A Basket of Trouble (20 page)

taining antibiotics. Then he sewed up and bandaged the wounds.

By the time he finished and Charley led Gunpowder back to his

stall, the horse was a shivering wreck.

The vet shook his head while packaging his supplies. “Those

wounds were deep, and I’m sure very painful. No wonder Gun-

powder was giving you problems.” He handed Jorge a bottle of

huge pills. “Give him one of these antibiotics twice a day.”

While the vet briefed Jorge on continued care for Gunpowder,

Detective Wilson signaled to Charley and Claire. “Can we talk privately?”

They passed Hank on the way out of the barn. He was return-

ing from the back pasture. In answer to Charley’s question, he said he had taken two of the horses out there so he could clean their

stalls. Then he went to work mucking out their stalls, which were well away from Gunpowder’s. Claire noticed his worried glances at Gunpowder’s stall and the vet.

Once outside and away from everyone else, Wilson turned to

Claire and Charley. “Contrary to what I thought yesterday, this

case cannot be wrapped up in a tidy package. I’m back to looking

for a killer. The coroner said the abrasions on Mendoza’s palms

couldn’t have been self-induced, and now we have these wounds

from the rake.”

“Could Gil have been lying in his suicide note?” Claire asked.

“Maybe he didn’t want to admit that he dragged Kyle into the stall and poked Gunpowder to get him to stomp on him.”

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“I might’ve thought that except for one more very interesting

piece of evidence. The bullet in Mr. Kaplan’s head didn’t come

from his gun. In fact, it came from a rifle.”

“What?” Charley shouted at the same time that Claire said,

“Oh, God!”

Then Claire had another thought. “Was the suicide note fake,

then?”

“We confirmed that it’s Gil Kaplan’s handwriting,” Wilson said.

“But he could’ve been forced to write it by someone holding a rifle to his head. Or, he really was considering suicide, but before he could carry out his plan, someone else took care of it for him.”

“Who?” Claire and Charley asked simultaneously.

“My current theory is that it’s the same person who killed Kyle

Mendoza. He could’ve done the whole thing, hit Mendoza on the

head then dragged him into Gunpowder’s stall and prodded the

horse into stomping on him. Or, he just finished off Mendoza after Kaplan left him lying on the barn floor.”

“And he killed Gil because Gil saw him kill Kyle?” Claire shook

her head in confusion. “No, wait. If that was the case, Gil wouldn’t have blamed himself for Kyle’s death. So, he must’ve been forced

to write the note.”

“A more important question is why wouldn’t he have told the

police what he saw?” Charley added.

“Could be that Kaplan didn’t see who killed Mendoza, that the

first part went down just the way he said in the note,” Wilson said.

“Could be the killer just thought Kaplan saw him finish off Men-

doza and eliminated a potential witness.”

“And forced Gil to write a suicide note first?” Claire asked.

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Wilson shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe Kaplan really was

going to kill himself. Regardless, the case is still wide open. Someone killed Mendoza, using Gunpowder as the murder weapon.

Then that same person probably shot Kaplan. I need to find out

who.”

“Then I need to tell you about Nancy Schwartz,” Claire said.

“Brittany told me that her mother went up to use one of the port-

a-potties before she took her home that night. Nancy could’ve

gone into the barn, too.” She looked at Charley. “By then you and Jessica were gone, and Brittany didn’t have a good view of the

property from her mother’s car.”

“Nancy?” Charley said disbelievingly. “You can’t suspect her.

What reason would she have to kill Kyle?”

“Two actually,” Claire replied with a glance at Wilson. “To dis-

credit your stable and more specifically, Jessica’s hippotherapy

nonprofit, which she views as competing with her own. Also, she

didn’t approve of Brittany dating Kyle. She told Brittany she could do better. And I should know, when a mama bear is out to protect

her cub, the claws come out.” Claire turned to Wilson. “I talked to Brittany about it when I drove her home last night.”

Wilson nodded. “When I interviewed Brittany Schwartz, she

said she left before Kaplan.”

Claire shrugged and said, “Maybe Gil hit Kyle before Brittany

left. If she was working somewhere other than the barn, she may

not have seen or heard anything.”

“She was,” Wilson said. “She was cleaning the port-a-potties.”

“Then when Nancy came to pick up Brittany, she could have

gone into the barn for some reason when she went to use the port-

a-potties. If she saw Kyle lying there unconscious, she may have

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seized on the opportunity to drag him into Gunpowder’s stall.

She’s used to being around horses, so Gunpowder wouldn’t scare

her.”

Wilson scribbled in his notepad. “I’ll look at the timing again.

The coroner put time of death as a couple of hours later than that, but I’ll see what he thinks his margin of error could be. Then I’ll talk to Nancy Schwartz.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Charley put his hands on his hips. “Nancy not

wanting her daughter to date Kyle doesn’t sound like reason

enough to kill him either.”

“Would you have thought Gil could knock Kyle unconscious

and leave him for dead?” Claire asked. “Who knows what twisted

thinking goes on in some people’s heads!”

“Cripes,” Charley said. “What about the rest of us? Will who-

ever killed Gil decide to shoot someone else, too? Are we safe?”

Wilson pocketed his notepad. “I wish I could say yes.”

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twelve:

drinks and deductions

Claire picked up Roger at the airport late Friday afternoon.

While driving him to the Phantom Canyon Brewing Company in

downtown Colorado Springs, she filled him in on what had hap-

pened at Charley’s stable since they had last talked on the phone.

“I’m really worried about Charley and Jessica’s safety,” she said.

“We don’t know who killed Kyle or Gil Kaplan or why. Since they’ve targeted two people at the stable, who’s to say they won’t go after someone else there?”

Roger nodded. “Has Charley done anything to increase secu-

rity?”

Stopped at a red light, Claire glanced at Roger. “If the killer’s one of the staff, or related to one of them, how do you secure

against that?”

“At the least, I’d make sure the locks are secure at home, and I’d be sleeping with a gun under the bed.”

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“Really?” That surprised Claire. Yes, Roger knew how to shoot

a rifle and had gone elk hunting, but he had never felt the need

to have one nearby at home. In fact, he kept his hunting rifle in a locked case.

Roger reached over and patted her thigh. “To protect you, I’d

do anything. I’m sure Charley feels the same way about Jessica.”

“Thanks, honey.”
How’s Charley responding to the threat?

Chewing on her lip, Claire turned into the parking lot opposite

the historic building that housed the brew pub and its upstairs bil-liards hall and banquet room. They got out of the car and headed

for the brewery.

Phantom Canyon was a favorite of theirs among Colorado

Springs’ growing selection of brew pubs. The building was origi-

nally the office of the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Railroad, and then the Cheyenne Hotel. Claire loved its solid brick exterior that exuded steadfastness and warmth. Its downtown location

made it a perfect place for a pre- or post-theater meal, and Claire and Roger had dined there often.

Glad to have Roger back with her, Claire looped her arm in his

and settled into a familiar pace beside him. “You sure you don’t

mind coming here directly from the airport? You’re not too tired?”

“No, and I’m looking forward to having a couple of beers,

since you’re the designated driver.” He smiled at her. “I picked up a few discrepancies in the audit. I did some digging, then I had bad news to deliver to the CEO. After that final, testy meeting today, I’m looking forward to some pleasant company.”

“Good. With all the turmoil at the stable, I thought Charley

and Jessica needed some pleasant company, too. That’s why I set

this up.”

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Claire paused while Roger opened the heavy wooden door to

Phantom Canyon. She walked in and scanned the crowded and

noisy interior for Charley and Jessica. She spotted them at a round table for four near the front window.

“There they are!” She tugged on Roger’s arm.

Jessica was waving at them, but Charley sat with his hands

cupped around his beer, staring into the glass.
Uh oh.

Once they were seated and had ordered Zebulon’s Peated Por-

ter for Roger and a home-brewed root beer for Claire, she put a

hand on Charley’s arm. “What’s up?”

After heaving a great sigh, he took a gulp of beer. “A city attorney contacted me this afternoon. They’re going to move forward

on canceling my contract.”

Claire sucked in a breath. “Did you tell them that Ana was

dropping her suit?”

Charley shot her a dark look. “Of course. But he said they’d

also gotten a complaint from Peak View Stables. And he’d heard

we had an employee drinking on the job.”

Brow furrowed, Roger asked, “How in the world did he find

that out?”

So much for pleasant company.
Claire took a sip of her root beer and wished it was something stronger.

“When I asked the attorney who told him,” Charley replied

with a scowl, “he wouldn’t say. But since he mentioned it in the

same breath with the Peak View Stables complaint, I’m wondering

if Tom Lindall was the one.”

“How would Tom Lindall know about Gil’s drinking?” Claire

asked.

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With a shrug, Charley said, “Who the hell knows? There aren’t

that many wranglers in town, and they’re a tight community. The

attorney said that with customers being put at risk by drunken

staff, and with the two deaths that have occurred on the property, they had grounds enough to cancel the contract, even without Ana

Mendoza’s lawsuit.”

Jessica pursed her lips as if she had tasted something sour, and

Claire didn’t think it was her Queen’s Blonde Ale. “I don’t think you yelling at him helped any,” Jessica said.

“That prick. I told him I’m not responsible for the deaths and

the staff problem had been taken care of.”

“He should have reacted positively to that,” Claire said hope-

fully.

“He just made a crack about the unsavoriness of the stable’s

reputation.” Charley took another gulp of beer and slammed the

glass back down on the table. “I asked him how I was supposed

to stop a murderer when I didn’t even know who it was. Sure, it

could be someone who works at the stable, but as Detective Wil-

son said, it could be someone else in Kyle Mendoza’s life. How in the world could I or the stable be at fault?”

“What did he say then?” Roger asked.

“He spouted some garbage about the city needing to protect

the safety of their patrons, about me being responsible for what

happens on the premises. That’s when I blew my top.” Charley

leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. “The

asshole hung up on me before I could tell him where to stick it.”

“Oh, dear.” Claire took a sip of root beer while she tried to figure out what to say and how to help Charley get through this.

170

Jessica rubbed Charley’s shoulder. “I tried to get Charley to call back and apologize, but he refused.”

“Probably wouldn’t have done any good,” Roger said.

“There!” Charley threw up a hand. “Finally, someone on my

side.”

“We’re all on your side, Charley,” Claire said. “What about

Dave Redding? Did you contact him? Maybe he can find a way to

stop the city from doing this.”

“Yeah, I called him after Jessica stopped yelling at me.” Charley glared at her.

Avoiding his gaze, she looked into her beer.

“Then
he
lit into me for not letting him handle the conversation,” Charley continued. “Said he’ll call the city attorney on Monday and try to do some damage control, find out what clause

they’re basing the cancellation on. Then he said he’d figure out if we can fight it and how. He had the nerve to tell me not to talk to the city attorney anymore and to let him handle it.”

Frankly, Claire agreed with Dave, but she wasn’t going to say

that to Charley, who was looking beat-down enough. “Good,

good. So there’s still hope. I’m sure Dave will find a way to stop them.”

“He’s not going to help me if I can’t pay him.” Charley downed

the rest of his beer and signaled for another one. “I don’t even

know if I can afford the new wrangler I hired yesterday morning.

If she even shows up. I hired her before Wilson told us we have a serial killer roaming the grounds.”

“Serial killer’s a little extreme—”

“That’s the way it’s going to seem to this new wrangler, Claire.”

He gave her a baleful look. “I thought the case was closed because 171

Gil had committed suicide, so I didn’t bother to tell her what

happened. But now, I’ve got to warn her tomorrow that some-

one killed two people on the grounds, and we don’t know who. I

wouldn’t be surprised if she quits right then and there.”

“Well, then you won’t have the extra expense.” Roger plastered