A Basket of Trouble (25 page)

its neck might make it look more team-oriented. It was the best

she could do.

She threw the cracked glass in the trash and wondered what

she would do with one Bronco’s wineglass. She found Leon’s cell

phone number in her directory and called him.

Leon’s deep voice boomed through the connection. “Claire, my

favorite white woman. What you up to, lady?”

“Right now, making a Broncos-themed gift basket. But I have a

favor to ask.” She explained the deaths at Charley’s stable and Detective Wilson’s search for Oscar Vargas. “Do you know the man?”

“Not personally, but I know his rep. He’s a mean mother. A

business associate used one of his guys to run some product across the border a while back. But he broke that connection when Vargas wanted a bigger share of the take.”

“Does your associate know where Vargas lives?”

“Don’t rightly know. I suppose I could ask him. Poke around a

little. So what’s in this for me?”

“You mean besides eliminating more of your competition?”

Leon let out a belly laugh. “Yeah, woman.”

Claire looked at the tumbled basket on her work table. “Any-

one you know have a birthday coming up? I could make a gift bas-

ket for you.”

207

Leon laughed. “I bet you could. You remember Condoleza,

right?”

The girlfriend of the massage therapist who had been shot

dead while giving Claire a massage. “Oh yeah.”

“She’s laid up with a broke arm.”

“Oh, God, did she get involved with another abusive guy?”

“No, nothing like that. You know I watch out for that girl. She

fell on her arm while salsa dancing a couple nights ago. Probably had one too many mojitos.” He chuckled. “I was gonna take her

some flowers or something, but a gift basket from you would be

better.”

“Sure, I can do that. Tell me what kinds of things she likes.”

Claire had already pulled over a pen and a pad of paper and writ-

ten “salsa how-to DVD?” on it.

She and Leon brainstormed on items for Condoleza’s basket,

then Leon said, “Think you could have it ready tomorrow? We

could slam down some lunch at my rib-joint and do the trade. I

should be able to make some calls by then and find out Vargas’s

hidey-hole for you.”

So soon?
Claire’s mind raced. She had invited Charley and Jessica over for dinner, and she still had the Broncos basket to finish and deliver. But maybe she could delay delivery of that one.

She would have to spend the rest of the day buying items for Con-

doleza’s basket locally. It would be tough, but the sooner she could help Wilson close the case, the sooner Charley’s business could

start to recover.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there at noon.”

———

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At six that evening, Claire opened her front door to Charley and

Jessica and invited them in. They would be eating a store-bought

cake for dessert, and chips and salsa for an appetizer instead of the seven-layer-dip she had originally planned to make. But she

had succeeded in buying most of the items she had listed for Con-

doleza’s gift basket. Roger fixed drinks while she finished putting a salad together, then she could finally relax for a few minutes.

She plopped on the couch in the living room and gladly ac-

cepted a margarita from Roger.

“You look a little frazzled, Claire,” Jessica said. “I hope having us over wasn’t too much trouble.”

Claire waved her hand. “No, it’s not that. I’ve been busy work-

ing on a gift basket that I’m trading for information on where

Oscar Vargas is.” When the other three showed their surprise, she explained Wilson’s request and her deal with Leon.

Roger frowned. “You know I don’t like you associating with

him. He’s a drug dealer, for God’s sake.”

“I trust him.” Claire patted his arm. “And it’s just lunch. If I can do anything to help Charley, I will.”

Charley’s eyes widened. “I don’t want you putting yourself in

danger for me.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Claire replied, “But Leon’s a friend. He

won’t hurt me—or let anyone else hurt me either.”

Charley studied her for a moment then said, “Okay, but only if

you’re sure you’ll be safe.”

“I’m sure.” Claire sipped her margarita and savored the perfect

blend of tangy lime, peppery tequila and sweetness. “Now tell me

about your day.”

209

“I’ve been busy today, too,” Charley said. “First, Jorge called his former boss in Oaxaca. The man contacted a friend with a tourist horseback riding business in Puerto Vallarta, whose English

was excellent. Jorge talked to him about Pedro, then I got on the phone. He said Pedro sounds ideal for his operation and that he

should come talk to him once he’s deported back to Mexico.”

“That’s great news.” Roger raised his glass in a toast and took a sip.

Charley joined him and smacked his lips. “You make a great

margarita, Roger. I also had a meeting with an immigration lawyer about Jorge.”

“What did he say?” Claire asked.

Charley shook his head sadly. “He told me that, legally, since I

now know that Jorge’s not a legal immigrant, I can no longer em-

ploy him. If I do, not only will I have to pay a fine, I can be criminally prosecuted.”

“Damn,” Roger muttered.

Claire leaned forward. “Is there any way you can help him be-

come a legal immigrant?”

“I asked. The lawyer said there’s a form I could fill out, a Petition for an Alien Worker.” Charley took a gulp of his drink. “But it won’t do any good, because the only kinds of workers that are

being approved are temporary agricultural workers like crop-

pickers, health care workers like nurses, and special categories

like highly educateded PhD types where no US equivalent exists.

There’s basically no way an employer can sponsor someone who is

just a skilled worker.”

210

Roger polished off his margarita. “What a shame. So Jorge’s

screwed, then?” He stood and reached out a hand for Charley’s

empty glass. “Another?”

“Sure.” Charley handed him the glass, and as Roger went to the

pitcher to pour more, he said, “About the only way immigrants are legally getting in from Mexico these days is if they have a family member who is already legally in the US and who fills out a Petition for an Alien Relative. And even then, the wait is at least sixteen years.”

Claire sat up straight. “Sixteen years? You have got to be kid-

ding me!”

“No he’s not.” Jessica shook her head. “It’s absolutely ridicu-

lous.”

Charley took the drink Roger offered him. “The lawyer says

that’s why we have so many illegal immigrants, because there’s no realistic way they can get in legally. And the conditions are too de-plorable in Mexico for them to stay. There’s no work, no way for

them to feed their families. That’s why we need immigration re-

form. He said Jorge’s best chance was to keep delaying court dates while we wait for politicians to reinstate Reagan’s Immigration Act or some equivalent.”

Roger resettled on the couch next to Claire. “What’s that?”

“It offered temporary amnesty to immigrants who were al-

ready in the country and filed for legal status. It allowed them to keep on working and living here while they waited for their paperwork to go through. If we get some kind of immigration reform

like that, it should open up more job categories for employers like me to legally petition for someone.”

211

Jessica, who had been slouching in her chair and looking sad-

der by the minute, piped in. “So what’s the delaying tactic?”

Charley looked at her. “Well first, the lawyer told me that I

should have Jorge come in and talk to him and hire him as his

legal counsel.”

“But he can’t afford a lawyer,” Jessica replied.

Charley held up a hand. “I’ll pay for it.”

Jessica made as if to speak, then stopped. Claire’s thoughts

filled in the unspoken words,
Charley can’t afford it either.

“The next step,” Charley said, “is to have me, or preferably a

relative, file a petition for his legal status, and for Jorge to file for a green card. At that point, he’ll be arrested for being in the country illegally.”

“But that’s no good,” Claire began.

Charley held up a hand. “Hear me out. I’ll bail Jorge out,

and the lawyer will ask the judge to schedule a formal hearing of Jorge’s case. Hopefully the judge will agree to a hearing, and it will take many months to schedule it. Also, the lawyer will try to keep on delaying the date. In the meantime, I ask for a temporary work authorization, pending the hearing. Hopefully that won’t take as

long.”

Roger frowned. “And until then, Jorge can’t legally work and

earn any money.”

Charley nodded dolefully. “Right. He could volunteer for me in

exchange for room and board, maybe.”

“And Jorge’s not the only one this hurts,” Jessica said. “We’ll be paying for the lawyer and bail out of our pocket just on the chance that reform will take place before his case comes up.”

212

“But I’m still going to do it,” Charley said fiercely. “Not just for Jorge, but for me. I need him.”

“Have you explained all this to Jorge?” Claire asked. “What’s he

think of it?”

Charley shook his head. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning at

the stable.” He straightened. “And speaking of the stable, I’ve got definite proof now that Tim Lindall has a spy on my property.”

“How so?” Roger asked.

“Lindall called me today and said he knows I’ve got illegal im-

migrants working for me.” Charley made a sour face like he had

just bitten into a crabapple. “He said that if I can’t follow the law, I don’t deserve to be in business. Figuring the news about Pedro

must have gotten out, I said I didn’t know Pedro was illegal when I hired him. Lindall said, ‘He’s not the only one,’ and told me he was going to file a written complaint with the city Parks and Rec director.”

Jessica nibbled on her lip. “Do you think he knows about

Jorge?”

Charley nodded.

Claire gripped her drink glass tighter. “Remember when I

thought Hank Isley may have been listening to our conversation

yesterday? And that he was talking to Tom Lindall like he knew

him well at Jessica’s charity event? I bet that’s how Tom found out.”

Charley exhaled deeply. “Hank’s been a good employee.

Stepped right into Kyle’s role of leading most of our trail rides. I can’t fire him, too.”

“But if you know Hank’s feeding Tom information, and Hank

doesn’t know you know, maybe you can use that to your advan-

tage.” Claire raised her eyebrow.

213

A sly grin spread across Jessica’s face. “Oooh, sneaky.”

“How?” Charley asked.

“What kind of false information could we feed Hank that

would create havoc for Tom?” Claire tapped a finger on her lip

while her mind raced. “Something that would unbalance his busi-

ness as much as yours is now, and would let us know once and for

all that Hank’s the spy?”

“Maybe tell Hank that ICE is going to search Tom’s records,

too?” Roger offered.

“If Tom’s got a lick of smarts,” Charley said, “he’s already fig-

ured out that’s going to happen.”

Claire stood and walked to the window, then turned to the

group. “What about something that could affect his horses instead of his staff?”

“Like a disease?” Charley nodded. “That could work. Some-

thing like strangles that could mean your whole herd has to be

quarantined.”

“What’s strangles?”

“Equine distemper. Highly contagious. If Tom heard one of his

horses had it, he’d cancel that day’s rides and set all of his wranglers to work sterilizing equipment and stalls. It would drive him batty.” Charley rubbed his hands together.

“So how do we spread the rumor?” Claire asked.

Charley looked at Jessica. “Outlaw’s come up lame, right?”

She nodded. “Just started limping this afternoon. Jorge treated

him, though. He thinks the swelling in his hoof will come down in a day or two.”

214

“And today was Hank’s day off, so he doesn’t know.” Charley

stood and started pacing. “If I remember right, Roger, you were

riding Outlaw when your group met up with Vince’s on the trail.”

Roger nodded.

“Jessica, you and I could have a conversation in the barn within

earshot of Hank tomorrow.” Charley rubbed his hands together.

“You tell me that the vet said Outlaw has equine distemper. When

I ask where he could have gotten it from, you say that you ques-

tioned Roger, who was riding him when the two trail rides met up.

And Roger said Outlaw had contact with one of Lindall’s horses.

I’ll say that I’m glad we caught it in time and Outlaw should stay quarantined.”

Jessica stood. “We could trailer Outlaw to our house before

Hank comes in,” she said excitedly, “and let him recover from his lameness in our fenced yard. With Outlaw gone, Hank won’t be

able to see if he really has strangles or not.”

“You can keep a horse in your yard?” Roger asked.

Jessica nodded. “It’s why we picked the house. It’s zoned for up

to three horses, and we figured we could use it to quarantine stock if we needed to.”

“I’ll tell Hank that I told Park and Rec about the contact with

Tom’s herd,” Charley continued, “that I think that’s where Outlaw got it from, and that they’ll probably want to test all of Tom’s herd.

That’ll drive Tom into a tizzy.” Charley chuckled and slapped his thigh.

“Brittany was on that ride,” Claire said. “Will she back up your