An Old Faithful Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

“Look, there are seats, we can eat with the kids,” Susan said.

  “We’d better not talk—” Jed began.

  “I don’t even want to think about the Ericksens right now,” his wife agreed, smiling as she walked to her children.

  FIFTEEN

  Susan probably should have fallen asleep the instant her head touched the pillow. After all, she had skied almost a dozen miles, found a dead man, and become involved in an investigation of his death. It had been a busy day, but she’d had a nap of over an hour and a half during the ranger talk. So when she lay down beside her already snoring husband, she found she couldn’t sleep. She hated lying in bed waiting for sleep to come. She glanced at the tiny travel alarm on the bedside table. Squinting, she could barely see the shining numerals. She’d give herself fifteen minutes. Then, if she was still awake, she’d get up and …

  That stopped her. At home she’d go to the basement and run a load of wash, or sit down in the kitchen and make out a grocery list for next week; there were always chores awaiting her attention. And if that didn’t work, she could drink a glass of Chablis in a warm bubble bath. But she was in the middle of a national park in the middle of winter; no chores, no bubble bath, and the closest wine was in the bar, which would require a trip outside, and she might find it closed at this hour. Susan sighed, punched her pillow, and rolled over. Sleep, damn it! she muttered.

  It didn’t work, and that didn’t surprise her. Carefully, trying not to wake her husband, she got up and went into the bathroom. Long underwear dripped from the shower rod; wool socks were lying on the floor in the corner, their red dye oozing onto the white towels underneath; every spot on the tiny counter surrounding the sink was filled with hand cream, face cream, shaving supplies, brushes for hair and teeth, Ben-Gay, bottles of aspirin, and all the other necessities of life. This was no place to relax. She yanked on a flannel shirt that Jed had draped over the back of the door. It was large enough to cover most of her nightgown; she hadn’t brought a robe. Back in the dark of the bedroom, she scrounged around and found one of the door keys. Quietly she left the room, tiptoeing out into the hall. After all, she thought, closing the door gently behind her, how many people would be awake and about at this hour? She turned and found herself face-to-face with over a dozen Japanese tourists. One or two giggled as they hurried on their way. Susan sighed, tried to smile graciously, and walked down the hall to the outside door.

  The instant the door parted company with the jamb, she changed her mind about even a short look outside. It was well below zero, and frigid wind swirled around her naked ankles like dancing knives. She shut the door and spun around. This time she was alone. She walked slowly down the hall; she had noticed some public rooms at the end of the corridor opposite their room. Now was as good a time to explore as any.

  There were three rooms. She knew at least one of them contained a soda machine; Chad had been asking her for quarters ever since they arrived at the hotel. She wrapped the shirt more tightly around herself and entered the largest of the rooms. It was unoccupied. A group of chairs and a sofa or two furnished the large room, as well as two vending machines, one for soda and one offering candy and packaged snacks. Susan rummaged in the shirt pockets; she was a little hungry herself. There was nothing else to see except for a bulletin board announcing the topics of the rangers’ meetings, various ski trips, and other activities. Susan wished she had known about this sooner. Now that she had gotten into the routine of the place, all this had nothing to offer. She walked to the next room and found it empty except for a humming ice machine. She glanced out the window into the darkness. Who could possibly need ice with all this snow around?

  The final room turned out to be a well-equipped laundry. One wall was lined with a half dozen washing machines; the other displayed an equal number of dryers. Susan smiled, noticing that the two farthest from the door were full. The spinning had stopped, and the owner had either forgotten or decided to wait till morning to pick up his clothing. She’d know who it was tomorrow; he or she would be the one wearing very wrinkled clothing.

  So what was she going to do now? There was always the upstairs of the lodge to be explored. But she had heard footsteps over her head out in the hall; it sounded as though people were awake up there. Did she really want anyone else to see her dressed like this? Did she really want to lie in bed, waiting to sleep? She started for the stairs, only to be met by a couple more outlandishly dressed than herself. And they didn’t appear to be the least bit embarrassed about it all.

  “If you hit me one more time, I’ll push you into Old Faithful the next time it goes off!” threatened a voice from the second floor.

  “You and who else?” This jibe was followed by the appearance of a young man in his late teens or early twenties wearing a one-piece red union suit and bright blue wool socks. His long hair fell over his shoulders. In one hand he carried a ski pole with a bright red bandanna tied to one end.

  “I mean it, you dirty rotten—” The girl stopped her threatening when she reached the bottom of the stairway and saw Susan there. “Oh …” She appeared not to know what to say, then she looked down at herself, as if wondering, for the first time, what impression her clothing would make. She was wearing a union suit, also, only hers was international orange, and she had accessorized this remarkable garment in the following manner: A green bandanna was tied around her neck, a neon pink fanny pack accentuated her admittedly small waistline, the purple and gray hiking boots on her feet had red socks peeking out of their tops, and on her head she wore a cowboy hat remarkably similar to that affected by Dr. Cockburn. She seemed happily unaware that, somewhere in New York’s most prestigious cemetery, fashion editors were turning over in their graves. “Hi! We didn’t mean to disturb anybody.” She smiled.

  “I’m sure you didn’t.” Susan smiled back, trying to convey the message that she, too, had been young once.

  “We’ll be more quiet,” the young man promised, putting his arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Why don’t we go to bed now, hon?”

  “Do you really think that’s more …” the girl began, starting to giggle again.

  Susan hurried on up the stairs, leaving them to their antics. Wondering what she was going to run into next, she stopped at the top and peered around the corner and down the hall. There was no one in sight. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. She walked slowly down the corridor. Someone was snoring in the room next to the stairwell, and farther down the hall a baby was crying, possibly the same one she had seen earlier riding happily on his father’s back while he skied along the trail. Susan spent a moment thinking about Kathleen, who was skiing all day and nursing Bananas most of the night—she had looked exhausted at dinner and had again skipped the lecture. When Susan got to the end of the hallway, she finally had to admit to herself why she hadn’t been asleep. The last five rooms, divided on either side of the hallway, belonged to the Ericksens. For some reason, the senior Ericksens were staying in the main lodge, and the rest of the family was here.

  She slowed down and stared at the five doors. She was positive of the location, as there had been some room shifting two days ago when her children and Heather and C.J. had decided to regroup. To keep the Henshaws together on the same floor, two very nice couples had agreed to switch rooms to the second floor. Susan and Jed has assisted their move. And out of curiosity, she had noted which rooms belonged to which Ericksen. She leaned against the wall now, thinking about it.

  On the right side of the hall, the room closest to her was occupied by Charlotte. Next was her sister Jane’s room, and at the end of the hallway, by the other set of stairs, was the room shared by Darcy and his friend. Where was Randy? she wondered briefly. She hadn’t seen him all day. She stared at the three rooms. Light coming from under Darcy’s indicated that he was still up. There was no light from either of his sisters’ rooms. On the other side of the hallway, both rooms were dark. The nearest belonged to Joyce and Carlton, the other to Jon and Beth.
r />   Susan sighed and realized how sleepy she actually was. She mentally shook herself. This was no way to find out anything. She was acting foolishly. Time to go to bed. She had a lot to do in the morning, and she was going to do it without ruining her family’s vacation. She started down the stairway and would have gone back to her room and to bed if the door to Darcy’s room hadn’t opened, if she hadn’t heard the voice. And maybe she shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but it’s very difficult to resist such an opportunity, especially when her own name was mentioned in the first sentence anyone spoke.

  “Do you think this Susan Henshaw will really be able to help us, Charlotte?”

  She assumed the voice was Darcy’s.

  “I think she was thrilled to be asked. I think she’ll do just what we hope—”

  “Shouldn’t we—”

  Was this Jane? Susan wondered.

  “We shouldn’t do anything except what she asks us to do. Mama wasn’t very happy with me when I volunteered information, and I daresay she is right. Mrs. Henshaw is bound to ask a lot of questions, and we should answer as well as we are able.”

  “Whatever you say,” Darcy agreed, speaking slowly. Susan imagined him looking down at the floor.

  “This is harder on you than on the rest of us,” one of his sisters commiserated. “Are you going to be okay? Is there anything we can do?”

  “No, I’m fine. Yesterday I really didn’t think I was going to make it, but today …” He paused, and Susan could almost feel his deep breath. “Today I woke up and knew what I had to do. I’ll be fine. There will be time to mourn later.”

  SIXTEEN

  It was an enigmatic comment, not what Susan needed to lull her back to sleep. But there was nothing for her to do at this time of the night … except, of course, the laundry. There were those wet socks and a couple of cotton turtlenecks.… It wasn’t a hot bath, but anything was better than wandering the halls like a lost soul. And she had a lot to think about. She hurried down the stairs and back to her room.

  She unlocked the door quietly, but Jed’s snores were assurance that she didn’t have to worry about waking him up. It took but a few minutes to gather the laundry, grab her wallet, and leave. She tiptoed down the hall to the laundry room, hoping the Japanese tourists were snug in their beds. The laundry room was damp and warm, and as Susan filled the machine, she felt herself getting sleepier. She leaned against the humming equipment and looked through the circular windows into the stationary dryers. She was going to need to use one of those machines herself. Not having nerve enough to merely dump the load on any convenient space, Susan opened the door of the dryer closest to her machine and began folding the still warm clothing.

  Whoever had abandoned his or her clothing had excellent taste and an ample income, Susan thought, examining labels from some of the most exclusive ski shops and men’s stores in New York City. She ran the fine Egyptian cotton of an elaborate pullover through her fingers; it was almost a pleasure to fold them. There were nearly a dozen sweaters, and they made a colorful pile when she was finished. She was admiring her work when Kathleen walked into the room.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing up at this hour?” Kathleen answered her question with a question.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Too much has happened today, I guess. But what about you? You’re not even staying in this building! Why are you up and dressed at …” She paused, planning to check her watch before she realized that she wasn’t wearing one.

  “At one-seventeen a.m.,” Kathleen read off her wrist. “I’m here to get something to eat from the machine. The dining room is locked up, the gift shop deserted, and I’m starving. I finished feeding Bananas ten minutes ago, but I knew there was no way I was going to get any sleep unless I had something to eat, too. So here I am.”

  Susan glanced at the churning washing machine. “So let’s go see what those machines have to offer,” she suggested.

  “I’m hoping for peanut butter cups,” Kathleen confessed.

  “Or Almond Joys,” Susan said, following her friend down the hall.

  “No one does laundry in the middle of the night,” Kathleen insisted when they were seated on the couch, munching candy bars.

  “Someone else did. I just finished folding his stuff,” Susan argued. “Besides, where else could I go? I didn’t want to wake Jed up by turning on the light and reading—and there are others up,” she added, and explained about hearing the Ericksens.

  “I noticed the lights on in the rooms on the end of the second floor. I didn’t know that was where the entire family was staying, though.”

  “Not the entire family. Phyllis Ericksen is in the main lodge.”

  “Surely they wouldn’t leave her alone tonight,” Kathleen said, picking the chocolate off the top of her candy and popping it into her mouth.

  “Probably not.” Susan was silent, thinking about the conversation she had heard earlier. “Maybe Joyce or Carlton is with her.

  “Phyllis asked me to help investigate the murder tonight,” she added.

  “How did she know you had experience with this sort of thing?”

  “Evidently Chad told C.J. about it. I was surprised.”

  “Surprised?”

  “Surprised that he had been bragging about me. Usually he’s pretty negative about anything I do—or have done.”

  “I’m going to have some potato chips,” Kathleen said, getting up and heading for the machine. “Are you going to help her?”

  “Sure. Oh, I’m not going to get so involved that it ruins our vacation, but I’ll do whatever I can. Don’t you think I should?” she asked when Kathleen didn’t answer immediately.

  “Probably. I was just thinking about what a strange family they are.” She ripped open the chip bag. “Even more now that they’re all together.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we got here three days before you did, remember. And the elder Ericksens arrived the same afternoon.”

  “And you noticed them right away?” Susan asked.

  “They stand out in a crowd,” Kathleen said.

  “What did they do?”

  “It’s not really what they do, but how they do it. You know, some people just act like they expect attention.”

  “Did you talk with them at all?”

  “Sure. We all sat together in front of the fireplace in the lobby the first night. Phyllis fell in love with Bananas. She said he was one of the handsomest babies she had ever seen and that he reminded her of her youngest son when he was an infant.”

  “That’s Darcy,” Susan mused, taking a chip from the bag that was offered. “He’s really what used to be called ‘the apple of her eye,’ isn’t he?”

  “I guess so. She talked about nursing him, and how I should enjoy my son now, and that her heart was broken when her husband insisted on sending the boy to nursery school very young.…”

  “She complained about her husband?” Susan asked, surprised.

  “Not really. She said that he was, of course, doing the best thing for his son. She actually made a big effort not to sound like she was criticizing.”

  “Because George was around?”

  “I don’t think so. George, Jerry, and that pretty girl ranger were busy looking at maps of the ski trails and talking about wax and stuff. I don’t think any of them was paying attention to what we said.”

  “Did you talk about anything else?”

  “She explained about the family reunion—that they were all getting together to celebrate their anniversary. I thought that was a little strange, to tell the truth.”

  “Why?”

  “Do couples usually celebrate their anniversary with a family party?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, you would think they would want to be alone together, wouldn’t you?”

  “I would, but our families are with us all the time. Phyllis and George’s children and grandchildren have been living all over—even in France. I
t’s probably a great treat to see them all together.” Susan didn’t end as positively as she had begun. After all, how many families celebrate anniversaries with a group squabble? A drowned effigy? A murder? So much for the great treat idea. “Whatever they were expecting, this wasn’t the reunion that they planned, was it?” she ended.

  “Maybe not. But someone planned on having this happen,” Kathleen insisted.

  “The murderer.”

  Kathleen nodded her agreement.

  “One of the family.” Susan peered into the now empty snack bag.

  “More than likely.”

  “I wonder which one.” Susan got up and headed back to the snack machine. “Want something else?” She waved at the selection available.

  “Sure. How about more chips? Or those cheese things?”

  “Why not both?” Susan suggested, laughing and pouring quarters into the machine. “You know, there aren’t a whole lot of suspects for this murder.… I counted seven. It might not be difficult to figure it out.”

  “Phyllis, Jane, Charlotte, Darcy, Carlton, Jon … unless you count Joyce …”

  “I was including Randy … although maybe we should include Joyce.”

  “Randy … the lover who has disappeared,” Kathleen mused.

  “He hasn’t been around.…”

  “Oh, he’s disappeared, all right. I was talking with one of the maids who cleans here—a very nice girl—and she said that all the staff were talking about it. Evidently he just vanished. The assumption is that he skied out of the park—he left everything but some clothing and his equipment behind.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No. There was that huge fight at dinner.…”

  “Yes. We were there, remember?”

  “And the next morning the maid noticed that Randy was gone. Darcy was more than a little upset and ran around yelling and questioning everybody—that’s how all the help knows about it—but he hasn’t returned.”

  “Why do they think he skied out?”