Murder, She Slopes

by Rachael Stapleton

  I wanted to say yes, but I had to know one more thing. “What do you think killed Holly?” I asked.

  He stared at me. “I don’t know. They wouldn’t answer any of my questions. There was blood beneath her head so I thought maybe she’d skied into a tree or something, but that wouldn’t be murder, so obviously not.” Lucas stood up abruptly. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Let’s walk.”

  He led the way up one path, then down another, with furiously pounding footsteps. I had to trot to keep up with him. Finally he stopped.

  He pointed to a path across from the spa gate, surrounded by yellow tape and crime-scene warning signs. A sign painted like a candy cane marked the trails for the Winter Wonderland.

  “This is it—the area where I found her,” he said. “Maybe it will tell you something.”

  I walked around the path, tilting my head back and surveying the cliffs above that overlooked the path. It seemed unfair that a person should die in a place with such a cheery name. The yellow tape kept me from getting close enough to see anything more. Even so, as I stared down at the blood stained snow, my skin crawled. Holly, the woman I’d wished dead, had died here.

  “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” boomed a voice from behind me.

  Lucas stiffened with tension at my side. I turned and followed his eyes to the man with the gun on his hip.

  “Did you know killers always return to the scene of the crime?”

  Five

  _____________

  F or one frightening moment, I thought we were going to die.

  I turned to Lucas. His skin tone had gone beyond white into grey. “Detective Pierre Bumble, Mont-Tremblant Police Department,” he whispered.

  I wasn’t really sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t the tall, handsome man in the plain clothes that approached us. He had a square jaw shaved clean and a tiny dimple in his chin. Black eyebrows slashed over dark eyes that watched us attentively or was it suspiciously.

  He walked right up to me.

  “You must be Miss Trubble.”

  I nodded my confirmation.

  “The great detective turned journalist, or so I hear,” he added in a friendly tone, which didn’t quite rob his words of their sarcasm.

  I threw a glare in Lucas’ direction. Wonderful. So, Marie-Angelique wasn’t the only one he told. Detectives just loved when people weaseled in on their turf.

  “Well, Miss,” continued Detective Bumble, his blue eyes absorbing both Lucas and myself. “I could most likely benefit from your vast experience, but I am a little preoccupied today.”

  “There’s always tomorrow,” I replied, ignoring his jab.

  “Indeed. Although, you may want to watch the company you keep if you plan to see tomorrow,” he finished, and extended a large hand for shaking. His grip was surprisingly gentle, and brief. He dropped my hand after one squeeze and smiled. “I look forward to our talk tomorrow,” he added.

  Then Bumble turned to walk away. After he had taken a few steps, I heard the tension come whooshing out of Lucas’ body in one long sigh. No sooner did that happen then Detective Bumble turned back to us. “We will be talking to you again soon, Mr. Vallerand,” he said to Lucas. “Very soon.” Then he walked away, his steps unhurried.

  Lucas waited until Detective Bumble had driven out the gates before speaking. “I told you he thinks I did it! He’ll keep questioning me—”

  I interrupted him abruptly. “You need some rest. Everything’s worse when you’re sleep deprived. Just rest,” I repeated, in a firm tone.

  “You’re right. I need to stop over-thinking everything.” He spoke slowly and carefully. “I’ll go lie down. Will you be okay on your own or did you want to come with me?”

  I raised an eyebrow, and he smirked. “It was worth a shot.”

  “You’re gonna get shot if you don’t knock it off. Now, go and I’ll see you later.”

  As I watched Lucas move down the snowy path, I found myself longing for Cody. I shook my head and walked up the stairs of the main chalet and across the porch. Life at the moment was too complicated to think about.

  The dining hall was empty as if the entire resort was taking a nap, so I peeked over the top of the kitchen doors. Marie-Angelique was there alone, chopping potatoes rhythmically at a large butcher-block worktable in the center of the room. Such a sweet looking woman, I thought. But she wielded her knife with strength enough. Chop, chop, chop. She scooped up the pile and threw it into a giant, simmering sauce pot. The aroma of turkey and thyme that came from the oven made my mouth water. She grabbed a giant bowl of green beans and went to the sink to wash them.

  “Hello? May I come in?” I asked.

  Marie-Angelique jumped, spraying water onto the tiled floor as she did. I watched her eyes go round with fright as she raised her arm defensively in front of her face. Then she recognized me.

  “Oh, Miss Trubble,” she said, her eyes returning to their natural delicate shape once more. “What a start you gave me!” She dropped her arm and took a breath.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Call me Penelope.”

  “Yes, Penelope, that’s right.”

  “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. My stomach is eating itself. I was wondering if maybe you could hook me up,” I explained.

  “Hook you up?” she asked, not quite following me.

  Then, suddenly, she came to life. “Oh, food! Of course I can. Let’s see, what have we got for meat. The pork is gone but I have some leftover roasted chicken from last night.” She pulled a platter from the refrigerator. “And buns.” She went into the refrigerator again. “How about some cheese with that? I don’t have any fresh salad made up, but I do have lettuce and tomato for the sandwich.”

  “That’s great,” I assured her, before the whole contents of the kitchen ended up on her worktable.

  In a matter of a minute she had arranged a toasted chicken and cheese sandwich on a plate for me and gone back to her work. I pulled up a chair and took a bite.

  “You’re a wonderful chef,” I mumbled through a mouthful of gouda and mayonnaise.

  She looked up from her chopping and beamed a smile at me. “Oh, thank you I try but Justin usually does the cooking. He’s much better than me,” she said in a breathless tone. “We live on the second floor of the chalet so we’re nice and close. I do the prep work and the baking although lately, I’ve been doing it all. Of course, that’s only because Justin’s really a textile artist and he gets really involved in his work.” She looked up at me, her eyes requesting a response.

  “Really, textiles,” I garbled dutifully through my bread.

  “Oh, yes. He’s working on a rope piece right now for an art gallery in Montreal. It’s a socially conscious piece about how people are strangled by society’s expectations. Artists are different, you know. Some people just can’t understand that.”

  I nodded before swallowing. Justin was definitely different. And hadn’t Holly been strangled?

  “I have more of a head for business. I get that from my dad,” Marie-Angelique said. I watched her chopping onions and garlic. “When he passed on, I knew I wanted to do something special with the money that he’d left me. I saw this resort and thought it was perfect. I had just enough money to buy the place and fix it up. Now, Justin has more time to focus on his art. And Noel Bluebird is a big help. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”

  “How’d you find Bluebird?” I asked.

  She stared off into space for a moment and I thought she wasn’t going to answer and then she looked at me. “He just kind of showed up one day. He thought we could use a hand, and he was right.” She threw some chopped herbs in the blender, then giggled. “Good lord, did we ever need him! This place was falling down.” She pulled another huge pot out of the refrigerator. “So, anyway,” she continued, not even out of breath, “The resort was originally named Twin Peaks and we took that as a good omen. Did you know Justin is a twin? I think being a twin makes you more sensitive.” She paused and
wiped her hands on a towel.

  “A twin?” I almost bit my tongue. Had Justin’s twin brother murdered Holly?

  Hot damn! This conversation had just opened up a new angle. I needed to find Eve and relay my theory. I was imagining all the possibilities while Marie-Angelique rambled on. I knew what Eve would say: that his twin was probably living in the woods and that’s why Justin seemed to have a dual personality. He was probably a homicidal maniac who impersonated Justin at times. Sure it was far-fetched but it would explain things. I turned my attention back to Marie-Angelique who was knee deep in a story.

  “So, sorry what did you say Justin’s twin’s name was?”

  “Dani.”

  Noel Bluebird, the man who’d lassoed me earlier paused in the doorway as if Marie-Angelique had said something really wrong.

  “Did you get the bread?” Marie-Angelique asked him.

  Noel nodded and then strode in silently, carrying two grocery bags. He noted my presence with a curt nod and then began unloading the bags.

  “Have you seen Felix?” Marie-Angelique asked.

  Bluebird shrugged, his eyes meeting mine for an instant, then dropping. He folded the empty paper bags carefully.

  “Probably took off to snowboard again,” Marie-Angelique commented angrily as she snapped a green bean in two.

  “So,” I said, turning to the handyman, “you’re Noel Bluebird. Thanks for saving me earlier. Sorry if I seemed ungrateful.”

  Marie-Angelique looked up in alarm, “What happened?”

  “Your railing is broken and I almost fell—” I started to explain.

  “It was nothing,” Noel said, turning to Marie-Angelique, “It’s already been fixed. No need to worry yourself.”

  He shot me a look and I wondered why he was so eager to downplay the incident. I decided not to agitate him further. Best to use honey over vinegar and all that jazz.

  “Marie-Angelique tells me what a big help you are,” I offered.

  He muttered something that might have been, “Thank you.”

  “Are you from the area?” I tried.

  “Sure,” he said with a shrug.

  Marie-Angelique said nothing in response, just kept working.

  I took my last bite of cheese and put my plate in the sink.

  Marie-Angelique’s cheery voice broke into my ruminations. “You should try out some of the facilities while you’re here,” she said, dumping feta and ricotta into an herb mixture. “The lifts run until 10pm and the lights go out at 11pm. We have a hot tub and an ice tub. Our ice tub is actually wonderful. Hot and cold therapy is very good for you. It prolongs your life.” A nervous giggle escaped her lips. Was she thinking of Holly’s crumpled body in the snow?

  Marie-Angelique added some garlic before continuing. “Anyway,” she went on, “might as well take advantage, right, Noel?”

  Noel grunted.

  “A hot tub soak might be nice,” I said, slowly standing up. “I should get back and check on Lucas regardless,” I said brightly and then walked quickly to the swinging doors. “Oh, sorry, one more question: does Dani work here too?”

  Noel dropped the can he was holding.

  Marie-Angelique gave me a quick look over her shoulder before switching on the blender again, and Bluebird’s eyes grew dark as the herbs that whirled into oblivion. Apparently, I had once again stuck my foot in my mouth. I thought I saw the two exchange a look and I couldn’t help but wonder: just what did Noel know about Justin’s twin?

  Six

  _____________

  H ad he helped to cover up other murders? Or was Noel really the mysterious twin, Dani, posing as a handyman?

  I walked through the dining room and into the main foyer, focusing on the green and white curtains that flanked the window. Something weird had definitely just happened. I stood for a moment considering the possibilities as I stared out the large glass window over the landscaped grounds of Sleighs & Slopes Adventure Resort. What were they hiding?

  “Have a seat,” ordered a deep voice to my right. I refocused my eyes and turned toward the voice. Mateo sat looking up at me from his seat in front of the large stone fireplace. He was a direct man with strong eye contact and he gestured to the spot on the bench at his side in invitation.

  “Why, thank you,” I said and plopped myself down in the chair across from him. Once I was seated, Mateo had taken his eyes from my face, returning his gaze to the hearth.

  “Cozy seat you’ve found here,” I ventured.

  “Best in the place,” he agreed.

  I watched the flames flicker and dance, glancing occasionally at the snowy paths outside the window. Now, how to fish for his opinion on who killed Holly?

  “So warm and toasty here,” I said.

  “Very,” he agreed once more. Which sounded more like berry given his accent.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?”

  He turned his intense gaze on me. “Argentina,” he answered.

  “Oh, that’s a long way from here!” I said. His eyes crinkled into a near smile. “I’ve never been to South America. So, are you just visiting Quebec?”

  “No, I moved back to be with my mother after mi padre passed away. She was Canadian, and he was an old gaucho from the Pampas area. They split when I was a kid.”

  “Your father was a gaucho?”

  “You know what a gaucho is?”

  “A Spanish cowboy, right?”

  “Sort of—fewer guns.”

  “And what about horses?”

  “They work the cattle. True gauchos tamed the wild horses that roamed the pampas, lived off their hunting and gathering, and answered to no authority. That’s what mi padre always preached, anyway. Today, you’ll mostly find us rodeo riding in competitions at the fiestas.”

  “Is that what you did? Fiestas?” I persisted.

  Mateo snorted. “Hardly. I worked on the family ranch. When my father died, I took the money and moved here to take care of my mom and then I met my wife and stuck around. I still ride once in a while,” he went on. “It’s a little harder to get up there with this bum leg and stay on but it’s worth it. No more rodeo tricks though.” He turned his attention back to the view.

  “Do you know Noel? Is that why you came here?”

  “Noel? Why would you think that?”

  “Oh, it’s just he roped me the other day.”

  “He what…?”

  “He roped me. You know the way cowboys rope cattle. I was about to fall off the porch and he lassoed me back in. It startled me but I’m sure glad he did it.”

  “I bet. So, what does that have to do with me?”

  “Oh, I just thought since gauchos were like cowboys, you know. I thought maybe he used to work with you in Argentina or something. Like maybe you were old friends.”

  “I don’t have friends. I prefer the solitude.”

  “What about your wife?” I asked.

  “Dead,” he replied.

  I heard the squeak of the chair and the thump of the cane as he got to his feet. Apparently we were all out of chitchat. I didn’t even have time to apologize for the invasive question. He crossed the room and put on his coat and trapper hat, then he opened the door.

  “Nice talking to you, Miss,” he said.

  I waved goodbye to him with a “see you later” and turned back to the view of the woods. I sat quietly for a little while longer, then rose to leave, coming face to face with Noel, who stood in the doorway to the dining hall. He turned on his heel and left.

  Noel had been eavesdropping, and he sure was cloak and dagger about something.

  I walked down the porch steps and headed up the path when I heard arguing from around the corner. They were moving away, but I caught the first part.

  “I told you to stay away.”

  I recognized Noel’s voice.

  “I know but I couldn’t.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched. That was the boy.

  Who were they talking about? Holly? Had Feli
x been warned to stay away from her?

  ***

  I found my way down the snowy path to the spa area after stopping to grab a change of clothes and a swimsuit from the tree house. I might as well get a workout and a soak in the hot tub in before I checked on Lucas. Amélie was right—the gym was a ghost town. I threw a pink ballet style wrap sweater over my grey yoga pants and sports bra and then I hit the treadmill to warm up.

  It didn’t take long before I was dripping sweat. I hooked my feet under the bar on the lat pull-down machine and did stomach crunches, my arms crossed over my chest while I decided I’d attack legs next. Twenty minutes in and I was ready to do some barbell squats; they didn’t have a proper squat rack, but I’d worked out with less at home.

  The bar was a little tricky to get up on my shoulders with my lingering sore neck issues, but I managed. I turned away from the mirror on the wall, noticing with irritation that I wasn’t getting low enough. Perhaps I’d loaded the bar a little heavy.

  By the tenth rep, I knew I had. But I’d promised myself I’d do at least twelve. I shut my eyes to concentrate. I whined out loud when I’d achieved the twelfth, and braced myself to remove the bar off my achy shoulders now that I was fatigued. I was taken by surprise when someone gripped the bar and I felt the weight ease off. I stepped forward, panting and turned to see who my rescuer was.

  “Thank you, Noel. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “No problem. You shouldn’t lift so heavy when you work out alone,” he said.

  He walked away before I could respond, so I began doing lunges. I kept an eye on him doing pull-ups as I did leg presses. He was definitely strong enough to murder somebody. I pictured him standing over Holly’s dead body.

  I shook my head. What kind of thoughts were these to have? I was definitely not a normal person. I gathered my water bottle and phone and headed into the women’s area to change into my suit for the tub.

  Five minutes in the hot tub and the ache in my shoulders and neck had drained away. My head was tilted back and my eyes were closed when I felt the hairs tingle at the back of my neck. Someone was watching me.

  I opened my eyes and came face to face with Felix. The young man stood over me. I accidentally splashed him as I jumped to my feet.