Snowed In with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine. Fine,” I muttered, trying not to look into his aggravatingly electric green eyes. Why did I have to do all my thinking on my face?

  “I heard you and Grady broke up. I’m sorry.”

  “We didn’t break up,” I scoffed. “Who told you that?”

  “Grady.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “You look cold. Do you want to go get a hot chocolate or something?” He jerked a thumb behind him. “I was just going to—”

  “Are you kidding me? I can’t do that!”

  Matthew’s eyes widened. “No, no, I didn’t mean for it to be anything other than hot chocolate,” he said quickly. “But I can see how maybe it’s too soon for … uh … hot chocolate.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m just … I don’t know what I am.”

  A small smile touched Matthew’s lips. “It’s okay. I get it.” One of the things I liked best about Matthew was that he was smart. He knew exactly what I was thinking and going through. We had talked about his first love last time he was in town. He seemed to be of the belief that relationships that were always having problems were problematic relationships. I tried to explain to him that Grady and I weren’t like that, but I don’t think he believed me. “Things are still complicated.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and said, “What do you say we talk about you?”

  “Okay.”

  “How is it going?” I asked. “Are you living here full time? You said you had plans to fix up the estate? How’s your mother?”

  “Um, it’s going pretty well,” he said raising a finger. “I spend about sixty percent of my time here.” He raised another. “The renovations are going well. I’m in town actually to pick up a permit.” Another finger. “And my mother is doing well too, all things considered.” He looked at his hand. “Did I get them all?”

  I smiled. “I think so.” A moment later I added, “I’m sorry I’m acting so crazy. It’s been an interesting day.”

  He nodded.

  We stood there in silence another moment before I suddenly surprised myself by asking, “While I’m at it, though, can I ask you one more question?”

  “Go for it.”

  “Are you happy here?”

  He crinkled his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I know it’s only been a couple of months, but you’ve been living in New York,” I said, pointing in what I hoped was the direction of New York. “Coming back to Otter Lake is a big change of pace.”

  He scratched absently at his temple. “I still love New York, but the longer I’m back here—without all the problems that came with living with my parents—the more I’m kind of liking it.”

  I made a noncommittal noise.

  “This lake has a way of sinking its hooks in you. The clean air. The natural beauty. The people. Especially the people.”

  “Freddie thinks Otter Lake is a black hole.” I waved some half-hearted warning hands in the air. “That nobody can escape its clutches.”

  Matthew chuckled. “He may be onto something. I don’t know what I expected would happen when I started renovating the estate. I thought maybe I would just use it as a summer home. Maybe even sell it. But then I go to one historical society meeting, and all of the sudden I’m hosting all these events, and—”

  “Events?” I asked screwing up my face.

  “Yeah, like maybe a picnic on the lawn in the summer, and a big Christmas party next year. I blame Mrs. Watson and her homemade fruit cordials.” Suddenly Matthew was studying my face. “What happened? What did I say?”

  I sighed. “Nothing. It’s just Christmas.”

  “Isn’t Christmastime supposed to be a happy time of year?”

  “It was … is! I mean, it is.”

  “Oh,” Matthew said with a nod. “That’s right. Grady went to visit you in Chicago this past Christmas, didn’t he?”

  “How did you even know—” I shook my head. “This freaking town.”

  He smiled. “Sorry.”

  I tried to say it’s okay, but it came out all garbled, so I just waved my hand.

  “So, I take it you’re asking me these questions because you can’t decide whether or not to make the big move?”

  “I want to move home,” I said, subtly trying to wipe my nose with my gloved hand. It was really cold. “At least I think I do, but everything always seems so crazy here.”

  “Otter Lake is a special kind of place,” he said, looking around the street. “I think you kind of just have to roll with it.”

  “So you’re telling me you weren’t even the slightest bit scared moving back home, knowing full well everything that comes with Otter Lake?”

  “Well,” he said with a faraway expression, “the town is a lot quieter when you’re not around.” He peeked down at my face and smiled. “I’m kidding. Kind of.” He then shoved his hands deep in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “But seriously? No, not really.”

  I sighed.

  “That being said, I think I’ve felt what you’re describing before though.”

  “You have?”

  “Well, when I fell in love for the first time.” He tilted his head side to side as though considering his answer. “And the second.”

  “Really? Love?” I rolled my eyes. “You just had to go there didn’t you?”

  He chuckled. “At some point, you just have to have a little faith.”

  “In love?” I asked dryly.

  “No,” he said, smile widening. “In the belief that you can handle it if the love thing doesn’t work out.”

  My jaw dropped. “You … that sounded a lot like … have you been talking to Rhonda?”

  His features froze, and I could have sworn his cheeks flushed.

  “You have!” I shouted, pointing at his chest.

  “We go out for beers every now and then,” he said with a nod. “But it’s not like we talk about you and Grady all the time. She’s actually trying to set me up with her cousin.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

  I felt my eyes widen then whip back around in the direction of the sheriff’s department. “I’m going to kill this freaking cousin of hers,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I said, turning my face back around with the most pleasantly neutral expression I could muster. “I didn’t know Rhonda had a cousin.”

  “Yes, yes, she does.”

  “So are you going?” I wasn’t sure if I was asking because I didn’t want this so-called cousin of Rhonda’s cozying up to Grady … or, and much worse, I didn’t want her cozying up to Matthew—because even though I wasn’t about to claim him as my toy, I didn’t want others playing with him either. And that would just make me selfish.

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly, capturing my eye with his. “Maybe? Rhonda’s giving me the hard sell, and it’s not like I’m doing so well getting dates on my own.”

  Suddenly I realized that we were holding eye contact way too long. And the way he was looking at me … well, I was finding it hard to breathe.

  “But the point is, as crazy as this town can be, people do care,” he said looking away, which was good, because my lungs started working again. I had been getting dizzy there for a moment.

  “So, you headed back to the retreat? The weather’s getting pretty nasty. Do you need a ride?”

  “I don’t want to put you out,” I said, mentally running through my options again, “but I kind of do.”

  “It’s no problem. Really.” He took a step. “We just have to stop at the Dawg and pick up the hot chocolate I ordered.” He froze and shot me a pretty flirty look. “None for you though. I know how you feel about hot chocolate.”

  “That it’s warm and delicious?” I asked with a hard swallow.

  He smiled just as he moved to jog across the street. “Feelings we definitely don’t want you associating with me.�
�

  Too late.

  * * *

  The boat ride across the lake with Matthew had been just a wee bit menacing. The water wasn’t too rough yet, but the clouds, with all their churning and building, well, they were carrying a pretty heavy message of doom. There also wasn’t any rain or snow yet, but you could tell the wind was driving something in. I considered it a personal victory that I only thought about wrapping my arms around Matthew’s torso for warmth one time as he steered the boat.

  Stupid Grady.

  I wouldn’t have even thought it the one time if he would stop dumping me already. Probably. I was only human.

  As we approached the island, I noticed another boat tied to the dock.

  “I thought the retreat was closed?” Matthew shouted over the wind.

  “So did I,” I said, quickly realizing he couldn’t hear me. I raised my voice a notch. “Apparently the lodge is now the location for a reality TV show.”

  Matthew shot me a look.

  “Oh yeah. New series. Rich Bitches. I’m getting a sneak peek.” Huh, that sounded weird. I was getting a sneak peek into the real life that I was experiencing right now. Then again it would probably look entirely different on TV.

  Matthew cut the engine, almost at the dock, the water pushing the boat forward the last couple feet. “I take it you didn’t know about this.”

  I smiled, popped two little fists in the air and cheered, “Surprise!”

  He huffed a laugh. “Wow, being home for you is a little crazy, isn’t it?” he asked gripping the wheel as the water slapped roughly against the side of the boat. “Do you want me to come in?”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “You have done more than enough. Thank you.” I stepped onto the dock being careful not to lose my footing on the slippery planks.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” he said, starting up the engine again. “But just remember if things start to get hairy, an alliance is the only thing that can save you.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “What? I like TV,” he shouted, putting the boat in reverse. “I can’t just draw buildings all day.”

  I waved as Matthew pulled away, then turned my attention to the boat tied off on the other side of our dock. It had the Otter Lake Marina logo—a waving beaver—airbrushed on the side. Yes, Otter Lake’s mascot was a beaver named Betsy. Oh, how people could laugh and laugh about that. Not me though. Betsy and I had gone way back. She was dead now. Not because of me, of course. Despite what some people may think. It was a long story.

  The family’s so-called patriarch must have rented the boat from Ken. He owned the marina and had a couple of nice loaners. This one was a decent-sized cruiser. Solid looking. Nice and roomy. Could fit a lot of passengers.

  And that was the first bit of good news all day …

  … because it was time to get these people off my island.

  Chapter Eight

  “Disappointment! Disappointment! Disappointment!”

  I froze two steps through the door of the lodge. I was just about to announce that the island needed to be evacuated due to the storm, but the disappointment in the air kind of threw me. It had come from an older gentleman with angry eyes at the head of the harvest table, his family sitting all round. I couldn’t really focus on any of them, though, because right in front of me was a man in a black business suit. A very, very big man.

  “I’m going to need to pat you down.”

  My eyes trailed from the man’s torso, up, up, up to an intimidating face. He had pale blue eyes, a military-style haircut, and a jagged, crescent-shaped scar that ran down from the side of his forehead to his jaw. Overall his look could probably best be described as … scary Bond villain, maybe? I almost told him he could be an actor, but, then, you know, didn’t.

  “Spread your feet. Hold out your arms.”

  I took a step back, struggling to find just the right thing to say, but all that came out of my mouth was “No.” I also tagged on a slow finger point.

  “Then you will have to wait outside.”

  “Um, no?”

  “Leave her,” the man shouted from the head of the table. “She’s not important. Watch the family.”

  The bodyguard didn’t move. Just held me in his gaze. I peeked up at him from under my eyebrows, throwing him a weak smile. After a pretty uncomfortable moment, he stepped to the side.

  I kept my eye on him as I side-shuffled my way over to the producer, Julie, seated on one of the sofas that had been pushed against the wall to accommodate the new placement of the table. She had her hands pyramided at her mouth, eyes intent on the action. Kenny, her cameraman was gliding around the room with a seamless grace that I guess came with the job.

  As I got closer, Julie patted the cushion beside her, and I sat down even though there really wasn’t time to get comfortable. I needed to announce we were all leaving. Unfortunately, the man at the head of the table was still shouting—he had moved on to lecturing the group about the importance of legacy or some such thing—and I couldn’t quite figure out how to interrupt. I whispered to Julie, “I take it my mother hasn’t shown up?”

  She shook her head no.

  I sighed. Where was she? This was getting ridiculous. “So, what exactly is going on here?”

  “I thought you didn’t care?” she replied, raising a self-satisfied eyebrow. I guess I could I throw a pretty loud disappointed look too, because she added in a hurried whisper, “Well, you missed the beginning, but that’s Rayner Boatright. He—”

  “You made that name up,” I said.

  Julie placed her hand on her heart. “Swear to God, I didn’t.” She smiled, then said, “Rayner is the one who gathered the family here today. He just sat down.” She squeezed her shoulders together in excitement. “Things are getting real.”

  I shook my head. Okay, well, that explanation told me nothing. But it didn’t matter. Forget finding the right moment. I needed to nip this thing in the bud. “I hate to break it to you, Julie, but whatever this is,” I said, gesturing at the table, “it’s going to have to move to another location. I was just at the sheriff’s department, and there’s a storm on the way. We need to evacuate.” I planted my hands on my knees to push myself back up again.

  “What!” Julie hissed, grabbing my arm, yanking me back down. “No. No way. Not now. He’s just about to tell them that—” She snapped her mouth shut. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Okay,” I said, looking at the hand gripping my arm. “You’re going to need to not do that.”

  Julie smiled. “You’ve got a temper. I like that.” Then the smile disappeared. “But you need to sit down now and be quiet. I moved mountains to make this happen. Getting Rayner on board? That was not easy. He only agreed to do the show because—” She stopped again, pinching her lips together.

  “Let me guess. You don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Exactly. Now buckle up, Hillbilly Girl. This is a’happening.”

  I blinked a few times while mentally reciting, Don’t slap the producer, Erica. Slapping is assault. Slappers go to jail. A moment later, I took a breath and said, “I’m not sure if you are aware, but there is a superstorm coming.” I gestured to the window. “Do you really want to be trapped here all night with these people?” I was thinking in particular of the hyena vest girl. Ashley, I think it was. She kind of had the look of one of those creepy horror movie dolls that comes alive at night and stabs you while you’re sleeping.

  Julie’s eyes darted side to side. “Oh my God, that’s even better. Nobody’s going to make it out alive!”

  “What?”

  She patted my leg. “That’s how we’ll sell it.” She held her hands out like she was envisioning a far-off marquee sign. “We’re trapped. In the storm of the century. It’s terrifying. I couldn’t script that.”

  “Okay, I think you might be missing the point here. I get that this is all building up to some kind of family drama, but—”

&n
bsp; “Oh, this is much more than just your average family drama. Do you think Third Act would send me out here for just anybody?” Julie’s eyes darted around my face like she thought I might be crazy. I wasn’t offended this time. I felt kind of crazy. “Rayner is worth over five hundred million dollars. And that’s just what’s in his bank account.”

  I felt my eyebrows shoot up as my jaw dropped. “Five hundred million dollars?” I shot a look back over to the guy still yelling at the head of the table. “Wait, is that in real-life money or in reality-TV money?”

  “Sometimes they are the same thing.”

  Five hundred million? I couldn’t quite conceive of that much money. I had barely wrapped my head around the fact that my mother had inherited a couple million back in the day. She had bought the island, then donated the rest to some charity. I was probably better off not knowing which one. For all I knew, it could have been, Save the Beavers! Not that beavers shouldn’t be saved from whatever it was threatening them. It was just—I cut the thought off by pressing some fingers into my forehead. “Why? Why is this my life,” I muttered to no one in particular.

  “Thank you! Finally you understand,” Julie hissed. “Now hush.”

  I blinked a few times, trying to figure out what had just happened, but was soon distracted by the older man at the table snapping his fingers. I watched the behemoth of a bodyguard produce a case from behind a chair. He opened it on the table, pulled out a glass, and then a bottle of what I assumed was Scotch, and poured the man a pretty sturdy helping. I guess you can afford on-the-go booze service when you’re that rich.

  Once the glass had been poured, Rayner picked it up and gave it a good swirl. “All right, now,” he said, taking a big gulp, “you all want to know why you’re here? I’ll tell you.”

  “Finally,” Ronnie, the head MILF said, before she jolted up and added, “I mean, tell us, baby. Please.” She placed a hand on Rayner’s arm but turned her head to the camera, pouching out her swollen lips.

  Julie’s face twisted into something pretty vicious as she swirled her finger in the air. Ronnie’s head whipped back around. “How many times do I have to tell her not to look at the camera?” she muttered.