Iced (24 page)

“I don’t mind. I’m not too busy now. Later in the day it gets busy and I’d hafta ask you to call back. Right now I’m just straightening the shelves, ya know?”

“Um-hmm,” Regan agreed, then continued. “I’ll get right to the point. A friend of mine is missing, and I think he was shopping in your store last week.”

“Oh dear.”

“I am a bit concerned,” Regan said.

“Can you describe him at least? We get a lot of people in here, you know. We have such good bargains.”

“I’ve heard,” Regan said. “My friend’s name is Eben Bean. He has—”

“Eben! The cops were in here the other day asking about him.”

“Oh, they were.”

“Yes, ma’am. Um-hmmm. Yup.”

“What did you tell them?”

“They wanted to know if he was with anybody, that kind of thing. It wasn’t much.”

“Was he?”

“Was he what?”

“With anybody?”

“Nope. He spent a lot of time picking through a barrel and then he bought out all the green towels we had. They were irregular and we had a dozen of them. Eben loves a bargain.”

“So you know him?”

“Oh yeah, uh-huh. I hope he’s okay. I guess they think he might have stolen a fancy painting, huh? It doesn’t make sense when you think he spent an hour that morning hunting for bargains in here.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Regan said. “Did he come in there often?”

“Oh, maybe every month or so he’d take a ride down from Aspen and see what we got in. He really got a charge out of those towels for ninety-nine cents each.”

“You say there were none left after Eben bought them?”

“He bought all the ones we had. I had just found them back in the stockroom, left over from the good Lord knows when. So I put them out and Eben scooped them up.”

“Are you sure he bought a dozen?” Regan asked.

“Yup. I’m sure. He joked with me that when you buy a dozen doughnuts you get a thirteenth free, and I told him that I couldn’t do that because he cleaned us out of all the green towels we had.”

“Do you remember what he was wearing?”

“Oh, ya knooow,” the woman said. “I think he had on his lumberjack coat and a cap. That’s what he always wore. He seemed kind of excited about Christmas coming up and everything. I teased him because he hadn’t shaved. It looked like he was even starting to grow a little beard and he told me it was because he was going to play Santa, and since his stubble comes in white now, he figured he’d let it fill in a little before the big night.” She paused. “I hope he’s okay,” she said again.

“Me too,” Regan said.

“I mean, he didn’t seem like the type who would do anyone any harm.”

“I know,” Regan said. “So you haven’t sold any of those green towels this year?”

“Nope.”

“Do you know where they came from in the first place?”

“Who knows? Why are you asking so many questions about the green towels?”

“Just trying to track Eben down,” Regan said casually. She did not want to start explaining about any possible connections or the fact that they shed. “I appreciate your help, miss . . . I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Fannie.”

“Thanks, Fannie, and if you think of anything else, would you give me a call?”

“I suppose I could do that.”

Regan gave Fannie her number and hung up.

Kit’s hands were resting behind her head on the pillow. “Well?”

“Miss Fannie says what I say. Why would Eben be shopping for a bargain an hour before he rips off a painting worth millions?”

“Some of the richest people in the world are the very ones who will chase a nickel down the block,” Kit said practically. “You’d never know they had money.”

“True. But this woman also said that Eben bought twelve towels. We only found six at Kendra’s house. Why wouldn’t Eben have taken them all with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“It sounds crazy, but I want to follow up with Ida about the guy who brought in the pants with the green nublets. It’s the only lead I have to go on. Could those people for some reason have Eben’s towels? If so, why? Is he with them?”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go over to the cleaner’s this morning and see if Ida has a ticket for them with a name on it. Maybe they haven’t picked their clothes up yet.”

“Will you go skiing with me when you get back? If there’s nothing else for you to do?”

“Of course. It’ll be good to get out and move.” Regan jumped out of bed. “I’ll shower and get out of here right away. I don’t want you stuck around here too long this morning. I imagine it would be wise to stay away from this place as much as possible today while Louis yells at everyone on the staff.”

“I’ll man the phones until you get back,” Kit said. “Maybe Bessie will call with a ransom demand for Eben.”

“That’d be a twist,” Regan said. “God only knows where those two are. Here I am chasing down green towels to try and find out.”

“Whatever it takes,” Kit said and pulled the blanket up under her chin. “Maybe we should have Derwood feed all this information into one of his computers and see what it spits out.”

“I think the computer would end up confused,” Regan said. “I know I am.”

54

R
EGAN WALKED INTO the dry cleaner’s store where Ida was busy tagging articles of clothing. She looked up from a gravy-stained three-piece woman’s pantsuit and a broad smile flashed across her face.

“Hello, Regan,” she said excitedly. “Any news on Bessie? I was thinking about her all night.”

“I haven’t heard anything, Ida.” Regan walked over to Ida’s work counter and lowered her voice, even though there was no one else in the front of the store. “What I’ve been thinking about is that customer you told me about who brought in the pants with the green nublets on them.”

Ida’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Oh?”

“It might be crazy, but I’d just like to see if you have a name and an address I could check out. I called the place where Eben got those towels and he bought up every one they had. Not that other people couldn’t own green towels that shed, but I’d just like to follow through on this.”

“Of course!” Ida said with enthusiasm. “Just like in the movies!”

Regan smiled. “Whatever. Who knows? Maybe those people found those towels.”

Ida’s face was positively radiant. Finally some excitement around here, she thought. “Let me see if I can help you.” She pushed her glasses back against the bridge of her nose. “He wanted them for yesterday afternoon.” She walked over to the ticket carousel. “I do remember that his name was Smith.”

“Smith?” Regan said. At once she felt both excited and chilled. Excited that they might be on to something and chilled because Smith is the first name that comes to mind for most people when they don’t want to give their real name. For whatever reason.

“Yes,” Ida said. “That’s why it’s so easy to remember.” Her index finger flew up and down the row of
S
tickets, which were filed by number. “I’ll be darned,” she breathed. “He must have picked it up.” She reached down underneath the counter and pulled out the box of yesterday’s tickets. As she filed through them, she felt like an actress in a thriller. I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille, she thought.

“Aha!” she finally said with not a little drama. “Here it is! He must have picked it up yesterday afternoon after I left.”

Regan leaned over to take a look. “Is there an address on it?”

Ida felt crushed, afraid that her usefulness had just slipped away. “No, Regan, there isn’t. Now I remember him mentioning something about not knowing the address or phone number of where he and his wife are staying.”

“That’s not surprising. Can I see the ticket?”

Ida handed it over. While Regan studied it, she tapped her fingers on the counter.

“There was an evening dress and tuxedo as well as his pants.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder if they’re going to the party tonight. It’s the biggest thing going on in town,” Regan said. Complete with an expensive painting that will be on display, she thought.

Ida frowned, deep in thought. “I wish that other customer hadn’t come in right after him. Otherwise I would have been able to chat with him longer. Not that he was the talky type, if you know what I mean. Oh! He did say that he needed it yesterday because he didn’t know whether he’d be getting into town today and they needed the clothes for Thursday night! Which is tonight! I told him we’d do our best, I always say that, you know; we’re supposed to act like we’re doing them a big favor by getting it done quickly. Could there be any other big party he’d be going to tonight?”

Regan shook her head. “It would have to be a private party. If there were anything big going on, I’m sure my friend Louis would have mentioned it a million times by now. Ida, what did the dress look like?”

Ida stared up at the ad for martinizing on the wall. She then looked over to the rack of ties they had for sale by the door. She didn’t think one of them had been sold in all the time she’d worked there. Adopting the pensive look she imagined actresses used when they were asked this kind of question in the movies, she took her time thinking. “It was black,” she said finally.

“And?” Regan said quickly. “Isn’t there anything else about it you can remember? Its style, length—something?”

“It was short and had a low-cut neck like almost every other dress in this town. It had some silver on it. I’m sorry, Regan; it’s the kind of thing I’d recognize if I saw it again, but it’s hard to describe.”

Regan ran her fingers through her hair. Suppose those two were coming to the party tonight? What if Ida could pick out the dress? It was the only thing she had to go on. “Ida,” she said, “I need your help.”

Ida felt renewed. Her role in the drama wasn’t over yet. “Yes?”

“Would you come to the party tonight as my guest and sit at our table? I need you to tell me if you spot that dress.”

A surge of electricity jolted through Ida’s body. “But Regan,” she started to say, “those tickets are so expensive...”

“It doesn’t matter. This is very important. Are you free tonight?”

Are you kidding? Ida thought. She could barely mouth the words. “Yes, I’m free.”

Regan gave her the details and was walking out of the cleaner’s when Ida called after her, “Do you mind if I bring my camera?”

“Not at all,” Regan said. “But I need you to keep your eyes open.”

Ida watched Regan Reilly walk down the block and out of sight. Slowly she floated back to the bin of dirty clothes and began to work like a demon. “Angela Lansbury, watch out!” she said to herself. Maybe there’ll be a write-up in the local paper at home, she thought. Maybe I should wear my trench coat tonight. It was all just too exciting.

55

B
ACK AT THE inn, preparations for the party were in full swing. Louis was in his office, answering phone calls, checking his list, only going out into the banquet room to yell at whatever employee happened to be within shouting distance. But he had to admit to himself that the place looked good.

The paintings of the local artists were being set up on easels all over the lobby and banquet room. The dining-room tables were cleared away to make way for a giant cocktail hour. Holiday decorations and flowers were in abundance and the stage of the banquet room was filled with poinsettias and greenery. A podium with a microphone was set at one side while two easels occupied center stage, ready and waiting for the Beasley and Pop-Pop paintings to be placed in their arms.

What gave Louis the biggest smile was when Regan and Kit appeared in his doorway and announced that the Louis painting had arrived and needed to be hung in a place of honor.

“Darlings,” he said and jumped up. “Let’s go see.”

“I just got back,” Regan said, leading them out to the lobby. “We’re about to go out and do a little skiing. Tripp said they just dropped this off.”

Louis XVIII was leaning against the wall by the fireplace, ensconced in a gold frame and looking perfectly regal.

“Look at the colors!” Louis exclaimed.

“It’s called wiping off the dirt. You like?” Regan asked.

Louis hugged her. “Darling, I love it. Where should we put it?”

“How about over the fireplace?” Kit suggested.

“The hearth, as it were,” Regan said. “The center of the home.”

“Where it belongs,” Kit added.

Tripp came over with a ladder and the supplies needed to nail Louis to the wall. They all deliberated over how high he should be placed. Finally it was done, and Tripp stepped down off the ladder to survey the effect.

“I’d say he looks pretty good.”

Louis glowed. “Regan, I’m going to cry.”

“Not now, Louis. You’re only allowed to cry if tonight is a flop.”

“Regan!” he protested.

Regan laughed. “Chop off my head, King Louis. Everything is going to be perfect. Don’t worry. Now Kit and I are going to get out of here for a couple of hours and then we’ll come back and get ready and have a pre-party drink with you.”

“That sounds wonderful, Regan. Everything is going to work out fine tonight, isn’t it?” He sounded like a pleading child.

“Of course, Louis,” Regan said. When she and Kit walked out the door, she added, “I only wish that was how I really felt.”

Even an afternoon of great skiing did not relieve her nagging apprehension.

56

E
BEN AND BESSIE listened to the sounds of Willeen and Judd packing up their things.

“I’m so scared, Eben,” Bessie whispered.

“It ain’t over till it’s over,” he replied with a tightness in his voice. He knew he was not being much of a comfort. When they heard Judd order Willeen to start putting Kendra’s paintings in Eben’s car, he really started to worry. Why are they doing that? he wondered. They’ll never take my car with them. Every cop in the state must be on the lookout for it.

“I don’t want to get to that party too early,” they could hear Willeen saying in the living room.

“We have to get there early enough to get a good parking space,” Judd answered. “If we don’t make a quick getaway with that painting, then we’re asking for trouble.”