3 A Basket of Trouble

by Beth Groundwater

  As Jessica bustled around serving, he settled into a chair, took a gulp of coffee, then ate a peanut butter cookie and took another. “Thanks, Mrs. Gardner. I haven’t had dinner, and this hits the spot.”

  “It’s after nine,” Roger said. “You must have been really busy.”

  This was Wilson’s opening cue. He swallowed the second cookie, took another gulp of coffee, then put the cup down. “We raided Oscar Vargas’s home this morning. Took him and four others into custody, and ICE took a dozen illegal immigrants to detention.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Claire asked.

  “It went down pretty well,” Wilson replied, “thanks to the information you gave us. Most everyone in the house was asleep, so we caught them napping—literally. One of Vargas’s guys got a hand on a gun and fired it, but the shot went wild. He got a bullet in his leg in response and quit firing after that.”

  “Thank God,” Jessica said.

  “Since then, I’ve been questioning Vargas,” Wilson said.

  Charley shifted forward on the sofa, his elbows on his knees and his hands clenching his coffee cup. “Did he kill Gil and Kyle?”

  “Yes and no.” Wilson frowned. “Our lab tested the guns and rifles we collected from the raid. One rifle matched the bullets found in Hector Garcia and Gil Kaplan.”

  “Was it Vargas’s?” Claire asked.

  “It was found under his bed,” Wilson answered, “and we were able to get two of the other men in the house to identify it as his personal weapon. Plus, his personal gang sign was etched onto the barrel.” He shook his head. “Dumb ass probably didn’t want anyone lifting it, but forgot how that might implicate him.”

  He rubbed his hands together as he got into his tale. “I took that evidence into the interview room. After making him sweat a bit, I told him he’d likely get the death penalty for one if not both of those murders.”

  “I bet he wanted to cut a deal,” Roger said.

  Wilson nodded. “He immediately asked what kind of plea bargain he could make. After a lot of wrangling, the DA traded the death penalty for a maximum of life on both murder charges and immunity on his other illegal activities. That was in exchange for full disclosure.”

  “Wow,” Jessica said. “You let him off easy.”

  “Not really,” Wilson replied. “Back to back life sentences will keep him in prison for the rest of his life. Anyway, once the paperwork was signed, Vargas started spilling the beans. He said he killed Hector Garcia because Garcia told a supposed friend that if he was ever picked up by ICE, he’d trade information about Oscar Vargas’s operation for a green card.”

  Claire put down her coffee cup, too engrossed with Wilson’s tale to drink or eat anything. “Can ICE do that?”

  Wilson shook his head. “Wouldn’t have happened. ICE doesn’t have that authority. Anyway, that supposed friend told Vargas, and Garcia was a dead man.”

  “What about Gil Kaplan?” Charley asked.

  “Apparently Kaplan started spying on Pedro Trujillo a few weeks ago. He was following him, probably trying to dig up information that proved he was undocumented. Trujillo got scared and told Vargas.”

  “Uh oh, bad news for Gil,” Roger said.

  With a nod, Wilson continued. “Vargas told Trujillo to just act normal, that he had nothing to fear from Kaplan. Vargas thought Kaplan was just blowing hot air and didn’t do anything at first. But then after that fight between them that you witnessed,” he pointed to Claire, “Trujillo talked to Vargas again. This time Vargas realized Kaplan was dangerous—to Trujillo and to his operation. He told Trujillo he’d handle it.”

  He paused and finished the last of his coffee. “Could I get a refill?” Wilson held out his cup to Jessica, since the pot was nearest to her. She filled it and handed it back to him while the rest of them waited, literally on the edge of their seats.

  Wilson took a sip then resumed his tale. “I sent a man to the ICE detention facility to interview Trujillo and confirm all this. He did—after getting multiple assurances that Vargas was locked up and couldn’t get to him.”

  Jessica shook her head. “Poor Pedro.”

  “He’s still a lawbreaker,” Wilson said to her. “Anyway, he had apparently begged Vargas not to kill Kaplan, but Vargas brushed him off. He told Trujillo to go home and spend the evening with friends. Vargas drove over to the Kaplan’s home, knowing what Kaplan looked like and where he lived. He tailed Kaplan back to the stable around ten and watched him through binoculars from a distance write the suicide note and take out the gun.”

  Claire put her fingers to her mouth. “So Gil actually was suicidal.”

  Wilson nodded. “Vargas was chuckling while he told me this. He said he thought Kaplan was going to save him the trouble of knocking him off and kill himself. But an hour went by and nothing happened. Then Kaplan reached over and turned on the car’s ignition, so Vargas thought he was chickening out. He marched over and put a bullet in Kaplan’s head.”

  Jessica gasped.

  “Then the cold SOB reached in and turned off the ignition.” Wilson’s mouth turned down in distaste. “We’re checking for his fingerprints on the car keys now.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got everyone in the police department working on this now,” Roger said.

  “It’s the biggest case we’ve had in a while.” Wilson took another gulp of coffee. “And we’ve got a list of all the illegals Vargas brought into the country, from his payment records. ICE is having a field day rounding them all up.” He looked at Charley. “Pedro Trujillo was the only one who went to your stable.”

  “That’s good.” A slow smile split Charley’s face. “Any go to Peak View Stables?”

  Wilson returned the smile. “Now that you mention it, yes, a couple.”

  “Hot damn.” Charley slapped his thigh. “Now Tom Lindall’s in as much hot water as I am.”

  Claire realized her coffee had grown cold and put it aside. “Did Oscar Vargas admit to killing Kyle Mendoza, too?”

  Wilson leaned back and shook his head. “Funny thing is, he never admitted to that. We even wired him up to a polygraph, and the technician said he was telling the truth. We have no physical evidence to tie him to Mendoza’s murder. And given how forthcoming he was on all the other crimes he’s committed, I really don’t think he did it.”

  Charley flopped back against the sofa cushions. “Damn. So we’re back to square one. We have no idea who killed Kyle Mendoza.”

  Wilson took another peanut butter cookie and eyed it. Before he popped it in his mouth, he said, “That’s the main reason I’m here. To let you know that a killer is still on the loose.”

  seventeen:

  love and relationships

  “Two points!” Claire clapped her hands, her enthusiasm spontaneous.

  Donny, the energetic nine-year-old boy with autism, held up his arms in victory and grinned. He was back in Daisy’s saddle Friday morning, with Claire and Brittany on either side. Today, he had been trying to throw a small Nerf basketball into a hoop from his perch, and he had just succeeded a third time.

  Brittany retrieved the ball, but before she could hand it to him, Jessica said, “Hold onto the ball for a minute, Brittany. Donny, I want you to turn Daisy around and try throwing the ball from the other side.”

  Donny said, “Walk,” to Daisy and kicked her in the sides.

  The horse patiently plodded forward, and Claire kept pace alongside, with Brittany on the other side. They meandered around the corral while Donny tried to figure out how to turn Daisy so that when they reached the basket hoop hanging on its post, the horse would be facing the other direction. Claire realized Jessica was remaining silent to see if Donny could work this problem out on his own.

  Finally, as Donny’s smile faded and his shoulders slumped in frustration, Jessica said, “You’ve got a good start, Donny. Just turn Daisy to the rig
ht now. Perfect. Now straighten her out. Great job. Now turn her left.” She kept up the directions until Daisy was approaching the hoop again from the opposite direction. “You tell her when to stop.”

  Donny concentrated, his tongue clamped between his teeth, until Daisy’s head was next to the hoop. “Whoa!”

  Daisy stopped.

  “Well done, Donny!” Jessica said.

  Brittany gave him the ball, and Claire joined Brittany in clapping for him. After three throws and misses, with Claire and Brittany taking turns chasing down the ball and handing it back to him, he made another basket.

  “Two points again,” Claire yelled. “You’re a basketball star.”

  Donny punched a fist up in the air and turned to grin at her. “I’m a star!”

  When he threw back his head and laughed, Claire felt a warm glow infuse her. It wasn’t a perimenopausal hot flash, though. It was the good feeling of accomplishment, of helping a little boy feel confident and proud of himself.

  She held up a hand. “High five, Donny.”

  He slapped her hand and giggled.

  Jessica caught Claire’s eye and gave her a satisfied smile. To Donny, she said, “Okay, Mr. Basketball Star, we’ve run out of time. Your session is finished today.”

  He grabbed Daisy’s reins. “Aw, do I hafta stop?”

  Claire knew that transitions were hard for many of their clients, including Donny.

  Jessica pointed to the nearest picnic table. “I know you’re having a good time. But that little girl is waiting for her turn, and your mom is waiting to take you to buy new shoes, remember? You’ll have fun doing that. Now, take Daisy over to the fence.”

  Reluctantly, he followed her directions. Jessica helped him dismount and together they walked over to talk to his mother. Claire heard the word ‘basketball’ and figured Jessica was suggesting that he practice the hoops on the ground at home.

  While she and Brittany gave Daisy some water and rubbed her down, Claire figured this was a good time to quiz her about one of the people Claire still suspected might have killed Kyle Mendoza—Brittany’s mother. Searching for an opening, she lit on the topic of Jorge.

  “So Jorge’s working at your mother’s stable now. How’s that going?”

  “Super,” Brittany said. “He’s really nice and good with the horses. He’s trying to break Juniper of her habit of nipping at the other horses, and she’s already not doing it as much.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’m kind of surprised your mom was willing to take the risk of hiring him.”

  “Oh, he’s not on the books. Officially, he’s a volunteer, and she’s giving him cash under the table. At least until ICE finishes here and things quiet down. Mom asked me to let her know what they’re doing here.”

  “Is she worried they might start investigating all the stables in the area and want to see her employee records?”

  Brittany’s hand stilled on Daisy’s neck. “I think she’s more worried about Jorge. She’s really fallen for him.”

  “Has she told you she loves him?”

  “No, but I can tell.” Brittany’s brow furrowed. “And something’s going on. The two of them were gone all day yesterday, and she’s being real secretive. Won’t tell me where they went. And she left the house even earlier than I did today.”

  “Maybe they’ve got a special date planned.”

  “I swear, it’s like she’s the one sneaking out to see her boyfriend, not me. She doesn’t seem to mind anymore that I’m seeing Vince.”

  “And how’s that going?”

  A shy smile teased Brittany’s lips. “Fantastic.”

  Claire couldn’t help being a mom. She brought up the topic she always did with her own daughter about her boyfriends. “I hope he respects you and values your opinions.”

  “Of course he does.” Brittany said with a smile. “He’s really nice, and even though we don’t agree on every political issue, he listens to what I have to say. And he lets me choose the movies we see. I know he doesn’t like chick flicks, though, so I usually choose an action one.”

  Claire reviewed in her mind the confrontation on the Garden of the Gods trail between the group Vince was leading and theirs. “He did seem pretty patient with Hank and the rest of us when we held up his group on the trail. Until his horses and customers started getting antsy, that is.”

  Something nagged at the edge of her memory. She focused on what Vince had looked like on his horse, backlit by the sun that warmed his work shirt in a bright yellow, red, and black checked pattern. The wheels turned in her mind and the cogs clicked into place.

  The shirt had the same pattern as the fabric scrap found on Gunpowder’s hoof!

  Shocked, Claire flushed and grabbed onto Daisy’s saddle horn.

  Daisy’s head came up and Brittany peered at her. “You okay, Claire?”

  Claire took a deep breath to still her racing heart. “Yes, yes, just a hot flash. I’ll be fine. Maybe I just need some water, too.”

  Brittany handed her a water bottle, and Claire took a long drink. As she handed it back, she tried to keep her voice casual. “I remember the colorful yellow-and-red-checked shirt Vince was wearing that day. Is it a favorite of his?”

  Brittany waved her hand. “Oh no, that’s one of his old company shirts. They’ve got a Peak View Stables logo sewn on the pocket. He can’t wait to take them off after work. Mr. Lindall gives a couple to all of his wranglers at the beginning of each summer.”

  “The same pattern every year?”

  With a shake of her head, Brittany said, “Mr. Lindall changes the colors every year, so if someone stops working for him and wears the old shirts, they don’t look like a current employee. He asks his wranglers to wear the current year’s shirts whenever they can, and if they’re dirty, to wear past years’ shirts. If he had his way, they’d wear them on their days off all over town to advertise the stable.”

  “But Vince doesn’t do that?”

  “No. He says he hates being a walking billboard.”

  “What year was the yellow and red one from?”

  “Last year, I think. Why do you want to know all this stuff about shirts?”

  At that point, Jessica called out and asked them to bring Daisy over for the little girl.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Claire said to Brittany. As she untied Daisy’s reins from the fence, her mind raced. The killer must be someone who worked at Peak View Stables last year, maybe even Tom Lindall himself. If all of his wranglers had the same attitude as Vince, Tom was the most likely to be wearing the shirt late at night.

  She had to talk to Detective Wilson.

  ———

  The morning hippotherapy sessions flew by, with no real break for Claire to contact Wilson. They were in the middle of their last session with Robin, the young woman with Down syndrome who had been smitten with Petey, when ICE arrived.

  Sam Unger with his black-rimmed glasses climbed out of the unmarked car, followed by his young, athletic fellow officer. They headed for the trailer. Claire had seen Charley go in there after the morning trail ride left with Hank and Kat, the new wrangler.

  She looked at Jessica. “Do you need to go talk to them with Charley?”

  Jessica gave the men a worried glance. “No, Charley’s ready for them. He thought they’d be here yesterday, so the employee paperwork’s all been checked. I’ll go in after we finish with Robin.”

  Hoping they didn’t find anything wrong other than Pedro, Claire decided she would go in with Jessica. For the remainder of the session, the two of them frequently glanced at the trailer as if they could see through the walls. Claire didn’t know if ICE could arrest employers or just fine them. She tensed with dread as she envisioned the men walking out with Charley in handcuffs between them.

  After they finished, Jessica talked quickly with Robin’s father, an
d Claire asked Brittany if she could return Daisy to the barn and take care of the mare herself. Brittany assured her it was no problem, and Claire sprinted after Jessica to the trailer.

  When they went inside, Charley was using the computer at the reception desk, having given the back office over to the ICE officials. He looked up as Claire closed the door and pointed with his head toward the closed door to the back room.

  “How’s it going?” Jessica asked.

  Charley shrugged. “I asked once. They said they’d let me know when they were done and tell me what they found then.”

  Jessica sat on the sofa. “Did you ask them about Pedro?”

  Charley nodded. “He was put on the bus to Mexico this morning. Since Detective Wilson got a signed statement about Oscar Vargas from him yesterday, they no longer needed to hold him in the U.S.”

  Claire joined Jessica on the sofa. “Were you able to tell him about the possible job in Puerto Vallarta before he left?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Charley pushed back from the computer. “I went to see Pedro yesterday after our lunch with Mom. I gave him the stable owner’s contact information. The money I put in his backpack should be enough to get him there. He was very grateful for the help but kept apologizing for getting me in trouble.”

  Jessica turned to Claire. “Charley told me Pedro kept saying he’d find a way to send money to pay the fine, but Charley refused.” She smiled at Charley. “I’m so glad you did. The last thing poor Pedro needs is to try to start a new life in Mexico with a huge debt hanging over his head.”

  Charley looked abashed. “Two thousand dollars is not chump change for me, but it’s a huge amount for him.”

  “You should be proud of what you did for him,” Jessica said. “I am.”

  Claire saw the flash of pride in Charley’s eyes when he smiled. She was glad that Jessica was finally building up her husband’s ego rather than tearing it down.

  “If Pedro works as hard for that Puerto Vallarta stable owner as he did for you,” she said, “you’ll have made a good business contact down there, one who will owe you a favor.”