Iced (26 page)

Claude, the master planner of the art ring, who had arranged the appointment for the supposed sale of the Beasley in Vail, had secured blueprints of Louis’s inn. Willeen knew exactly where to go downstairs when the time came for the heist. When she supposedly went to the ladies’ room last night, she had established that the box and the switch were exactly where they were supposed to be.

The fake handicapped sign in the window of their car had ensured privileged parking and privileged escape. To ensure that spot, they’d arrived in plenty of time for the seven-thirty cocktail hour, but instead of mingling had sat in a quiet corner of the bar sipping club soda. Both of them were too keyed up even to attempt small talk.

At the dinner table, the woman seated to the right of Judd insisted on carrying on a steady stream of conversation. “I’m from Florida. My husband and I met in school. We love to give dinner parties. Isn’t the salmon mousse delicious? I never eat soup. It fills me up too much. But look at my husband. He’s really enjoying the cream of broccoli. I like the idea of dancing between courses. It sort of works off what you eat. My husband hates to dance. Do you like to dance?”

“No,” Judd said shortly, wishing he could strangle her, as he studied from a distance the drop cloth with the treasure behind it that would soon be his.

Finally they were serving the filet mignon. He knew that when this course was finished the presentation would be made. He looked around with a glimmer of satisfaction and started to feel reassured. A lot of people had had enough to drink and were obviously feeling pretty relaxed. In the left wing of the stage he could make out the figure of an older man in a security uniform who, according to their sources, was a retired Aspen cop and now worked for the museum. He was in charge of guarding the painting during the evening. It had been dropped off by a security car earlier and was to be picked up by the same car and returned to the bank vault at the end of the evening. Or at least that was their plan, Judd thought.

The waiters started to clear the main-course plates. Judd watched as a man from the table situated front and center to the stage stood up and offered his arm to an elderly woman. The ceremony was about to begin.

He turned to Willeen and mouthed, “Now.”

Ida obviously had taken her appointment as amateur sleuth seriously. Regan watched with gratitude as Ida wandered through the room between courses, stopping at various tables with a friendly hello for some of the clients from the cleaner’s. She was also keeping a hawkeye on the dancing couples.

When she returned to the table each time, she gave Regan a shake of the head. “No luck so far. There are so many people here.”

After the main course had been cleared, trumpets blared and the spotlight fell on Geraldine Spoonfellow, who was being escorted to the stage by the president of the Rescue Aspen’s Past Association.

“The ceremonies are starting? Aren’t they going to serve dessert and coffee? I guess they want to make sure everyone stays for the speeches,” Ida commented. Then her gaze became fixed. “Regan,” she said urgently. “You see that woman over there in the hallway? The one with the black-and-silver shoulder straps? That’s the dress we pressed! I’m sure of it! I guess she’s going to the rest room.”

Regan stood up. Louis had just pulled up a chair at their table to hear the speeches. She was aware of his reproachful gaze as she murmured “Excuse me” and Geraldine’s decisive voice resounded over the microphone. “My beloved grandfather, Burton Spoonfellow . . .”

The Coyote had also observed Willeen leaving the room. He noticed the glance she threw over her shoulder, establishing eye contact with Judd. He quietly slipped past the outside tables until he was at the entrance to the ballroom. The foyer leading to the rest rooms was on the right; on the left was the first emergency exit from the ballroom. It was the one he would use after he was sure that Judd had successfully completed phase one of his plan to have the Beasley painting in his possession that night.

Willeen disappeared down the corridor. Not, he knew, to the ladies’ room but down the dark narrow stairs that led to the basement and the master switch, which would plunge the entire restaurant into chaotic darkness. As he watched, Judd, on schedule, left his chair and began to make his way toward the stage just as Geraldine Spoonfellow was being announced. Then the Coyote frowned. Regan Reilly, always a nagging worry, was making her way swiftly from her privileged seat, weaving her way through the tables. He had no doubt that she was following Willeen. How much did she suspect?

He drew back so she would not notice him as she rushed down the corridor toward the ladies’ room, where he knew she would not find Willeen. Maybe it didn’t matter. Whatever instinct or knowledge had set her on Willeen’s path wouldn’t do any good now. As he watched he could make out that Judd was reaching both hands in his pockets. From one, he knew, he would extract a gas mask and night glasses; from the other, a gun that would send pellets of tear gas cascading through the air. Coupled with the plunge into darkness, the choking gas would terrorize and immobilize the unsuspecting guests. Judd, within an instant, would have the Beasley painting under his arm. He and Willeen would be in their car, which the Coyote had observed was so conveniently parked, and they’d race back to their house, where he’d be the unexpected guest.

Let the other guy do the dirty work, he thought. That was always best.

In a few seconds the lights would go out and he knew Judd would fire the pellet gun. Judd was at the bottom of the right-hand stairs that led to the stage. He’d get away with it. The Coyote began to hurry toward the emergency exit door on the left-hand side just before the ballroom.

Marvin Winkle found it very unnerving to drive on the mountain roads to Aspen. And of course it had started to snow. He proceeded with great caution, afraid that he might slip off the road and into oblivion. Once again he thought of the marathon runner who in the moment of proclaiming victory had dropped dead.

As a result of his caution, it was one minute of eleven when he finally pulled up to the Silver Mine Inn. The parking lot was completely full. He knew Geraldine was scheduled to speak at eleven and he wanted to be there.

What difference? he thought as he double-parked, partially blocking a seedy station wagon. It was the nearest he could get to the hotel entrance without blocking the handicapped spots. It won’t matter, he thought. I can be out before the rest of the crowd. I want to hear Geraldine speak and then I’ll come and move it.

He hurried inside and reached the banquet hall in time to get one glimpse of Geraldine and hear her opening words. Then the lights went out and he began to cough.

The moment after the lights went out and gas pellets plunged through the air, the Coyote rushed outside to his car, catching sight of Judd clumsily running while carrying a bulky object. He and Willeen jumped into their car and took off.

The Coyote jumped in his to follow. Then he began to swear. Some fool had parked partially behind him. He began to twist and turn the wheel, inching back and forth until he could get around the heap that was blocking him.

But before he could get away and follow Judd’s car, his passenger door opened.

“Tripp!” Regan yelled as she coughed and her eyes teared. She quickly slid in beside him. “You saw them too! Follow them!”

Only minutes earlier, Angus had sat beaming as he watched Geraldine being escorted up to the podium. A pretty girl had become a handsome woman. She’d invited him to sit at her table and the evening had flown as they talked about the old days. When he had joked with her about her turning him down when he wanted to come courting, she had patted his hand and he could have sworn her eyes had misted a bit.

“Well, maybe there were reasons you didn’t know anything about,” she’d said. She’d been very happy to hear that he was settling back in Aspen.

Angus leaned back, prepared to enjoy Geraldine’s address. The historical-committee guy gave a nice introduction, one that Geraldine deserved. How many people would do what she’d done for this town? Then Angus frowned. That fellow who’d rented the cottage he was interested in buying was snaking his way up to the stage. In the bar Angus had recognized the wife, the one who’d acted so friendly but wouldn’t give him a chance to glance through the house. Angus had gone over to say hello and she’d introduced them. He hoped this fellow wasn’t one of those camera buffs who would start flashing lights in Geraldine’s face while she talked. If he did, Angus would make sure he stopped it.

As Geraldine began to speak, the man who was the object of his attention reached both hands into his pockets.

What was he doing? Angus’s eyes narrowed. What kind of crazy gadget was he putting on his face?

The lights went out and screams resounded through the room. A burst of staccato sounds came from where that man had been standing. In an instinctive movement Angus jumped up from his seat, rushed the few feet to the stage and hopped up. Reaching out, his arm found its way around a choking, coughing, furious Geraldine.

As Tripp grimly sped from the parking lot, choking, gasping people began pouring from the exits of the restaurant. With dismay Regan realized that her mother and father might be looking for her in the area of the rest rooms. But there was nothing she could do about it.

When they reached the road, there was no sign of the other vehicle, but Tripp turned right without stopping. She knew he could not have seen where the other car went. “Tripp,” she said, holding on to the handle of the door, “how do you know where to go?”

“I served them in the restaurant last night. I know where they’re staying.”

Regan leaned back. “They told you?” she asked in disbelief. “That’s the last thing I think they’d do. They might not even be going there now.”

“Have you got a better idea?” Tripp snapped.

Shocked, Regan glanced at him and then dismissed his tone by thinking that he was upset about what had just happened. Tears were still streaming from her eyes from where the gas had stung. But now, in the faint light from the dashboard, she could see that his were clear and showed no sign of physical distress.

For the first time she noticed the phone on the seat between them. “Let me call the police!” she said. She picked it up and opened the cover but before she could push the first button he grabbed it from her and threw it in the back of the station wagon. The back seat was down and she heard it land somewhere near the rear window. “It’s broken,” he growled.

Now it is for sure, Regan thought. Something was wrong with Tripp. A gnawing sense of danger made her stare straight ahead as he drove without hesitation. What would-be thief would talk loosely in front of a waiter? she thought. He must be in it with them! It made sense. He worked in the inn and could have told them where the master switch was. He had been outside when the tear gas exploded. He was driving so fast because he knew where to meet them. His car was piled with belongings. Her heart beating rapidly, she knew she couldn’t let him realize she was on to him.

The snow was pelting down. It was hard to see more than a few feet ahead. She heard him swear under his breath.

“What’s the matter?” she asked solicitously.

“I’ve missed a turn somewhere.” He made a dangerously fast U-turn and the car began to fishtail. Everything was going wrong, he thought furiously as he righted it. That damn car blocking the way. Regan getting in with him. Well, that was her bad luck. He’d intended to steal the Beasley from Judd and Willeen’s car when they went in the house to change. If they came out before he was finished, that was their problem. Now it was too late for that. He’d already lost at least five minutes, and with every passing second, the risk that they’d get away with the Beasley was getting greater.

From a road on the right he caught the flicker of approaching headlights. He jammed on his brakes as two vehicles flew out onto the road and passed them going in the other direction. Tripp knew that Judd was driving one and Willeen the other.

The road was too narrow for a U-turn. He turned into the side road from which they had emerged, backed out, then followed the direction they had taken.

He smiled to himself. They were going ahead with their plan. At Observation Point, they would dispose of their unwanted guests. And so would he.

Angus clasped his hand over the mouth of the sputtering, choking Geraldine and led her into the fresh air outside. Others began streaming out behind them. He was in time to see Regan Reilly jump in a car that was just pulling away. As more people came stumbling out, he looked around. There had to be a cop coming soon and he was probably the only one who knew exactly where those thieves lived.

Everyone at Nora and Luke’s table groped their way to the exits. Outside Nora said frantically, “Luke, Regan went to the rest room! She may still be in there!”

Luke turned, about to make his way through the solid mass of exiting people, then felt his hand clutched.

“She’s not in there!” Ida said. “I was following her. I just got out when I saw her get into a car that was parked right there.” She pointed to the space.

Angus, overhearing their conversation, turned. “Regan Reilly is your daughter? I saw her get into the car too. I think she and the driver are chasing whoever took that painting. And I know where he lives!”

Geraldine was suddenly recovered. “Then let’s get in a car and go!” she snapped. “No one’s taking Pop-Pop’s painting!”

Marvin Winkle, who had finally spotted Geraldine after he hurried outside in all the confusion, came up in time to hear the conversation. He pointed to his Rent-a-Wreck. “Miss Spoonfellow,” he said. “Marvin Winkle. Always at your service.”

Angus snatched the key from his hand. “I’ll drive.”

Geraldine jumped in the front seat.

“Come on, Luke,” Nora said, pulling open the back door.

Winkle followed them in.

Angus was about to start the car when Ida opened the passenger door and burrowed in beside Geraldine.

Eben and Bessie had spent the seemingly interminable four hours since Willeen and Judd had left for the holiday gala quietly talking. Having both accepted that they probably wouldn’t live until morning, they were exchanging confidences about their lives.