Moon Signs

by Helen Haught Fanick

  #

  Wednesday dawned bright and clear. I woke up and saw an empty bed beside me. Andrea must have gone to the lobby. I went to the side window and looked out at the snow sparkling in the fields and on the trees. Two does and a buck made their way along the side of the hotel. I went to the back window and watched them disappear into the pine thicket where Cherie found the knife. Visiting the Canaan Valley in winter could get to be a habit.

  I got ready for the day and went to the lobby. Andrea was there alone in front of the fireplace, reading a paper and drinking coffee. Ivy was behind the desk. She was getting more generous with her coffee, it seemed. I said good morning to both of them, and Ivy invited me to go to the kitchen and help myself to a cup.

  I sat down with my coffee. “What’s on our schedule for today?”

  “I’m going to ski again. It’s a nice day, and we see Birdie Lancaster tomorrow, so I won’t be able to ski then.”

  “Do you have any further engagements with the sheriff?”

  I could see she was debating about how much to tell me. “Well . . . he did say he’d like to spend a day skiing with me, but he can’t take a day off till these murders are solved.”

  A big smile crossed my face, but I didn’t get a chance to say anything. Maria Borodin walked into the lobby at that moment. “Oh, I’d love some of that coffee, too. Where did you get it?”

  Ivy spoke up. “It’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

  Maria had worn a different ski outfit every day we’d seen her, and today was no different. She was wearing black ski pants, and under her suspenders a red turtleneck. She had tossed a gray parka over the back of the couch. I couldn’t help admiring the luxurious dark fur trim around the hood. It probably was mink. I remembered reading somewhere that the Russians are famous for their minks. Or was it their ermines? She came back with coffee and sat beside the coat. I wondered how many trunks full of clothes she had in her room. And what else might be in those trunks.

  “Are you skiing today?”

  “Andrea is. I’ll be sitting in the nice warm lodge and reading.”

  “You should learn to ski. Take a lesson. I guarantee you’d love it.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” I said. “I’d break something for sure.”

  “Are you here for the week?”

  Andrea set her cup on the coffee table. “We’re not sure when we’re leaving, but I did extend our reservation through this weekend, just in case. We’re both retired, so we don’t have to get back. Will you be here till the weekend?”

  “I’m leaving Sunday. There’s s dinner party at the embassy Sunday night that I must attend.” She set her cup on the table and got up and put her coat on. “I must be on my way. I don’t want to waste a bit of my skiing time.”

  I finished my coffee. “Let’s take these cups to the kitchen and wash them before we go.”

  Andrea put her fingers inside Maria’s cup and tipped it over, then slid her other hand under it. She picked it up that way and started for the kitchen. I followed with the other two cups.

  “I’ll take care of those,” Ivy yelled after us.

  “It won’t take us but a minute.”

  Andrea was looking through shelves. She pulled a freezer storage bag from its box and held it out for me to open. She carefully maneuvered the cup into the bag and slid the zipper. We washed the other two cups quickly, not saying anything, and put them in the cabinet. Several of the black bear cups were stacked on the shelf; Ivy wouldn’t notice that one was missing.

  By the time we got into the car with the cup carefully stashed in my purse, I was beginning to feel our visit was turning into a real cloak and dagger affair. Andrea headed away from the ski area. “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “We’ll have to make a quick trip to Parsons first. I want to deliver that to the sheriff, if he’s at his office. I guess I’d better call him.” She wheeled off the road in a wide spot and pulled out her cell phone. She was searching through the numbers stored in her phone; she must have entered the sheriff’s number there.

  “Is Sheriff Sterling there? Do you know how long ago he left? Thanks.”

  She tried another number. “It’s Andrea. I have a cup that Maria Borodin drank out of this morning. Yes. I’ll meet you there. I’ll just wait outside. Okay.”

  We bounced onto the highway and turned back toward the ski area. I sat there, not knowing what was going on. Finally I got my thoughts together. “Do you know something about Maria that I don’t?”

  “No. I only know the sheriff asked me to call the embassy about her. I just figured he might like her fingerprints. He’ll meet us at the parking lot by the Bear Paw.”

  The sheriff was already there, waiting beside his car, when we arrived. Andrea pulled in beside him, and I withdrew the cup from my purse. Andrea lowered her window and handed him the plastic bag. He nodded, thanked us, got in his car, and drove away. If Andrea got involved with this man, it wasn’t going to be the most communicative relationship in the world.

  We went inside and Andrea went off to rent equipment and get a lift ticket. I got some coffee and a muffin and spotted the mysterious stranger I’d talked to before the ski lift incident. He was sitting at a table in the corner where I usually sat. I walked over and sat at a small table next to his. “Good morning!”

  “Good morning. You’re still not skiing?”

  “No, it’s not for me. I prefer to sit here and read my book.”

  “I heard about the ordeal on the lift last Saturday. That was quite a tragedy, with the death of the lift operator. Have the authorities solved the crime yet?”

  “I haven’t heard anything.”

  He looked sincerely sorry about all the problems in the Canaan Valley. “And that poor lady at the Alpenhof. That was a tragedy also. Did the authorities find that she was robbed?”

  “She had a diamond pendant and ring that were taken. The sheriff hasn’t said much. He seems to be on top of both situations.” I said the last so that if the mysterious stranger were involved, he’d be worried. He didn’t look the least bit worried.

  He stood up, opened the flap on a nearby trash receptacle, and pushed his cup in. “Well, I must get back to skiing. It’s been good talking to you again.”

  “Good talking to you.” If Andrea could play detective, so could I. I waited until he went out the door then walked over to the trash bin. No one seemed to be paying any attention to me. I pushed the flap back. His cup was right there on top of a jumble of plastic containers and napkins, just waiting for me to grab it. I didn’t know whether fingerprints could be obtained from a foam cup, but I’d take it and we’d find out later. I reached in and put my fingers inside the cup, spread them, and started to draw it out. Just then I got a cold feeling on the back of my neck that told me someone was watching me. I turned.

  The mysterious stranger had a less than mysterious smile on his face. “I believe that’s what’s called dumpster diving in this country.” He came close and reached down and took the cup from my hand. He crushed it slowly and thoroughly with one hand, and I wondered if he’d like to do the same to my neck. He put the cup in his pocket. “I’ll take care of this for you.”

  “I was . . .” I mumbled. “I was looking for my bracelet. I just noticed . . .” I began to believe my heart had stopped.

  He nodded knowingly. “And you thought it was in the trash can.”

  “It’s not on the floor or on the table.”

  “Well, good luck. I came back for my camera. I left it hanging on the chair.” He retrieved his camera and headed for the door.

  I collapsed into my chair and put my face in my hands. I was shaking from the encounter, and I was embarrassed, wondering if anyone had seen the exchange. I looked around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to me. The people nearby were skiers on break, and they were chatting in groups or sitting alone and watching the skiing through the windows.

  My body slowly returned to, well, almost normal. I tried to calm myself
by thinking, So what if the stranger realized I was trying to take his cup for fingerprint purposes? So if he were guilty of murder, then he’d probably try to murder me, too, for my suspicions. I’d be embarrassed to tell Andrea what happened, but I’d have to. And after all, I’d only done what she did. It just hadn’t turned out so well.

  I returned to my coffee and my book, and when Andrea came in for lunch, I explained the situation to her. “It’s okay,” she said. “At least you tried.”

  “Now I’m worried. Do you suppose he’ll try to do away with me? He undoubtedly knows I’m suspicious of him.”

  “Only if he’s a vicious murderer, and we have no reason to think that. He looked like a perfectly harmless person who just happened to be chatting with Maria last weekend. There’s no reason to think anything else.”

  “But I did see him later, and told him all about our lift ride. And you know how that turned out.”

  Andrea pondered all this for a moment. “We’ll be cautious. That’s all we can do.”

  Just then Maria came up to our table with a tray in her hands. “Do you mind if I join you? It’s getting crowded in here.”

  “Not at all,” Andrea said, and I nodded. The two of us got up to get some lunch. When we returned, Maria was halfway through a salad, one of those with deep greens, reds, and every other healthy looking color I could think of. Here I was with a burger, still wearing polyester and acrylic. The woman was making me feel absolutely inadequate.

  I read for a while after they went back to skiing. I’d been resisting the idea of going to the ski shop to check out sweaters, but I decided the time had come. The shop had oodles of sweaters, all in wool or blends of cotton and other natural fibers. I spotted one right away—a Norwegian-looking lamb’s wool number in avocado green—my color—with rows of flowers across the top in beige and tomato red. I tried it on, and it was perfect. I left it on, and the clerk cut the tags off for me. We put my old one in a bag. I’d surprise Andrea.

  She skied until the lift closed; she was getting to be a real enthusiast. Then she came in and exclaimed about my sweater, and we picked up sandwiches and started to the Alpenhof. We were halfway there when we heard a loud bang and the Accord veered off the road and down a steep embankment. Andrea managed to stop it just before we smashed into a large oak.

  My heart was thumping like all get out, and I couldn’t say anything at all for a while. Andrea just sat there gripping the steering wheel. I finally managed to speak. “If not for your excellent driving, we’d have crashed right into that tree.”

  She nodded. Not often did I see Andrea shook up, but this got to her, I could tell. After a while she laughed. “I don’t think I can call AAA in this area. But then again, maybe I can.” She pulled out her cell phone and then put it back again when we saw lights flashing on the highway above us. Within seconds Willard Hill was peering through Andrea’s window. She lowered it and shut off the engine.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “It sounded like a blowout. I think it was the right front tire, and I couldn’t hold it on the road.”

  “You were lucky you managed to stop.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if Willard really was upset that Andrea had managed to stop, rather than thinking she was lucky. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that he happened along so quickly. He must have been right behind us. Had he found out about Maria’s cup, and decided Andrea was getting too interested in solving the murders?

  “I was just getting ready to call AAA.”

  “Don’t even think about it. I’ll give you a ride home, and we’ll see about your car. We have a wrecker we use in this area. I’ll have him drag the car out, and we can check it out and make sure nothing’s damaged. Except for the tire, that is. We can’t have the guests in our area inconvenienced. Let me have your keys—I’ll take care of everything.”

  He was really laying it on thick. Maybe he didn’t want us to see what really happened to that tire. I wondered if there was a bullet hole in it. Andrea handed him her keys, and I wondered what she was thinking.

  We struggled up the snowy embankment and got in the cruiser with Willard. We were at the Alpenhof in minutes. “Do you think the car will be ready by nine-thirty tomorrow morning?” Andrea asked Willard. “We have an appointment with Birdie Lancaster at ten, but I can call her and postpone it if necessary.”

  I was hoping this wasn’t going to happen, so I was delighted when Willard said, “I’ll have it back here before then so you can keep your appointment.” He was still sitting there, calling the wrecker, as we went into the hotel. Maggie was sitting by the fireplace, eating her supper. “I’m going to the room for a minute,” Andrea said. “I want to call the sheriff.”

  “Be sure and tell him about the incident with the cup at the Bear Paw,” I murmured before I walked on over and joined Maggie.

  I told her about our blowout. I didn’t tell her about the cups; I’d leave that to Andrea if she wanted to talk about it.

  “Sit down,” Maggie said. “Where’s Andrea going?”

  “She went to the room for a minute. She’ll be back. We brought some sandwiches.”

  “Stefan said it would be okay if I tell you and Andrea about his past, and about why we think his life’s in danger.”

  I was all ears. “I’ll get Andrea!”

  “You’ll have to promise . . .”

  “Of course, of course!” I yelled over my shoulder as I whizzed down the hallway.