Murder and Tainted Tea

by Janet Lane-Walters

  “But we’re not going to the chalet today. What if she needs you for business problems?”

  “Today, not likely. No one’s doing business.” He shook his head. “She can find us at the chalet tomorrow. This will be good practice for her.” He grinned. “I’ve had a great run, but there’s more to life than making money.”

  “King Midas hangs up his crown.”

  “Abdicates.” He chuckled. “Remember the night I was dubbed. We were so young and happy.”

  The night we celebrated the first of Lars’ successful ventures, my husband had given him the name. Years later just before John died, he asked Lars to take care of me for I was the real gold.

  Lars caught my hand. “I failed to keep my promise to him.”

  “Nonsense. Our friendship has been a blessing. I have no regrets about the way my life has gone.” If I said that often enough, I might believe.

  “I’ve had one or two.” He released me and picked up the phone. “Are you sure you have everything you’ll need?”

  “Including the mint.”

  “Kate’s cure-all.”

  The teasing tone of Lars’ voice brought memories of other times he’d joked about the powers of the tea. What the brew couldn’t cure was the uneasiness I felt about his safety.

  While he made his call, I carried my suitcase and the bag of mint to the car. As I fastened my seatbelt, I glanced toward the house at the top of the drive.

  Carl dashed toward the carport. Bonnie followed. She halted with her hands on her hips. Carl spun to face her. Though I was too distant to hear what they said, their gestures made me believe they quarreled. Carl jumped into the Jaguar and sped down the drive. Bonnie stood for a few minutes before returning to the house.

  Lars opened the driver’s door. “We’re on our way.”

  I gestured toward the speeding car. “You missed an argument.”

  “A common event,” he said. “They’re too much alike and both of them have volatile tempers. One reason I was against the marriage, but when has Bonnie ever listened to anyone?”

  “What if she told him she wants a divorce so she can marry Damon?”

  “Damon? Impossible.”

  “Why? There are strong feelings between them.”

  “It’s not what you think. He’s Carl’s friend. In fact, I hired him on Carl’s recommendation. If anything, she resents their friendship and his position as my assistant.”

  “Could they be using her?”

  Lars started the car. “If they are, I don’t want to be around when she learns. I envy you. Andrew’s never given you a bit of trouble.”

  Laughter nearly choked me. “No trouble. What about Rachel? He was ready to throw away everything for that... that tart.”

  Lars backed onto the drive. “Your first body, wasn’t it?”

  “Lars!”

  He patted my arm. “Bonnie and Carl have their flares, but by the time we return, they’ll be in each other’s arms.”

  “What brings these quarrels on?”

  “Her flirting. His gambling. He needs help, but he refuses to seek counseling.”

  “Why do you keep him on?”

  “He’s a great number cruncher. No instincts for new businesses though. Twice he’s recommended ventures that have failed.”

  “Lately?”

  Lars shook his head. “Who would listen to him? Bonnie’s learning and so is Damon. Sure wish Don would take an interest. A man likes to leave his business to his son.”

  I shook my head. “Do you hear yourself? Why this insistence on Don? I’m sure Bonnie resents that. Can’t you be content to leave matters to your daughter?”

  “I would never cut her out. She and Don can work together. He refuses to try. Always in some kind of creative fugue. He needs a solid direction.”

  That wasn’t my impression. Don was an artist, but he was also a good single parent. “I think you’re wrong about him. I think the two of you need to talk.”

  “When we have time. I suppose you know what’s on his mind?”

  “I’ve a good idea, but it’s not my place to tell you.”

  “You’re right.” At the gate, he used a gadget like a garage opener.

  * * *

  Lars pulled the car into the garage of the La Fonda Hotel. He popped the trunk and took out our suitcases.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re staying here tonight.”

  “Lars, that’s silly. We’re fifteen minutes from your house.”

  “Are you pinching my pennies?”

  “I just don’t see the necessity.”

  “If we return to the house, Bonnie will want to rehash the party. Then she’ll go on and on about the quarrel with Carl. Don will demand that talk I’m avoiding until I’ve marshaled my arguments. Look at it this way. You’ll be spending the night on historical grounds. Since people settled here, there’s been a hostelry here.”

  I laughed. “You win.”

  “Wish it was always this easy to persuade you.”

  Though I still questioned his motives, I wouldn’t argue. Maybe he had another reason for leaving the house. Not fear or concern about another attempt to grab him. If that had been the case, we would have left right after I brought him home from the hospital.

  I grabbed the bag of mint and followed him inside. As we walked toward the lobby, I paused to look at the displays of pottery, jewelry and clothes.

  Lars turned. “We’re not shopping.”

  “Just browsing and storing ideas for the day to come to buy.”

  He grinned. “Better you than me.”

  After we settled in our suite, Lars suggested we walk around the old section of town. “We’ll follow a bit of the Santa Fe trail.”

  I pulled on my gloves and strode to the door. We left the hotel and headed toward the Loretto Chapel and the miraculous staircase to the choir loft. As we rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man. He ducked into a doorway. I jerked to a halt.

  “What’s wrong?” Lars asked.

  “I thought I saw...there was a man with dark hair. He looked suspicious.”

  He squeezed my hand. “You’re jumping at shadows. Do you know how many men with dark hair there are in this town?”

  “I imagine there are a lot. I’m just a bit edgy.”

  “And foolish.”

  He could be right. His daughter could be the one who’d hidden him in hopes I would go home.

  “Let’s go into the chapel. Every time I come here the sight awes me. No nails and no visible supports to hold the thing up.”

  I’d read about the staircase, but nothing in the books prepared me for what I saw. “Pictures don’t capture the reality.”

  Lars smiled. “I know.”

  For the rest of the day new marvels constantly enchanted me. Once, I stopped to browse in a shop window. A light shone inside. “Lars, I think they’re open.”

  “Absolutely not. You will not go in there. You’ll poke around for hours and I’ll go mad.”

  “Then I’ll come back when you’re not with me.”

  “Thank heavens.”

  His avid response made me laugh. “Let’s move on.”

  For the rest of the day, we wandered through museums, looked at houses built in the sixteen hundreds, had lunch at the Pink Adobe and forgot our worries. A golden day, I thought as we returned to the hotel.

  * * *

  The next morning we left for Taos and beyond. The trip was leisurely with stops to explore churches and other historic sites. As we neared Taos, the road entered a canyon. The Rio Grande flowed on our left.

  “On our way back, we’ll take the high road,” Lars said.

  I looked up and shuddered. “Up there.”

  He laughed. “I promise it’s safe and there are some interesting places to stop and see.”

  Suddenly we emerged from the canyon onto the mesa. We drove through Taos and continued to the resort. The chalet refrigerator had been stocked with a variety of foods so we
decided on steaks and salad for dinner. After the meal, we relaxed in front of the fire. I read a book I’d found on the shelves. Lars spread papers from his briefcase on the table.

  The second day of our escape had been as golden as the first.

  * * *

  The aroma of coffee woke me. After showering and dressing, I walked to the kitchen area of the large main room. Lars stood at the stove. “Water’s hot if you want tea.”

  “Coffee this morning. I’ve gotten lazy. It’s nearly nine.”

  “You’re on vacation.”

  I dished bowls of oatmeal and poured two glasses of juice. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  “A bit of skiing.”

  “Enjoy.”

  He joined me at the table. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a run or two?”

  “I’ve never been on skis and I don’t think this is a time in my life when I want to try.” The thought of sliding down a mountain on two boards left me cold.

  He grinned. “There are classes for beginners.”

  “But not for cowards.”

  “You’re hardly that. I feel bad about leaving you alone.”

  “Go. Have fun. Challenge the elements. Stare fate in the eye. I’ll meet you at the lodge around one for lunch.”

  “It’s half a mile uphill.”

  “Lars, go. I’ll enjoy the walk. There are things I can do here, like laundry and look at those pamphlets I picked up at the hotel.”

  His booming laughter made me want to smack him. “It’s tourist pap.”

  “That’s exactly what I am.”

  “You’ll miss all the good places. A lot are closed for the winter.”

  “Go slide down a hill.”

  I hadn’t come for sightseeing. I’d come to Santa Fe to be with Lars and to escape my memories.

  * * *

  At lunch I heard Lars’ tales of great runs. He had enjoyed his morning on the slopes and tried to infuse me with his enthusiasm.

  “Kate, rent some skis and take lessons. You’ll love it. The wind, the speed, the challenge. I can’t explain how it makes me feel. You’ll have to try so you can see what I mean.”

  “I broke my leg during a snow storm. That was on level ground. Think what I could manage to break on a hill. Look.” Just then a young man on crutches hobbled past. A cast enclosed one of his legs. “I could end up like him or worse.”

  “And you could find a new pleasure.”

  “Not today. I’ll see you later.”

  He kissed me on the cheek. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Go.” He waved and walked away.

  After long browsing in the gift shop, I made several purchases. Then I walked back to the chalet. I dried the clothes I’d washed that morning and wrote postcards. Then I made a list of suspects and possible motives for Lars’ kidnapping. Unfortunately nothing made sense.

  Around five, I added logs to the fire and baked cinnamon rolls for the next morning’s breakfast. By the time Lars arrived, I sat by the fire sipping a cup of mint tea.

  The cold air and exercise had returned the color to his face and the sparkle to his eyes. He looked marvelous, but I still believed we should be in Santa Fe.

  Lars went to shower. When he returned, he wore a blue sweater knit with an intricate pattern. He accepted a cup of tea. “We’ll have dinner at the lodge. Great food and good drinks.”

  “Let me change.” In the bedroom I put on green wool slacks and an off-white sweater.

  A short time later Lars parked the car in the lodge parking lot. We entered the lobby. A pair of St. Bernards lay before the massive fireplace. A number of people sat on the curved benches. Several waved.

  “More skiing tomorrow?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “We’ll spend the day in Taos. There’s a showing of Don’s pictures in a gallery there and some shops you might enjoy.”

  “You’re going to let me shop? Are you sick?”

  “I have to see someone on business.”

  “Figures.”

  We strolled to the restaurant. Once our drinks and appetizers arrived, I caught Lars’ attention. “Do you really believe Bonnie was the one who kidnapped you?”

  He nodded. “When she heard you were coming, she staged a scene. Said she would find a way to send you home.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you think? She’s never wanted us to be friends, let alone more. That’s one reason we left town to come here. While she acted with charming manners at the party, who knows what she might pull next?”

  I remembered how Bonnie had craved the jewelry Lars had given me. For an instant, I regretted leaving the set at the house, but I hadn’t thought I’d have the opportunity to wear them during our jaunt. I reached for his hand. “I won’t let her ruin our friendship, though I might be tempted to smack her.”

  He grinned. “Was worried about that. Could you see the headlines? ‘Lady Sleuth Jailed For Assault.’”

  “Lars.”

  He lifted his glass. “Here’s to peace and quiet.”

  “Amen.” I touched my glass to his.

  * * *

  Taos was wonderful. On the way we stopped at DH Lawrence’s grave. In town we walked through the house where Kit Carson and his wife had lived. We strolled to the gallery where a number of Don’s paintings hung.

  I’d seen several of his portraits, most recently, one of Lars and one of Bonnie, but the pictures at the gallery awed me. How could Lars want his son to give up art for business when he could create such beauty?

  The paintings showed people and their reactions to common events. One I wished I owned showed a young father watching his wife nurse their infant. Her face was in shadows and his was in full light. Even the tears in his eyes were shown.

  A second startled me. Three children, two boys and a girl, stood beside a bassinet and looked at a sleeping baby. The boys looked bored. The girl reached toward the infant with clawed hands. Malice gleamed in her blue eyes and her face was Bonnie’s. Had Lars seen the resemblance?

  “They’re wonderful,” I said.

  “So I’ve been told.” Pride shone in his eyes. “That one is mine.” He pointed to the one of the father watching his wife and child. “It’s on loan.”

  “Then I can’t buy it.”

  “There are other ways to obtain ownership.”

  When we left the gallery, I entered one of the shops while Lars went to discuss business at a restaurant. That evening before we returned to the chalet, we ate in the same restaurant. The food was elegant and wonderful. Lars was quiet and his expression held hints of worry. I didn’t know how to ask what was wrong, so I settled on neutral topics.

  At the chalet we sat before the fire and listened to Bach. Lars sighed. “These days have been marvelous. Maybe we should stay here until it’s time for you to leave.”

  “We can’t do that.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  “Lars, after seeing the pictures this afternoon, how can you think of forcing him to give up art?”

  “He might find business a greater challenge.”

  “You need to talk to him before you give him something he doesn’t want. How much time will he have for art if he accepts your demands?”

  “Kate...”

  “What if he walks away from you?”

  “He won’t do that.”

  “He might.” I strode to the stove and began to blend mints.

  Lars put his arms around my waist. “Let’s get married before we waste the rest of our lives.”

  Though there’d been hints he wanted to change our relationship, his proposal stunned me. “I’m not sure I’m ready for marriage.”

  “Think about it. I’m in no hurry. Tomorrow will be fine.”

  I laughed. “Tomorrow’s out. I need to think this through. There are some important details to work out.” Years ago I’d shelved my dreams of marriage to Lars. Even after his children were grown, he’d seemed content with friendship. “What brought
this on?”

  “How can you ask? I’ve loved you for years, but other matters always seemed to form barriers and detours.”

  “I love you, too, but I need time.” There was still a major roadblock, I thought.

  “Was only teasing about tomorrow. I’ll wait.”

  I turned in his arms. “You’ve things to think about, too. Like the changes our marriage might make.”

  Did he understand that in gaining me, he might alienate his favorite child? Since my arrival nothing in Bonnie’s attitude had shown a change toward me. This was especially true if Lars was right about her role in his kidnapping.

  * * *

  The shrill ring of the phone woke me. I groped for the receiver and remembered the chalet’s phone was in the other bedroom.

  “What?” His voice carried through the open door. “No...”

  I grabbed my robe and ran to his room. He sat on the edge of the bed. His color was ashen. The receiver lay on the floor where he must have dropped it.

  I pushed him back on the bed and checked his pulse. “What is it? What happened?”

  “Bonnie.”

  Had she been in an accident? Had a pair of volatile tempers erupted and ended in physical combat? I grabbed the receiver. “This is Katherine. What happened?”

  “Bonnie’s been kidnapped,” Carl said.

  “What? When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Start from the beginning.”

  “We had a fight New Year’s Day,” he said. “She was furious about those men who crashed the party. I left in a rush. When I came home, she wasn’t there, but I figured she was off sulking.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Waited. She’s gone off like this before and stayed away for a week or so.”

  “Then how do you know she’s been kidnapped?”

  “The note. The maid found it when she arrived at eight. Demands a ransom. I called Damon. He came over and said to call Lars.”

  I looked at the clock and saw it was almost eight thirty. Lars and I had slept late.