Colorado Killer Christmas
Jenna St. James
Copyright © 2017 by Jenna St. James.
Published by Jenna St. James
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Jenna St. James Books
Ryli Sinclair Mystery Series (cozy)
Picture Perfect Murder Bachelorettes and Bodies
Girls’ Night Out Murder Rings, Veils, and Murder
Old-Fashioned Murder Next Stop Murder
Bed, Breakfast & Murder Gold, Frankincense & a Merry Murder
Veiled in Murder Heartache, Hustle, & Homicide
Sullivan Sisters Mystery Series (cozy)
Murder on the Vine Tea Leaves, Jealousy, & Murder
Burning Hot Murder Flames, Frames, & Murder
PrePEAR to Die
Copper Cove Mystery Series (cozy)
Seaside & Homicide
A Witch in Time Series (paranormal)
Time After Time
Runaway Bride Time (novella)
Toy Time Tragedy (novella)
A Trinity Falls Series (romantic comedy)
Blazing Trouble
Cougar Trouble
Dedication
To the Aunts: Earlene, Connie, Barb, and Beverly…my step-mom, Michelle, my sister, Juliana, and my cousin, Thomas…thanks for drinking “the juice” and brainstorming with me.
And thanks to my mom and dad and John and Judy Redman for taking me, my sister, and their three boys every year to Colorado to ski…I had years of wonderful memories to draw upon for this book!
Chapter 1
“I don’t know about this.” I tucked my feet in under me and settled back against the plush couch cushions. “It just seems weird. We won’t know anyone we’re staying with.”
“Here.” My best friend and roommate, Ophelia, handed me a candy cane martini. “Drink this and hush. We’re going and that’s final.”
Knowing better than to fight her when her mind was made up, I took a tentative sip of the drink. “Wow! That’s pretty strong…but good.” I licked my finger and ran it around the rim to capture a few of the crushed peppermints that encircled the glass.
“I found the recipe yesterday and thought I’d try it out,” Ophelia said.
“You were hoping I’d get tipsy enough to just go along with whatever you say,” I chided softly.
Ophelia grinned but said nothing to counter my accusation.
“Aren’t your parents expecting you home for Christmas?” I asked.
Ophelia shook her head. “Nope. I told them earlier that I had other plans this year.”
“Uh-huh. And how did they take that news?”
“They understood,” Ophelia said, giving me a knowing look. She sat down on the chair opposite me and pushed a lock of dark, coarse hair off her face.
I averted her soul-piercing eyes and took another drink.
We were opposites in nearly every way. My skin tone was so pale it was practically see-through compared to her coffee-with-lots-of-cream complexion. I grew up as an only child on a farm surrounded by animals. If a meal didn’t have meat and potatoes as the main ingredient, then my dad didn’t consider it a meal. Ophelia was raised surrounded by numerous brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles. She was raised on traditional southern soul food, even though her family had migrated from Louisiana to Missouri two generations back.
“A few more of these,” Ophelia said, trying to lighten the mood, “and you’ll be wondering why you ever dragged your heels coming.”
“I doubt that.”
Ophelia looked at me with pity and my heart lurched.
I didn’t want her pity.
“Holly Anderson, you can’t just sit here by yourself through the holidays. Your parents are in Hawaii for Christmas because they thought you were celebrating with that rat-fink ex of yours. Now that you’ve finally saw the light and dumped him, you can’t just sit here!”
I laughed sardonically and took another huge swallow of my drink. “I didn’t so much see the light as I caught him with another woman.” Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back. I refused to cry for the rat-fink anymore. It was going on two weeks since the break-up, plenty of time to get over him and our one-year relationship.
Ophelia waved her hand dismissively in the air. “Doesn’t matter how you came to the wonderful decision to dump him. The thing is you finally came around. And we aren’t going to waste our much-needed holiday just sitting around this stuffy apartment. We’re going.”
I smiled at her continued use of the word ‘we’ in her sentences. No way was my best friend abandoning me during the holidays.
“I guess it would be kinda cool to show the kids pictures of us skiing down mountains and the huge chateau all decorated for Christmas,” I mused. “A lot of them have never seen, much less done, anything like this.”
“Fine,” Ophelia said. “If it helps, think of this as your cross to bear so all your students can experience something through you.”
Ophelia and I met our first year of teaching. We both teach first grade at Kaden Elementary, a school in downtown Kansas City, Missouri. We bonded that first year over hours of lesson planning, parent complaints, and extra teacher duties. In order to live off our first-year teaching salary, we decided to share an apartment in the city. That was five years ago, and our friendship is still as strong as ever.
“So all we do is hit the send button and the last room in the condo is ours?” I asked.
Ophelia grinned. She knew she had me. “Yep.” She set her drink down and grabbed her laptop off the coffee table. She scooted over to where I was sitting on the couch and showed me the website again for the chateau and ski resort in Winterdale, Colorado.
“It’s a huge college town,” Ophelia told me, “so there should be plenty of night life in the town if we want to go clubbing one night.”
I gave her my best ‘get real’ look. She was always trying to get me to go out, but I’m more of a homebody.
“Look how beautiful it looks,” Ophelia whispered as she ran her hand over the screen. “All the green from the pine trees, the glow from all the Christmas lights, the snow…” she looked at me and wiggled her eyebrow, “the handsome men.”
I laughed at her lewd behavior. “I’m doing this for the children…not the men!”
“Whatever floats your boat sister!”
I looked back down at the screen and sighed. It really did sound like fun. I read the advertisement aloud. “Christmas Special Extravaganza for Twenty-One and Over. Five-night stay at a five-star resort. Private ski lessons from professional instructors, state-of-the-art day spa, and fun-filled adult activities at night. Guaranteed to make your holiday bright. Book as a group or take advantage of our individual bedroom packages. Santa and Mrs. Claus agree, this Christmas package is a ho-ho-home sweet home holiday experience!”
“Doesn’t it sound amazing!” Ophelia gushed. “I’ve checked the booking availability, and there’s a condo that has a room available.”
“But we don’t know these people,” I argued. “What if they’re axe murderers, or—”
“Seriously, Holly? That’s where you go? Straight to axe murderer?” Ophelia clicked on the booking link then looked at me. “Let’s do this! We drink a couple more drinks, pack our bags full of sexy little black dresses, and head out tomorrow morning. I’ve already mapped it. It’s about a ten-hour drive. If we leave around nine, we’ll be
there by seven tomorrow night. Just in time for cocktails!”
I laughed again and realized it had been awhile since I laughed so much. Ophelia and her crazy ideas usually did that to me.
“Well, the exercise would be nice. You’ve done nothing but bake since we went on Christmas break two days ago.” I paused and pretended to think. I knew my answer…I just wanted her to sweat a little. “Let’s do it!”
Chapter 2
“According to the navigation app,” I said, “we should be there in ten minutes.”
“Thank goodness. I’m exhausted.” Ophelia looked over and grinned at me. “Whose idea was it to drive all this way?”
I chuckled. “Yours! And I think we made great time.”
The last twenty miles had been slow and torturous. The county road, half-covered in snow, was extremely windy and treacherous. But we were only thirty minutes behind our original schedule. We would pull into the resort by seven-thirty. Drinks were served until ten, so we had plenty of time still.
“Careful,” I cautioned as we came to a dangerous curve in the road.
The car’s headlights illuminated a sign that announced Winterdale three miles ahead. If we stayed on the road we were currently traveling, we’d reach the town on Winterdale. The navigation wanted us to take the road to the right.
“This is it,” Ophelia said excitedly. “A five-day luxurious vacation just for us.”
She carefully turned onto the paved road that would take us to Winterdale Chateau and Ski Resort. My pulse raced with excitement as I leaned closer to the windshield, straining to catch my first glimpse of the resort.
I saw the lights first and my breath caught. We were still a good distance away—maybe a half mile. But the lights were breathtaking. There had to be thousands upon thousands of white Christmas lights surrounding the tops of every building, encircling the windows, and entwined in the tall pine trees.
“Look at the mountain,” Ophelia gasped.
Nestled back from the main buildings about one hundred yards was a massive mountain covered in snow.
“I can’t wait to see this place in the daytime,” Ophelia said. “It looks huge.”
The largest building was the one hundred room chateau the website boasted. From my vantage point in the dark, it looked to be made of both stone and wood. I would definitely be exploring more of the chateau during my stay.
“Next year we’ll book far enough ahead so we can stay inside the chateau,” I promised.
Ophelia laughed. “Now you’re talking. I knew you’d love this place.”
To the left of the chateau about fifty yards were eight brightly lit two-story condos lined in a row. The exterior looked to be made from the same materials as the chateau. If the inside was as beautiful as the outside, I’d have no problem spending my five days here.
We pulled into the massive circle drive outside the chateau under a four-car awning. People were hauling suitcases out of trunks, laughing and talking, while the bellhops, dressed as elves, scurried around getting the correct information.
“I’ll go get our condo key,” Ophelia volunteered.
She put the car in park and hurried inside the chateau.
I smiled as huge, fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky. Closing my eyes, I rested the back of my head against the seat. More than anything I wanted my stay to ease the heartache I still felt over my recent breakup.
“All set,” Ophelia said as she slid into the front seat.
I blinked in surprise. “That was fast.”
Ophelia laughed. “I’ve been gone twenty minutes. You must have fallen asleep.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
“Well, you better get your second wind, girl,” Ophelia said, “because we’re gonna go unpack and then party the night away.”
I stifled a groan.
“We’re in the very last condo,” Ophelia said as she drove slowly down the narrow street in front of the condos. She parked in the one and only space left.
We grabbed our suitcases and non-perishable groceries out of the trunk and wheeled them to the front door. Using an electronic key card, Ophelia let us into the spacious house.
“Hello?” Ophelia’s voice echoed off the walls in the foyer.
“Back here,” a female voice hollered back.
The suitcases rolled smoothly on the tile floor as Ophelia and I left the foyer to follow the voice. We made a left, and the room opened up into a gigantic great room. A large kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances, tan and cream travertine countertops, and six barstools segued into a dining room with a table that sat six. On the other half of the room was an enormous stone fireplace that took up half the wall. A couch and two chairs made up a conversational area around the fireplace. Floor to ceiling windows gave a panoramic view of half the mountain and what looked to be a bunny slope area. In the middle of the room was a staircase that led downstairs.
“Welcome!” A woman with chin-length dark hair, fringed bangs, and black square glasses came out from behind the counter to shake our hands. She was average height with a petite frame. “My name is Bitsie Carpenter, and this is my friend, Helen Beckett.”
Helen stood up from her seat at the counter, drink in hand, and sauntered over to where we were standing. She was younger than Bitsie, and had the type of body guys usually go gaga over—curves in all the right places. Her strawberry-blonde hair billowed out around her shoulders in thick, full waves. She reminded me of a cherub, cute and cuddly.
“Hi,” Helen said, her pale, blue eyes sparkling with friendliness. “Bitsie and I are from Colorado Springs. We’re both librarians at one of the city’s branches.”
“My name’s Holly Anderson,” I said. “And this is my friend, Ophelia Lavolier. We’re both from Kansas City, Missouri. And we’re both elementary teachers.”
“Wonderful!” Helen gushed. “Already we have a love of kids and books in common.”
I chuckled. “That we do.”
“Colorado Springs,” Ophelia mused. “So you’re pretty close to Winterdale. That’s nice for you guys.”
Helen nodded. “Yes. But this is our first time here, though.”
“Is the other couple here yet?” Ophelia asked.
Bitsie wrinkled her nose, her glasses sliding up her face. “Yes. I’m the only one that’s met them. Helen just got here about ten minutes ago. I came up early to get things around since Helen had to close at the library today. It’s two girls.” She leaned in and rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “Very high maintenance kinda girls. They’re downstairs now. They came in demanding the one and only room that had an attached bathroom. They said they needed it since their attention would be in constant demand.”
“Constant demand?” Ophelia snorted. “What the heck does that mean?”
Bitsie scoffed. “I don’t know. Evidently, they’re from Denver, but they went to the university here in Winterdale and are well known. At least, that’s what they told me.”
“In other words,” Ophelia said, “they’re legends in their own minds.”
Helen choked on her drink and her pretty face turned pink. “That was so funny!”
“What’s so funny?” a tall, angular girl with waist-length black hair asked as she sashayed up the stairs, her back to us. When she reached the top of the stairs, she flipped her long hair over her shoulder and placed one hand on her jutted-out hip.
“Yeah,” another girl asked as she followed closely at her friend’s heels. She was a complete contrast to the dark-haired woman. This woman had ice blue eyes and short, spikey white hair. Not blonde, but pure white hair. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
The two girls narrowed their eyes at us and continued walking toward us.
“I’m assuming this one here,” the black-haired girl said as she stood in front of us and waved a hand at Bitsie, “has informed you of our need to have the larger room with private bath?”
Helen sucked in her b
reath, stumbled backward, and dropped her champagne on the carpet.
“You clumsy cow,” the white-haired girl shrieked as a couple droplets sprayed her pants. “I’m going to have to go change now!”
“Cool your jets,” Ophelia said. “Nothing got on you.”
“Are you okay?” I asked Helen as I steadied her.
Helen’s face had gone deathly pale.
When Bitsie leaned over and gave Helen a questioning look, Helen slowly nodded her head. “I’m fine. Sorry.”
“Well, watch what you’re doing next time, you big oaf,” the dark-haired girl sniffed.
“Yeah,” white-haired girl echoed. “This is a Piedmont original. Do you have any idea what these pants cost?”
“Sorry,” Helen mumbled. Her pretty face now tinted pink.
I heard Bitsie growl and knew it was time to diffuse the tense situation.
“Let’s try this again,” I said. “My name is Holly, and this is my friend, Ophelia.”
Bitsie stood as tall as her petite frame would allow, arms crossed over her chest. “And my name is Bitsie. The girl you were rude to is my friend, Helen.”
“My name’s Margot,” the dark-haired girl said, ignoring the point about her being rude. “And this is my friend Chloe. We actually went to the university here, and once a month the manager gives us an all-access pass for a few days.”
“Well, that’s nice of…” I trailed off.
No need in finishing my sentence. Margot and Chloe had already dismissed me and walked toward the kitchen.
“I better get a rag and clean up this champagne,” Helen murmured. She walked quickly to the kitchen, her head down the entire time, her face shrouded by her cascading hair.
“Chloe and I,” Margot said as she helped herself to the bottle of champagne on the counter, “have a strict diet of carrots, celery, apples, and salmon. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t mix your foods with ours.”
“Oh, of course,” Ophelia drawled out in an over-enunciated Southern twang. “I’m assuming that’s your champagne? Could we have a glass?”
Killer Christmas Cozies Page 1