A Killer Closet (10 page)

“Let Rafael tell his own story,” the chief said.

Rafael nodded. “I seen her. She was in the blue car with two men and a woman. I think she was trying to tell me to help her.”

The chief continued questioning Rafael, determining that he was leaving the bar when the car drove up and that he didn't get a good description of anyone because it was dark. He added that he recognized
Señora
Daniels when the car door was opened and the interior lights came on. When Andy asked for a license plate number, Rafael pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to the chief. Irene was grateful that he'd been so careful, since she'd been unable to read the number in the darkness. The entire conversation had taken place alternately in Spanish and in English, reminding Irene of how long she'd been away from the Santa Fe culture.

“Thank you,” Andy said, as he took the paper bearing the license plate number from Rafael. “I can assure you, this matter will be investigated.” He turned to Irene. “I am going to ask you again not to leave town, Irene. I'm asking for your own safety, so I hope you'll comply. If you don't, I'll have the courts issue a formal order that you not leave the city limits.”

Irene gasped, but Harriet saved her from an angry outburst. “That's ridiculous, Andy. You know she didn't have anything to do with either of those murders.”

“I have already informed Irene that she's no longer considered a person of interest in the Sellers case, Mrs. Baumgarten, and I'm not accusing her of anything. I'm asking her, as well as you, for your protection, not to leave the city.” Andy rose from the chair behind his desk as he spoke. “This is police business. I advise you to refrain from interfering as the wheels of justice come to fruition.”

“You mixed your metaphors,” Harriet said.

The chief gave her a puzzled look. “I beg your pardon.”

Harriet gave him a wave of her hand. “Never mind. Aren't you going to ask us if we found anything?”

Irene took in a quick breath, wishing she could have stopped Harriet from saying that. She wasn't prone to volunteer information. However, in this case, she could concede that might be the wrong approach. The police would need to know every detail, no matter how insignificant, if her mother was to be found alive.

“You mean something Susana might have wanted you to find?” The chief sounded dismissive.

“Yes, that's what I mean. And we did find something,” Harriet said. “We found a locked room.”

The chief nodded. “A locked room. Given that the lodge is vacant for weeks and even months at a time, I can't say that's unusual.”

“But it wasn't an ordinary room,” Harriet insisted. “It was like a safe.”

“I see.”

“No, you don't see!” Harriet was growing frustrated. “It wasn't a normal room. It looked more like a room-sized vault, and there was a lock on the door. It was metal. Not the lock, the door. Well, the lock was metal, too, and we couldn't open it.”

“I advise you not to try,” the chief said.

Harriet took on a shocked expression. “Well, we weren't going to take anything.”

Chief Iglesias's eyes narrowed. “Then why did you try to open the vault?”

“Oh, my God, Andy,” Harriet said. “You know me better than that. I'm not a thief. I thought Adelle might be in there.”

“I certainly hope you're not a thief, Mrs. Baumgarten,” Andy said. “And I can assure you all of this will be investigated. By the police.” He was walking toward the door, ushering them out as he spoke. “There have been two murders now. I want both of you to be safe. Stay away from Mariposa, and it might help to remember there's a law against trespassing as well as a law against tampering with evidence.”

“We weren't trespassing!” Harriet said. “And we weren't tampering with anything.” She was trying to resist his gentle push toward the door. “We told you Susana said we were to look for something in case—”

“I'm not going to charge either of you, Mrs. Baumgarten. I know you meant no harm, but please, for your own safety, stay away from Mariposa and leave the safe alone. Just let the police take care of everything.” He glanced at Rafael. “You, too, Mr. Lopez. Stay away from Mariposa.”

A hot wind was blowing across the parking lot in front of the police station as Irene and Harriet made their way to Rafael's pickup. Irene had forgotten how quickly the day could warm in Santa Fe. Her grandmother had always said that was because, at seven thousand feet altitude, they were close to the sun. She was just removing her sweater when she heard a voice behind her.

“Hey! Rafael! You in trouble again?”

She turned to see that it was P. J. Bailey, the lawyer who'd offered his services when she was taken in as a person of interest.

“Oh, hello, Irene,” he said when she turned around. “Sorry, I didn't recognize you.” A surprised expression crept across his face when he noticed Rafael opening the door for the two women. “You know each other?” P.J. asked.

“
Mis amigas,
Miss Seligman and Mrs. Baumgarten,” Rafael said.

“Your friends? I see.” P.J. still wore a look of uncertainty.

“Mr. Rafael was kind enough to give us a ride,” Irene said, not sure why she felt she had to explain anything to P.J., even though his question to Rafael about whether or not he was in trouble had raised her interest as well as her concern.

“You need a ride?” he asked.

“No, thank you. Nice to see you again, P.J.,” Irene said as she turned toward Rafael's pickup. She was certain there was no need to say more.

“You wouldn't believe how much it rained in the mountains,” Harriet said. “Even though it's dry as a bone here in town.”

P.J. glanced at Rafael again. “The mountains?”

Rafael shrugged but said nothing.

Harriet, however, couldn't stop talking. “We were up there at a lodge, high in the mountains, and this storm came up. It was awful. Couldn't get the car out, so Rafael helped us. Besides that, my friend Adelle has—”

Irene took Harriet's arm and tried to move her toward the pickup. “Don't you want to go home, Harriet?”

“Is something wrong with Mrs. Daniels?” P.J. asked.

“Kidnapped!” Harriet said. “Rafael saw it happen.” She put her hand out toward P.J. “I'm Harriet Baumgarten.”

Irene cringed. She knew it was best not to discuss what had happened with anyone except the police.

“P. J. Bailey,” P.J. said, taking Harriet's hand.

“I know who you are,” Harriet said. “You're that lawyer who's always in the paper and on TV.”

P.J. gave her a polite nod and frowned at Rafael. “What do you mean you saw it happen?”

Rafael raised his hands in front of him as if he was fending off accusations. “No, no! I didn't see nothing. Just Adelle in the car. She looked like she needed help.”

“I don't understand,” P.J. said. “She was in a car and you thought she needed help? Why didn't you help her?”

“Because she was kidnapped,” Harriet said. “There were guns involved. That woman even tried to kill us, but Irene got her gun, and—”

“Harriet, let's allow Rafael to take us home now. I'm sure he needs to get back to Pecos.”

P.J. had his wallet out and pulled a bill from it. “I'll take both of them home,” he said. “You're a good man, Rafael. Take this for your trouble.”

A surprised look passed across Rafael's face briefly before he shrugged and took what appeared to be a fifty-dollar bill. “No trouble,” he said. “Glad to help.”

Irene watched in dismay as he got into his pickup, and Harriet allowed P.J. to lead her toward his pickup. P.J. turned toward Irene, who hadn't moved. “My pickup is this way,” he said. She followed with a sigh.

Harriet spoke up again when they were in the aging Chevy pickup that was P. J. Bailey's transportation, Harriet next to P.J. and Irene on the outside of the pickup's one seat. “Irene said she needs to go to her store. It's on the plaza, so you can take her there first, since I live all the way out in Las Campanas.”

“No, that's not necessary. Mr. Bailey has to come back to town anyway, and I want to make sure you get home safely,” Irene said. She didn't admit that her true reason for not leaving Harriet alone with P.J. was that she knew Harriet wouldn't stop talking. Maybe if she came along, she could get Harriet to speak about something other than their misadventure.

“I'm sure I'll be all right,” Harriet protested. “P. J. Bailey is a famous lawyer. I'm sure he—”

“Just drive, P.J.” Irene sounded more exasperated than she meant to.

Her attempts at getting Harriet to talk about anything except what had happened in the mountains were futile. By the time they had passed through the guard gate of the country club development outside of town and had stopped in front of the Baumgartens' pueblo revival mansion on a sprawling ten-acre estate, Harriet had told P.J. everything.

“Now, that was quite a story,” P.J. said as he got back in his pickup after seeing Harriet to the door.

“Harriet is quite a talker,” Irene said.

“And you weren't going to tell me any of it.”

“Why should I? After all, I hardly know you.”

P.J. glanced at her. “Seems we're getting to know each other pretty well. I've helped you out twice now. Maybe I can help again.”

Irene was suddenly interested. “Help find my mother?”

“My guess is the chief hasn't told you everything he knows about what's going on in those mountains.”

“I've been around law enforcement long enough not to let that be a surprise, but what do you mean? What, exactly,
is
going on?”

P.J. shook his head. “Can't say for sure, but there's been a lot of hush-hush talk that something's about to come down. Rumor is it involves Susana's husband, Tomas Delgado.”

“Tomas Delgado is in a nursing home,” Irene said.

“Well, he hasn't been there all of his life,” P.J. said.

“So this goes back a long time.”

“Apparently. At least that's the rumor.”

“And Susana was killed because she knew about it,” Irene said. She could feel her heartbeat quicken. “Was Loraine involved somehow as well? I mean, they were friends. And Adelle. She was a friend to both of them. She has to be in real danger. She could even be—”

“Don't jump to conclusions. She was alive the last time Rafael saw her.”

Irene's chest tightened. “That doesn't mean she's still alive. I'm scared. Really scared.”

“You told the police. That's all you can do.”

“That can't be all I can do. Adelle is my mother. I have to try to find her.”

P.J. turned his head toward her suddenly. “No!”

“Don't tell me—”

“Don't go back into the Pecos Wilderness alone. Not without me or Rafael.”

“Neither of you have anything to do with this. I don't see how either of you could be of any help.”

“You'd be surprised how much help Rafael can be,” P.J. said.

“You know him?”

“Um-hum.”

“Oh, I get it,” Irene said. “He was, or is, a client of yours. He's some kind of criminal.”

“He's just a farmer.”

“A farmer?” Irene paused for a few seconds. “I see. A farmer with an illegal crop.”

P.J. shrugged. “He didn't hurt anybody. Made a few bucks, but he consumed most of it himself.”

“You don't have to defend him to me. Just how do you think he can be of any help in finding Adelle?”

“I'm not sure,” P.J. said. “But he knows a lot about that wilderness and what goes on up there. He's a good contact to have.”

“Then I have to talk to him again.”

“I said no, don't do it, and I mean it,” P.J. said. “Stay away from there if you value your life.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“Not a threat, a warning. It comes with utmost concern and the best of intentions,” he said as they re-entered the city limits. “You want me to take you home or to your store?”

“I want you to take me to get my car,” she said.

“Rafael and I will bring it to you,” he answered, “but not yet. You've got to wait until it dries out more. I heard about the storm up there on the news last night.”

“I can't be without a car!”

“Did you have a car in New York?”

“That's different. There's no reliable public transportation in Santa Fe.”

“Just call me. I'll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Then take me to my store.” She knew she sounded petulant, but she felt worse than petulant. She felt helpless. P.J. responded with a slow shake of his head.

When they arrived on the plaza and P.J. stopped the car in front of her store, she managed a decent thank-you and hurried inside. Angel met her at the door wearing an anxious expression.

“Thank God you're here!” He threw his arms around her. “I heard all about it, and I was so worried.”

“What did you hear?”

“Heard about the woman who followed you and who tried to kill you. Your mom missing. God, I'm so sorry. You must be out of your mind with worry.”

“I am, Angel, I am, but tell me, how did you know all this? How did you find out so fast? I mean, I just got back from—”

“Mrs. Baumgarten called just before you got here. She wanted to see if you arrived safely and how you were coping. She told me everything.” He took her arm and led her toward the back of the store. “I brought some tea bags with me this morning when I came to work. I'll fix you a cup. I know how upset you must be.”

Harriet had told him everything. Of course she had. Harriet could never keep her mouth shut. The entire town would know by dinnertime. Maybe that was a good thing, she mused, as Angel pulled out a chair for her. If the entire town knew Adelle was missing, maybe someone would come forth with a clue. Maybe someone would know how to find Adelle before it was too late.

Angel took a tea bag from a box he'd placed on a low utility table where both hot water and coffee were heating in electric pots. “I'm going to make chamomile. Maybe it will help you relax. It may even help you sleep.”

“I don't want to sleep. I want to find—”

“But you should sleep.” Angel handed her a steaming cup of water and a tea bag. “Maybe if you went home and—”

“I don't want to go home, either. There's no one there. I need to be out looking for her.”

“Drink your tea first, then we'll make a plan.” He sat in one of the other chairs, positioning himself so he could watch the front door in case a customer entered. He was thoughtful, mothering her with tea and admonitions to rest, reassuring her that he had a plan, whether it was true or not. She hadn't had that kind of treatment since her grandmother died. Although Adelle had never been mothering, she was her mother nevertheless, and Irene couldn't keep the black cloud of gloom and worry away.

“Mrs. Baumgarten said you found something that looked like a big safe with a massive lock,” Angel said.

“Harriet doesn't leave out much.” Irene sipped the tea and sounded weary.

“Tell me about it,” Angel said.

“I'm sure there's not much to say that Harriet hasn't already covered,” Irene said. “It's just as she said. Looked kind of like a bank vault.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Angel said, and asked her more questions about the house, the woman with the gun. Irene did her best to fill him in on everything, including the fact that the woman who threatened them was the same woman to whom he'd sold the dress on his first day. They were interrupted only once when Angel sprang from his seat to help a customer. He sold her a Gucci bag for half the original cost but at a sixty percent profit for the store.

“Slow day,” Angel commented, when he returned to the back. “Guess you're due one after the bonanza you had yesterday. I'll show you the receipts when you're up to it.”

“Okay.” Irene's voice was dull. She was finding it hard to think about anything except her mother. All she could manage was gratitude that Angel had proven to be so helpful. She tried to pull herself together enough to help out with customers who trickled in throughout the rest of the day. Two women who came in together asked specifically for Angel, the handsome young man who'd helped them the day before. They even pronounced his name correctly, likely coached by Angel. He was a natural, no doubt about it.

“I'll give you a ride home,” he said, as they closed and locked the front door at the end of the day. “We still have to come up with a plan to get your car back.”

She told him about P.J.'s offer to solicit Rafael to help him bring it down from the mountains.

Angel's response was “Hmm,” along with an expression she couldn't read.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, really,” Angel said. “It's just that Mr. Bailey is pretty well known around here. Big-shot criminal lawyer. Defends all the tough cases. Usually gets the bad guy off. But you probably know that already.”

“So I've heard.”

“He likes the spotlight,” Angel said. “I guess that's why he takes all the high-profile cases.”

“Never figured him for the flamboyant type,” Irene said. “Eccentric maybe, but…”

“I wouldn't call him flamboyant, just unorthodox. And smart. He's made a name for himself, not to mention a bundle of cash.”

“Never would have guessed he had money,” Irene said. “He drives that beat-up old pickup.”

Angel laughed. “Yeah, I've seen his ride. I guess that's just part of the persona he portrays. Makes him look humble, I guess. Or eccentric.”

“I see.”

Angel looked up from the sink in the back room, where he was washing the last teacups before closing the store. “Now, don't get me wrong. I'm sure he's a nice guy. Most of the single women in this town would kill for the attention he's giving you.”

Irene shook her head. “I wouldn't call it attention. I just seem to run into him all the time.”