A Real Basket Case

by Beth Groundwater

“When Enrique heard her tell someone she needed a new cleaning woman, he asked another lady at the gym whose house I clean to recommend me.”

  Claire remembered the worker she’d spotted at the gym. “Do you clean at the gym, too?”

  Condoleza looked puzzled. “No. Why do you ask that?”

  Staring at the woman, Claire wondered if Condoleza was lying. Or maybe she’d only visited the gym to plant the death threat, and the mop bucket was a prop. “I just—”

  “Condoleza? Who’s at the door?” Jill’s voice came down the hall, followed soon after by footsteps clunking on the hardwood floor.

  “A lady says she’s a friend of yours,” Condoleza shouted back.

  “Why the big secret about you and Enrique?” Deb asked.

  Condoleza glanced down the hall, fists clenched, then whispered, “She would not like it. I need this job. If you make me lose it, I’ll go to Leon.”

  Claire turned to Deb.

  With eyebrows raised, Deb shrugged.

  Jill arrived at the door. “Claire, what a surprise. I assumed you’d be holed up in your house after”—she shot a curious glance at Deb—“you know, what happened at the gym.”

  “I’d just drive myself crazy with worry at home.”

  “Did you go to the police?”

  “Claire’s been with me since she left the gym,” Deb said before Claire could reply. “I called to tell her I was in town and got the whole story.”

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said. “I should have introduced you two. Jill, this is Deb Burch. We roomed together in college. She’s down here from Denver. I thought I’d bring her around to meet you.”

  “It’s not a great time, since Condoleza’s in the middle of . . .” Jill looked at Condoleza, who stood wringing her hands. “What’s wrong?”

  Condoleza backed away. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I will finish the kitchen.” She scurried down the hall.

  With a puzzled frown, Jill watched her go. “What got into her? I’m sorry. I was going to introduce you. She’s my cleaning lady.”

  “We’ve met,” Claire said. Damn.

  “When?”

  “Just now at the door,” Deb said as she sidled past Claire into the hallway and looked around. “Claire told me about your beautiful home, Jill. I really like the frame around this mirror. Hand-tooled, isn’t it?”

  “Thanks. An artist in Manitou Springs made it.”

  Deb traced a finger along the carved wood. “I’d love to see what you’ve done with the rest of the house. Can I get a tour?”

  “All of Condoleza’s stuff is out right now. Perhaps another time.”

  “But I won’t be in town for long.” Deb patted Jill’s arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll ignore the cleaning supplies and look at your decorating. I really like this wallpaper.” She walked farther down the hall.

  With a reluctant sigh, Jill held the door open for Claire.

  “Thanks.” Claire stepped inside. “It was getting chilly out there.”

  Jill led them through the main floor of her house.

  Deb kept up a running commentary. When they reached the dining room, a large pot with black-and-white geometric designs sat on the sideboard. As she stepped closer to examine it, she said, “This is a lovely example of a Ute Corn Ceremonial pot.”

  “Yes. I bought it at the Pow Wow three years ago.”

  “Excellent workmanship. Probably made by one of the Cloud sisters.” Deb reached to pick up the pot. “May I?”

  Jill nodded.

  After turning the pot over to study the bottom, Deb carefully replaced it. “I was right. It’s signed by Beverly Cloud. You have good taste.”

  Jill glowed with pride. “How do you know so much—”

  “Deb’s a Ute Indian herself.” Claire could see that Deb’s magic was working on Jill.

  When they entered the kitchen, lemon wax and ammonia fumes permeated the air. Condoleza swept up her cleaning supplies and trotted upstairs.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Jill said. “It’s like you two have the plague.”

  “Has she been here all day?”

  “Since I got back from the gym.” Jill’s brows knitted together. “What’s that got to do with how she’s reacting?”

  So Condoleza could have been at the gym this morning. Claire tried to shrug off the question. “I thought she may have been tired and our visit was an added bother to her.”

  Deb said, “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

  When Jill went to the cupboard, Deb signaled Claire to sit at the kitchen counter then joined her. After sipping her water, Deb said, “Jill, Claire tells me you’re quite a connoisseur of the local restaurants. I’d like to take Claire and Roger out for brunch tomorrow before I leave. What do you think of the Broadmoor?”

  “You can’t beat the Lake Terrace for brunch, especially the Sunday buffet.” Jill licked her lips. “I love their crepes. You can choose any of a dozen fillings, like blueberries, whipped cream cheese, or even chocolate chips.”

  “When was the last time you ate brunch there?”

  “Last week with Ellen.”

  “Is the service quick? I have to get on the road pretty early in the afternoon.”

  “The service at the Broadmoor is always impeccable.”

  “Give me an idea,” Deb said. “How long were you and Ellen there?”

  Jill shrugged. “We probably finished eating in an hour, but we stayed and talked awhile.”

  “They didn’t try to rush you out of there after you paid?”

  “Heavens no. We only chatted a few minutes, anyway.”

  “That should work out great. We’ll have a nice brunch, and I won’t be late starting my trip home to Denver.” Deb raised her water glass. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “You’re welcome.” Jill scratched her head, as if confused.

  Not wanting Jill to draw any conclusions from Deb’s questions, Claire groped for a new topic. “I’m grateful Deb’s here, because she can provide me with some protection.”

  “Because of the death threat, you mean?”

  Claire nodded.

  “How can Deb protect you?”

  “She’s a private investigator, so she has a concealed weapons permit and is a crack shot.”

  Deb pulled aside her jacket, exposing the semiautomatic pistol in its worn leather case attached to her belt.

  Jill’s eyes widened, and she took a step back.

  “Lots of people carry concealed these days, especially in Colorado Springs.” Deb let her coat fall back in place. “You’d be surprised at the number of people who’ve applied for permits. You ever know anyone to carry a gun?”

  Jill shook her head.

  “The police told me Enrique owned a gun,” Claire added, watching Jill closely. “That’s what was used to shoot him.”

  “Really?” Jill seemed genuinely surprised. “How did Roger get Enrique’s gun?”

  “He found it on the floor of our hall.”

  “So Enrique dropped his gun there?”

  “No, the killer did, after he or she shot Enrique. Then Roger picked it up when he heard me screaming and came upstairs to investigate.” Claire glanced at Deb.

  Nonchalantly sipping her glass of water, Deb kept her gaze focused on Jill’s face.

  Jill looked distressed. “I admire your loyalty to Roger, Claire, but you have to consider the possibility his story is just that. A story.” She glanced at Deb, as if for support.

  Deb remained mute.

  Jill returned her gaze to Claire. “I think this death threat is a sure sign you need to stop and let the police handle things their way. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Deb put down her glass and stood.

  “Thanks for your concern, Jill.” Understanding Deb’s signal, Claire gathered up her purse. “We need to get going. I’m glad you two could meet.”

  Deb held out a hand to Jill. “I loved seeing your house, and thanks for the brunch recommendation.”

  Lo
oking distracted, Jill shook Deb’s hand. “You’re welcome.” She followed them to the door and let them out.

  As Claire walked with Deb to the car, she waved to Jill.

  Before Jill shut the door, a thoughtful expression passed over her face, as if she were trying to puzzle out what this visit had been about. Claire replayed the visit in her own mind. “Jill seemed to be telling the truth.”

  Deb opened the passenger-side car door. “Either that, or she’s a better actress than you.”

  “I’m not sure about Condoleza, though. I thought I saw her at the gym this morning.”

  “She was awfully jumpy.”

  As she slid onto her seat, Claire saw a light blinking on the cell phone lying between the two front seats. “Damn, I forgot to bring my phone inside. I hope that message’s from Roger.” She punched the right buttons and held the phone to her ear, almost afraid to listen.

  Roger’s voice was listless, flat. “The spineless bastard did it. Might as well have fired me. Didn’t have the faith in me to stand up to the board.” Suddenly, the phone went silent.

  Oh, God. Claire put her hand to her mouth and stared out the window, fighting tears. She felt Deb’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Was it Roger?”

  “He sounded terrible.”

  Deb squeezed Claire’s shoulder then reached for her seat belt. “Let’s go back to your house. If he’s not there, we’ll set a plan in motion to find him.”

  Half-blinded by unshed tears, Claire started the car and backed out of Jill’s driveway.

  ___

  After leaving Jill’s house, Claire headed north. She planned to take the shortcut through the tourist haven of historic Old Colorado City on her way home. A black limousine passed her then pulled into her lane a couple of cars ahead before the traffic stopped for a red light.

  “That looks like Leon’s limo,” Claire said.

  Deb leaned forward. “Follow it. If it’s him, we can ask him the questions we came up with earlier.”

  Claire stared at Deb. “Are you crazy?”

  Deb stayed focused on the limousine. “Nope. Opportunistic. I never pass up a chance to find out something about a case. And if that’s Leon, this opportunity just dropped in our lap.”

  “But I want to find Roger, not talk to Leon.”

  “I’ll ring your house to see if Roger’s there.” Deb picked up Claire’s cell phone, punched in the number, and waited. After a long pause, she hung up. “No answer. We’ll keep this with us. When Roger gets home and sees your note, he’ll call.”

  Claire wasn’t so sure, but she couldn’t talk to him if she had no idea where he was.

  The light turned green. Claire hesitated.

  “Follow that limo and step on it.” Deb chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  “This is serious.” Claire didn’t see anything funny in the situation. “And it sure fits the definition of doing something stupid.” She prayed the limousine belonged to someone else.

  Deb shook her head. “In my book, this is a smart move. Remember, we have questions for Leon.”

  Claire followed the long, black car onto Colorado Avenue. An eclectic mix of eateries, antique shops, art galleries, clothing boutiques, and Colorado souvenir shops lined the now-quiet street, awaiting the summer vacation crowds. Normally Claire would pop into the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory for sinfully rich truffles, or La Baguette for a fresh loaf of crusty French bread, but she was on a mission now. The limousine turned onto a side street and stopped in the parking lot behind a Southern-style barbecue restaurant.

  Claire parked her car on the other side of the lot.

  As Deb put her hand on the door latch, Claire said, “I wouldn’t do that. If Leon is in the limo, I bet they know we’ve been following them. And they won’t let us approach until we’ve been frisked.”

  “Gee, I haven’t had a date in awhile.” Deb cracked a smile, then grew serious. “But if they frisk us, they’ll find my gun.”

  “Why don’t you put it in the glove compartment?”

  “But then you won’t have any protection. Leon could have been the one who wrote the death threat. Do you trust this guy?”

  “In an odd way, I guess I do. He’s the one who told me to investigate the gym ladies. And he cleared Travis and Condoleza.”

  Deb looked skeptical. “He could be covering for them.”

  “I don’t think so. He wouldn’t have waited so long to tell me if that’s the case. He’s got a different set of morals, but he seems to stick by them.”

  One of the limousine’s doors opened and a large, bald-headed white man stepped out.

  Claire grabbed Deb’s arm. “That’s Leon’s bodyguard. I recognize him. Hide the gun.”

  “I hope I can trust your judgment.” Deb unclipped the leather gun case from her belt and slipped it under her seat.

  “Don’t worry. If someone comes after me, Leon’s driver and bodyguard are armed.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Deb shifted in her seat to get a better look at the approaching man crunching across the icy parking lot. “I suppose we just wait for him to come to us?”

  “That’s right.” When the bodyguard was close enough, Claire rolled down her window. “Hello. I’d like to talk to Leon again.”

  The bodyguard leaned over and peered through the car window at Deb. “Who are you?”

  Deb pulled out her wallet, extracted a card, and handed it to him. “Deb Burch, an old friend of Claire’s and a P.I. I’m helping with her investigation.”

  He read the card. “Stay here.” He crunched back to the limousine.

  Claire chewed her lip as she wondered what Leon’s reaction would be to Deb’s occupation.

  The bodyguard handed the card through the back window of the limousine, said a few words, nodded, then returned. “Mr. Leon has asked you to join him in the restaurant.”

  Claire exhaled in relief.

  “You know the drill.”

  Claire stepped out of the car and placed her hands on the hood.

  With a raised eyebrow, Deb assumed the same position on the opposite side of the car.

  The bodyguard frisked the two women, checked Claire’s purse, then said to Deb, “Where’s your purse?”

  “I don’t carry one. Just my wallet.” She held it up and then stashed it back in her coat pocket.

  “Walk on over to the restaurant.”

  Claire and Deb preceded the bodyguard, stepping gingerly over frozen puddles on the asphalt. When they passed the limousine, the solemn driver nodded at Claire.

  The bodyguard directed them through the restaurant’s back door. The tantalizing odors of fried chicken and wood-smoked pork surged through the open kitchen door. The guard pointed left into a small private dining room.

  A couple of tables-for-two lined the far wall. In the middle stood a round table for six, covered with a plastic, red-checked tablecloth. Deb took a seat facing the door, and Claire sat next to her.

  Trailing a cloud of cigarette smoke, Leon entered the room with an arm around the hostess. When the chubby, gray-haired woman whispered the punch line for some joke, Leon guffawed. He dismissed the hostess with a friendly pat on the rear and walked over to the table. “Mrs. Hanover, we meet again.” He held out his hand.

  Claire shook it. “This is my friend, Deb Burch.”

  Leon grinned, showing polished white teeth. “Nice to meetcha’, Miss Burch. It’s not every day I get to meet an Indian P.I.” He shot a look at his two men, who laughed obediently.

  Leon studied Deb. “I can see you don’t like your back to the door, just like me, but this is my table, so I’ll have to ask you to move.” He pulled out a chair on the opposite side, with its back facing the door.

  Deb stood and changed her seat.

  Claire rose to do the same.

  Leon waved his hand. “You can sit next to me, Mrs. Hanover.” He walked around the table and took Deb’s original seat.

  The bodyguard and driver sat at
one of the tables-for-two, where they had a good view of the door.

  When the server brought water, Leon said, “The usual,” then turned to Claire. “What did you want to ask me?”

  She waited for the server to leave. “First, do you know where Condoleza was this morning?”

  Leon shook his head. “I ain’t that woman’s keeper.”

  Claire decided to change the subject. “I followed your advice and have been investigating the women at the gym. Deb and I have some questions, and we thought of you. I mean, we thought maybe you could answer them. The questions, I mean.”

  Leon smiled at her obvious edginess, then inclined his head, indicating she could proceed.

  Claire glanced at Deb for support. “First, there’s Brenda, a tall brunette in her thirties.”

  Leon nodded. “Cool bitch. Always smart-looking.”

  “I know she owed Enrique thousands of dollars and was making weekly payments, but I don’t know the exact amount or if she had trouble coming up with the money.”

  Leon leaned back and puffed on his cigarette. “You think she knocked off Enrique so she wouldn’t have to pay off the loan?”

  Claire spread her hands wide. “Maybe.”

  Leon shook his head. “Enrique didn’t have the cash to loan her. He couldn’t hold onto more than a couple hundred at a time. Always spending to impress the ladies.”

  “Then why was he asking for payment?”

  “He was working for me in another capacity. See, I run a little personal financing business on the side. The lady owed that money to me.” He pointed to his chest. “And she knew it.”

  “Maybe she thought by killing him—”

  “Don’t make no sense for her to kill Enrique. She’s owed me before and paid it off. Besides, she’s made a payment since Enrique was shot. Travis is collecting on that loan now.” Leon nudged Claire. “One of your favorite people, Mrs. Hanover.”

  Claire smiled, relaxing a little. “I found out that another woman bought drugs—”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” Leon wagged his finger at her. “We don’t use that word. Products. My business is selling products to people who need ’em.”

  “Right. Products.” Inwardly, Claire cringed. “The woman’s first name is Patti. She’s Hispanic and has a limp. I don’t know her last name.”