A Basket of Trouble (9 page)

decided to monitor his reactions to Jessica’s comments more

closely.

Claire stood. “I hope Charley will be able to schedule a breather soon. Working long hours seven days a week with no rest is taking a toll on him, too. Well, I guess we’d better get a move on.”

They shouldered their purses and stepped outside. Two police

cars sat in the parking lot, a marked cruiser and Detective Frank Wilson’s gray unmarked Charger. Wilson, another man in a suit,

and two officers in uniform were getting out of the vehicles.

“Uh oh,” Jessica said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“So do I.” Claire put a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “But let’s see what Detective Wilson has to say first.”

He approached them. “Hello, ladies. I’m afraid I have some

bad news for you. The coroner ruled that Kyle Mendoza was mur-

dered.”

Jessica sucked in a breath. “Murdered!”

“Oh, God. How?” Claire asked.

“The autopsy showed that his head wound wasn’t caused by

the horse’s hooves. It was blunt force trauma from a metal tool,

one that had a much smaller diameter than a hoof, something like

a hammer or crowbar.” He looked at Jessica. “You got something

like that on the premises?”

“We have both,” Jessica replied. “And lots of other tools that

could fit that description, like hay hooks, pitchforks, heavy-duty pliers and screwdrivers, you name it.”

Claire furrowed her brow as she tried to absorb this new infor-

mation. “So Kyle was dead before Gunpowder stomped on him?”

“Not quite,” Wilson said. “The head wound was delivered first,

sometime between eight and ten PM, before the other injuries. It

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didn’t kill him right away, but it might have eventually without

treatment.”

Jessica’s expression showed she was as stunned as Claire. “Who

would do that? And why?”

Detective Wilson paused, and Claire could tell he was holding

something back. “That’s what I aim to find out.”

He stepped onto the porch and handed a document to Jessica.

“This is a search warrant for the entire premises. These men and I are going to look for anything that might be that murder weapon.”

He introduced his fellow detective and the two patrolmen.

“What can we do to help?” Jessica asked after the hand-shaking

was over.

“Nothing,” Wilson replied. “But after we finish our search,

we’ll need to re-interview everyone. What activities did you have planned here today?”

Jessica glanced at Claire. “Well, Claire and I were going to go

shopping, but that can wait. There’s no way I’m going to leave here until I know if you found something. Hank and Gil are already

out on a two-hour trail ride with customers and won’t be back for an hour and a half. And we’ve got another ride scheduled for this afternoon.”

Wilson pursed his lips. “Hopefully we won’t get in the way of

your afternoon ride. But when the morning ride returns, I’ll need to meet it.”

Jessica’s eyes went wide. “You’re not going to tell our customers what’s going on, are you?”

“No, I’ll just make sure they all leave the area and that we talk to Hank and Gil before they leave the premises.”

“The horses will need to be cared for first.”

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Wilson sighed. “I understand. Who else is on the property

now?”

“Charley, Jorge, Pedro, and Brittany.”

“I don’t want them observing our search. Are they busy now?

Can they take a break and come in here?”

“I guess so,” Jessica said. “The horses have all been fed and

watered. They’re probably just doing chores and repairs that can

wait.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. We’ll bring everyone in here, search un-

til the trail ride returns, then stop and do the interviews after the horses have been cared for. If we’re lucky, we’ll find something before the ride return. Which is when?”

“About eleven-thirty,” Jessica answered.

Wilson signaled to the same patrolman who had watched over

them Monday. “Phelps, you stay with the women. One of us will

bring the others here, then you’ll observe them all while the rest of us search.”

He turned to Jessica. “One more thing. What’s your trash

pickup day?”

“Tomorrow. The same company picks up our manure and

soiled stable bedding, too. We store it in a dumpster behind the

barn.”

The other detective glanced at his loafers as if regretting his

choice of footwear. Phelps smirked.

“Good,” Wilson said. “What else gets removed from the prop-

erty?”

Jessica thought for a moment. “The port-a-potties are emptied

every two weeks, and the next time is next Wednesday.”

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As Jessica talked, Claire could see Officer Phelps grinning at his uniformed cohort, who was rolling his eyes. He obviously was not

looking forward to the messier aspects of the search operation.

Jessica must have caught the look, too. “You know, Pedro could

help you go through the manure pile, or Gil or Hank when they

get back. They handle that stuff every day.”

Wilson glanced back at his men, and Phelps’ buddy held up a

thumb. “Okay, we may use one of them when it comes to that. And

for fishing in the port-a-potties. Let’s get to it.”

As he and the other detective and patrolman walked to the

barn, Jessica let out a sigh. “Sorry about this, Claire.” She took her purse off her shoulder.

Claire followed suit. “As you said, we can shop anytime. I’ll

make another pot of coffee. When everyone gets here, they’ll probably want some.” She and Officer Phelps followed Jessica inside the trailer.

Charley, Jorge, Pedro and Brittany soon tromped up the porch

steps, followed by the other detective, who opened the door and

gave Phelps a quick nod before leaving. After scraping off their

boots and slapping the stable dust off their jeans, Charley and the others came inside the trailer, doffing their cowboy hats as they passed the threshold.

While Claire got everyone a drink of some kind, Charley

started pacing. “I can’t believe someone killed Kyle!”

Brittany nodded and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes red-

dening.

“And I’ve got to pay everyone to sit around here instead of

working.” Charley threw up his hands in frustration and exhaled

deeply. “This is getting damned expensive.”

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“I know,” Claire said. “But what else can you do? The police

have to do their work.”

Charley slapped his hat against his thigh. “And cause me a bas-

ketful of trouble in the process.”

“The real culprit is whoever killed Kyle,” Claire said. “I wonder who did it.”

Everyone in the room looked at each other and shrugged or

shook their heads.

Claire watched their faces carefully. “Any of you know if Kyle

had any enemies? If he had any recent arguments with anyone?”

More shrugging and shaking of heads, except Pedro hesitated

and wouldn’t meet Claire’s gaze.

She stepped toward him. “Pedro?”

“
Nada,
” he said quickly, and brought a Coke can to his lips, spilling a few drops on his shirt in his haste. He glanced at Jorge.

Claire turned to the older man. “Jorge?”

Jorge’s face was passive, inscrutable. “Kyle was a kind man with

many
amigos
.”

That really didn’t answer her question. She stared at both men

for awhile longer but saw that she wasn’t going to get anything out of them, so she turned to Brittany. “You dated him a few times.

Did he mention anyone he was having a problem with?”

She shook her head. “He was always smiling, didn’t seem to

have a care in the world.”

Jessica sat at the desk with fingers drumming on the large cal-

endar pad in front of her. “Maybe it was a family problem, some-

thing totally unrelated to the stable.”

Charley wheeled and looked at her. “I sure hope so, and I hope

the police find out who did it soon. Kyle’s murder, on top of the is-69

sues we’re having with Peak View Stables and the neighbors, could deep-six Gardner’s Stables for good.”

Claire noticed that Phelps had been quietly scribbling on a

notepad while standing in a corner. She nibbled on her lip. She

didn’t see how anything anyone had said in response to her ques-

tions could be helpful. Maybe there was some other way she could

help Detective Wilson in this investigation. After all, she had done so once before, though he hadn’t appreciated her ‘interference,’ as he called it.

Time passed slowly as they waited for the return of the search-

ers. At least the trailer was air-conditioned, and they weren’t sitting outside in the hot sun. Brittany laid her head back on the sofa and fell asleep. When Phelps’ stomach let out a loud growl, Jessica took pity on him and brought a large bag of tortilla chips out of the kitchenette. He passed the bag around and it was soon emptied.

Jorge got up and fetched a veterinarian’s book about horse

ailments off the bookshelf behind Jessica’s reception desk. He returned to the sofa and started leafing through it and discussing it with Pedro in Spanish. Charley went into the back office to work

on his computer. From the pile of invoices and receipts he was going through, Claire presumed he was catching up on bookkeeping.

Brittany woke up, glanced around with a dazed look, then

checked at her watch. “Um, Jessica? I have class in two hours. Will the police be able to interview me before I have to go to it?”

Jessica looked at Phelps, who stood leaning with his back

against the wall. He shrugged. “It’s up to Detective Wilson.”

“We’ll ask him, Brittany,” Jessica said.

70

Steps sounded on the porch outside, and the other patrolman

entered. “Detective Wilson told me to fetch Pedro. We’re going to have to go through the manure dumpster now.”

Phelps gave a little snort, and the other patrolman shot him an

angry glare.

With a look of pained resignation, Pedro rose from the sofa.

Claire felt sorry for him, but she realized he was the logical

choice. Charley and Jorge outranked him, and none of the men,

being the chivalrous cowboys they were, would have let Brittany

handle the noxious, labor-intensive chore.

The patrolman turned to Jessica. “Detective Wilson also told

me to ask you if you’d heard anything from the trail ride group.”

“Hank will radio us a few minutes before they hit the paved

trail in the Blair Bridge Open Space,” she replied. “We should hear from him soon. We need to send Brittany out on the ATV to follow them back at that point, to scoop up any droppings.”

After the patrolman nodded, Jessica added, “Could you ask

Detective Wilson if he could interview Brittany after that, so she can go to her class afterward?”

“Okay.” The patrolman ushered Pedro out.

A few minutes later, Phelps’s shoulder radio squawked. Detec-

tive Wilson said he would talk to Brittany before she had to leave for class.

About ten minutes after that, Hank radioed that they were ap-

proaching the Foothills Trail, so Brittany headed out.

Finally Wilson opened the door to the trailer and poked his

head in. “Charley Gardner, could you step outside?”

Charley walked out and Claire and Jessica followed. They stood

on the porch while Charley walked with Detective Wilson and the

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other detective over to Pedro, who was filthy from head-to-toe.

The frowning uniformed officer standing next to him had brown

stains on his pants legs and arms.

A fetid stench came off the two of them. Claire’s nose auto-

matically wrinkled, but she stopped herself from waving her hand

or holding her nose. The men couldn’t help how they smelled, and

she didn’t want to embarrass them.

Pedro stood with his head bowed and his cheeks reddened. He

held the handles of a wheelbarrow containing an assortment of

tools, all bagged in large plastic bags.

“We’re going to need to remove all of these for testing,” Wilson

said.

Charley put his hands on his hips and looked over the assort-

ment. He frowned. “For how long?”

“Could be days, maybe even a week or two. And if any become

evidence, we’ll need to hold them until the case goes to trial.” Wilson pointed to a plastic bag that Claire, from her high perch on the porch, could see contained a hammer with brown smears on its

haft. “I suspect this hammer that Pedro found for us deep in the

manure dumpster may be the only one we’ll have to hold on to for

long.”

Claire raised a brow at Jessica, who put a hand to her mouth.

“Looks like I’ll need to buy new tools to replace most of these

anyway. I can’t go that long without them.” Charley slapped his

hat against his thigh then slammed it on his head. “Another God

damned expense.”

Wilson handed him a piece of paper. “This is a list of every-

thing we’re taking.”

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Charley took the list, reached up to the porch to hand it to Jes-

sica, then turned back to Wilson. “Can poor Pedro get cleaned up

and the rest of us go back to work now?”

“Afraid not,” Wilson said, with an apologetic glance at the reek-

ing wrangler. “Given the new evidence, we need to re-interview

everyone. Find out who was here the night Mendoza was killed. I

understand Brittany Schwartz has to leave, so we’ll start with her after the trail ride gets in.” He held out a set of keys to the grimy patrolman. “Put all the evidence in my trunk, then I’ll need you

and Phelps to observe everyone.”