A Killer Closet (5 page)

“Irene…”

“Can you tell me exactly what Susana said about—what did you call it? Mariposa?”

“Yes, she named the lodge Mariposa Landing.”

“Odd name for a hunting lodge.
Mariposa
means butterfly in Spanish.”

“Well, Susana could come up with some odd ideas at times,” Harriet said. “Like her telling us to search Mariposa if anything should happen to her.”

“Search where, exactly? In the house? On the grounds? Looking for what?”

Harriet shook her head. “I don't know. We didn't ask. As I said, we ignored her. It was usually best not to get her started on anything like that. She had so many imaginary problems and ailments. Every new disease she heard about, she imagined she had it. Once she even told us she had low T.” Harriet shook her head. “She didn't even know what that meant.”

Irene remembered Susana's rather dramatic remarks about Loraine's death and her supposed affair. Was she only being overly dramatic? “Do you know where the lodge is located?” Irene asked. “I mean where, exactly, within the Pecos Wilderness?”

“Of course. I've been there several times. She even gave me a key in case George and I ever wanted to use the lodge.”

Susana felt a momentary jolt of sadness for her mother, who had never been invited.

“Lovely place,” Harriet continued. “Except for the way it's decorated, of course. Susana had no sense of style when it came to decorating. Should have hired a professional, but she insisted she knew—”

“Excuse me, Harriet, can you give me the address of Mariposa Landing?”

Harriet's eyes narrowed as she looked at Irene. “You're surely not thinking of going there.”

“I'd like to. Just to have a look around.” She pushed away the memory of Andy's warning her not to leave town.

“Well, I don't know…”

“All you have to do is give me the address. I'll just drive by and have a look at the outside of the place. Unless you want to come along; then we can go inside.”

A worried frown marred Harriet's face. “Of course I want to go along. It's just that…”

“What?”

Harriet frowned. “Well, that's trespassing, isn't it?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, she
invited
you and Adelle there. In the sense that she asked you to look for something there in the event something happened to her. And you just said, she gave you a key.”

The frown disappeared. “You're right! You're absolutely right! When can we leave?”

“Not as soon as I'd like,” Irene said. “I have a store to run. I need to hire someone to help out, and that may take a while.”

Harriet waved her hand, dismissing the notion. “There's no reason for it to take any time at all. I have the perfect person.”

“Still, I'd like—”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Harriet said. “I've known Angel for years. Cleans my house to make money to pay for school. Stays there to keep an eye on the place when George and I are traveling.”

“But…”

“I know what you're thinking,” Harriet said. “You're thinking a young housekeeper can't necessarily sell clothes or use a cash register. Angel has worked in sales. You don't have to worry.”

“I'd at least like to meet—”

“You'll be impressed.” Harriet was already on her way to her car, parked in the church lot. She waved her mantilla at Irene as she disappeared around the corner of the church.

The yellow tape was gone and the bloodstains removed from the floor by the time Irene reached the store the next morning. She hardly had time to open the turquoise-colored hand-carved doors before customers showed up, making their way through the front courtyard to enter the store. Most of the early customers were locals. She'd already learned to spot them by the cowboy boots they wore with skirts—both long and short. Apparently, the cowboy boots had taken the place of the heavy Native American jewelry Santa Fe women had chosen as their trademark a few years ago when Irene left the city. They came because they were curious about Susana's death. Irene answered the same questions over and over again.

What did the body look like? What was she wearing? Who found her? Why was the body in her store? Wasn't it kind of creepy that two bodies had been found there? Did the police think they knew who killed her?

Irene answered all of their questions with answers that were as short as possible. In the course of the morning she learned that Susana had indeed been a prominent socialite in Santa Fe whom everyone seemed to know, and that her husband was a wealthy businessman who was now too ill to work.

Tourists showed up a little later, and most of them had not heard the story. Many of them wore the beautiful turquoise they'd bought from Native Americans who displayed their wares on blankets spread in front of the old Palace of the Governors nearby.

The day proved to be a profitable one. By noon, Irene had sold two Donna Karan dresses for almost one thousand dollars each. They had been more than two thousand dollars new. She also sold a pair of Salvatore Ferragamo boots, and an Akaris leather-trimmed dress. Afternoon customers went for less expensive items, but the store always had at least three customers. Irene had been so busy she didn't have time to eat the egg sandwich she'd packed for herself until almost four o'clock.

She'd just removed the plastic bag containing the sandwich and a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the back when she heard the bell on the front door, signaling that a customer had entered. Before she could make her way to the doorway leading from her office to the store, she heard a male voice.

“Hey! You here?” The person standing in her doorway was a young Hispanic male. Although he was obviously barely twenty, he was handsome, dark hair and skin, thin, medium height, dressed all in black—not the profile of her usual customer.

“May I help you?” She couldn't deny a bit of trepidation. She'd lived in New York too long to be unconditionally trusting.

His dark eyes took her in for a moment. “You must be Ms. Seligman.” He extended his hand. “I'm Angel,” he said, pronouncing it
Ahn-hell.
“Angel Barreda. Mrs. Baumgarten sent me.”

“Oh…yes.” When Harriet had said she was sending someone named Angel, Irene had thought the person would be female. She chided herself that she should have known better. She was back in New Mexico now.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” she said, a little too quickly.

“I know about the death. Or deaths. It must be hard for you.”

“Uh, yes. Yes, it is. Of course.” She couldn't stop looking at him.

“Oh, I get it. You thought I'd be a chick.”

“Well, as a matter of fact—”

He smiled. “It's okay. Mrs. Baumgarten probably didn't tell you. Probably pronounced my name wrong, too.” He turned his head to look around. “Nice place. She said you need some help.”

“Perhaps,” Irene said, still cautious.

“Don't worry, I can provide you with documentation on my background check, and I…” He stopped mid-sentence when a customer walked in the door—a middle-aged woman, slightly overweight, with a pleasant face. “Good morning,” he said, walking up to her. “May I help you?”

“Oh, no, I'd just like to look around.”

“Of course.” Angel smiled and moved a few feet away. Irene kept her eyes trained on him. “Isn't that beautiful,” he said, when the woman pulled a gray sleeveless Lela Rose from a rack.

She held the hangered dress at arm's length. “It is, yes.”

Angel quickly pulled another dress from the same rack. The rich sapphire blue was stunning. “Look at this,” he said. “Now this would make those gorgeous blue eyes of yours sparkle.”

The woman studied the dress for a moment before she took it from Angel. “I'll try on both of them,” she said.

“The changing room is there,” Angel said, directing the woman toward a door clearly labeled
Changing Room.

“Not bad,” Irene said when the woman was securely inside the mirrored room. “But I think you talked her into the Chanel. It's less expensive than the Lela Rose.”

“I don't know the fancy brands,” Angel said, “but if you mean I pushed the blue one instead of the gray, then you're right. She's not going to buy the gray one. It's sleeveless. She's middle age. The arms don't hold up in middle age. The long sleeves on the blue dress will be more flattering. Think Jane Fonda.”

Irene gave him a doubtful look. “We'll see.”

Within a few moments, the woman emerged holding the blue dress. “I'll take this one,” she said, handing Angel the blue dress. “You're right. It brings out my eyes.”

“Oh, yes, I knew it would,” Angel said. “Would you like to look around some more?”

The woman declined, saying she'd already spent her limit.

“I understand,” Angel said with a pleasant laugh. “But where else can you get a designer brand for such a bargain? Especially one that looks that great on you?”

“You are so right,” the woman said. “I've seen dresses similar to this at Neiman's in Dallas selling for thousands.”

“You're from Dallas?” Angel took the dress from her and, without asking Irene's permission, headed for the cash register near the front of the store to ring up the sale.

Irene was about to protest, but she watched as Angel handled the credit card transaction and the cash register with expertise, all the while engaging the woman in a conversation about herself, her life in Dallas, and her visit to New Mexico.

When the woman left, Angel turned toward her with a confident look.

“I'll pay you twenty percent above minimum wage and a commission on everything you sell,” Irene said.

“When do I start?”

“This afternoon. I have an errand to run that's going to require me to leave early.”

“There's something you should know,” Angel said.

Irene was silent, thinking,
Here it comes.

“I can only work part-time. I'm a student at Santa Fe University for Art and Design. I'm studying painting and sculpting.”

“Oh,” Irene said, the word coming out with a sigh of relief. “That's perfect. I only need you part-time.”

Irene could hardly believe her good fortune. Angel showed up at the store at three o'clock, exactly the time she'd asked him to come. He brought Harriet with him along with all the documentation of his background check, just as he had promised, and she gave him a quick overview of the items she had for sale in the small boutique. She left Angel with two customers who had entered the store together. He was leading them toward a rack at the back of the store where she kept the styles more suitable to decidedly overweight customers.

The first sign of problems began when she drove home to change her clothes.

“Harriet's going with you?” Adelle said. “Why on earth are you taking her along?”

“Because she knows where the lodge is located.” She didn't want to say she also had a key.

“How could she possibly know if she's never been there before?”

Irene was trying to think of a way to answer that wouldn't upset Adelle when she spoke again. “She
has
been there! I knew it! How will I ever live this down?”

“There's nothing to live down, Adelle. I'm sure there are plenty of people who've never been there.”

“I'm not going to be left out this time, though. Just let me get my handbag.” Adelle hurried up the hall to her own room.

“Please, there's no need.”

“Do you think I'll need an umbrella?”

“No, you won't need an umbrella, because you're not—”

Adelle emerged from her room carrying both her handbag and an umbrella. “Never hurts to be prepared.”

Irene sighed. “Okay, I give up, but before we go, there's something I have to ask you.”

“What is it? If it's about that outfit you have on, the answer is yes, you should change. You need something more slimming.”

“It has nothing to do with what I'm wearing. It's about something Susana said to me concerning you.”

Irene found it difficult to read Adelle's expression. Was it surprise or fear? “What on earth…” Adelle said.

“She said you need to be careful,” Irene said. “I think she believes you know too much. That's what she said about Loraine.”

Adelle frowned. “Know too much? About what?”

“I assume she was talking about why Loraine Sellers was murdered.”

“The nerve of her! I have no idea who—”

“She wasn't talking about who killed her. I believe she was referring to why she was killed,” Irene said.

Adelle was uncharacteristically silent for several seconds. “I have no idea what she was referring to.”

“You wouldn't lie to me, would you?”

Adelle took a breath and started to speak, but closed her mouth and said nothing.

“Would you?”

“Believe me, I have no idea why the poor woman was killed.” Adelle's face had grown pale. “All I know is…”

“All you know is what?” Irene asked, after another long pause.

“All I know is she was having an affair. Her husband was out of the country when she was killed, so maybe that takes the suspicion off him. Unless he hired someone to kill her.”

“There is that possibility,” Irene said, “but tell me, who was she having an affair with?”

Adelle shook her head. “I did my best to find out, but I don't know. Susana knew, and I know she thought I knew, but…”

“But what?”

Adelle breathed a heavy sigh. “But I didn't know. I told her I did, but I lied. All I know is that it upset Susana when she thought I knew. I couldn't let Susana think…Well, you know. I couldn't let her think I was out of the loop, as they say.”