Chocolate Dipped Death

by Sammi Carter

  I actually felt a flicker of hope as I followed her instructions. Maybe Savannah had come back last night. Maybe Miles would pick up the phone and tell me that everything was fine now.

  My hope was short-lived. Six rings later, the call patched through to voice mail. I left a brief message, just in case, and replaced the receiver. “No luck,” I told the clerk. “Have you seen Mr. or Mrs. Horne this morning?”

  Julie shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. We have one hundred thirty rooms, and they’re all full. It’s next to impossible to keep track of everyone who’s staying here.”

  “Mrs. Horne is about my age. Tall. Long, dark hair. Very pretty.”

  Julie’s pert smile drooped. “You’ve just described half our female guests.”

  “I understand that, but this is important. Mrs. Horne left the hotel to go jogging early yesterday morning. Her husband hasn’t seen her since.”

  “One of our guests is missing?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, but management might. Information doesn’t always filter down to the rest of us.”

  “She hasn’t been missing long enough to get the police involved,” I told her, “but her husband is getting worried, and so are her friends. If I could find someone on staff, or even another guest who’s seen her, it would set everyone’s minds at ease.”

  Julie shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  “Were you working at five thirty yesterday morning?”

  “No. I don’t come on shift until seven.”

  “Then can you tell me who was here?”

  Her frown deepened. “The only thing I can do is give you the name of our night manager. He might be able to help.”

  “I’ll take it. Any chance I can get a phone number so I can talk to him this morning?”

  Julie shook pale blonde bangs into her eyes and swept them away again. “That’s against company policy, but he’ll be on duty again at eleven. You could probably talk to him then.” She wrote something on the back of a business card and pushed it across the counter.

  I thanked her and jotted my cell phone number on the back of another card for her. “Thanks. I appreciate the help. If you see Mrs. Horne or run into someone who has, please give me a call.”

  Julie promised she would, and I skidded back across the parking lot to the Jetta.

  Max was whining again by the time I got back to the Jetta, so I clipped on his leash and let him out into the frigid air. No matter how cold it is, Max seems to need time and space to take care of business, and I’ve learned not to rush him. I gave him his lead and followed him through the parking lot toward the mountain.

  By the time we reached the service road that runs adjacent to the forest, Max began sniffing in earnest, but instead of settling on one of the perfectly good spruces or aspens surrounding us, he raced off in search of something better.

  I fell into step behind him, a little nervous about running on the ice that still lined the unused road. I’m in better shape than I was before Max came to live with me, but I’m still not one of those people who hits the streets every day, come rain, shine, or snow, like Savannah.

  Since I was occupied with other thoughts, I didn’t notice the other set of footprints in the snow immediately. Even after I did, it took me a few minutes to figure out that Max was following them. I mean, it’s not as if there were lots of choices about which path to take. The forest grows right to the edge of the road there, and the undergrowth is so thick someone could lie hidden in it for days.

  That thought sent a cold chill up my spine, and for the first time, I wondered if Savannah had gone jogging on city streets, or if she’d chosen this more obscure path. As quickly as the thought formed, I dismissed it. Who in their right mind would run out here, alone, in the dark?

  Whatever scent Max was chasing must have been a strong one. Eight inches of fresh powder lay in mounds between the trees, and piles of snow had been pushed against the shoulder of the road by the street crews. The cold air burned my lungs, and my fingers were already numb, but the dog showed no sign of letting up.

  We rounded a curve in the road, and I sawed on the leash, trying to get Max to stop. “Come on, boy,” I pleaded between gasps. “Let’s go back. It’s cold out here.”

  To prove which one of us was the boss, Max laid his ears back and started running faster. We’d probably gone half a mile from the hotel when I caught a glimpse of something red almost buried in the snow beneath the trees. I didn’t even have time to register what I was looking at before Max lunged off the road toward it.

  I was dimly aware of car doors opening and closing in the parking lot behind us, but trees obscured the view. How odd. It seemed like we’d walked forever, but we’d circled around behind the hotel and only a few feet now separated us from civilization.

  I fell twice as I struggled through the snow toward the red patch, and the burning cold turned my hands nearly as red as the mystery bundle I was heading for. After what seemed like an hour, I drew close enough to see that the bundle was some kind of fabric, and a panicky feeling fluttered in my stomach.

  With a low growl, Max buried his nose in the snow and began to dig. Tugging him away was no easy feat, but I didn’t want to just let him go. What if . . . Well, what if?

  I secured the leash around a tree branch and, ignoring Max’s unhappy whining, prodded the mound gently with the toe of my boot. When I realized that the red fabric was attached to something solid, I swear my stomach turned completely over.

  Trying not to think, I dropped to my knees and scooped powder away with my already numb hands. But the snow was so light and dry it collapsed on itself. Each scoop I removed filled up again immediately.

  Panting and exhausted, I sat back on my heels and tried to come up with another plan of attack. Maybe it was nothing, I told myself. Something tossed to the side of the road. A waste of my time.

  But what if it wasn’t? I shifted a few inches to my right and started digging again. In spite of the frigid air, sweat trickled down my temples and the back of my neck. I kept digging anyway.

  After a few minutes, the snow fell away, revealing the slightly rounded curve of a shoulder, an arm, and one bare hand with skin an unnatural color of gray blue. The breath left my lungs in a rush, and I fell backward into the snow. I stared at the curled fingers in disbelief for far too long before the realization hit me that whoever it was might not be dead.

  I went to work on the snow again with a vengeance, shoveling powder away by the armful and praying silently with every fear-filled breath. I don’t know how long it took to uncover her head, but one look at her face and her eyes staring sightlessly at the ground convinced me of what I already knew: I was too late.

  My stomach heaved, and bile shot into my throat. With my eyes blurred by tears, I crawled into the trees a few feet away and emptied my stomach. I could hear Max howling in the background, but I wasn’t sure whether he was worried about me or eager to check out Savannah’s lifeless body.

  When I finally finished, I felt the strangest urge to lie down in the snow and let the cool white powder wipe the fever from my face, but I didn’t have time to indulge myself. I had to let someone know what I’d found.

  Naturally, my first thought was of Jawarski. I could use a friendly face right about now.

  I’d been carrying my cell phone in my pocket all day, but I was in one of those sections of Paradise the satellite signal doesn’t reach. Swearing softly under my breath, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and leaned my head against the tree where Max sat watching me. “What do I do, boy? I don’t want to leave her . . .”

  I know it doesn’t sound logical. After all, she’d been there for more than a day already. What could a few more minutes hurt? But it was the principle of the thing. Nobody had known she was there before. I did know now, and I didn’t want to just walk away and leave her lying there, cold and alone.

  After a few minutes, the sound of vo
ices cut through the haze in my head, and I realized that someone must be in the hotel parking lot. My throat hurt from being sick, but I forced myself to shout, “Help! Help me, please! I need someone to call the police.”

  The voices fell silent, but I shouted again, and a few seconds later, two women wearing hotel staff uniforms appeared through the trees. I stood and waved my arms over my head to get their attention. “Call the police,” I shouted, struggling through the snow toward them. “Ask them to send Jawarski.”

  Chapter 9

  “What made you decide to look for her out there?” Jawarski asked as he handed me a mug filled with cocoa a couple of hours later. I inched my shoulders under the blanket he’d brought me a few minutes earlier and took the cup with a grateful smile. It felt good to be inside where it was warm, surrounded by the familiar things in my apartment.

  Karen was gone, but her clothes and bags were strewn all over my living room, so Jawarski and I had moved into the kitchen. Jawarski hadn’t asked about the mess, and I hadn’t offered an explanation, but the question floated in the space between us.

  The cocoa had that pale, thin look you get from mixing that instant junk with water. I sipped it anyway and gave Jawarski an A for effort. “I wasn’t really looking for her along that road,” I said. “I was just taking Max for a walk.”

  “At the Summit Lodge?”

  I shook my head and started over again. “I went to the lodge to look for Savannah, but the clerk I spoke to hadn’t seen her. When I came outside again, Max made it clear that he needed to get out of the car. He’s the one who found her.”

  Jawarski’s glance settled on the dog, who lay curled at my feet as if finding a dead body was an everyday occurrence. Jawarski patted his side and straightened again. The man is tall and solid, with short-cropped hair, blue eyes, and a regulation police mustache that droops a little over his upper lip.

  I can’t deny that I’m attracted, but I’m determined to take things slow. My divorce is barely a year old, and my track record with men leaves a whole lot to be desired. I’d somehow managed to miss my ex-husband’s affair until I tripped over it. Jawarski seems like a good guy, but so had Roger, and look how that turned out.

  Those are my reasons for holding back. I don’t know Jawarski’s. He doesn’t say a lot, and I don’t ask. I figure he’ll talk when he’s ready. With any kind of luck, I’ll still be around to listen when he does.

  But none of that mattered. He was here for me now, his eyes gentle and filled with concern, his presence large and steady.

  I shuddered, remembering how Savannah’s hand had looked against the snow. “How did she die?”

  “We’re not sure. She’s pretty battered, though. If I had to guess, I’d say it looks like a hit-and-run, but we’ll know more after the autopsy is completed.”

  Images I didn’t want filled my head. I forced them away and looked into Jawarski’s eyes. “Has anyone told Miles that she’s gone?”

  Jawarski nodded. “Captain Palmer talked to him a few minutes ago.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “He’s pretty broken up. You can imagine.”

  Yeah. I could. That was the trouble. “Is somebody with him?”

  Jawarski nodded again. “Svboda.”

  “Nate?” I gaped at Jawarski in disbelief. Nate Svboda might be a cop, but he’s also a friend of my brother’s—a middle-aged good old boy with the sensitivity of a Gila monster—and just about the last person I’d choose to console the bereaved.

  I stood a little too quickly and felt my head swim. Jawarski caught my arm and kept me from moving. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To make sure Miles is all right. If I know Nate, he’s showing Miles pictures from the most recent issue of Playboy to make him feel better.”

  “Sit down, Abby.”

  “I’ll be fine. I just want to make sure—”

  “I know you’re fine,” Jawarski snapped. “And so is Miles. Nate’s a trained police officer. He knows what he’s doing.”

  Jawarski’s impatience irked me. “You don’t know Nate like I do.”

  “I know he has everything under control. Now, sit down.”

  I could tell he meant business, and I didn’t like it. Jawarski and I get along much better when he’s off duty. I tossed the blanket over the chair. “Sorry, Jawarski. I know you’re trying to help, but I’ve got too much to do to sit around feeling bad.”

  “What?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what’?”

  “What do you have to do? The contest has been postponed, Bea’s downstairs running the shop, and she’ll be closing in less than half an hour. What’s so pressing that you have to run off right now?”

  “Closing the store is my responsibility,” I told him, “not Bea’s.”

  He moved his hand from my arm to my hand and rubbed a thumb gently across my knuckles. “Maybe so, but I think you need to take it easy tonight. You’ve been through an ordeal.”

  His touch did something to me. The urgency drained away, and my eyes burned, but I hate crying, so I pulled away slowly. I didn’t want Jawarski to take it personally, though, so I smiled to ease the sting of rejection. “Not nearly as much as Savannah went through. I’ll be all right. Just as soon as I can get the images out of my head.”

  Kindness warmed Jawarski’s eyes. “That might take a little while.”

  “Or forever.” I shuddered again at the memory and wished I hadn’t been so quick to pull away. “I’m pretty sure that image won’t ever go away.”

  “Seeing your first body is a shock,” Jawarski agreed. “It gets easier, but I don’t think the horror of that first one ever completely goes away.”

  “I’m going to have to trust you on that,” I said. “I don’t ever want to see another dead body.” I sank back into my chair, reluctantly abandoning the idea of rushing to Miles’s rescue. Maybe Jawarski was right. Maybe Nate wouldn’t botch things too badly. He’d been on the force for at least a decade, and nobody had fired him yet. “What I want to know is, who did this to her?” I said. “Do you have any leads?”

  Jawarski’s expression grew solemn. “Not yet. There are more than a dozen sets of tire prints along the road, and no way yet of knowing which ones belong to the vehicle that hit her.”

  “But you’ll be looking for it.”

  “Of course. But at the moment you’re our only witness.”

  I pulled back sharply. “I didn’t see the accident.”

  “No, but you were the first person on the scene. It’s possible you saw something that might help us out.” He nudged the cocoa toward me.

  “I didn’t see anything,” I insisted. “I only wish I had.” I didn’t want the cocoa, but I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. I sipped and forced a smile. Yep. Thin. Watery. But warm. “She was only about twenty feet from the employee parking lot, wasn’t she? I wonder if one of the staff saw or heard something. Or maybe it was a staff member who hit her. Have you thought of that?”

  Jawarski nodded. “Yeah. We’ve thought of that. But let’s get one thing straight right off the bat, okay? I don’t want you getting involved in this. Let us handle it. That’s what we’re trained to do.”

  I held up both hands. “Not a problem. I have no desire to get involved in your investigation.”

  “Even though you found the body?”

  “Especially since I found the . . . her. I didn’t try to find her, it was an accident.”

  “But you were searching for her.”

  “Well yeah, because you told us to.”

  “I told you?”

  “When I called to ask you for help. You said that if Miles was that worried, he should look for her. So we did.”

  Jawarski rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t argue with me, so he changed the subject. “Tell me about the altercation Savannah had with Evie Rice the other night.”

  “Why do you want to know about that?”

  “I have a dead woman on my hands, Abby. I want to know
about anything that might have put her here.”

  My heart slowed ominously. “Are you saying you think someone hit Savannah deliberately?”

  Jawarski lifted one shoulder with exasperating nonchalance. “I’m just exploring every possibility, that’s all. So what about the argument?”

  I did my best to match his casual shrug. “There’s not much to tell. Savannah took first place in last night’s event, and Evie Rice accused her of cheating. End of story.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course it is.” I remembered what Richie said about Evie’s competitive nature and felt the sudden urge to start pacing. I made myself ignore it. Jawarski would suspect that he’d hit a nerve, and I didn’t want him destroying the competition and sullying Divinity’s reputation by accusing the contestants of killing each other.

  He spotted a jar of Cappuccino Divinity on the counter and pulled it onto the table. He helped himself to three pieces and said, “I understand that several of you knew Savannah when she lived in Paradise before?”

  It’s hard to resist a man who so thoroughly appreciates what you do for a living. I tried anyway. “A lot of people knew her.”

  “And I understand that some people were upset with her for coming back to Paradise?”

  “They might have been. But that still doesn’t—”

  “Including Karen.”

  A stupid statement like that made it easier to resist him. “You think Karen had something to do with Savannah’s accident?”

  “Do you?”

  “Don’t play cop with me, Jawarski. It’s not going to work.”

  “I’m not playing, Abby. Mrs. Horne didn’t just fall over in the snow. Someone knocked her down and made damn sure she wasn’t going to get up again.”

  “Well, it wasn’t Karen,” I assured him, and for good measure added, “I can’t imagine Evie doing something like that, either.”