Iced (23 page)

“Is the Pope Catholic?” Kit muttered.

Regan leaned back against the pillow and smiled. “Louis is getting geared up for the party tomorrow night. I think everyone wants to make it an early night tonight . . . okay, we’ll see you around eight.”

Regan hung up the phone and it immediately rang again. “Maybe Derwood just wants to hear the sound of your voice. Hello. Oh hi, Larry. We were snowmobiling today . . . thanks for the invitation? Who could ever find you? You’re always so busy here.” Regan smiled at Kit as she listened to Larry telling her he had no specific plans for the evening. “Well, why don’t you come over?” she said, telling him about the dinner. “Yes, Larry, Kendra already has a good dentist. See you at eight. Good-bye.”

“Kendra will have a whole fan club tonight,” Kit said.

“That’s good,” Regan said. “Because I know I’m not going to be such great company. I can’t stop thinking about Bessie. I can’t believe that she and Eben are in cahoots. It just doesn’t make sense. And why would she have tried to call me?”

“I don’t know, Regan,” Kit said. “And now her poor cousin is a wreck. That’s Bessie’s only relative, right?”

“Yes.” Regan sighed. “I feel so helpless. I want to do something and I don’t know what.”

Kit nodded sympathetically. “Before you go back into your trance, let’s get ready and go find Louis. Wait until he hears that Bessie is missing.”

“As far as I know, he didn’t recommend Bessie for her job. But I’m still sure he won’t want anyone to tell Geraldine. She might decide to blame him for this too.”

“For a party that is so anticipated, I think a lot of people will be happy to have it over with,” Kit said as she pulled a pair of jeans out of her suitcase.

“You can say that again.”

“For a party that is so anticipated...”

“Kit!” Regan went back into the bathroom and switched on the hair dryer. The whirring noise around her ear seemed to blow new ideas into her brain. For the next ten minutes Regan decided what she would do bright and early tomorrow morning. Call the Mishmash and see what they remember about Eben and the green towels. Visit Ida at the cleaner’s and see if the green-nublets man came to pick up his clothes yet. It might be ridiculous but it was something.

Dressed in their ski sweaters and jeans and boots, Regan and Kit descended the stairs to the lobby below. It was lively and festive. The room sparkled with lights and candles and a roaring fire. Glasses were tinkling, people were laughing and Christmas carols were playing over the stereo.

Tomorrow night this place will really be something, Regan reflected.

51

T
HE TABLE WAS a lively one. Everyone looked very sporty. Kendra was wearing a bright green sweater that not only complemented her eyes but also reminded Regan of the green towels. The restaurant was bustling. Tripp took their drink orders.

Larry had managed to get the seat between Kendra and Nora and before long had his arms around the backs of both of their chairs.

“Hey, Larry,” Regan said. “It looks like a good photo opportunity for the dentist to the stars.”

Kit snapped her fingers. “And to think I didn’t bring my camera.”

Larry squeezed Nora’s shoulder. “Will you please tell them to stop picking on me?”

Nora averted her gaze, which had been steadfast on the very handsome face of the very eligible Stewart.

“Huh?” she said.

“Your daughter and Kit are both mean to me.”

“And they’re not even your patients.” Nora laughed.

“I know. What did I ever do to them?”

Derwood cleared his throat. “Kendra and Sam have been telling Kit and me about the play they’re opening in New York. It’s all so exciting.”

“You seem to know a lot about the theater,” Kendra said.

“I enjoy Broadway,” Derwood replied. “I’ll have to come to New York for your opening in February.”

“We can all go,” Nora said enthusiastically. “Regan can come in from California, Kit will come in from Hartford. Stewart, will you be able to make it?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course, Mrs. Reilly.”

“Call me Nora.”

Why not Mom? Regan thought.

“It will be such a good time,” Nora continued. “You can bring me samples of your children’s clothes. I’d love to order some.”

“For what?” Regan asked. “Or should I say whom?”

“Lauren Dooley’s daughter is expecting a baby in the spring,” Nora said, with a “so there” expression. “It’s her first grandchild,” she added. “It must be so exciting.”

“I bet.” Regan smiled and glanced at Luke, who raised his eyebrows at her and grinned back.

“Say, Larry,” Regan said, changing the subject, “what happened to that woman you were dancing with last night? She looked pretty cute.”

Larry crossed his legs and sighed. “Let me tell you something, Regan. Beauty fades. But dumb is forever.”

As everyone chuckled, Regan said, “You’ve made me misty-eyed with that advice. Your sensitivity is so far-reaching.”

“I’m glad to know that you’re looking for all the right qualities,” Kit added.

“A heartening thought,” Sam agreed, thinking back on his experiences as a single.

“I’ll settle down one of these days,” Larry said, clearly enjoying the attention of the entire table now.

Regan smirked. “When the cows come home.”

To Larry’s dismay, Tripp came over with the tray of drinks and distracted everyone from Larry’s favorite subject: Larry.

“Mom,” Regan said as Tripp distributed the drinks, “Tripp here is writing his re´sume´. We told him you’d help.”

In her motherly way, Nora asked, “Tripp, what kind of job do you want?”

He smiled. “What I’d really like to do is stay here in Aspen and ski for a few more years.” He placed Nora’s white wine in front of her. “I’m the proverbial ski bum.”

“Have you taken any computer courses?” Derwood chirped. “No matter what you end up doing, they’re always helpful.”

Regan didn’t dare look at Kit.

“You’re right, Derwood,” Kendra said. “Our sons know way more than I do.”

“Well,” Nora said cheerfully, “if you need any help, give a shout. I’ve done everything from writing ads for Luke’s homes...”

“What did they say?” Stewart asked, incredulous.

“Don’t ask,” Regan said. “Believe me, you don’t want to know. I’ve been around for a few of the brainstorming sessions.”

“My husband gets some funny ideas,” Nora explained.

Luke gestured dramatically with his hands. “All I wanted to do was place an ad that reminded people that they could charge funerals.”

“Tell them the rest of it, Dad.”

“And therefore they could earn a lot of frequent-flier miles. My wife thought it showed a lack of sensitivity.”

Tripp laughed and served Luke the last drink on the tray. “Makes sense to me,” he said.

“Thank you,” Luke said, nodding his head.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes with the menus.”

They all raised a toast to their health, wealth and wisdom in the coming year, clinking glasses with every other person at the table.

“I hope I see you next year,” Stewart said quietly to Regan while everyone fell silent to take that first sip.

“Mmmm,” Regan agreed.

Now that they had their drinks, Louis must have felt it was safe to emerge from the cocoon-like atmosphere of his office. He walked over to the table with all the confidence he could muster.

When he said hello his voice squeaked.

“Hi, Kendra. You’re not still mad at me, are you?” he asked shyly.

“No, I just want to kill you,” she joked. “I guess you know that the Grants’ housekeeper is among the missing.”

Louis’s face blanched. “Yes. Regan mentioned it to me before you got here tonight. I can’t believe it. But I don’t think Eben had anything to do with it.”

Louis’s words sounded to Regan like a prayer. She sat back in her chair. I never thought of the fact that Eben could be responsible for Bessie’s disappearance, she mused. I figured, if anything, they were in it together. Bessie was supposedly headed for Vail. What if Eben had intercepted her?

Kendra was talking now. She waved her hand. “Eben’s been gone since Christmas Eve. He wouldn’t dare show his face in this town again. Even if he wanted to shut someone up.”

I hope not, Regan thought. Let’s just get through tomorrow night before everyone in town starts spreading around the theory of Eben’s not only being a thief, but also a kidnapper. Regan shuddered. Or possibly even worse.

Across the room, Willeen and Judd sat at a table for two against the wall. They were already there when Larry and his gang came into the dining room. They quickly waved hello and turned back to each other.

“Did you check out the staircase to the basement by the ladies’ room?” Judd asked.

Willeen fished the orange slice out of her drink and popped it in her mouth. “Yeah.”

“You’re sure you know your way for tomorrow night then?”

“Yeah.” Her mouth puckered as she pulled out the remains of the orange slice.

Tripp came over to the table and tried not to look disgusted when he removed the lipstick-covered orange peel from the crisp white linen tablecloth.

“Are you two ready to order?” he asked in that falsely cheerful voice that waiters use when they hate their customers.

“Not yet,” Judd said. “We’re just enjoying the scenery for a while.”

When Tripp walked away, he added, “We need to study this place good before your big party.”

52

A
FTER JUDD AND Willeen had left for dinner, Eben attempted to grab one of Bessie’s heavy, old-fashioned hairpins with his teeth, but he ended up leaving bite marks in her head. Finally they decided to try wiggling their bodies into a position where Eben could try to pluck a hairpin with his hands. It wasn’t easy with their hands cuffed behind them and their legs shackled to the bed. Bessie moved her body as far as she could toward the foot of the bed. Eben faced the other way and reached back. He managed to remove a hairpin and then found her hands.

Eben was almost sure it wouldn’t work, but their only chance was if he could release the catch of Bessie’s handcuffs with the pin.

Willeen and Judd hadn’t gone out until after dark. After that fellow came snooping around, they didn’t want to take any chances that he might come back and peek in the windows. So when they left for dinner, all the lights were out and the shades were drawn. Which meant no television either.

Time and time again Eben tried to use hairpin after hairpin to release the lock on Bessie’s handcuffs. All to no avail. They had all bent when he tried to use them to pick the lock. “They just don’t work,” he grumbled in exasperation. But with numb fingers he kept trying. He knew that after tomorrow they wouldn’t be here. By Friday they probably wouldn’t be alive.

Several times he felt Bessie wince as the other end of the pin dug into her palm during his attempts to free her hands. “I’m sorry, Bessie,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she answered. “We’re on the same team.”

Eben thought of all the safety catches he had released from bracelets and necklaces and wondered why the one time he really needed it, he couldn’t jimmy the lock. It was useless.

Eben’s hands ached. Finally he stopped. They lay there in the dark, both lost in their own thoughts. They even dozed a little and Eben woke with a start. “Let me try again, Bessie,” he said.

“Okay,” she answered wearily and let him take another pin from her head.

It felt like all the others, but Eben kept fiddling with it. Just as he felt movement in the lock and thought he heard a click, the sound of the car coming up the driveway cut through the stillness of the night.

“Damn it!” Eben muttered. “I thought I had it.”

“Save the pins,” Bessie urged. “We can try again tomorrow.”

“I’ll stick them in my back pocket.”

Hurriedly they both felt around the mattress for any extra pins and Eben shoved them in his pocket.

The back door of the house opened. “I’ll check on them,” Willeen said. She walked across the living room and pushed open the door to the bedroom, which was slightly ajar. She then snapped on the light and walked into the room.

“Bathroom break,” she announced and lifted up the blanket to unshackle Bessie’s legs. “Come on, Judd,” she yelled. “Give me a hand.” She paused. “Why is this blanket so rumpled? Have you two been fooling around? Is that why your hair is so messy, Bessie?” Willeen started to laugh.

But when Judd unshackled Eben and he stood up, the sound of a hairpin falling to the floor made her stop.

Judd picked it up and held it out for examination.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing!” Willeen screeched. She grabbed Bessie’s hands and examined the slightly scratched cuffs. “Look at this, Judd!” she yelled. “These two were up to funny business.”

“Eben, I’m going to frisk you,” Judd said in a steely voice. With in seconds he had retrieved a handful of hairpins from Eben’s pocket.

“Time for a new hairdo, lady,” Willeen told Bessie as she roughly pulled each and every pin out of her head. With each yank, Bessie’s hair slowly fell to the sides of her face.

“I’ll tell you something, Judd. We’re not stirring from this place until tomorrow night, when we’re all packed and ready to go. Between that guy who wants to get a look at the inside here and these two . . . Thank God tomorrow is our last day.”

It can’t be our last day, Eben thought. It just can’t. The same thought was swirling around inside Bessie’s depinned head.

53

Thursday, December 29

A
T NINE O’CLOCK the next morning, Regan was propped up on her bed with a cup of coffee in one hand and the phone in the other. She had just dialed the number of the Mishmash in Vail.

“Mishmash,” a woman answered. Her voice was flat and nasal.

Regan cleared her throat. “Hello, my name is Regan Reilly.”

“Good for you,” the woman said.

“Good for me,” Regan said. “Yes, that’s right.” She crossed her eyes at Kit, who was sprawled on the cot. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”