To Hell in a Handbasket

by Beth Groundwater

  Claire sat on the sofa arm and swept a lock of Judy’s hair off her forehead, then left her arm resting on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m going to buy some things to make a thank you basket for Owen Silverstone.”

  “Why?”

  “If not for him and his office catching Ivanov, you or Angela Contino could be hostages or dead right now. I want him to know we appreciate having our daughter safe in our arms again.”

  “Okay, I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “You’re going with me.”

  Judy shot Claire a “what-are-you-kidding?” look.

  “You need to get up and do something to take your mind off this situation with Nick, and I want some help picking out stuff.”

  Judy returned her gaze to the TV. “I’d rather stay here.”

  “I know. But I’d rather you didn’t.” Claire stood and offered her hand. “C’mon. I’ll keep bugging you, and you won’t be able to hear the rest of the movie anyway.”

  Judy let out a monumental sigh, then threw off the afghan and sat up. “All right, already. Give me half an hour to shower and dress.”

  An hour later, the two of them were downtown in a sporting goods store. Claire picked up a boxed set of double-walled plastic beer mugs with trout flies embedded between the walls. Perfect. She walked over to Judy, who was studying the small gifts in a glass display case by the cash register.

  “Owen’s receptionist said he likes fly fishing, so I’ll build the basket around that theme,” Claire said. “He was drinking a beer at the fundraiser, so we’ll get these and a twelve-pack of assorted Breckenridge Brewery beers.”

  Judy pointed at a pewter keychain in the display case with two pewter trout hanging off it. “What about this, too?”

  “Great idea.” Claire waved over a store employee and asked her to get out the keychain.

  When the clerk saw their purchases, she picked up a bag of candy hanging on a rack on the other side of the register. “Giving a gift to a fisherman? How about these chocolate river rocks?”

  “You are a smart saleswoman,” Claire said with a smile. “Add them in.”

  They stopped at the brewery next to buy the beer, then Claire said to Judy, “Now, if we could find some fishing-related music that he could listen to while he’s having a drink, the basket would be complete.”

  Judy raised a skeptical brow. “Fishing music? Good luck.”

  They walked into a music store, and Claire waved over a long-haired clerk with a ski-goggle tan. “I’ve got an unusual request. I’m putting together a gift basket for a fisherman, and I was wondering if you had any CDs with the word ‘fish’ in their titles, or by bands with ‘fish’ in their names, or even with a fish on the cover.”

  “That is unusual,” the clerk replied. “Let me do a computer search.” He typed “fish” into his computer, scanned the results, then flashed Claire a goofy grin. “I’ve got the perfect CD. Ask the Fish by Leftover Salmon.”

  He walked to a rack, flipped through a tray, and pulled out a CD with a large orange salmon on the cover. “It’s even on sale because it was cut in 2001.”

  Claire took the CD. “What kind of music is it?”

  “Cajun slamgrass.”

  “What the heck is that?”

  “Sort of a mix of blues, Southern rock, and bluegrass.”

  Judy pursed her lips. “I doubt he’d like that kind of music, Mom.”

  Claire thought back to the times she had visited Silverstone in his office. “I remember hearing Tab Benoit playing in his office once. That’s Southern blues, right?”

  The clerk gave a nod. “Pretty close match to Leftover Salmon.”

  “And it matches the basket’s theme,” Claire said. “At least it’s not punk rock or that stuff they were playing in Sherpa & Yeti’s.”

  The music clerk’s eyes widened in surprise, and he gave Claire the once-over, as if he couldn’t believe she had been in the nightclub.

  Claire handed him the CD. “We’ll take it.”

  _____

  Claire and Judy returned to the house, where Claire dug through the supplies she had brought with her to find a suitably sized basket and packaging materials. After constructing the gift, she dragged an unwilling Judy with her to visit Owen at the Summit County Justice Center.

  He looked up from his computer when they walked in and watched Claire place the basket on the center of his desk. “What’s this?”

  “A small appreciation gift from us.” Claire waved Judy into Owen’s visitor chair and borrowed the other detective’s visitor chair for herself. “Go ahead. Open it.”

  Rubbing his chin, Owen said, “We’re not supposed to accept gifts over fifty dollars from private citizens. It could be misconstrued as a bribe by defense attorneys.”

  Claire did some quick mental calculations, leaving out the basket. That was packaging, after all. “You’re safe. It’s under the limit.”

  Owen untied the brown raffia bow and opened up the dark green cellophane. As his gaze swept over the contents of the basket, he started to chuckle. “You’ve got me pegged. How did you find out I was a fly fisherman?”

  “Your receptionist told me.” Claire glowed with the delight she always felt when a basket recipient obviously appreciated the contents. “So you like it?”

  “You bet. Thanks. I’ve got fishing gear, clothes, and books up the wazoo, but no one’s thought to give me fish glasses or a keychain. And what’s this?” He read the CD cover and laughed. “Should be interesting. I like bluegrass.”

  Claire flashed a triumphant grin to Judy.

  Judy rolled her eyes and sank deeper into her chair.

  Owen moved the basket to the side of his desk and rubbed his hands together. “And I’ve got some interesting news for you. We took a DNA sample from Petrov and put a rush analysis on it.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. “Perfect match with the DNA on the cigarette butt we found on the ski slope.”

  Claire flashed him a thumbs-up. “Aren’t you glad we went back to search the slope?”

  “Yep.” He reached behind him and pulled a large plastic bag off the floor that contained a pair of brown loafers. “Recognize these? We found them among Petrov’s belongings when we searched his hotel room.”

  Claire studied them. “They sure look like the pair I saw on the intruder at Boyd’s trailer.”

  Owen nodded and returned the shoes to the floor. “That little piece of evidence, Judy’s eyewitness account, the DNA match, and the fact that Petrov’s ski clothes match Boyd Naylor’s drawing are enough to put the final nails in Petrov’s coffin. And he knows it. We’re charging him with murder one for Stephanie’s death, which is a capital crime. And we’re analyzing fibers, prints, and other evidence from Ivanov’s Range Rover, even found some blood under the hood grill. We’re sure Petrov used it to murder Boyd Naylor. Once we’ve got a solid case for that one, we’ll file the second murder one charge. When we told him all that this morning, he started squirming.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “Here’s a bit of information you’ll find interesting. When we told Petrov that the list of charges against him would include attempted murder of Judy and Nick, he insisted he never intended to kill either one of them.”

  “Then why the hell was he following them to the cabin with a rifle strapped to his back?” Claire asked.

  “He also had a flask of ether and some rags, as we discovered later. He intended to sneak up on them and knock them out or use the gun to force them to administer the ether to themselves, so he could kidnap Judy and hand her over to Ivanov.”

  “What did Ivanov want with me?” Judy asked.

  “He was going to hold you at his place until Petrov got out of the country. Then he was going to release you to Nick. As Petrov said, they didn’t want to piss off Nick. They were trying to recruit him, after all.”

  Judy frowned. “Kidnapping me would piss him off.”

  A wry smile cracked Owen’s lips. “Ivanov’s
home in Denver is palatial, with an indoor swimming pool and sauna and a massage therapist and gourmet chef on staff. Petrov said you would have been well taken care of.”

  “Darn, Mom,” Judy said to Claire, “look what you made me miss.”

  Claire snorted.

  “What Petrov said made a lot of sense,” Owen continued, “and our cases for those two attempted murder charges were weak. However, the charge for the attempt on my life, yours, Claire, and your husband’s will definitely stick, with all of us as eyewitnesses. A jury would have no problem recommending the death penalty for a murderer who also tried to kill a cop. Petrov’s sweating, knows even a passel of high-priced mob lawyers would have a hard time seeding doubt in a jury with all the evidence we’ve got. He says he wants to cut a deal with the DA in exchange for fingering Ivanov as the one who ordered him to do it.”

  “Wasn’t Petrov afraid Ivanov would have him killed in prison?” Claire asked.

  Silverstone nodded. “I explained how we could protect him, with a new identity, even in prison, and transfer him to a facility out-of-state, among other things. By the time I finished, I was able to convince Petrov his chances of living were higher by cooperating with us than by keeping his mouth shut.”

  Judy sat up straighter. “So that means Ivanov will be in prison for a long time.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. We’re going after bigger fish”—Owen pointed at the gift basket and grinned—“than Ivanov. Between Petrov fingering Ivanov for murder and what Denver PD will reconstruct about Ivanov’s mob activities from Anthony Contino’s computer disk, it won’t be long before good old Gregori knows he’s screwed, too. The Russian mob will be a lot more worried about him and what he knows about the organization than they will be about a semiretired hit man. They’ll be trying their darnedest to kill him before he talks. We’re hoping that over time, we can convince him to cut a deal himself.”

  “A deal for what?” Claire asked.

  “To rat out his bosses—the ringleaders of the Russian mob nationwide, maybe even worldwide—in exchange for saving his own hide.”

  “My God,” Claire said. “I didn’t realize this case would have such huge repercussions.”

  “And repercussions here, too.” Owen said. “Think of all the publicity this will generate for us.” He swept his hand in the air as if defining a newspaper headline. “Small Summit County Sheriff’s Office Cracks Open Nationwide Russian Mob. We may even get those salary raises that have been on hold for two years.” A satisfied smile brightened his face.

  “I hope so, Owen,” Claire said. “You deserve a raise.”

  “Are you saying this may mean the end of the Russian mob,” Judy asked, “at least in the United States?”

  “Very likely,” Owen said. “At the least, we’ll drive whatever fragments remain into hiding.”

  “Is Judy in any danger still?” Claire asked. “From these fragments, for instance?”

  “I can’t imagine why the mob would bother with her. Petrov only went after her because she could place him in the area when Stephanie Contino was killed. But he knows we’ve got him cold even without her testimony. Ivanov’s main interest was keeping Anthony Contino’s lips sealed by using Nick for leverage. But Contino’s computer will do the talking for him.”

  Judy scooted forward to the edge of her seat, hope blooming in her face. “So, what about their threat to Nick?”

  “Judy, they’ll be too busy trying to save their own skins to go after him.” Owen held up a finger. “However, this will all take time. Months, in fact. Nickolas Contino called me a bit ago and said he and his mother were leaving the country. That’s probably a smart thing to do, until we can convince Ivanov to spill the beans and we round up his associates.”

  “Will Nick be able to return in time for fall semester?” Judy’s hands gripped the arms of her chair.

  Owen thought for a moment. “Possibly.”

  Judy sucked in a breath and whipped her head around to look at Claire, eyes bright with joy. “Do you know what this means?”

  With sudden clarity, Claire realized this was the moment. The moment her daughter became lost to her, or to her influence, at least. Judy would go to Nick and convince him she would be safe with him. She would wait for him to return from Sicily, then they would marry and start a life of their own. She was perched on the edge of the nest, ready for her final long flight away to her chosen mate.

  But Claire wasn’t ready. She would never be ready to release her only daughter. What mother is? With her heart breaking, Claire answered, “Yes, dear. I know.”

  Judy leapt up from her chair. “We’ve got to drive over to the Continos now, before they leave for Denver.” She held out her hand to Owen. “Thanks, Detective Silverstone.” Without a glance back to her mother, she headed down the hallway.

  Claire got up more slowly to offer her hand to Owen.

  He pointed his chin down the hallway. “What was that all about?”

  “Nick tried to break up with Judy, afraid he’d always be in danger from the Russian mob, and he didn’t want to put her in danger. But from what you said, that won’t be a problem anymore. So, there’s no reason for them not to marry now.”

  Owen’s gaze slid to the photo of his own young daughter, then to Claire. “You’ll miss her, won’t you?”

  Claire offered him a sad smile. “That’s a parent’s job, isn’t it? To raise a child strong enough to leave and break our hearts.”

  _____

  Claire walked in the front door of the townhouse alone.

  Roger looked up from a mystery book. Claire had brought it to Breckenridge to read but hadn’t had time to crack it open. “Where’s Judy?”

  “I left her at the Continos’ house.”

  Roger raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought she and Nick broke up.”

  Claire sank onto the sofa next to him. “The reason they broke up is gone now.” She explained what Owen had told her and Judy. “So Judy and Nick can get together again.”

  She sighed, laid her head back against the sofa, and closed her eyes. She felt the soft pressure of Roger’s lips against hers and returned the kiss automatically. She opened her eyes.

  Roger’s expression was serious. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I feel like she’s being ripped out of my arms. But, I know it’s right. I can see the love flowing between those two. They’re perfect for each other.” Claire opened her hands and looked down at her empty palms. “It’s time for me to let go. I can’t protect her anymore.”

  Roger leaned back. “She’ll be all right. Nick will make sure she’s safe.”

  Images of Judy rushed through Claire’s mind—getting on the plane to go off to France alone, coming in exhausted after helping the Continos plan Stephanie’s funeral, driving her own snowmobile back from the miner’s cabin where she had almost been killed.

  “You know, Judy’s pretty damn competent. She can protect herself.”

  Roger turned and flashed a grin. “I was wondering when you would realize that.” He patted her hand. “You raised her up right.”

  “I just wish she wasn’t so all-fired independent. Like that tattoo!”

  “It’s not so bad—small, and kinda pretty.”

  Claire sat up, folded her arms, and tilted her head. “Pretty, huh? Think I should get one? Maybe a little rose, right here?” She tapped the top of her right breast.

  Roger reached over and unbuttoned the top button of her shirt. He planted a kiss on the soft skin of her left breast. “No, here.”

  Claire burst out laughing and threw her arms around Roger. God, I love this man. She reveled in the familiar feel of his hands roaming her back under her shirt as they got down to some serious necking.

  The front door swung open and Judy stepped in.

  Claire drew away from Roger and hastily buttoned her blouse. Judy sure has a knack for throwing water on the flame.

  Judy didn’t seem to notice, though. Eyes bright with excitement, she literall
y bounced into the room. “Nick and I are officially engaged.” She let out a little whoop and twirled.

  Claire jumped up and hugged Judy. “I’m excited for you.”

  Roger added his hug then asked, “When’s the wedding?”

  “Not until next summer. I knew you and Mom wouldn’t want me to get married until I finished college. If Nick takes a couple of extra courses, he might be able to finish his MBA by then, too. Assuming he’s back in school this fall.”

  Thoughts of flowers, venues, menus, and invitations whirled in Claire’s head. “We can start planning the wedding now, though. We have all of this week left before you leave.”

  Judy’s smile faded. “I’m afraid we don’t. I’ve got less than an hour to pack my bags before Nick and his Mom pick me up. We changed my flight so I can fly with them to Sicily tonight and spend a few days with them before I go back to France.”

  Claire frowned. “I wish you’d consulted with us first.”

  Roger put his arm around Claire and squeezed her shoulder. “We would’ve agreed, though.”

  We would’ve? Claire shot a look at Roger. His calm, answering gaze made her stop and think a moment. I just finished saying it was time to let her go, didn’t I?

  She turned to Judy. “Yes, we would’ve. How can I help?”

  Judy threw her arms around Claire and Roger. “You two are the greatest.”

  _____

  An hour later, Claire stood with Roger on the front stoop of the townhouse, waving goodbye to Judy as Nick backed the Continos’ Range Rover out of the driveway. Claire felt wistful as they drove out of sight. Judy would be so far away and wouldn’t return until June. But then she would spend the whole summer with her parents, planning her wedding.

  Roger pulled Claire inside out of the cold air and shut the door. He put his arms around her and stepped back to look at her, a sly grin playing on his face. “Well, we’ve got a whole week ahead with just the two of us. Whatever will we do with ourselves?”