“He was exercising,” Holly said. “He was going up and down.”
“Possibly,” Tilda said. To the cop, she explained, “Sometimes when Clive drinks, he gets it in his head that he's a triathlete. He must have been on his second loop when he exhausted himself. He probably gave himself a heart attack before he fell in the water.”
Officer Kendall looked around the group. “Then where's the jacket?”
Tilda held out her hands, palms up. “You can search the premises. It's not here.”
Marco looked at his mother, frowning. “How would you know?”
Tilda reached for one of the quartered sandwiches on the coffee table. “You got me,” she said. “I don't know. But feel free to look around.”
“A warrant,” Holly said, her voice tinged with accusation. “You're the police. You need a warrant.” She spoke faster and louder. “You've got no damn business in here. I know my damn rights.”
Marco looked up at the housekeeper. “Holly, she doesn't—”
Holly paced the center of the room, her hands flitting like restless birds. “She does! Stupid cops!” And then the cursing began. Her eyes were wild, her movements frantic. The few dark-blond hairs that had been knotted in an elastic on top of her head fell loose.
Officer Kendall, who was still seated, leaned to the side and brought her fingers to touch something on her service belt.
Holly's wild outburst grew louder and crazier. She was swearing about something, but it was all nonsense.
Officer Kendall shouted a warning, telling Holly to calm herself down, but Holly kept yelling, and soon both Tilda and Marco's shouts added to the frenzy.
Lee stepped back from the fray and took a seat on the arm of Katie's chair, pinching her fingers.
In a flash of motion, the cop was moving across the room, flying toward Holly, who was screaming now.
Chapter 15
It took no more than five minutes for Holly Bagley to calm herself—once she was in handcuffs and facedown on the floor.
“I know she didn't mean anything by it,” Officer Kendall said, standing over the housekeeper. “There won't be any charges.”
Holly's red cheeks puffed and the scar on her forehead pulsed with anger, but she didn't make a peep while the others cleaned up the ruined sandwiches that had been thrown to the floor during the scuffle.
“Now, with your permission, I'd like to search the premises for that yellow jacket,” the rawhide-hued cop said. “The jacket Clive was wearing on his way down the mountain.” She looked pointedly at Lee. “Assuming it was Clive. Such a shame he had the hood up, covering his hair. It would have made my job a lot easier.”
Lee stood up straight. “I can help you look for the jacket.”
“No,” the cop snapped. “You stay here. I just need keys to access all the rooms.” She looked at Tilda.
“Of course,” Tilda said graciously. “My son can show you around. He has all of the keys, not that we lock many things. I'll stay right here, in the social room.” She made eye contact with Katie. “My students had their lessons cut short today, so we'll squeeze in a few hours of instruction now. Clive would have wanted us to continue.”
Lee said, “Ms. Onassis, you don't have to worry about us. We're here to support you now. We can find some pleasant way to pass the time.”
Tilda clapped her hands with girlish glee. “A jigsaw puzzle! We shall sit right over there at the big table, and do a puzzle together. It's a wonderful opportunity for us to talk about color and light, about seeing the small parts so you can see the whole. After all, you can't paint the fleas until you paint the dog.”
Lee looked at Katie, who shrugged. She'd done plenty of jigsaw puzzles, often with her mother while her brothers ran around the family home with wild abandon. She was good at spotting matches but not as patient as her mother. She wondered, should she be calling her mother now to check in? She ran through the scenario in her head. It wouldn't be a good conversation. Her mother would be horrified to hear about a death at the ranch, and would demand Katie come home immediately. The Mills family was already on edge from the disappearance of Katie's roommate. This would send them into a tizzy. It was probably best to wait, and tell her family about all of this after the fact—if at all.
Something in the room creaked. Tilda was opening the doors of a wooden armoire with pierced tin panels. She pulled out a stack of colorful jigsaw puzzle boxes.
Somebody grunted. Officer Kendall was getting Holly off the floor and settled on a long sofa. Kendall said to the muted housekeeper, “I'll be back to take off these cuffs in a few minutes, ma'am. You're not in any trouble. Nod if you understand.”
Holly nodded.
“If I leave you here, are you going to remain calm?”
Holly clenched her eyes shut and turned her face away.
Marco stood in the middle of the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets. When he saw Katie looking his way, he raised his dark-red eyebrows and lifted one hand to run through his curly red hair, making it stand upright.
Marco said to the police officer, “I, uh, guess I'll give you the grand tour.” He let out a nervous chuckle and gestured around the L-shaped room. “This is the, uh, social room. Everything in here is authentic, except for the jackalope.” He nodded at the novelty taxidermy head on the wall. It was a jackrabbit with miniature deer antlers.
Katie hadn't noticed the jackalope until just now. The shock of seeing the absurd animal made her laugh out loud in one short burst. This set off Marco's laughter. Lee, who'd been relatively quiet since volunteering to get refreshments, joined in.
Tilda smiled. “That stupid jackalope,” she said. “One of the students must have given it to Clive. He said it was too ridiculous to keep at his house, so the damn thing ended up here.”
Marco said, “Who knew the stupid jackalope would outlast Clive?”
“Who knew, indeed,” said his mother, pressing her pointed fingers to the edges of her eyes while she sniffled.
Officer Kendall crossed her rawhide arms and walked over to take a better look at the jackalope. “That's a good one,” she said with an earthy chuckle.
The only one not amused by the jackalope was Holly. She remained motionless, facedown on the couch, her hands still bound behind her.
Marco and his mother exchanged a look, and then he left with the female officer, in search of Clive's yellow jacket.
Chapter 16
Lee, Katie, and Tilda dove into the jigsaw puzzle eagerly. There were two thousand pieces, and they worked together like a veteran team.
Thirty minutes into the puzzle, Officer Kendall returned to the room to release Holly.
The housekeeper yawned and stretched as though awakening from a refreshing nap.
“Would anyone care for a bowl of green chile soup?” She turned toward the female police officer and asked, in the same sweet tone she'd used for the others, “Soup?”
Either Holly Bagley didn't hold grudges or she'd already forgotten about their altercation.
Officer Kendall said, “Thank you for the generous offer, but I must decline.”
Holly grinned. “We won't tell anyone. We're good at keeping secrets up here.”
“Holly,” Tilda barked. “Don't be a tease.” She didn't even look up from the jigsaw puzzle.
“I'm nearly done looking around,” the cop said. “I'll take one last walk around the grounds then I'll be on my way.”
Tilda looked up, her face pale and her cheekbones sharp. “Oh? Did you find Clive's jacket?”
“Not yet.”
“It's probably hanging from a tree halfway up the trail,” Tilda said. “If I find it, I won't touch it. I'll call you right away.”
“Thank you, ma'am.” Kendall nodded curtly and walked over to the front door. “I'm very sorry for your loss.”
She went out the door.
Immediately, Lee said, “She sure didn't look very hard for that jacket.”
Tilda tilted her head back and looked down her sha
rp nose at Lee. “You should run along outside and help her.”
“Not unless you want me to,” he said.
She shrugged, pressed a piece of the puzzle into place, and then looked up at Holly. “Did you say something about green chile soup?”
At the mention of food, Katie's stomach grumbled.
Holly said, “Should I bring it out here, to the social room?”
“Excellent idea,” Tilda said sweetly. “There's plenty of space to eat and puzzle. I don't really feel like grieving just yet.”
“You're in shock,” Lee said.
Holly spat on the floor. “Rot in hell, Mr. Fish.”
* * *
The chile soup was hot and rejuvenating.
While they ate, Katie continued sorting blue sky from red rock. After the day they'd had, working on a jigsaw puzzle was the perfect activity. And sitting with Tilda like this seemed like the right thing to do.
While they puzzled, Tilda made comments about the puzzle's colors. “See how the white of the zebra here, in the shadow, is the same value as this part here, the black stripe that's in the light? In this case, white is darker than black.”
“This reminds me of a documentary I saw about optical illusions,” Lee said.
“Documentaries are boring,” Tilda said, yawning. “I'd much rather watch a movie. I don't want the so-called truth, as presented by the filmmaker. I want to be wowed. I want the embellishment, the exaggeration, something imaginary and wonderful.”
“Me, too,” Lee said. “But documentaries can be illuminating.”
Tilda snorted. “They're more biased than fiction. More about the filmmaker than the subject.”
Marco, who had entered the social room unnoticed, spoke up. “Is my mother going off about my father again?”
Tilda jerked her head up, her red bob swinging gracefully. “My beloved, I should have had you with Clive instead of your father. At least with Clive, you know you're getting into bed with a snake.”
“Mom!”
To Katie and Lee she explained, “Marco's father is a documentary film maker. That's how we met. It's also how we divorced.”
Lee said, “That explains why you don't like documentaries.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “I always thought they were boring and pretentious, even before Marco's father did that horrible hatchet job on my life.”
Marco sighed. “Mom, he gave you a last name with cachet. You never would have broken through as Tilda Snell. And as for the documentary he made about you, that so-called hatchet job made you famous. It made your art valuable.”
She snorted. “Dying will make me famous. Dying will make my art valuable. That's probably what Clive wanted.”
“What?” Marco joined them at the table, sitting next to Katie, brushing her body with his and not excusing the contact. “Mother, what are you talking about? Clive wanted you dead?”
“Probably.”
His cheeks flushed red. “It was me that he wanted out of the way.” Softly, he said, “Just me. He thought I was going to ruin everything.”
His mother made a scoffing sound. “You and your persecution syndrome, Marco.”
“He really despised me, Mom. I'm telling you, he wanted me out of the way. He was out to get me. I had him help negotiate one little deal, and it all blew up in my face.”
“What deal was that?”
Marco's cheeks got even more red. “Nothing. Never mind. It's all in the past now.”
Tilda looked around the room. “Is that lady cop done snooping around yet? She's not going to pop up suddenly from behind the couch, is she?”
“No,” Marco said. “I watched her drive away.” He began chuckling.
Lee lifted his chin at Marco. “What's so funny?”
“She's a good cop. Officer Kendall found my stash of, uh, never mind.” He reached for a puzzle piece and tried to stick it somewhere it clearly didn't fit. “She gave me a verbal warning before she left.”
Lee asked eagerly, “Did she confiscate your stash?”
“She made me flush it.”
“That's a shame,” Lee said. “I haven't smoked up in a few years now. Tonight would have been a good time to break the chain.”
“We could start drinking,” Tilda said.
“True,” Lee said. “There's always booze, and that's perfectly legal.”
Tilda adjusted the wide neck of her loose-fitting black dress. “Forget about sitting shiva. None of us are Jewish. Let's have a wake for old Clive.”
Lee asked, “Are you Irish? Snell is Anglo-Saxon, isn't it?”
Tilda made a fist and struck the wood table dramatically. “Oh, who knows anything about anything! Tonight, we can be Irish.”
And so, the shiva turned into a wake.
* * *
Katie accepted the first glass of whiskey hesitantly. The sip of brandy the previous night had been in contradiction with the instructions for her medication, but she'd felt fine that morning. She did want the whiskey, but more to fit in with the others than for the chemical boost.
She'd been thinking about making some phone calls to rearrange her flight and leave early. If Lee wanted to stay, that was his business. She'd come to New Mexico to get away from death, not make a party of it.
She sipped the amber fire and felt it breathing into her bones. She really wasn't supposed to drink with her medication, but one glass wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
In the morning, she could start making calls. For the moment, she kept her plans to herself.
Tilda stood and took the jackalope down from the wall. She set it in a chair, atop a pile of puzzle boxes.
“Now it feels like Clive is still with us,” she said.
Holly, who had entered the room quietly said, “Clive only wished he could be half as cute as that thing.”
Marco rubbed his round cheek. “Say what you will, but the man did have a way with the ladies. He used to turn on his old-school charm whenever he got one alone. I hear it caused melting at the knees, and more.”
They all looked at Katie.
“He was an interesting man,” she said neutrally. “To Clive Kingfisher.” She raised her glass, and they toasted the jackalope.
* * *
When they opened the second bottle of whiskey, the jigsaw puzzle was half done, and all were having a very merry time.
Holly made a batch of biscochitos using butter instead of lard, and they devoured every last one while sharing stories about their favorite Christmases. They talked about turkey disasters, crowds of holiday shoppers at the mall, and their personal family traditions.
Lee's family opened all of their gifts on Christmas Eve, and spent Christmas Day playing board games. Katie's family, which included three older brothers, watched the Lord of the Rings movies straight through. Sometimes twice. Marco and Tilda spent the previous Christmas in Hawaii, with Holly.
Holly declared it, “The best Christmas of my life,” and began to sob. “Almost as good as this one.”
Everyone shared an uncomfortable laugh.
They poured another round of drinks and battled valiantly with the remaining hundreds of puzzle pieces. They talked about everything. Everything but Clive Kingfisher.
Every time Katie looked at the jackalope, she giggled. The silly hare with the antlers reminded her of something, another time of laughter, but she couldn't remember what it was.
At midnight, Lee handed Tilda the final puzzle piece. “Do the honors,” he said.
Her hand trembled as she placed the piece, completing a red boulder and the puzzle overall.
“Time for bed,” she said solemnly.
Everyone stood and yawned, as though waking from a dream, and headed off to bed.
The bathroom was chilly after the warmth of the fire in the social room. Katie brushed her teeth quickly and skipped flossing because her feet were too cold. She practically ran into her room and dove under the scratchy covers.
Her mind was racing, but it was racing drunkenly, spewing
gibberish the way Holly did when she had her attacks. It was easy enough to ignore the chatter.
She was just nodding off when she was jolted awake by the scraping of her suitcase on the floor. She'd set the suitcase in front of the door as an early warning should anyone try to sneak into her unlocked room. The suitcase had done its job.
“Psst, Katie,” came a whisper. “Are you awake?”
She sat up. If she hadn't been awake before, she was now.
Chapter 17
In the darkness, Lee said, “You can't sleep, either?”
“No,” Katie replied, pulling the covers up to cover her thin undershirt. “Funny how having someone bust into my room disrupts my ability to slumber.”
“So you were sleeping.” He sounded disappointed. She hadn't turned on the bedside lamp, so she couldn't see his expression.
“It's fine,” she said, and she meant it. Growing up with so many brothers, she was accustomed to having her sleep interrupted by the antics of one or more of them. In fact, having Lee Elliot disturbing her sleep made her feel right at home.
“You're not mad?”
“No, and I'm awake now. What do you want?” She hugged her knees to her chest and rearranged the scratchy woolen covers.
“We were supposed to get a tour of Tilda's private studio today. It's part of the package.”
The package. Katie dimly recalled the events that were supposed to take place that week. Surely it was all out the window now.
“Remind Tilda tomorrow,” Katie said. “She'd probably be happy for the distraction.”
“You think? I wouldn't want to be rude.”
“It probably would be rude, yes. Good that you have such fine manners. But waking up people when they're sleeping and sneaking into their room is just fine.”
“Wow.” He came over to the bed and took a seat uninvited. “Katie Mills has a sarcastic side, once you get through the candy coating of shyness. I like it. You've got more personality than I expected.”
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