“Yes,” I said briefly, the memory of Noel’s body manifesting itself before my eyes. Gloria, Eve and Denise watched me closely as I tried to shake off the gruesome image. “There was a mark around his neck. Like Holly’s,” I told them.
Denise nodded in satisfaction. This fact seemed to confirm something for her. But Gloria wanted more.
“What else?” she asked.
“Not much,” I said, feeling inadequate. “Holly’s aunt is here now.”
“Did she arrive before the second murder?” asked Eve sharply.
I shook my head. The ladies all frowned in unanimous disappointment.
“I know that look,” Eve said, pointing a finger at me. “You know something.” She turned to the ladies, “she knows something. She’s holding out on us.”
“Tell us,” prodded Gloria.
“It’s nothing. It’s just Noel Bluebird was Felix’s father. Cody found the paternity test in his cabin and Marie-Angelique admitted it.”
Gloria continued to look at me expectantly. “Hmm. Interesting plot twist.”
“Marie-Angelique seems to be completely broken up over it,” I added.
“Likely story. What about the others?” Eve asked.
Bits and pieces of the morning and afternoon flashed through my mind. Amélie’s flirtation, and seemingly pre-existing relationship with Holly’s Aunt Eleanor. The Tremblé boy’s meltdown that first led me to suspect he knew Noel was his father.
“It’s hard to tell,” I answered finally. “No one acted like an obvious murderer.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m afraid I haven’t detected much.”
“We have,” Gloria whispered.
Eve nodded gleefully while Denise rolled her eyes once more.
“Well, we have,” Gloria insisted. She looked around us for nosy ears, and finding none, began to speak in a low whisper:
“We’ve researched the Tremblés,” she said. “Justin’s doctor says Justin is close to another breakdown. He’s been institutionalized before.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate the intel but how in the world did you find that out?”
“Denise is not without her charms,” Gloria said with a grin.
I looked at the straight-faced Amazonian woman with a newfound curiosity. “I hope you know that is a breach of doctor/patient confidentiality.”
She crossed her arms and scowled.
Gloria went on. “And the child, Felix. He’s a problem student in school. Poor dear. He doesn’t have any friends except for the Mackay boy, and God knows that child’s no role model. Poor thing likes to booze and he can barely read—”
“Gloria,” Denise interrupted. “Penelope doesn’t care about the Mackay boy’s drinking habits or his reading problems.”
“Well, it’s not that I don’t care. That sounds awful," I clarified.
Gloria blinked for a moment and then continued. “My point is Felix is failing most of his courses and plays hooky two days out of five. Miss Nagel—that’s his teacher—is worried to death about him.”
“Tell her about Marie-Angelique,” Eve prompted.
Gloria’s face lit up. “Oh, I had a little talk with Juliette Bernier, the teller at Marie-Angelique Tremblé’s bank. Juliette’s a good girl, used to visit the library every week when she was in school.”
A good girl with a big mouth.
Denise cleared her throat.
Gloria frowned and then went on. “Anyway, she was only too happy to share what she knew about Marie-Angelique. She told me that Marie-Angelique was quite wealthy when she first came to Mont-Tremblant, but now she’s nearly down to her last penny. Marie-Angelique asked the bank for a loan earlier this year, but they refused her.”
“That makes sense. No wonder the renovations are incomplete,” I whispered. “Not to mention the fact that they were looking for a financial backer.”
“There’s a sucker born every minute,” Eve said smugly.
“I also found out the state of the deceased Noel Bluebird’s account,” Gloria added enticingly.
I would have to be careful with this woman. If she could pry confidential information from bank employees, who knows what she could wheedle out of me.
“Mr. Bluebird also came to Mont-Tremblant with a small fortune. And it would appear that he has invested his fortune wisely.” Gloria cocked her head with a knowing look. “Who do you think gets his money now that he’s died?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say his son,” I replied. “But what does that have to do with Holly?”
But Gloria’s frail body had gone rigid. So had Denise’s sturdy one. I followed their gaze to the giggles emanating from the snowy path.
“You’re right,” Eve whispered. “It sounds like there’s something going on between those two.” A quick glance confirmed that the voices belonged to Amélie and Eleanor Frost. The old lady posse and their spy routine had rubbed off on me. Denise put her finger to her lips and pulled me further behind a cluster of evergreens.
“Let’s listen,” she mouthed.
Amélie giggled. “You’re incorrigible, Elle,” she admonished, then went on in a low voice. I couldn’t hear the rest of her words as she and Eleanor moved away from us down the path.
“They certainly sound and act like they know each other intimately,” Gloria whispered.
I turned to the two women. “They might have been conspirators—” I began.
“Eleanor’s motive, Amélie’s opportunity,” Eve finished with a frown.
Denise’s brows were so low I couldn’t see her eyes as she thought it over. “Or it could just be the first stages of romance and nothing more.”
We walked down the snowy path back in the direction of the lodge. My stomach was gurgling for food. “Let’s go eat,” I said, grabbing Cody’s hand and tugging as we passed him on the steps. Felix had already disappeared.
Lucas was already inside and hovering over the sandwich tray as we approached. Clearly, he was having a tough time choosing between egg salad and tuna. Aside from him, the room was empty. I grabbed a bowl of mushroom soup and took a seat at the large table between Eve and Cody. Denise and Gloria sat down across from us, staring daggers at Eve for the way she slurped her soup.
“We need to get organized!” Eve suddenly said, stopping short in the middle of her obnoxious eating routine. The group looked up.
“Organized?” asked Cody.
“We’re going about this all wrong,” Eve said slowly. “No plan. No organization. We’ve talked with all the suspects, but with no specific list of questions in mind.”
“She’s right, and we haven’t pooled our information,” I continued, serious now. “We haven’t organized our research. We haven’t even figured out what we want to learn.”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Lucas asked, taking a seat beside Gloria. “We want to know who the murderer is.”
“Right,” I agreed. “But what are the questions we should be asking to figure that out? And who should be asking them of whom? Let’s do this efficiently. We need a task force.”
Cody turned his head to me and smirked. “Yes, it would probably help to brainstorm.”
“That’s the attitude!” Eve said, enthusiasm oozing from her voice.
“Since I’m still the main suspect, I’ll do anything at this point to help,” said Lucas.
A family of six walked in and set their coats at the table next to us.
Cody hushed us.
“When do we meet?” asked Eve, rubbing her hands together with anticipation.
“Tonight, after dinner,” I murmured. We resumed our lunch—not another word about our plan mentioned.
Eighteen
_____________
“W
hat’s for dinner?” I asked Justin as we entered the dining hall for the third time that day.
“Roasted butternut squash soup topped with sage butter fried pecans, locally sourced greens in a chocolate mint porter vinaigrette, and turkey artisan pizza,” Justin replied, his lu
minous eyes staring through me. “The meal is to die for,” he mused. Then he let loose a shriek of laughter. I jumped back, landing on Eve’s foot.
“Watch where you’re going, bigfoot,” Eve growled from behind me. “Haven’t you ever heard of osteoporosis?”
I stepped forward again, but I didn’t want to stare at Justin so instead I intensely read the labels on the Christmas inspired flatbread pizzas: turkey, camembert and cranberry. Bacon, potato and sage or there was a vegetarian option. I picked up the wheel and cut into one of the first one. Justin’s words floated around my head as I scooped out some of the shredded beet & goat cheese salad and walked to a table. He was definitely losing it. A peach slice slid off my plate just as Marie-Angelique came over to the table with a bottle of wine and a stainless steel water pitcher. Gone were the tears of the afternoon. Her delicate, moon-shaped face was erased of all emotion.
“Thirsty?” she asked evenly.
“Does a fish swim?” Eve replied smarmily, taking a seat to my left.
The ice cubes clinked as Marie-Angelique filled our glasses with water and flipped over our wine glasses to numb our senses.
Marie-Angelique seemed too happy, and I wondered if she’d dipped into the happy juice herself already. It was a far cry from the emotional turmoil she’d been going through earlier in the cabin. Perhaps Holly wasn’t the only actress who’d been here.
“This place is really full tonight!” she bubbled. “People are beginning to hear about us.”
The eager faces of the new diners looked suspiciously interested in the others in the room, especially in those of us at this table.
Dr. Amélie Belle reached out and patted Marie-Angelique’s hand. “Great news, honey,” she said, smiling benevolently.
Marie-Angelique returned the smile and thanked her before turning to go to the next table.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled, the lights flickered, and the room plunged into darkness.
Someone screamed while a glass shattered on the floor.
“Everyone stay calm. Occasionally, we do lose power during severe storms. We have a backup generator and it should be working momentarily,” Marie-Angelique announced. “Justin,” she shouted, “will you go get some flashlights?”
Justin, I presumed, crashed through the dining room, bumping into tables on his way out.
I heard muffled whispers and the shifting of chairs and the light of cell phones began to illuminate the tiniest pockets of the room.
Eve leaned into me and whispered like a kid on Christmas morning. “Isn’t this exciting? A blizzard, a power outage, and a murder to solve! What could be more fun?”
The room was getting a little frantic now.
Cody sighed and then raised his voice to be heard over the mutterings around the room. “Let your eyes adjust to the dark,” he said. “I’m sure the lights will be back on in a moment.”
As if on cue, the light turned back on and blinded us all with its brightness.
Murmurs spread as people checked to be sure their friends were okay.
“Phew, false alarm,” Marie-Angelique said cheerfully. “I should have some candles and flashlights on standby, though, just in case it happens again.”
I nodded.
“Marie-Angelique,” Amélie called out after her. Marie-Angelique turned to face us again. Amélie lowered her voice and leaned in close to Marie-Angelique. I had to strain my ears to listen. “Before you go, I just wanted a second of your time to talk to you about Felix. Where is he tonight?”
“Felix?” asked Marie-Angelique, her smile losing some of its warmth.
“Yes. Felix,” Amélie continued.
“He’s…uh…I guess he’s still in his room.”
Amélie dropped her voice low once again, but I caught it. “He was so close to Mr. Bluebird. The recent events must have put a terrible stress on him. I’d like to spend some time with him this weekend, if possible. Help him put it all into perspective.”
Marie-Angelique’s face had lost interest under her smile. “He’ll do fine,” she replied shortly. “Don’t worry about him.”
“No charge,” Amélie assured her. “Just an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. We all need that, especially when we’re young.”
“I’m sure he’d love to talk to you,” Marie-Angelique agreed. Then she bent to whisper again. “But I’ll need all the help I can get this weekend. I mean we’ve had an influx of bookings. This place is finally on the map.”
Amélie’s expression was no longer benevolent. She looked like an angry witch as she interrupted Marie-Angelique. “Felix has just lost his biological father.”
“How did you—I mean where did you hear that?” Marie-Angelique looked daggers at Cody and me.
I shook my head no and then turned and cut my gaze to the walking bullhorn sitting beside me.
“What?” Eve smirked.
“Can’t Justin help you, instead?” Amélie asked, her brows pinched together above suddenly hard, black-button eyes.
Marie-Angelique stepped back, clearly stung by Amélie’s question.
Amélie just eyed her coldly. And Amélie wasn’t the only one who didn’t buy Marie-Angelique’s explanation. Mateo had wandered up, apparently to join in with his own glare.
Marie-Angelique narrowed her eyes. “I said no thank you.”
Amélie shook her head. “Now, come on, Marie-Angelique. I just want to help.” She lowered her voice. “I’m worried your son could be suicidal. I’ve noticed marks on him,” Amélie pleaded.
“Leave her alone, Doctor. Felix doesn’t need to be analyzed by some head shrink,” Mateo commented. “I think he has been through quite enough.”
“What do you mean head shrink?” Amélie asked, brandishing the knife in her hand in quite the menacing fashion. “Do you have a problem with me and my profession, Mateo?”
Mateo screwed his beet-red face into a knot and hitched up his chin. “Why, yes, I guess I do. I have a problem with people who stick their noses into other people’s grief,” Mateo responded. His voice was low and hard. “Not everyone benefits from being analyzed.”
“Is everything okay over here?” Justin asked when he reached us.
“Yes, of course it is,” snapped Amélie. She motioned Marie-Angelique and Justin to sit down. Marie-Angelique obeyed immediately. She wasn’t protesting anymore. And when Marie-Angelique tugged on Justin’s elbow, he too plopped onto the bench.
Amélie pursed her lips, then she brought her arm up and pointed an accusing finger at the couple. “I do not believe that your son is doing well!”
Marie-Angelique opened her mouth to speak.
“And what’s worse,” Amélie continued, cutting off any back talk, “is that neither of you have noticed!”
A gasp rolled through the dining hall. Every face pointed in our direction. All pretenses of not eavesdropping had been wholly abandoned. I cringed. I’d never seen this side of the good doctor and I could feel Cody’s eyes burning holes into the side of my head. He clearly suspected a motive here.
Marie-Angelique looked at Justin for help, but Justin’s eyes were fixed on Amélie.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t solve a problem if you don’t even admit to it—if you don’t even see it,” Amélie’s voice softened. “Can’t you see that he’s hurting? I’ve seen this before and I’m sure you have too—I know your history. We can’t ignore the signs.”
Marie-Angelique squirmed in her seat, glancing around the room. A flicker of sadness appeared in her eyes.
Amélie opened her arms wide once more. “Look. I understand your apprehension but you need therapy and you need it now!” she hissed.
Justin went rigid in his seat. He seemed to become aware of the presence of the other diners in the room. He scanned the faces staring at them in a controlled and somber manner and then pushed away from the table.
Nineteen
_____________
M arie-Angelique snatched her water pitcher from the table, her body
stiff with anger. She opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. She snapped her mouth shut and turned her back on our table. Then she made her way across the dining hall to fill glasses there. The tension was palpable, and a few tables made their way to the door. Justin followed suit, clearly done with the night’s drama.
Amélie deflated, dragging remorseful eyes to Eleanor. “I know I have to apologize.”
A gust of wind pelted snow against the window and we all jumped. I heard nervous giggling and then whispered conversations among the diners started up again sporadically, then swelled in volume to erase the silence.
“It was wrong of me to embarrass them like that, but do you think I might have gotten through to them?” Amélie asked. Her voice was eager. But her face was troubled.
“Perhaps,” Eleanor said. “Time will tell.”
Amélie cringed, but Eleanor smiled at her. She reached over and patted the doctor’s hand. Amélie’s eyes went to Eleanor’s. Amélie was clearly embarrassed for the unprofessional outburst.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. You are a concerned and passionate woman,” Eleanor said slowly. “An action arising from that concern and passion must have some good in its effect.”
Amélie was smiling now, even beginning to glow as she returned Eleanor’s gaze. “Such a silver tongue! You could convince me of anything!”
“Once an actress, always an actress,” Eleanor answered. “It is my job to win people over.” She bowed her head to Amélie. “But what I say to you is the truth.”
The doctor giggled in delight. Eleanor’s was a silver tongue indeed.
I reintroduced myself to my pizza, lying cold and untouched on my plate. As I took a bite, Cody spoke up.
“So, what have you acted in, Ms. Frost?” he asked.
“Please, please,” said Eleanor with a wave of her hand. “Call me Elle, young man.”
“Elle,” obeyed Cody gravely.
“I have done both theatre and film,” Eleanor answered. “But I only do theatre now—although perhaps that’s only because the low budget slasher films that featured me weren’t all that successful.”
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