A Basket of Trouble (18 page)

fists clenched. “You’ve already insinuated that someone here at

the stable killed Kyle Mendoza, costing Charley who knows how

much business. Why in the world should he talk to you if you keep jumping to unfounded conclusions? Conclusions that hurt his

reputation and livelihood!”

Bradshaw stepped back and held up his palms. “Look, I tried to

talk to someone here before I published that story, but the woman who answers the phone kept saying, ‘No comment.’”

Claire and Charley looked at each other and said simultane-

ously, “Jessica.”

“You ended up cooperating with me before on that other case,

Mrs. Hanover. As I said that time, if I can get both sides of the story, I can publish a more accurate article.”

145

“Both sides! Who have you been talking to?” Claire had a

sneaking suspicion.

“A Nancy Schwartz and her lovely daughter Brittany.”

Claire rolled her eyes at Charley. “Who knows what kind of

garbage that jealous woman told him.” She sighed. “I think you’d

better talk to him.”

Bradshaw grinned. “Thanks, Mrs. Hanover. I really appreciate

it.”

Charley furrowed his brows. “Maybe we should ask Detective

Wilson before we talk to this guy.”

“Ah, now that I know who’s caught the case,” Bradshaw said, “I

can get a lot of what I need directly from him.”

“But first we need to know what Nancy Schwartz told you,”

Claire said. “And we need to make sure you don’t print her lies and wind up being sued for libel.” She glared at Bradshaw.

“Yes, I would advise that.” He rocked back on his heels. “Whole-

heartedly.”

Charley looked to the heavens, and drizzle ran off the brim of

his Stetson. He blew out a breath and focused his gaze on Brad-

shaw. “I suppose you should come inside.”

So much for finishing that basket today.
“If you want, I’ll stay while you talk to him.”

“Please.” Charley turned toward the trailer.

Bradshaw fell in step beside him. “Now, tell me, who was mur-

dered this time?”

Claire grabbed him by the elbow. “You have got this story so

wrong!”

———

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That evening, Claire walked into the local fire station’s public

meeting room, following Charley and Jessica. Trepidation slowed

her steps. While they had been talking to Bradshaw, Charley an-

swered a call from the board president of the homeowner’s asso-

ciation for the neighborhood nearest the stable. The board had

organized an emergency meeting after receiving numerous calls

from members with complaints and questions about the stable

after the news of Gil’s death hit the TV and radio stations. The

president invited Charley and Jessica to come and answer ques-

tions—and presumably defend themselves.

Wanting at least one friendly face in the room, Charley had

asked Claire to come, too. Since Roger was away on his business

trip until the next day, she accepted readily. She took a seat on one of the folding chairs set up in rows before a cafeteria-sized table where the board would sit. Jessica and Charley walked up to the

table to talk to the board president.

While they conferred, Claire studied the others who had come,

about forty overall. A few were glancing at Charley and Jessica

with curiosity, but others’ looks were full of hostility—or fear.

Then the little old man who had complained to Charley at the

opening event walked in. His jaw moved as if he was grinding his

teeth, and his hands were clenched tightly.

Uh oh, trouble.
Claire glanced up front, and Jessica gave her a thumbs-up sign. Claire returned it but knew her thumb was lying.

This meeting would not go well.

Standing behind the table, the board president banged a gavel

on the top. He asked everyone to take their seats. Chairs squeaked as bodies settled into them. Charley and Jessica sat in front next to the board members’ table.

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The president held up a hand for quiet. “Thank you for coming

on such short notice. The board has received several phone calls

from residents about the death at Gardner’s Stables this morning.

Rather than let rumors propagate through the neighborhood, we

asked Charley and Jessica Gardner here to answer those questions

themselves.”

He nodded to the two of them. “We appreciate you taking time

out of your busy schedule to talk to us.”

He turned back to the audience. “I’ll start with what we know.

I just got off the phone with the police department. The victim

this morning was Gil Kaplan, a wrangler who worked for Charley

Gardner and lived alone. They won’t know for sure what the cause

of death was until after they process the evidence they collected and conduct an autopsy. But Mr. Gardner here, who found the

victim, told me that suicide is suspected.”

A man held up his hand. “Any connection between this suicide

and the murder of the Mendoza guy?”

The president looked at Charley.

Jessica made as if to speak, but Charley shook his head. He

stood and wiped his hands on his thighs before speaking. “There’s some indication that Gil Kaplan may have been the one who killed

Kyle Mendoza. We suspect he committed suicide out of guilt, but

we won’t know for sure for a few days.”

The little old man who had confronted Charley at the open-

ing celebration stood. “What if it’s not that at all? What if both of these men were murdered? Maybe something dangerous is going on at Gardner’s Stables, something that could spill out in our neighborhood and harm us. For all we know, you could be dealing

drugs there.”

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The room erupted into murmurs, some angry and some

scornful of the man’s inflammatory words. Thank goodness some

of these people have some sense, Claire thought. Many heads were

nodding in agreement with the old man, though.

Charley held up a hand. “You folks are welcome to come to the

stable and check us out. You won’t find any drugs on the property, except medications for taking care of sick horses. The police have thoroughly searched the grounds, too, and they haven’t found

drugs or anything else illegal.”

“As for danger,” he added. “I don’t see any. If it’s true that Gil murdered Kyle, then both cases will be closed, and the killer is no longer with us. You shouldn’t need to worry about the safety of

your families any more than you usually do.”

The old man screwed up his mouth as if he had tasted some-

thing bad and was ready to spit it out. “Only about the safety of our dogs, and our kids, and ourselves when we take a walk in the

open space, for fear some out-of-control horse will stomp on us.

Isn’t that how that Mendoza guy was killed?”

More rustling and talk came from the audience until Charley

held up his hand again. “The police have evidence that Kyle Men-

doza was hit on the head with a tool. That’s probably what killed him, not the horse.”

Charley was exaggerating a little, but the truth wasn’t far off.

Claire looked around. This time the audience seemed quieter, a

little more respectful.

“Regardless,” the old man said, “we didn’t have any of these is-

sues until your stable muscled its way into our neighborhood. It’s smelly, dangerous, and you’re not good neighbors.”

149

Charley reddened, and Claire could tell he was working hard

to hold back his anger. “That’s not true. Jessica and I have made a concerted effort to be good neighbors. We’ve contacted all the

HOAs in the area, given coupons to all of you for discounted rides.

We invited you to our opening and to stop by anytime.”

Jessica stood and took Charley’s arm. It was a show of support,

but Claire knew it was also a hint for Charley to calm down. “We

clean up after our horses on the paved trails,” she added. “And we keep our stable clean. As for the smell, we keep it down by storing our manure in a dumpster with a lid. It’s hauled away every week.”

Charley turned to the board president. “We’ve bent over back-

ward to be good neighbors, but if there’s anything else you think we should be doing, we’ll listen.”

The old man bristled, “But that—”

“That’s enough, Norm,” the board president said. “We’re not

here to rehash old arguments that have already been resolved.

We’re just here to answer questions about the deaths that have occurred at the stable. Please take your seat.”

About time!
Claire felt like applauding.

The president paused and stared down the old guy until, huff-

ing with indignation, he sat. A tall, muscular man sitting behind Norm gave him a pat on the shoulder and a thumbs-up, then settled back with his arms crossed. His belligerent frown showed he

had already made up his mind that Charley’s stable was bad news.

When Charley and Jessica retook their seats, Claire wished

she could give her brother a pat on the shoulder, too. She glanced around. Many people still looked either worried or angry.

The president surveyed the rest of the audience. “Now, does

anyone else have a question or concern?”

150

After that, the questioning was more polite. Claire tuned out

the give and take while she mulled over the heated exchange with

the old man. The horse barn wasn’t ever locked. That was so if a

wildfire threatened the stable, anyone could get the horses out.

Could Norm, or someone else in the neighborhood who re-

sented the stable’s presence just as much, have gone into the stable after Gil walloped Kyle, maybe to cause some mischief? Could

he have come across Kyle Mendoza’s unconscious body? Then

dragged Kyle into Gunpowder’s stall, hoping the horse would bat-

ter Kyle and the stable would be discredited? But Claire couldn’t see Norm standing up to Gunpowder.

His large friend, though, she could.

151

eleven:

apologies and wounds

“I still can’t believe Gil killed himself,” Brittany said to Claire the next afternoon.

They were walking on either side of Daisy while keeping an eye

on the balance of the plump teenage girl with Down syndrome

in the saddle. She was following directions from Jessica, who was walking about ten feet in front of the horse and studying the girl’s moves.

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this in front of Robin.”

Claire glanced up at Robin.

Thankfully, Robin seemed to be focused on steering the placid

horse without messing up her fingernails rather than on Brittany’s words. Someone had painted Robin’s nails expertly with baby blue

polish that matched her eye shadow. And her cologne was a pleas-

ant lilac scent that lightened the corral’s earthy aromas of straw, horseflesh, and sun-baked dirt.

152

Claire returned her attention to Brittany. “I do need to tell you something, though. Charley and I had to spend a lot of time with

that
Gazette
reporter Marvin Bradshaw yesterday. We had to clear up all the misconceptions he got from talking to you and your

mother.” She peered at Brittany over Daisy’s rump.

Brittany bit her lip and gave Claire a remorseful look. “I’m

sorry. I didn’t want to talk to him in the first place, but Mom

dragged me into it.”

“Believe me, I know how mothers can be. Remember I’m one

myself.” Claire rolled her eyes to lighten the mood. “But I’m sure you don’t want Charley’s business or Jessica’s charity to be hurt, either.”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Brittany’s eyes widened, then she frowned.

“I won’t talk to that reporter ever again. But I can’t keep Mom

from talking to him.”

“I understand.” But Claire wondered if there was some way she

could put a clamp on Nancy’s rumor-mongering.

A delighted laugh from Robin turned Claire’s thoughts to hap-

pier things. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, and she was helping this girl gain self confidence along with physical coordination and balance.

“That’s great, Robin,” Jessica said with enthusiasm. “Now see

if you can make Daisy do the whole figure eight without my help.

Use the reins to turn her.”

Claire looked up at Robin. She was in her late teens, but her

Down’s syndrome features and her smile of pure glee made her

look younger. She stuck a tongue out between her teeth and fo-

cused on pulling Daisy’s reins to the left so the horse would turn around the tall pole stuck in the ground. As the horse made the

153

turn, Robin leaned into it—a little too far. Claire pushed against Robin’s side and Brittany pulled Robin’s harness from the other

side.

“Way to go, Robin, that was a very good turn,” Jessica said. “But remember to sit up straight in the saddle even when you’re turning.”

Robin immediately adjusted her posture, earning a “Great

job!” from Claire, who let go for a moment and gave the young

woman a thumbs-up.

Claire realized the words could just as well apply to herself.

This was good work she was doing. She may not have been very

helpful so far to her brother in dealing with his problems, but she could help Robin by making a positive difference in her life.

As they neared the end of Robin’s session, a car drove into the

parking lot. Ana and Petey Mendoza got out. Petey was hopping

with excitement and looked like he wanted to sprint toward the

corral. But Ana held him back until Claire and Brittany had fin-

ished assisting Robin with her dismount.

Jessica walked with Robin to where her father waited at one of