the rest of the day new marvels constantly enchanted me. Once, I stopped to browse in a shop window. A light shone inside. “Lars, I think they're open."
"Absolutely not. You will not go in there. You'll poke around for hours and I'll go mad."
"Then I'll come back when you're not with me."
"Thank heavens."
His avid response made me laugh. “Let's move on."
For the rest of the day, we wandered through museums, looked at houses built in the sixteen hundreds, had lunch at the Pink Adobe and forgot our worries. A golden day, I thought as we returned to the hotel.
* * * *
The next morning we left for Taos and beyond. The trip was leisurely with stops to explore churches and other historic sites. As we neared Taos, the road entered a canyon. The Rio Grande flowed on our left.
"On our way back, we'll take the high road,” Lars said.
I looked up and shuddered. “Up there."
He laughed. “I promise it's safe and there are some interesting places to stop and see."
Suddenly we emerged from the canyon onto the mesa. We drove through Taos and continued to the resort. The chalet refrigerator had been stocked with a variety of foods so we decided on steaks and salad for dinner. After the meal, we relaxed in front of the fire. I read a book I'd found on the shelves. Lars spread papers from his briefcase on the table.
The second day of our escape had been as golden as the first.
* * * *
The aroma of coffee woke me. After showering and dressing, I walked to the kitchen area of the large main room. Lars stood at the stove. “Water's hot if you want tea."
"Coffee this morning. I've gotten lazy. It's nearly nine."
"You're on vacation."
I dished bowls of oatmeal and poured two glasses of juice. “What's on the agenda for today?"
"A bit of skiing."
"Enjoy."
He joined me at the table. “Are you sure you don't want to try a run or two?"
"I've never been on skis and I don't think this is a time in my life when I want to try.” The thought of sliding down a mountain on two boards left me cold.
He grinned. “There are classes for beginners."
"But not for cowards."
"You're hardly that. I feel bad about leaving you alone."
"Go. Have fun. Challenge the elements. Stare fate in the eye. I'll meet you at the lodge around one for lunch."
"It's half a mile uphill."
"Lars, go. I'll enjoy the walk. There are things I can do here, like laundry and look at those pamphlets I picked up at the hotel."
His booming laughter made me want to smack him. “It's tourist pap."
"That's exactly what I am."
"You'll miss all the good places. A lot are closed for the winter."
"Go slide down a hill."
I hadn't come for sightseeing. I'd come to Santa Fe to be with Lars and to escape my memories.
* * * *
At lunch I heard Lars’ tales of great runs. He had enjoyed his morning on the slopes and tried to infuse me with his enthusiasm.
"Kate, rent some skis and take lessons. You'll love it. The wind, the speed, the challenge. I can't explain how it makes me feel. You'll have to try so you can see what I mean."
"I broke my leg during a snow storm. That was on level ground. Think what I could manage to break on a hill. Look.” Just then a young man on crutches hobbled past. A cast enclosed one of his legs. “I could end up like him or worse."
"And you could find a new pleasure."
"Not today. I'll see you later."
He kissed me on the cheek. “Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Go.” He waved and walked away.
After long browsing in the gift shop, I made several purchases. Then I walked back to the chalet. I dried the clothes I'd washed that morning and wrote postcards. Then I made a list of suspects and possible motives for Lars’ kidnapping. Unfortunately nothing made sense.
Around five, I added logs to the fire and baked cinnamon rolls for the next morning's breakfast. By the time Lars arrived, I sat by the fire sipping a cup of mint tea.
The cold air and exercise had returned the color to his face and the sparkle to his eyes. He looked marvelous, but I still believed we should be in Santa Fe.
Lars went to shower. When he returned, he wore a blue sweater knit with an intricate pattern. He accepted a cup of tea. “We'll have dinner at the lodge. Great food and good drinks."
"Let me change.” In the bedroom I put on green wool slacks and an off-white sweater.
A short time later Lars parked the car in the lodge parking lot. We entered the lobby. A pair of St. Bernards lay before the massive fireplace. A number of people sat on the curved benches. Several waved.
"More skiing tomorrow?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We'll spend the day in Taos. There's a showing of Don's pictures in a gallery there and some shops you might enjoy."
"You're going to let me shop? Are you sick?"
"I have to see someone on business."
"Figures."
We strolled to the restaurant. Once our drinks and appetizers arrived, I caught Lars’ attention. “Do you really believe Bonnie was the one who kidnapped you?"
He nodded. “When she heard you were coming, she staged a scene. Said she would fine a way to send you home."
"Why?"
"What do you think? She's never wanted us to be friends let alone more. That's one reason you and I left town. While she acted with charming manners at the party, who knows what she might pull next."
I remembered how Bonnie had craved the jewelry Lars had given me. For an instant, I regretted leaving the set at the house, but I hadn't thought I'd have the opportunity to wear them during our jaunt. I reached for his hand. “I won't let her ruin our friendship, though I might be tempted to smack her."
He grinned. “Was worried about that. Could you see the headlines. ‘Lady Sleuth Jailed For Assault.’”
"Lars."
He lifted his glass. “Here's to peace and quiet."
"Amen.” I touched my glass to his.
* * * *
Taos was wonderful. On the way we stopped at DH Lawrence's grave. In town we walked through the house where Kit Carson and his wife had lived. We strolled to the gallery where a number of Don's paintings hung.
I'd seen several of his portraits, most recently, one of Lars and one of Bonnie, but the pictures at the gallery awed me. How could Lars want his son to give up art for business when he could create such beauty?
The paintings showed people and their reactions to common events. One I wished I owned showed a young father watching his wife nurse their infant. Her face was in shadows and his was in full light. Even the tears in his eyes were shown.
A second startled me. Three children, two boys and a girl, stood beside a bassinet and looked at a sleeping baby. The boys looked bored. The girl reached toward the infant with clawed hands. Malice gleamed in her blue eyes and her face was Bonnie's. Had Lars seen the resemblance?
"They're wonderful,” I said.
"So I've been told.” Pride shone in his eyes. “That one is mine.” He pointed to the one of the father watching his wife and child. “It's on loan."
"Then I can't buy it."
"There are other ways to obtain ownership."
When we left the gallery, I entered one of the shops while Lars went to discuss business at a restaurant. That evening before we returned to the chalet, we ate in the same restaurant. The food was elegant and wonderful. Lars was quiet and his expression held hints of worry. I didn't know how to ask what was wrong, so I settled on neutral topics.
At the chalet we sat before the fire and listened to Bach. Lars sighed. “These days have been marvelous. Maybe we should stay here until it's time for you to leave."
"We can't do that."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
"Lars, after seeing the pictures this afternoon, how can you think of forcing him to give up art?"
"He might find business a greater challenge."
"You need to talk to him before you give him something he doesn't want. How much time will he have for art if he accepts your demands?"
"Kate..."
"What if he walks away from you?"
"He won't do that."
"He might.” I strode to the stove and began to blend mints.
Lars put his arms around my waist. “Let's get married before we waste the rest of our lives."
Though there'd been hints he wanted to change our relationship, his proposal stunned me. “I'm not sure I'm ready for marriage."
"Think about it. I'm in no hurry. Tomorrow will be fine."
I laughed. “Tomorrow's out. I need to think this through. There are some important details to work out.” Years ago I'd shelved my dreams of marriage to Lars. Even after his children were grown, he'd seemed content with friendship. “What brought this on?"
"How can you ask? I've loved you for years, but other matters always seemed to form barriers and detours."
"I love you, too, but I need time.” There was still a major roadblock, I thought.
"Was only teasing about tomorrow. I'll wait."
I turned in his arms. “You've things to think about, too. Like the changes our marriage might make."
Did he understand that in gaining me, he might alienate his favorite child? Since my arrival nothing in Bonnie's attitude had shown a change toward me. This was especially true if Lars was right about her role in his kidnapping.
* * * *
The shrill ring of the phone woke me. I groped for the receiver and remembered the chalet's phone was in the other bedroom.
"What?” His voice carried through the open door. “No..."
I grabbed my robe and ran to his room. He sat on the edge of the bed. His color was ashen. The receiver lay on the floor where he must have dropped it.
I pushed him back on the bed and checked his pulse. “What is it? What happened?"
"Bonnie."
Had she been in an accident? Had a pair of volatile tempers erupted and ended in physical combat? I grabbed the receiver. “This is Katherine. What happened?"
"Bonnie's been kidnapped,” Carl said.
"What? When?"
"I don't know."
"Start from the beginning."
"We had a fight New Year's Day,” he said. “She was furious about those men who crashed the party. I left in a rush. When I came home, she wasn't there, but I figured she was off sulking."
"What did you do?"
"Waited. She's gone off like this before and stayed away for a week or so."
"Then how do you know she's been kidnapped?"
"The note. The maid found it when she arrived at eight. Demands a ransom. I called Damon. He came over and said to call Lars."
I looked at the clock and saw it was almost eight thirty. Lars and I had slept late.
"Is Damon there?"
"Yes."
"Put him on.” I turned to Lars. His color had improved. “Damon's coming to the phone."
"I'll talk to him."
"Are you all right?"
"In shock. Angry. Bewildered and scared, but I'll do.” He eased into a sitting position. “Damon, don't do anything until Kate and I get there. We'll come as soon as we can. Have you notified the police?” He frowned. “I see."
For what seemed like an eternity, he held the phone against his ear. I took the receiver from his hand. The dial tone buzzed.
"Lars."
"Let's get on the road."
I placed the receiver in the cradle and put my arms around him. “I'll go change."
He kissed me. “Why didn't he call when she didn't come home?"
"He said she's done this before."
Lars nodded. “Too many times.” He released me. “Go change. We need to hit the road."
"Dress, pack and breakfast first."
"I can't eat."
Though he wanted to rush off, I heated the rest of the cinnamon rolls and made coffee. After eating we loaded the car and left for Santa Fe.
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Chapter 6
~
La Pregunta Dorada
-
The drive back was made in near silence. I couldn't think of a way to ease Lars’ fears. If I voiced my doubts about the danger to his daughter, he wouldn't believe me. He might react with anger, thus damaging our friendship and destroying our love. Right now it seemed as though he hadn't been right about his own kidnapping. If there'd been no ransom note, Bonnie's disappearance could be part of her game.
His tension showed in his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He leaned forward as though this would coax more speed from the car. My hands clenched in my lap. On the winding mountain roads, I feared more speed would send us hurtling into space. I prayed we would reach our destination safely.
Finally, I couldn't hold my fears in. “Lars, please slow down."
"I know the roads."
For a few brief moments, the car slowed. Then the line on the speedometer edged upward again. I sucked in a breath and swallowed my fear.
To divert myself, I thought of the list of people and their motives. Carl's gambling headed the list. Gambling is a sickness and owing money to gambler isn't smart. If Bonnie planned to divorce him, Carl might be desperate enough to try something foolish.
Bonnie definitely had an agenda. She wanted to control the company and her father. Perhaps she wanted to divorce her husband and needed money for a settlement.
When we arrived at the gates, Lars used the opener. My thoughts flashed to the day I'd arrived. “Can someone enter the estate without one of those gadgets? Is there a back road?"
He shook his head. “You either have to have one of these or stop and announce yourself."
I filed this under facts and began to speculate. Lars’ disappearance had to have been an inside job. He must have been taken from the house in a vehicle. The gate had been open when I'd arrived. Who had let the kidnapper in and why hadn't the gate been closed when they left?
"Did you buzz someone in the day I arrived?"
"I don't think...no. Why do you ask?"
"I drove right in. The person who took you must have left the gate open. Maybe they didn't have an opener."
He stopped the car so abruptly I jerked forward. “This isn't about me."
"Yes, it is."
"The gate could have been open because of deliveries for the party. Consuela might have forgotten. She often does."