Murder, She Slopes

by Rachael Stapleton

  “You know, you seem awfully interested in what we know. Killers often insert themselves in investigations, but as a former police officer my guess is you know that,” Bumble continued. He walked around the table and sat down in another chair. He clamped his eyes on mine once more. “Are you the killer, Miss Trubble?”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “Me?” I whispered. He couldn’t be serious.

  “Where were you on Thursday night?” he snarled.

  “Thursday night?” I repeated stupidly.

  “Yes, Thursday night. And Friday morning.”

  Suddenly my head cleared. “At home,” I answered angrily. “I wasn’t here. I am not a suspect. I was at home, working.”

  “Prove it,” he snapped.

  “Ask Via Rail,” I answered shrilly. This was ridiculous. “I left home a little before noon on Friday.”

  “You could have driven down the night before and driven back early Friday morning,” he replied.

  “What!” I yelped. Then I remembered. “Lucas called me early Friday morning, at my house.”

  “So he claims. He could have been calling your answering machine.”

  I rolled my eyes. Not the best thing to do in the situation but I wasn’t worried. I hadn’t been here and I could prove it.

  “We’ll check, you know.” His tone vibrated with menace.

  “Please do, and please also note that I’m not a cowgirl, nor have I ever worked with rope,” I replied testily. “If you were doing your job, you’d know that Noel Bluebird knows his way around a lasso.”

  “Miss Trubble,” he said, ignoring my previous statement. I looked up. “You really want your ex-boyfriend back, don’t you?” he coaxed.

  “You sure do have a one-track mind,” I said. This guy was not even interested in capturing the real killer. “I’m seeing someone. Lucas is my friend—”

  “Mighty convenient, the way you showed up here,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken.

  And so it went. A half hour later, Officer Morin finally took my fingerprints, and they left. The detective had played it cool but in the end he had asked me a few more questions about Noel Bluebird and the roping incident so at least he was taking me seriously.

  I drew a deep breath and walked slowly out on the porch.

  “Fancy meeting you here, pretty lady.”

  The snow had blinded me for a moment. As my eyes adapted, Justin Tremblé’s grinning mouth appeared followed by the rest of his face. He smiled up at me from the bottom of the stairs, dangling a joint from between his fingertips. “Wanna hit?”

  “No thanks,” I said. But his smile was infectious. My shoulder muscles relaxed, and I smiled back.

  Marie-Angelique came up the snowy path. Her large eyes were full of concern, maybe anger. The flare of her nostrils was exaggerated as she marched toward us.

  “Justin, where did you get that?” she asked softly. She lay her gloved hand on his shoulder.

  He kept his eyes down. “What? I’m only having a puff to take the edge off.” He turned back to me. “Sure you wouldn’t like some? You look like you had a rough time in there.”

  Was my state of mind that obvious? Probably. It was freezing out here, and I was still sweating.

  “Mon amour, you promised,” Marie-Angelique said.

  Justin turned to her. “I need this today. You know why.” He held the joint out away from his body with one hand and pulled her to him with the other.

  She pushed him off. “You’re being so silly,” she said, putting out her hand. “Let’s go back to the chalet.”

  He hesitated, then tossed the remainder of the joint away. She rewarded him with a gentle kiss on his forehead.

  He winked at me, then turned back to Marie-Angelique.

  “See you two later,” I mumbled and started back up the stairs to my tree house.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Marie-Angelique objected. She looked up at my face. “You do look pale. Have you had any breakfast?”

  “Do doughnuts and aggression count?” I replied.

  “Oh, you poor thing!” said Marie-Angelique. “I hope Detective Bumble didn’t give you a hard time,” she said. “I… I have to cooperate with him. I mean, a murder! I can’t just let that go. If the murder doesn’t get cleared up…” She trailed off, misery distorting her delicate features.

  “Everything’s fine,” I said firmly. “I understand that you have to cooperate.”

  Justin reached out and patted her shoulder. “This is a peaceful retreat we’ve got going here. Nothing will kill our business.”

  Nothing but a murderer, I thought morbidly.

  Marie-Angelique nodded. “Anyway, I still need to grab a couple things but why don’t you two head to breakfast? I will meet you there.”

  “Sounds good,” I agreed. It was now ten o’clock. Maybe breakfast, call it “brunch,” would make me feel better.

  Nine

  _____________

  A s I piled my plate high with bacon, home fries and eggs, I watched Justin chat away with some of the other guests at the buffet table. I felt completely baffled by him. One minute he was mopey and depressed and the next he was the life of the room. Was the difference simply marijuana? He was stuffing bacon into his mouth as he loaded his plate.

  “What can I say? I’m hungry,” he whispered in my ear. Poor Marie-Angelique. Loving this rollercoaster of a man had to be crazy-making.

  He got up from our table and returned with two cups of coffee and a bottle of Baileys. “I find this helps after dealing with the police.”

  I nodded at the offer and he poured a glug into my coffee cup.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. Was that it?” He laughed.

  “You said outside that you needed the puff today. What did you mean by that?”

  “Oh right, I guess you wouldn’t know,” he said, his smile fading. “Today’s the anniversary of…” he started to tear up.

  “Are you okay? You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that… oh god, I miss Dani… it’s been over sixteen years, but it doesn’t get any easier, you know.”

  “Dani is your twin, right?”

  Justin nodded his head.

  I took it that meant that Dani was not with us anymore.

  He wiped away the tears with his sleeve.

  Damn. So much for my switcheroo theory… although… what if they just thought Dani was dead?

  “Anyway, please don’t tell Marie-Angelique that I’m upset. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “No, I won’t tell her,” I replied. “Let’s talk about something else, all right?” I offered.

  “Let’s play whudunnit,” he said, a sneaky smile taking over his face.

  My face smiled back involuntarily. High or not, the man had charm. “All right,” I agreed. “Tell me about some of the murder suspects.”

  Justin clapped his hands together and rubbed. “Well now, let’s see. Holly liked to pull everyone’s chain. I mean, she did it as automatically as other people smile and shake hands.”

  “Who’s chain, specifically?” I pressed.

  “Me for one, she’d tease me, then put me down. She wouldn’t give Mateo the time of day, like his bum leg put him beneath her notice. And Denise…” Justin shook his head and laughed. I looked at him encouragingly and shoveled a bite of egg on toast into my mouth.

  “They got into it good at dinner right before… it was kinda funny,” he said. “Mean, but funny. That lady had a wicked tongue on her. But she was just giving back what she got with Denise.”

  I kept eating and nodding encouragingly.

  “Holly was bragging about some role she was hoping to land—some sleazy airhead who was after her husband’s money. Denise was lecturing her on perpetuating the male fantasy and all that. Denise claimed she could have been an actress but quit because she knew it was really just about ‘T&A.’ Well, Holly turned around, looked Denise in the eye and said, “Funny,
looks to me like you have an overabundance of both, maybe you should give it another try.” Justin roared with laughter.

  “Holly’s tongue was sharp,” I mumbled through my bacon. I knew because I had been on the receiving end once or twice.

  He chortled appreciatively. “Yes, and it was sharpened well on Denise’s stone,” he said.

  “So, what did Denise do?” I asked.

  “She cursed her. She’s got a hell of a vocabulary!”

  I smiled a large encouraging smile and asked, “Who else?”

  He bent over the table and whispered, “There’s my son—he can be a bit of a lovesick puppy dog.” I chuckled at the description. Emboldened, he raised his voice again. “And then there’s—”

  “Taisez-vous,” came Marie-Angelique’s voice from behind us. I hadn’t even heard her walk up.

  I turned and saw that she was glaring down at Justin. She paused for a quick smile in my direction. “Excusez-moi,” she said. “I must knock some sense into my husband.”

  I shrugged my shoulders guiltily. Did she know I had been the one to pump him? Marie-Angelique sat down beside Justin and looked him in the eyes. He attempted a smile.

  “This is not a game, Justin. You are going to get someone into trouble,” she said.

  Justin looked subdued. “Listen, mon petit chou,” he said softly. “I must joke. The stress would eat me alive, otherwise.”

  She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “I know, mon amour,” she whispered. “But remain professional, please? These people are our livelihood.”

  Now was the time. I needed to bite the bullet and just ask.

  “I know this is a painful question but could you tell me how your brother… well… how he passed on?”

  “Brother? What brother?”

  Marie-Angelique cut in. “Oh dear, that is my fault, isn’t it? I mentioned Danièle the other day.” She cleared her throat and straightened her hair, “Dani is his sister.”

  Noel slammed his plate on the table and stomped out of the room. A grape rolled off after him. I watched it roll. I could feel my mouth gape open. Boy did I have it wrong. “His twin was female?”

  Marie-Angelique and Justin exchanged a look.

  “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “It’s fine. Danièle was her name. Dani was her nickname.” Loosening her apron, she added, “She committed suicide when they were twenty-five. Noel is sensitive about it. That’s how Justin and I met Noel. He worked at the institution where Danièle lived and they fell in love. She got better for a while but... Noel blames himself.”

  “Wow. I’m so very sorry.”

  “Noel does not like to talk about the past. We try to respect that.” Marie-Angelique added.

  There didn’t seem to be much point in sticking around to socialize after that. I nibbled at the remains of my brunch just long enough not to appear rude. Then I went to my tree house to call Cody.

  “This wasn’t easy,” were Cody’s first words to me on the telephone. “With the information you gave me I’m not even sure I got the right people. Do you know how many people there are with the same names?” he grumbled.

  “But you got a lot of juicy information?” I prodded.

  “Yeah,” he said, pride swelling the word. “Holly Biltch,” Cody began. “Not a nice person, according to the other theatre girls. She stole a few too many attached men, kissed ass on anyone who could help her career, treated everyone else like dirt. Eleanor Frost, the owner of the theatre, is her aunt. And here’s an interesting bit…” Cody paused for effect.

  “What?”

  “Holly’s been engaged before.” Another pause. “Three times before.”

  “Now, that is interesting,” I said slowly. I stared at the fireplace. Why would someone as young as Holly get engaged and not go through with it three times? “What happened?” I asked.

  “Nothing major, according to one of Eleanor’s employees. Holly was accustomed to a certain style of life and her fiancés financed it...perhaps they all saw through her game prior to the wedding.”

  “Leave it to Lucas to fall for it,” I muttered. I picked up the phone and walked to the window. “But why would one of her ex-lovers kill her, now?” I asked Cody. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m going to try to track them down.”

  “No real motive yet,” I said, opening the curtains. “Tell me the rest.”

  I sat down on my bed and stared out the window as Cody continued his lecture on Holly Biltch. Snow covered everything, and yet the sky was crystal blue. I lay down on the bed and let the details of Holly’s life wash over me.

  Then Cody started in on the suspects. When he got to Noel Bluebird, he whispered dramatically, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he has a police record,” and paused. I sat back up.

  “What’s the record for?”

  “Penny…”

  “I know. I know. You can’t tell me. I’ll just go creep into his room and see what I can dig up.”

  “Argh…”

  “What? I get it, Cody, I really do. You have integrity and you’re a law man and you could get fired.”

  “Stop guilting me. Assault, okay? He got into a bar fight sixteen years ago. He joined A.A. and got probation. He cleaned up his life after that—worked as a janitor at a mental institution up until sixteen years ago when he just up and quit.”

  “I think I know why that happened.” I commented. “I’ll fill you in later. What about Mr. Fierro? What’s with the injury?”

  “Actually, it’s a pretty sad story,” Cody said. “A couple years ago his son got wasted on booze and pills while they were off on a skiing vacation. He was getting over a bad breakup with his girlfriend. He took off and Mateo went after him. They got caught in an avalanche and that’s how Mateo was injured. His son was placed in a hospital after that for rehabilitation but killed himself while he was in there.”

  “Wow,” I said. Then my heart started pounding. Was this the connection? “Was Holly his son’s ex-girlfriend?” I asked.

  “Not unless she changed her name—I’ll have to check on that. I believe it was some girl by the name of Jules and I think she’s dead too now.”

  Damn. I got up from the bed and began pacing. Cody continued the rundown.

  “Justin Tremblé’s got a history of mental illness, too,” Cody said. “Talented artist with all the stereotypical addiction issues— his parents committed him and his twin sister at sixteen. He was released immediately but his sister stayed. From what I could tell, it seems his sister was the worse of the two so maybe he just wanted to keep her company.”

  “Danièle Tremblé. Yes, I actually found out about her earlier. She’s connected to Noel as well. She’s the reason he up and quit the institution gig. Any history of violence with Justin?”

  “Only on himself.”

  “How about Denise Beausoleil?” I asked. With her mouth, she had to have been arrested at least once.

  “No record,” Cody said.

  “Really? That’s kind of disappointing.”

  “You like her for the murders?”

  “Maybe. I haven’t ruled her out. She’s tall enough, probably stronger than most men her age. Not to mention she and Gloria are certainly inserting themselves into the investigation. You know what that can mean?”

  “That she’s a friend of yours.”

  “Very funny. Actually, speak of the devil. Guess who showed up?”

  “Eve.”

  “What? How did you know that?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that? Do you even know how many times a day I get a call about Eve? It’s been quiet today so I put two and two together.”

  I laughed. “Fair enough. So who’s next?”

  “Let’s see, Dr. Amélie Belle was a suspect in her husband’s murder investigation. It seems Mr. Belle had a drinking problem and beat her up on a regular basis. Hospitalized her, even, after he caught her in bed with her lover. A mont
h later he turned up dead.”

  “That’s strange. Lucas told me Amélie was a lesbian.”

  “Perhaps that is the reason she had a lover.”

  I looked out at the cabins on the other side of Candy Cane Lane. I wondered idly if Amélie was open to a conversation about her past.

  “Marie-Angelique Tremblé nee Martin,” Cody grumbled. “Popular name, believe it or not. No police record on her. She doesn’t even have a social media presence.”

  “Who doesn’t have a social media presence in this day and age?”

  The snow was falling a little harder now and piling on the picnic tables below. A figure stood by the tree, looking up in the direction of my window. It was Felix Tremblé. My heart did a back-flip.

  “Cody,” I interrupted. “I’ve got to go!”

  “What?” he sputtered.

  “I’ve got to go. Someone’s lurking outside my tree house,” I repeated firmly. “I’ll call you back.”

  I dropped the phone on Cody’s sputters, my attention consumed by the need to confront the figure spying on me. Despite my attempts to reassure myself that Felix was only a kid, my heart was racing. I had to find out why he was lurking.

  I strolled to my door nonchalantly. I didn’t think Felix could see me, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Once I had closed the door behind me, I raced down the stairs in time with my rapid heartbeat.

  Outside the treehouse, I blinked for a moment and oriented myself. Felix was sitting on my picnic table. I got my breath under control.

  “Hey there,” I began. He jerked his head up. His eyes filled with guilt when he saw me.

  “I want to talk to you,” he said.

  “What’s up?” I prodded.

  He looked up at me with teary eyes. “I’m s-sorry for sneaking up on you out the other day. I know I seemed weird.”

  “It’s okay. I appreciate you apologizing,” I said softly, peering into his distressed eyes. “Is that all or do you need to talk?”

  “I… I can’t,” he replied, hurrying through the last word to get it over with. Then he dropped his head again.

  I sat across from him, wondering how best to get him talking.