“We have six full-time employees who live here. More during our peak season, in both summer and winter. My parents bought this lodge forty years ago. They couldn’t run it anymore, so I took over.”
He owned the place? And had been so rude? Scarlet didn’t get that.
“But you don’t like it,” Scarlet said.
“My parents were extroverts,” he said. “They liked people. I’m happier working with numbers. But I’m an only child. There was no one else to take over, and I can’t sell it—not with both of them still alive. It would break their hearts.”
Scarlet didn’t want to like Mr. Oliver, but she didn’t hate him anymore.
“How could the power go back on like that?”
“The main power breaker, which is outside the lodge. There’s a small cement shed, between here and the garage. Telephone systems, power systems, Internet—all power for this building, the garage and the storage locker goes through the power shed.”
“Staff—six here now?” Scarlet asked.
“We brought in three extra for the wedding. Chad Hopkins, the valet who is also helping Vince with maintenance and physical labor. Nicole Martinez, the niece of our head housekeeper. She’s worked here every summer for the past three years while she’s in college, and we needed someone for the wedding party to help Joelle with clean-up duties. And Connie Adair, to help Janice in the kitchen.
“Do you know Chad and Connie well?” Krista asked.
“No—I don’t know either of them. They’re both new. Both were recommended by the employment agency we use for extra staffing.” He looked both worried and agitated. “Is this power outage connected to why Mr. Brock hired you? Is there something I need to be made aware of?”
Krista said, “I told you earlier that someone had broken into his suite using a card key. Mr. Brock believes he’s being stalked, and we agree—but we don’t think it’s a fan. We’re investigating every possible option.”
Scarlet added, “I came in through the back during the power outage, walked through the lobby and went out the front—someone bolted when they saw me and jumped off the porch to the south. That’s the direction of the garage. Does all your staff stay above the garage?”
“Everyone except myself and Diana Martinez, our head housekeeper. I have a suite on this floor, and Diana has a small cabin down the road. It used to be where my parents lived, before they grew too infirm and moved into town. Diana has been with us for twenty-two years.”
Scarlet glanced at Krista, and she nodded. Scarlet said, “We’d like to talk to Diana.”
“She works from six a.m. until five p.m. I’m not going to call her now—I would wake her.”
“Would you please give her permission to speak with us tomorrow morning?”
He hesitated then said, “This wedding is very important for us. With the economy, we’ve really been struggling—we’re a specialty resort. Small, specialized service. But everyone wants bargains. Having someone like the McKinleys here and Mr. Brock—it helps us. If anyone thinks that there’s a danger here ...”
“We’ll do everything we can to ensure that no one but Mr. Brock is aware of the situation,” Krista said. “If we can have your cooperation, it would help us find out who’s responsible.” She added, “Mr. Brock’s apartment in L.A. was broken into. The police are investigating. We think that whoever broke into his apartment is involved with whoever is following him here. They may be one and the same. Was any of your staff off either Thursday or today?”
He shook his head. “Everyone, even the temporary employees, have been here since Wednesday. The wedding party started to arrive Thursday morning, and we needed all hands.”
They thanked Mr. Oliver for his time and walked away from the registration desk.
“We need to track whoever ran,” Scarlet said. “Even if we don’t confront him, we should know where he went.”
“Two people,” Krista said. “One in L.A. and one who’s here.”
“Someone who knows this place well.”
“Could be a temp employee. Could be a regular employee.”
“What are the chances that they’d know Adam was coming here this weekend?”
“Dave,” Krista said.
“We need to ask him how he picked this place. And why. But first—let’s track that sneaky bastard and see where he went after he fled.”
Scarlet didn’t give Krista a chance to argue. She led the way outside. The snow was heavier than before and they couldn’t even see their Jeep parked at one end of the roundabout. Krista followed Scarlet to the edge of the wide porch and they shined their lights to the ground below. The flashlight beams barely penetrated the falling snow, and they could hardly make out where he’d jumped off.
“If we wait until morning,” Scarlet said, “the tracks will be buried.”
“Your call,” Krista said.
“We go. My feet are already frozen. My guess is whoever messed with the generator went to the garage, either to hide or to go to their room. That narrows it down, doesn’t it?”
“I like the sand so much more than the snow,” Krista said, but followed Scarlet to the stairs. They stayed on the path that went around the lodge and toward the garage. The path was shoveled every morning, but snow and slush had accumulated over the course of the evening. Scarlet didn’t have to retrace the steps from the ledge to the path—it was clear that someone had come from the side of the lodge and entered the path in the middle, with deep impressions leading away from the woods to the path. The path itself was well-used, staff coming and going over the course of the day. But the snow all around the path from that point on was pristine.
They entered the garage, which appeared to have been converted from an old, over-sized barn. The cars were packed in tight, at least eighteen vehicles. Not many more could fit. Wide stairs on both sides of the main doors went up to the left and right. Scarlet motioned for Krista to take the right and she would take the left. They ended up meeting at the top on a balcony that looked down into the main garage. A long hall down the center had six doors on each side. They were numbered one through twelve, evens on the right, odds on the left.
Scarlet felt the floor in front of each door. Most were damp, most had snow boots outside the door.
But only one was very wet with no boots outside the door. Either he’d left or didn’t want anyone to know he was inside.
Room nine.
Scarlet knocked.
No one answered. Hiding? Or not there?
Scarlet put her hand on the doorknob.
“Don’t,” Krista said. “We’ll get permission from Mr. Oliver. And we have no proof that whoever you saw running from the lodge is in this room. It’s circumstantial.”
Krista was right, but Scarlet was certain the culprit was here.
Reluctantly, she walked back down the hall.
As soon as they stepped outside, they heard loud voices and laughter by the lodge. The two lodge vans had returned with the wedding party, and several cars were heading toward the garage.
“The happy couple is back,” Scarlet muttered.
They walked back along the path. Scarlet was cold and ticked off.
The minimal staff was busy in the lobby helping the wedding party and guests with whatever they needed, and Mr. Oliver ignored them.
“We’ll talk to him first thing in the morning,” Krista said. “I know you’re frustrated—I am too. But we know one thing we didn’t know before.”
Scarlet was too frustrated to try and guess, because she felt like they were nowhere.
“What?” she said.
“We know that whoever is after Adam is here at the lodge and most likely an employee. They’re not going to leave without what they came for.”
“Why do you think that? He must know we suspect something by now. If I was a bad guy, I’d bolt before I was caught.”
“And that’s why our prisons are overcrowded,” Krista said.
“Because criminals aren’t as smart as we are.�
��
“Exactly.”
“We need to find out what this guy wants from Adam, and fast, before someone gets hurt,” Scarlet said.
Chapter Seven
Krista woke up before Scarlet. She peeked into Scarlet’s room and saw her sprawled across the bed on her stomach. She didn’t completely shut the door. Scarlet slept like the dead, but if she heard the smallest sound she’d be immediately awake.
Krista needed caffeine. No one else was up either, and she thought this would be the best time to talk to Mr. Oliver about the employee in room nine.
She slipped on sweatpants and flip-flops and padded downstairs in search of coffee. And maybe a muffin. She should find the gym and work out ... maybe later.
It was just after seven in the morning and the lodge was quiet. The wedding party had been up late. She saw on the events calendar posted in the lobby that the wedding was scheduled for three that afternoon. The small restaurant was open with a continental breakfast for guests. The coffee smelled tempting and the array of pastries had her mouth watering. She poured herself a tall mug and sipped while she debated between blueberry and banana nut. An older couple sat in the corner having breakfast and reading the newspaper.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Oliver step behind the main desk. He was dressed in his suit, but he looked worn out. She considered what he’d said last night, about wanting to preserve the lodge for his parents. He’d seemed sincere at the time, but she wondered if he could be a pathological liar. She sent Mac a quick note to run a basic background on the proprietor and verify the ownership of the property.
She glanced up from her phone and noticed the older couple looking at her. She nodded and gave them a smile, then crossed over to the desk with her coffee—leaving the muffin decision for when she was done with Oliver.
“Good morning,” she said.
Gone was the helpfulness from last night. Oliver gave her a disdainful look like the one he’d given her when she first arrived.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Hart?”
“Who is staying in room nine in the staff quarters?”
“I can’t really discuss staff with you, Ms. Hart.”
“But last night you said—”
“If there is a situation, perhaps it would be better for Mr. Brock to file a police report.”
Krista didn’t know whether to jump over the counter and throttle Mr. Oliver or scream. Or both.
She did neither. Instead she said, “You have an employee who may be a stalker, who also turned off the power last night, which could have been a lawsuit waiting to happen if someone was trapped in the elevator or slipped and fell. And yet you won’t cooperate?”
For a split second he looked worried, but then he stuck that aquiline nose of his back into the air and said, “I believe this entire situation has been exaggerated, and I’ll talk to the employee in question and verify what happened last night.”
“No—you can’t do that!”
“My hotel, my employee, my decision.”
Dammit! What did he think he was going to accomplish?
“You’ll alert him that we’re onto him.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know who he is.”
“Please—let us handle the situation. If you don’t want to give us his name, please don’t say anything.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands, Ms. Hart.”
She was speechless. Demands?
She turned and walked toward the staircase, her appetite gone. What was up with Oliver’s abrupt shift in attitude? Last night he’d seemed like he wanted to help and now? It made no sense.
Tiffany came bounding across the lobby and seized Krista’s arm. It was all Krista could do not to knock her flat on her back.
“Oh. My. God!” Tiffany jumped up and down.
“What happened?” Krista asked, alternately worried and suspicious.
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know. It’s fabulous! Adam is such a great guy.” She put both of her hands over her heart. “I am such a romantic. It’s a fairy tale, truly.”
“What are you talking about?” Krista asked, unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
“That you and Adam are getting back together!”
Krista stared at her. The woman was serious. “What?” she managed to croak.
“I didn’t even know he’d been married,” Tiffany gushed.
A ball of dread filled Krista’s stomach. “And how do you know this now?”
Tiffany cocked her head to the side. “Rising Star, of course.”
Rising Star, a celebrity column that ran in all the major newspapers. Krista thought she was going to puke right there in the middle of the lobby.
She remembered the couple reading the newspaper. And how they’d looked at her. And Mr. Oliver ... first helpful but then a jerk.
Krista turned away from Tiffany without another word and rushed back to the dining room. The table where the couple had been sitting was empty now, but the newspaper was still there. She grabbed it and flipped to the front page of the entertainment section. Above the fold was a photo of her and Adam taken at the restaurant last night with the headline:
Moon Drop co-star Adam Brock shares romantic dinner with ex-wife—is love in the air again?
No. No. No.
A chance meeting with his ex-wife Krista Hart led to a trip down memory lane for rising star Adam Brock...
Krista couldn’t breathe.
The photo showed her leaning close to him, Adam’s hands reaching for hers—except she remembered that moment. He wasn’t reaching for her hands, he was reaching for the bread basket. Scarlet wasn’t in the photo—this was taken during the ten minutes she was out talking to her brother. But the angle ... It made her look like she was making goo-goo eyes at him, and he the same. He looked as good as ever, and she looked ... well, enamored.
She skimmed the article and had to sit down.
Private investigator Krista Hart, who’d been a police officer with L.A.P.D. before her partner was nearly killed during a raid...
Great. Just great. She loved her privacy. She needed her privacy.
She now had none.
Then the end. The clincher.
A source close to Adam Brock said that Adam and Krista weren’t officially an item, but that neither was involved with anyone else, and the chance encounter at a ski lodge outside Los Angeles gave them the opportunity to rekindle their flame. They have been inseparable ever since.
“What source?” she said out loud.
Tiffany came up to her. “Are you okay?”
“Did you talk to this reporter?” Krista demanded.
“Me? No! But what’s wrong? It’s a great article. Anyone would love to be given so much great press.”
Krista was speechless. She folded the newspaper under her arm and, ignoring Tiffany, ran across the lobby and up the staircase all the way to the third floor. She found Scarlet in her bedroom getting dressed.
“Have you seen this?” Krista thrust the article under her nose. “Who the hell’s responsible for this?”
Scarlet pulled a sweater over her head and took the newspaper from her. She skimmed through it and frowned. “You think Adam—”
“He’s a dead man.” Krista started out of the suite, but Scarlet grabbed her arm.
“Hold on. Think it through, Krista. Isn’t this more up Dave’s alley?”
Krista’s vision blurred. She ran through the suite and found Dave standing in front of the television in a hotel bathrobe. He didn’t look surprised see her.
“You’re going to fix this, now!”
He glanced at the paper she was holding. “They ran it?” He tried to grab it from her, but she pulled it back.
“Yes! And it’s pure fiction! Call them up right now and demand a retraction.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t unplant a story. That’s not how it works.”
“What story?” Adam asked, wandering into t
he room.
“Your publicity hound planted a story about us in some gossip column.” She threw the paper at Adam. He grabbed it before it fell to the floor. “And he’s going to call them up this minute and demand a retraction.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Dave said. “I’d lose all credibility.”
Adam was reading the article and raking a hand through his already disheveled hair. He’d clearly just woken up and didn’t fully grasp what Dave had done.
“Well?” Krista said when he looked up.
Adam shrugged. “It’s a pretty good picture of us.”
Krista mouth fell open. She wanted to smack him.
“You should be grateful,” Dave said.
“Grateful?” She spun toward him.
“Yeah, what’s so bad about being paired with one of the hottest rising stars in Hollywood?”
“We are not a pair! If I’d wanted to be paired with him I wouldn’t have divorced him!”
She turned to Adam and he looked like she’d kicked his puppy. Damn it, she hated this. She tried to calm down, but the more she thought about her friends, her clients ... Her parents! Oh, God, no. Her parents were going to call her from Florida the minute they heard about this. They hadn’t liked that she’d eloped with Adam and had been relieved when she “came to her senses.” She didn’t need a lecture. She was going to be sick.
“Krista’s right.” Adam turned to Dave. “We have to fix this.”
Dave laughed. “I can’t call them back, Adam. Are you kidding?”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Adam said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He nodded at Krista. “Sorry, Kay.”
She took a deep breath and tried to calm her temper. It didn’t work. “Thank you,” she said through clenched teeth.
Adam left the room and Krista glanced around to see Scarlet and Trina watching from the doorway.
Scarlet cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s get back to business, everyone. We need to figure out how the stalker found out that Adam was here, at this resort. I searched social media and couldn’t find any reference, so who knew? That may help us narrow down who’s stalking Adam.”
“The reporter said the trip was spontaneous.” Krista glared at Dave. “Who did you tell?”
Frosted (Moreno & Hart Mysteries) Page 7