The New Mexico Scoundrel

by R Scott Wallis

  “My goodness. I’m so sorry.” There were a few minutes of awkward silence, then, “We should change the subject. Talk about happy things. It’s Christmas Eve. And I’m back.”

  “And it’s starting to snow,” Sullivan said from the front passenger seat. “Oh, shit, Georgia!”

  “Why are you screaming?” a startled Georgia asked as she hit Sullivan on the shoulder. “What is it?”

  “I forgot to tell you: Massimo has been tracked to Roswell, New Mexico. He’s a good 200 miles away. We can all relax a little bit tonight.”

  Georgia turned to look at Leonard. She managed a weak smile. “I’m not relaxing until he’s in custody. Tell me they’ll get him, Leonard.”

  “I’m not from anywhere near here, Georgia, but I have the utmost confidence in local police departments. Massimo appears to be using his credit cards. It shouldn’t be too hard to track him down, bring him in, and lock him up. I think you can relax a little bit.”

  “I hope so,” she whispered.

  “By the way,” Leonard said, “what was the name of the design student you hired to help at the house?”

  “Emma Wade. Why on Earth would you want to know that?”

  “What was that?” Sullivan said from the front seat. He turned around. “What did you say?”

  “Emma,” Georgia said. “He’s asking about the girl who Massimo found to...”

  “Massimo found her?” Leonard asked.

  “Oh my goodness.” It started to sink in. The singer put a hand on Sullivan’s shoulder. “I never mentioned Emma to the police, Sully. To the Mallard people. To anyone. What is wrong with me? Was she working with Massimo? She was quiet, but sweet.” She turned to Leonard. “No. I just can’t see it. Not Emma.”

  “Do you know where she lives? Is she still in town?”

  “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions. I don’t even know what school she goes to. What is wrong with me? I never even asked.”

  Leonard patted the distraught singer’s hand. “We’ll get this figured out.”

  There was a large popping sound and the car started rapidly losing speed and was pulling to the right.

  “That was the back-right tire, I think,” Carter said from behind the wheel. He slowed the vehicle and pulled off the road into the dirt. “A complete blow out. This should be fun.”

  * * *

  Skyler was holed up in her room wrapping the last of her Christmas presents when her phone made the ‘V.I.P chime’ for the second time in the last ten minutes, indicating that she had another text from a close friend or a top client. The first time it was Leonard, letting her know that they’d been delayed, and now it was Carissa Lamb, her second most important account since she took on Foster Martin.

  Merry Christmas, my darling. About

  to go on stage. Wishing we were all

  together. New Year’s, maybe? My love

  to Lenny and all.

  She knew Carissa had shows scheduled for New Year’s Eve at the Golden Cactus and wasn’t quite sure she wanted to spend the last night of the year in Las Vegas for what was arguably one of the busiest tourist seasons there, so Skyler politely tabled the discussion.

  Merry Christmas, Carissa. I’ll

  talk to the troops about NYE.

  It’s snowing here! Miss you.

  Thank you for the necklace! It

  is absolutely stunning. You have

  impeccable taste. I sent you

  nothing. I suck. I’m sorry.

  “Enzo has impeccable taste,” Skyler said out loud as she tapped away on her screen.

  Thank you…and no worries. You

  write me fat checks! LOL Let’s

  chat in a few days. Love you.

  Enjoy the snow, darling.

  Ho ho ho. XOXO

  Brenda and the dogs filed into the suite and the chef flopped down on the bed. The dogs started playing with shreds of wrapping paper that had piled up on the floor next to the folding table Skyler was using as her wrapping center.

  “Are you done yet? I want to start drinking,” Brenda said with a huff.

  “Why does my wrapping of presents stop you from drinking?”

  Brenda consulted her watch. “It’s only half past two. I should wait. When do the boys return with the abductee? It seems like they should have been back by now.”

  “Any minute,” Skyler said as she shooed the animals away from her mess. “They landed some time ago, but they got a flat tire on the way back. They couldn’t get the nuts off, so they had to wait for a tow truck to come save them.”

  “I hate when guys can’t get their nuts off.”

  Skyler snorted with laughter. “Now that’s funny.”

  “I try.”

  “We have an invitation to go to Las Vegas for New Year’s Eve, by the way.”

  “Carissa, I assume?”

  “Uh huh. She has two shows that night, but still wants us there, and she’s planning a party on The Strip for the countdown to midnight and for the fireworks shows. It wouldn’t be my first choice of destinations, but if we went, and we were with her, I’m sure we’d be comfortably insulated from the unwashed masses.”

  “That’s so elitist of you,” Brenda said. “But I get it. And I agree. Wholeheartedly, actually.”

  “Could we even get rooms at this point?”

  “Probably not. The suite I usually stay in would have been booked months ago for Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I can usually get something when I want or need to be there, but I’ve never even tried to go on a holiday before. I can call and reserve us the private wine room at Brenda’s Kitchen though. I was just talking to the Las Vegas restaurant manager yesterday; it’s still available.”

  “I don’t want to sleep in a wine room,” Skyler joked. “Are we sure we want to go to Vegas?”

  “Yes. It’ll be fun. Once we get Georgia settled and I do a few more things at the new restaurant downtown, I should be able to get out of dodge for a while. I think I am all Santa Fe’d out for the time being.”

  “Agreed. Me too,” Skyler said. “This has been one hell of a drama filled year. We deserve to celebrate in style.”

  Brenda propped her head up with her right arm. “If we can’t get decent rooms at the Golden Cactus, we could probably talk our way into staying at the Carissa Lamb estate. I’ve never even seen it. She lives alone, and it has like a gazillion bedrooms, a ballroom, an amazing Strip view, and pools.”

  “Pools? With an ‘s’ on the end?”

  “Indoor and outdoor.”

  Skyler smiled. “Sounds lovely. Let’s talk to Leonard and see how he feels. Maybe he can fit it in before heading back to Wabs.”

  “Hey! That can be my Christmas present to you. I’ll fly us to Vegas.”

  “My Christmas present from you was that you flew Leonard to Santa Fe to surprise me, Brenda. You’ve spent enough on private jets.”

  “Bite your tongue. It’s just money, and I still have lots of cash left in my transportation budget for the year. We’re good, honey. And besides, I don’t have children to leave my fortune to, and because of Q.V.C., it keeps growing. Like me.”

  “Stop,” Skyler said as she playfully hit her friend. “Alright. I’ll let you fly us there. Anything beats commercial.”

  “Don’t I know. Cool. New Year’s in Las Vegas. If I can find us a plane, that is. That seems to be my new full-time job. Why do my assistants insist on taking the holidays off, damn it?”

  “If you can get a plane and let’s not forget that this is all dependent on getting Leonard on board. Move over,” Skyler said as she joined her friend on the bed. “It’s very quiet in this house, by the way. Where’s Darby? Is he still on top of the world?”

  “He’s annoyingly giddy, but at least he’s acting like a semi-normal person now and not acting like a total shit all the time. Last time I saw him he was sitting near the fire making a list of all the stuff he was going to buy.”

  “He’s going to blow through all the money like a lott
ery winner and then he’ll have nothing.”

  Brenda shook her head. “I suspect the twins won’t let that happen. Did you hear what they did with his profits all of these years? They funneled them into a money market account. They’ve kept half in cash and invested the rest. That kid is worth millions. And he’ll still get annual hotel profits for years to come. But here’s what I would be worried about if I were Carter and Sullivan…” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper, “If I were Darby, I’d sue the pants off of them. They kept the fact that he owned a third of the family company from him and invested his money without him even knowing it existed. If that kid has any brains at all, he should be livid. I’d be scared he’d walk away with the entire company if he won in court. And he’d have a good case.”

  “But they did it for his own good,” Skyler said. “He’s been a drug user since high school. In and out of rehab. They were protecting his money.”

  “The courts might not see it that way. Their father wanted him to have a third.”

  “He had it. He just didn’t know it.”

  Brenda shrugged her shoulders. “Just calling it like I see it. In any event, he might be too stupid to even think of such a thing. He’s too excited with his new inflated bank accounts. And, now he’s a Broadway producer. That’s what Sullivan told me. He’s investing in some new show.”

  “What’s the show?”

  Brenda’s eyes widened. “A musical about the holocaust. Sounds like a real good time to me.”

  “Yikes. Well, that should keep him busy,” Skyler said as she went back to her wrapping. “Everyone needs a project. And my project right now is to get these gifts under the tree before everyone gets back.” She held up a small gold box topped with a white bow. “This is for Georgia. The bracelet.”

  “From both of us.”

  “From both of us.”

  Brenda struggled a bit but managed to get her feet back on the floor and stood up. “Come on, Mulder and Scully. Momma is going to go look at the wine bottles.” She started out of the suite.

  “Look at them?”

  “I might have to open one or two to test them. To make sure they’re not poisonous.” And she was gone, with her babies in tow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  It snowed heavily for the rest of Christmas Eve afternoon and well into the evening. And because Santa Fe wasn’t used to more than a dusting at a time, the entire city and surrounding areas came to a virtual stand-still. With very few plows and sand trucks available to treat the roads, most people were stuck at home or in their hotels, and many of the independent restaurants were forced to close. Brenda’s dinner reservation downtown was cancelled, but the twin’s rental house kitchen was more than fully stocked, so with her third glass of wine in hand, she began prepping dinner with Sullivan serving as her sous chef for the evening.

  After Leonard left a message for the lead officer at the Santa Fe Police Department about Emma Wade, he joined Skyler, Carter, Darby, and the newly sprung Georgia in the Great Room. They could all see the wintery mix outside but appreciated the warmth of the roaring fire inside the house. Everyone had a glass of wine or a cocktail in hand—Carter saw to that in his role as self-appointed bartender—and the conversation drifted from the wintery weather, to sports, to future Franklin-Lowery hotel locations, to New York City real estate prices, then ending up on Broadway. That’s when Darby became quite animated.

  “I think I really could make a go of this,” he said. “Now that I have the means. I bet I could get some innovative, ground-breaking material off the ground. I think Shoah: The Musical is a good start, too.”

  “And here I thought you had no interests besides screwing up your body with illegal substances,” Carter said, then displayed a wicked smile. “I kid, of course.”

  “You’re an asshole, Carter.”

  “I’m sorry, dude. Seriously, I am very proud of you. And maybe it’s good that all of this business stuff finally saw the light of light of day. I guess we couldn’t have kept you in the dark forever.”

  Darby placed his drink down on the coffee table. “Dad would be spinning in his grave if he knew what you two did to me. But, I’ve decided to be the bigger man, so I’m not going to be pissed about it. I’m going to move forward and do good things with my new-found riches despite my greedy, inconsiderate, most definitely unethical brothers.”

  Carter rolled his eyes.

  “Good for you, Darby,” Skyler said. “I haven’t been to a Broadway show in several years. I’ll look forward to coming to town to see what you cook up. It’s very exciting. Just don’t revive Cats again, whatever you do. For the life of me, I just don’t understand what people love about that horrid musical.”

  Darby laughed. “Maybe we can do Dogs.”

  “Hear, hear,” Brenda said.

  “I’ve never been to a Broadway show, or any stage show for that matter,” Leonard said. “Not sure I could sit through anything longer than an hour. I don’t have much of an attention span.”

  “Then whatever you do, Leonard,” Georgia laughed, “do not go to the opera.”

  “Are they long?”

  “You could say that. There are a few that are over four hours, like Philip Glass’ Einstein on the Beach, but most are in the two and a half to three-hour range. I guess that really isn’t much different than Broadway shows, come to think of it.”

  “I’m primarily interested in one act plays,” Darby said, “because I can’t sit in one place for very long, either. Get in, enjoy it, and get out. Most shows’ second acts suck anyway.”

  “Speaking of second acts,” Skyler said, turning her attention to Georgia, “have you given any thought to new representation for the new year?”

  “Oh goodness. I don’t know. I’m sure that I can ask around and see who other people are using. I’ve never been a free agent before. Massimo was with me from day one. It’s all kind of foreign to me.”

  “Well, the best part about that is that you won’t be royally screwed anymore,” Carter said. “You’ll go with someone reputable and start paying the customary percentage instead of the insane amount of half. You’re going to be much better off…in more ways than one.”

  Georgia raised her glass of wine into the air. “I’ll drink to that.”

  And as the group sipped their drinks, the music suddenly stopped playing mid-Christmas carol and the room plunged into darkness. The house was nearly pitch dark, save for the light coming from the fireplace.

  “And there goes the electricity,” Brenda said from the kitchen. “Good thing this place has a gas stove and oven.”

  “And gas heat,” Sullivan said as he joined the others in the Great Room. “We won’t freeze to death out here in no man’s land. I’m actually surprised that this house doesn’t have a generator. I’m going to look around for some matches and candles.”

  “I have a lighter,” Leonard said.

  Skyler tsked at her boyfriend then walked over to the window. “It must have been caused by snow and ice building up on the wires. It’s really coming down now. And it looks heavy and wet.”

  “I need light over here,” Brenda said. “I can’t see a thing and I’m at a critical stage with almost everything.”

  Sullivan returned with a flashlight from his briefcase and two candles he’d found in the bathrooms. “Here ya go, Chef. You’re the most important person to us right now. You stand between us and certain starvation.”

  “I feel so special,” Brenda said before taking a long sip of her wine.

  “What’s on the menu?” Leonard asked when he approached the kitchen island to light the candles.

  “We’ll start with a simple salad with grapefruit, red and golden beets, and goat cheese—it’s one of my favorites. Then, a New York strip roast with a Burgundy and mushroom sauce paired with barley risotto and butternut squash, balsamic green beans with pearl onions, and homemade snowflakes rolls with a sweet and spicy honey butter I whipped up. Then, afterwards, a sweet potato crème brûlée. I’v
e never made it before, but I am very excited to give it a whirl. I don’t have a blow torch, but I can broil it.”

  “Too bad you’re going through all this work with no television cameras here.”

  “I cook like this because I love it, Lenny. I don’t do it just for the cameras. Plus, it’s Christmas, damn it. This is what I do.”

  “I didn’t mean to belittle you. I love you and I love your food and I will eat it and shut up. I’m truly grateful, because if I were back in Wabanaki, I’d most likely be eating my Christmas dinner alone at the Popeye’s out near the 95 exit.”

  “Thank you, I guess,” she said. “Now go find some more light for this joint or no one will be able to see what they’re eating.”

  After a spirited conversation over Brenda’s over-the-top Christmas Eve dinner by candlelight, the seven delightfully stuffed, snowed-in revelers moved to the Great Room, leaving the dirty pots, pans, and dishes for the light of day. Carter poured snifters of 1985 Delord Armagnac and Darby helped pass them out. When everyone was around the fire, a large crashing sound came from the roof.

  “What the hell was that?” Brenda asked.

  Skyler was the first to her feet. “I’d guess Santa Claus and the reindeer, but we don’t have any kids here.” She grabbed Sullivan’s flashlight and started toward the back stairs. “I’ll go have a look.” Leonard didn’t like the sound of that—he’d seen enough slasher flicks to know exactly what a statement like that meant in a dark, creepy house. He was right on her heels as she disappeared into the darkness at the back of the house.

  “That girl needs a leash,” Leonard said.

  “It was probably just snow falling off the roof,” Georgia said.

  “I don’t think snow makes such a loud thud,” Brenda said. “We should probably all be in bed under the covers. It’s most definitely Santa.”

  “Or Massimo,” Carter said softly.

  Sullivan nearly choked on his after-dinner drink. “Seriously? Why would you bring up his name? He’s not even in Santa Fe.”

  “Why? Because the police told us that he wasn’t? What do they know? They couldn’t even locate him in Roswell today.”