Free Iced by Carol Higgins Clark Page A

supposed to know?” Louis protested.
    Regan was becoming exasperated. “Well, Louis, how much did you see him? . . . What are you doing, Louis?”
    Louis took his hand off his wrist. “I was taking my pulse. I’m getting overexcited.”
    Regan didn’t dare look at Sawyer. “Louis, come on. What do you know of Eben’s social life around here?”
    “He kept to himself. He didn’t want anyone to know about his past. What a joke, huh? When I first got here, he stopped by when we were doing the renovations. After we opened last month he’d drop in for an occasional beer, always on a night he was going to the movie theater down the block. He loves the movies.”
    “He had plenty of time in prison to develop a fondness for them,” Sawyer said wryly.
    Regan ignored the remark. “So he liked going to the movies. What else?”
    Louis looked up at the ceiling as if the next answer would materialize there. “He mentioned something about going to McDonald’s after the show.”
    Sawyer’s face took on that you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “If you were such good friends, why didn’t he eat here?” he asked.
    “He likes Big Macs,” Louis said defensively.
    Detective Sawyer stood up. “I don’t think there’s anything more we can do here,” he said. “I assure you I’ll keep in touch. I trust you’ll be sticking around, Mr.Altide?”
    “If I’m not run out of town,” Louis sighed.
    When the door closed behind Sawyer, Louis turned to Regan. “Regan, this is your vacation. You came here to ski. Forget about me.”
    Regan took in the pathetic demeanor of her friend. “A friend in need is a friend indeed,” she assured him.
    “How corny, Regan. I can’t believe you said that.” He gave one final blow on the last tissue.
    “I can’t believe you told me to forget what’s going on. How can I forget it? Thanks to you I’m an accessory after the fact.” She paused. “Besides, you know me. I like to ski, but it wouldn’t compare with the satisfaction of tracking down Eben-eezer.”
    In Los Angeles, Regan had just finished a case where she had traced a guy using stolen credit-card numbers. He ordered merchandise to be delivered to an address that was temporary, to say the least. Regan had been only too happy to deliver the purchases to him in person, ending his shopping spree for good. And, as always when a case like that wrapped up, she felt anxious to take on another challenge.
    She just never guessed it would come so fast and hit so close to home.
    Standing up, she said, “And I’m going to start by getting Kendra to arrange a meeting for me with the Grants. I want to hear firsthand the whole family’s version of old Saint Nick’s performance the other night.”

15
    I DA COULDN’T GET her mind off all the excitement going on in Aspen as she spooned out the pancake batter into perfect circles in the frying pan. She couldn’t get over the shivery delight of being close to celebrities who had just been robbed. To think that a star like Kendra Wood and her husband Sam the producer had called her daughter Daisy practically the minute they knew. She couldn’t wait to hear the reaction from her bridge club when she got back to Ohio. This morning she’d talk about it with the customers who came into the store with their dirty holiday clothes.
    As she stood there watching the batter bubble, she counted the blueberries in each pancake. Fair is fair, she thought, and the kids would notice any difference in the blueberry count.
    “Zenith! Serenity!” she called. “Grandma Ida’s pancakes are almost ready!”
    Daisy appeared in the kitchen in her flannel bathrobe. Stretching her arms, she yawned and said, “Thanks, Mom. You didn’t have to do that.”
    “My grandchildren mean the world to me. When I’m here I like to spoil them. Besides, that whole-grain cereal starts to taste like cardboard after a while, don’t you think?”
    “It’s healthy for them,” Daisy protested. She grabbed some oranges