She shook her head. “He was always smiling, didn’t seem to have a care in the world.”
Jessica sat at the desk with fingers drumming on the large calendar pad in front of her. “Maybe it was a family problem, something totally unrelated to the stable.”
Charley wheeled and looked at her. “I sure hope so, and I hope the police find out who did it soon. Kyle’s murder, on top of the issues we’re having with Peak View Stables and the neighbors, could deep-six Gardner’s Stables for good.”
Claire noticed that Phelps had been quietly scribbling on a notepad while standing in a corner. She nibbled on her lip. She didn’t see how anything anyone had said in response to her questions could be helpful. Maybe there was some other way she could help Detective Wilson in this investigation. After all, she had done so once before, though he hadn’t appreciated her ‘interference,’ as he called it.
Time passed slowly as they waited for the return of the searchers. At least the trailer was air-conditioned, and they weren’t sitting outside in the hot sun. Brittany laid her head back on the sofa and fell asleep. When Phelps’s stomach let out a loud growl, Jessica took pity on him and brought a large bag of tortilla chips out of the kitchenette. He passed the bag around and it was soon emptied.
Jorge got up and fetched a veterinarian’s book about horse ailments off the bookshelf behind Jessica’s reception desk. He returned to the sofa and started leafing through it and discussing it with Pedro in Spanish. Charley went into the back office to work on his computer. From the pile of invoices and receipts he was going through, Claire presumed he was catching up on bookkeeping.
Brittany woke up, glanced around with a dazed look, then checked at her watch. “Um, Jessica? I have class in two hours. Will the police be able to interview me before I have to go to it?”
Jessica looked at Phelps, who stood leaning with his back against the wall. He shrugged. “It’s up to Detective Wilson.”
“We’ll ask him, Brittany,” Jessica said.
Steps sounded on the porch outside, and the other patrolman entered. “Detective Wilson told me to fetch Pedro. We’re going to have to go through the manure dumpster now.”
Phelps gave a little snort, and the other patrolman shot him an angry glare.
With a look of pained resignation, Pedro rose from the sofa.
Claire felt sorry for him, but she realized he was the logical choice. Charley and Jorge outranked him, and none of the men, being the chivalrous cowboys they were, would have let Brittany handle the noxious, labor-intensive chore.
The patrolman turned to Jessica. “Detective Wilson also told me to ask you if you’d heard anything from the trail ride group.”
“Hank will radio us a few minutes before they hit the paved trail in the Blair Bridge Open Space,” she replied. “We should hear from him soon. We need to send Brittany out on the ATV to follow them back at that point, to scoop up any droppings.”
After the patrolman nodded, Jessica added, “Could you ask Detective Wilson if he could interview Brittany after that, so she can go to her class afterward?”
“Okay.” The patrolman ushered Pedro out.
A few minutes later, Phelps’s shoulder radio squawked. Detective Wilson said he would talk to Brittany before she had to leave for class.
About ten minutes after that, Hank radioed that they were approaching the Foothills Trail, so Brittany headed out.
Finally Wilson opened the door to the trailer and poked his head in. “Charley Gardner, could you step outside?”
Charley walked out and Claire and Jessica followed. They stood on the porch while Charley walked with Detective Wilson and the other detective over to Pedro, who was filthy from head-to-toe. The frowning uniformed officer standing next to him had brown stains on his pants legs and arms.
A fetid stench came off the two of them. Claire’s nose automatically wrinkled, but she stopped herself from waving her hand or holding her nose. The men couldn’t help how they smelled, and she didn’t want to embarrass them.
Pedro stood with his head bowed and his cheeks reddened. He held the handles of a wheelbarrow containing an assortment of tools, all bagged in large plastic bags.
“We’re going to need to remove all of these for testing,” Wilson said.
Charley put his hands on his hips and looked over the assortment. He frowned. “For how long?”
“Could be days, maybe even a week or two. And if any become evidence, we’ll need to hold them until the case goes to trial.” Wilson pointed to a plastic bag that Claire, from her high perch on the porch, could see contained a hammer with brown smears on its haft. “I suspect this hammer that Pedro found for us deep in the manure dumpster may be the only one we’ll have to hold on to for long.”
Claire raised a brow at Jessica, who put a hand to her mouth.
“Looks like I’ll need to buy new tools to replace most of these anyway. I can’t go that long without them.” Charley slapped his hat against his thigh then slammed it on his head. “Another God-damned expense.”
Wilson handed him a piece of paper. “This is a list of everything we’re taking.”
Charley took the list, reached up to the porch to hand it to Jessica, then turned back to Wilson. “Can poor Pedro get cleaned up and the rest of us go back to work now?”
“Afraid not,” Wilson said, with an apologetic glance at the reeking wrangler. “Given the new evidence, we need to re-interview everyone. Find out who was here the night Mendoza was killed. I understand Brittany Schwartz has to leave, so we’ll start with her after the trail ride gets in.” He held out a set of keys to the grimy patrolman. “Put all the evidence in my trunk, then I’ll need you and Phelps to observe everyone.”
Grim-faced, the patrolman took the wheelbarrow from Pedro. He probably wanted to get cleaned up right away, too.
Wilson turned to the other detective. “Once Miss Schwarz gets back, you can start with her in the trailer.” Then he addressed Phelps. “Ask everyone to come out here.”
As Phelps went back in the trailer, Claire saw the string of horses appear from around a small rise to the west. Brittany followed on her ATV.
After that, there was a flurry of activity as the trail ride returned. Under the watchful eyes of the police, tourists dismounted. They made their thanks and passed tips to the guides, who unsaddled, brushed, watered, and fed the horses. Hank and Gil and the tourists shot curious glances at the police, but Jessica and Charley made a point of ignoring the officers. They kept up a steady patter with the tourists, so none of them had a chance to ask about the police before they found themselves gently herded into the parking lot.
Then the interviews started.
When it was finally Claire’s turn for her private talk with Detective Wilson at one of the outside picnic tables, he said, “I won’t keep you long. Since you weren’t here Sunday night, you probably won’t have much to add.”
“Oh, but I do,” Claire said, causing Wilson to raise an eyebrow. “Did you know that Gil Kaplan has a drinking problem and a chip on his shoulder about Mexican immigrants?”
“No, I didn’t. So you think Gil reacted to Mendoza’s Hispanic surname even though Mendoza was born in the Springs?”
“You know, I’d suspect Gil more if Pedro or even Jorge was the victim.” She described Gil’s treatment of Pedro on Tuesday. “Yes, Kyle was a U.S. citizen, but maybe he and Gil got into it, too. That man seems to have a lot of anger in him.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“And I bet Charley didn’t tell you about the run-in he had with the General Manager of Peak View Stables, thinking it had nothing to do with Kyle’s death.”
Wilson shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Could be nothing, but tell me about it.”
“Tom Lindall would love to see Charley’s business just go away. And what better way is there than to set up someone to be killed by
one of the horses, then spread the word that Charley’s stable isn’t safe?” She described both the argument on the trail and Lindall’s follow-up visit.
After she finished, Wilson looked up from his notepad, where he had been scribbling during her tale. “So you think Lindall was just pretending to be mollified by Charley and willing to work out a compromise?”
Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know the man. But I do know you. There was something about the autopsy findings that you didn’t share with Jessica and me. What was it?”
“If I tell you, you can’t share the information with anyone, not even your husband.”
“I promise.”
Wilson studied her, then gave a satisfied nod. “I’m only telling you because you two and your brother and his wife are neither suspects nor witnesses. Your brother’s neighbors confirmed that they were at your brother’s house until around eleven Sunday night. They brought a late dinner and a cake over to celebrate the opening, then stayed to hear all about it.”
Thank God Charley and Jessica had an alibi. Claire folded her arms. “So tell me.”
“The clincher for the murder determination,” he said, leaning forward, “was that the coroner also found abrasions on the palms of Mendoza’s hands, abrasions that are consistent with being dragged. So, he concluded that someone hit Mendoza on the head, knocking him unconscious. Then he dragged Mendoza into Gunpowder’s stall and goaded the horse into finishing him off, making it look like an accident.”
“Oh, my. So that’s why you’re talking to Charley’s wranglers.”
“And anyone else who might have had a reason to kill Kyle Mendoza.”
“That reminds me. I assume Brittany told you she was dating Kyle.”
“Yes, and that they weren’t serious.”
“Did she tell you that there’s also something going on between her and this guy named Vince Donahue who works for Lindall?”
“Nooo.” Wilson poised his pen over his notepad. “But something tells me you are.”
“Unfortunately I don’t know much. I’ve just seen them flirt with each other.” She told Wilson about the encounter in the Garden of the Gods Park and Vince asking to see Brittany when he and Lindall came over.
She leaned forward. “I’ll be volunteering with Brittany again on Saturday for Jessica’s hippotherapy nonprofit. I can ask Brittany about her relationship with Vince then.”
“You stay out of this. I’ll ask her myself.” Wilson flipped the cover over on his spiral notebook.
“She probably won’t tell you as much as she’ll tell me, woman-to-woman.”
Wilson sat up straighter and focused his gaze on Claire. “I know you want to be helpful, since your brother’s business is affected, but I can’t allow you to go around asking questions. Anything you find out would be inadmissible in court. And whoever killed Kyle Mendoza is still out there. What happens if the killer finds you snooping around?”
“I’ll be careful. I’ll just bring things up in casual conversation, so no one will be suspicious.”
“Oh, c’mon!”
She put up her hands, palm out. “I’m not working for you, but you can’t stop me, either. Look how much I’ve already found out. Don’t you agree it’s useful?”
Wilson sighed. “Maybe. I’ll follow up on some of the things you’ve told me, but I don’t want you putting yourself at risk. You’re not a trained detective like I am.”
Claire crossed her arms. “Oh, you already made that abundantly clear a few months ago.”
A small smile quirked up one side of Wilson’s lips. “I’m grateful you’ve told me all this. And, if you happen to find out anything else useful by keeping your eyes and ears open, I want to hear it. But don’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He stood. “I wouldn’t want to see a single hair on your pretty little head come to harm.”
He walked out of the trailer leaving Claire fuming. What a condescending thing to say!
She had half a mind to engage in ‘snooping’ as he called it just to spite him. But she didn’t need Wilson to give her a reason. She had enough of one. Charley’s business, his future, and his self-worth were all at stake in this. And if her little brother needed help, Claire was determined to offer it, whether he wanted it or not.
six:
legal issues
Claire visited her mother Friday morning and left feeling gloomy. Her mother was ensconced in an Alzheimer’s facility in Colorado Springs and often didn’t recognize Claire anymore when she visited. This morning, she had treated Claire as if she was one of the staff and kept asking what they were serving for lunch. Claire made up something, sure her mother would forget anyway by the time the meal was served.
When Claire walked into the Gardner’s Stables trailer, Jessica was on the phone, talking about dozens of chocolate-covered strawberries. Claire presumed the fundraiser caterer was on the line. She waggled her fingers at Jessica and poked her head in Charley’s office. He stopped his work on his computer to exchange hellos, and she gave him an update on their mother.
“I’m worried about her,” she said to Charlie. “One of the aides told me she found Mom wandering the hallway late one night last week. Mom couldn’t tell her what she was doing there, and the aide had to escort her back to her room.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Charlie said with a frown.
“Could you visit her soon and let me know what you think?”
He sighed. “I’ll try. I know I should see her more often, but I get so busy here that the days keep slipping by.”
Jessica hung up and called to Claire, ending the conversation. While she and Claire prepared to go out on their postponed shopping trip, Charlie went back to methodically clicking through e-mail messages between sips of coffee.
Suddenly he slammed down the cup. “God damn it!”
Jessica scooted into the back office. “What? What is it?”
Dread made Claire break out in a hot flash, and sweat beaded on her skin. She followed Jessica, flapping the front of her shirt to cool off.
Charley shoved his chair back and pointed to the computer screen. “This email is from the Director of the Colorado Springs Parks and Recreation Department. It says he’s reviewing our agreement allowing me to operate commercial trail rides in the Garden of the Gods.”
Jessica leaned in to read the message on the screen. “ ‘… in light of recent events.’ What does he mean by that?”
“Kyle’s murder, I’m sure. It was in the Gazette today.”
Claire had read the article before coming over. The reporter had insinuated that someone at the stable had done the deed. When she had read the byline and recognized Marvin Bradshaw’s name, a reporter she and Roger had had a run-in with before, her hackles rose. She had made a mental note to contact him later and berate him for jumping to unfounded conclusions.
“Do you think Ana Mendoza’s lawyer has contacted them?” Claire asked.
“Probably.” Charley sank lower in his chair.
“Or could it have been Tom Lindall?”
“Maybe,” Charley said. “Or both of them. I’m going to call and find out. Then give the director a piece of my mind. He can’t just break the contract at the drop of a hat.” He reached for the phone.
Jessica put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Wait. You can’t go charging in there like a bronc trying to throw a rodeo cowboy like you always do.”
“I’ve got to do something!” Charley’s fist pounded the desk.
“But getting into a shouting match with the Director of Parks and Rec is just going to make things worse. We need to think this through.”
For once, Claire agreed with her sister-in-law. “The last thing you want to do is antagonize him, Charley.”
“What is this?” His face grew red. “Are you two ganging up on me? I can’t ignore the director’s e-m
ail. If Ana’s lawyer or Tom Lindall is feeding him a pack of lies, I need to make sure he knows the truth.”
“Yes, we do.” Jessica sat on his desk. “But we’ve got to be very careful how we say it, in a calm and rational way, so he believes us.”
Claire had an idea. “Do you want me to contact Dave Redding? With his legal background, maybe he can look over the contract and let you know how it can be cancelled. Then he can coach you in what to say.”
“What I want is for you two to stop yammering at me.” Charley rose abruptly and slammed his cowboy hat on his head. “I’m going out to get some fresh air. I can’t think in here.” He stomped out of the trailer.
“Oh dear.” Jessica slumped into the chair that Charley had just vacated. “I’ve got to convince him we’re right.”
Claire gazed thoughtfully at the door Charley had swung shut with a loud bang. “You know, I think he’s got the right idea. He can blow off some steam working with the horses. Then when he does call the director, he won’t be so upset.”
She fished in her purse. “I’ve got a couple of Dave’s cards in here. I’ll leave one for Charley and maybe he’ll contact Dave for some advice.” She pulled one out and laid it on Charley’s desk.
“But what if he doesn’t?” Jessica asked. “And he calls and makes things worse?” She stood. “I have to go talk to him.”
Claire put a firm hand on her arm. “No, Jessica. What you need to do is go shopping with me. Give Charley some space. We need to trust that he’ll do the right thing.”
Jessica snorted. “Charley? Do the right thing with no coaching from me? Not very likely!”
———
When Claire drove back into the parking lot for Gardner’s Stables late that afternoon, Jessica’s and her excited chatter about their purchases died a slow death. Detective Wilson’s gray Dodge Charger sat in the parking lot.
He stood outside the corral, leaning against the fence with one foot up on a rail. In deference to the warm day, he wasn’t wearing his suit coat and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He was talking to Charley and Jorge, who were working with Gunpowder
3 A Basket of Trouble Page 7