by Liz Turner
It was seven fifteen in the morning, but the clouds seemed determined not to let a single ray of light through. So it was still pitch black as Victoria drove up to the hotel. With the snow, she drove slowly, not wanting her car to break down. It normally took her twenty minutes to reach the hotel, but this morning it took her a good hour. Her mind was already rehashing the plans for the weekend. She had seven people in all to feed: Leo, Deedee, Tess, and four other guests named Jim, Matt, Gary and Cara. She’d thought it would be a challenge to produce a light vegetarian menu, given that she usually specialized in heavier meals. Still, she’d had a lot of fun coming up with new menus. It had been a creative challenge; something she hadn’t experienced in a while.
Now, she was in that lovely mood that mixed confidence that her guests would love the meals with slight hints of doubt, wondering what could go wrong. She could feel her nerves giving off little signals of distress inside her, but she considered a little anxiety was just the right thing to get the job done.
Once, a long time ago, when she had been just nineteen years old, Victoria and her father had catered at the Larch Luminary. So many things had gone wrong at the time but that weekend had ended with her falling in love with Michael.
Sighing, Victoria made herself focus. There would be time enough to miss Michael later. Every minute of her day was planned out for now, and that was just how she liked it.
To her surprise and irritation, instead of letting her get right to work, Leo demanded a private meeting with her as soon as she arrived. Confused, and a little wary, she agreed to follow him up to his room.
The suite was large, normally displaying a fine view of the Rocky Mountains, as well as that of the river snaking its way across the land. Right now, though, the view outside only showed a blank white world. The magnificent mountains were shadows well obscured by the falling snow. Victoria stood looking out the window and was a little worried about the weather. The snowfall was getting heavier. Leo closed the door and walked back and forth in front of the TV.
“A proper blizzard.” Victoria said. “Oh dear.”
“Who cares?” Leo said. “I didn’t bring you here to discuss the weather.”
A little stiff, Victoria said, “Yes. I gathered. Mr. Loams, why am I here? Coming to a client's personal room is not my usual procedure.”
“I’m not very usual,” Leo said. “This whole situation is very unusual.” He looked up at her. “I might as well tell you, Victoria, that I made a special effort to connect with you. I didn’t need to hire you as my caterer. The Larch Luminary people were perfectly happy to do it and would have done an adequate job, too.”
Victoria felt herself get even more unsettled “So why did you choose our company?”
“You. I chose you.” Leo said. “I wanted to talk yesterday, but the lobby was a terrible idea. Tess came barging in and then I couldn’t say what I wished to. By the time she left us alone, you were itching to leave. Now, I’ve got half an hour before our mindfulness and strategic thinking retreat begins, and I've got to be fast.”
“Mr. Loams, I feel it only fair to tell you that this is a little unprofessional. I believe you better say what you wish to say quickly.” Victoria said, drawing back her shoulder and lowering her head slightly in the manner of a bull about to charge. If Mr. Loams thought he could....
“Oh for...” Leo stopped his pacing and looked at her, “I’m not making a pass at you, woman, so drop the defensiveness.”
Victoria blinked. Then said, “Good.” Inwardly, she felt relief. If he’d tried anything, her temper would have made it hard for her to stay professional.
“A pass at you!” Leo snorted. “If you had any idea the kind of nubile women who threw themselves at me every day, then again, you’ve probably got a good imagination. Picture it.”
“Alright,” Victoria said. “Point taken. Now why did you drag me up here? It’s nothing to do with the food, I hope? I assure you, even if we were not your first choice, Karen and I will give you top-class catering.”
“Forget the food,” Leo said with a huff. “I don’t care if you feed us grass and nuts. I called you here because my agent told me many, many stories about you. I even talked to one of the owners of the Larch, and he told me about how you once solved a murder here in the hotel.”
“Simon?” The owner was an old friend. He’d been grateful to Victoria since she’d discreetly helped him solve the murder of a rather powerful man. “I’m surprised he told you about that,” Victoria said. “It’s not something the hotel likes to publicize.”
“After a few glasses of whiskey, everything gets publicized,” Leo said. “I got the impression you’re smart, capable, and maybe you’ll help me, dash it.”
“Help you how?”
“I think someone is trying to sabotage me,” Leo said. “I think that it’s someone here at the retreat. I’m not sure what extent they’re willing to go to, but I think I need an outsider to talk to about this.”
“I see,” Victoria said. “You want me, in addition to being your caterer, to keep an eye out for this suspicious person?” She was looking very carefully at Leo now. At the way he twitched when he spoke, at the way he kept nibbling at his nails. This man, she told herself, was slightly unhinged. Still, he was a customer. Her best course of action was to do her job, do it well, and come Monday morning, never see him again.
With a deep breath, she ordered herself to stop letting her emotions color her judgments. Yes, Leo was eccentric. But he didn’t strike her as delusional. In fact, he looked shrewd and sharp. He had a big ego; that she could tell. But it didn’t mean that he was wrong about someone wishing to sabotage him. Still, why her? Why not hire a real private investigator or notify the RCMP?
As if he’d read her mind, Leo said, “I didn’t want to hire a real investigator because I didn’t want people to be suspicious.” He said. “Besides, I’m not even sure if I’m right. I’m an old man now, and maybe I’m just becoming senile and paranoid.”
“You’re perfectly young,” Victoria said. “You don’t look a day over fifty. You also don’t look like someone who is paranoid.” Quite the opposite. If someone had asked her, she would have said that Leo was the type of man who didn’t know that he had offended someone until they clocked him on the head.
“I’m famous, you know,” Leo said, plopping down on a chair. “That’s why people hate me. I only try to help people become better financially, emotionally and mentally. In return, I get people who hate me for their failures, and won’t acknowledge me for their success. These six that I’ve gathered here, they’re the big exception.” He put a hand to his head. “I have a headache.” He said. “Maybe I should just cancel this whole thing.”
Curiosity and years of training as an interviewer took over. Victoria asked. “Right now, Mr. Loams, I can’t make much sense of it all. How about you tell me the whole story, right from the start? Then I can help you discover who wants to sabotage you and why.” Or, she thought to herself, recommend a good psychiatrist. Then again, Loams had already been a psychiatrist.
Leo nodded. “Yes.” He said. “I don’t have a family, you know. These six students are the closest I’ve got to a family. I’ve known them all for years. Decades. When I die, everything I have will go to them.” He paused, grimaced, and clutched his head. “I want to tell you more, but maybe you could get me a bite to eat? A sample of some of your food, perhaps? It might help my headache. I haven’t had any breakfast yet, and maybe I had a bit too much of that whiskey last night with Simon.”
“I’ll be right back with it,” Victoria said, leaving the room. She shut the door behind her, though it bounced back and stayed open a crack. Through it, she could still see him sitting, with his head in his hands.
It was the last time she saw him alive.
Chapter 5
She had just finished prepping a plate of beans and toast when she heard the commotion.
The sounds of screaming and loud yells were audible even in the kitchen.
The rest of the staff looked at each other and shrugged, too professional to even stop and gossip. But as Victoria headed back toward the room, and saw a crowd in front of it, her uneasy instincts leaped into overdrive.
“What is it?” she asked a maid, who was wringing her hands in one corner.
“Bad day.” The maid said. “Someone jumped out of the window.”
“From that room?” Victoria pointed.
The maid nodded, then shuddered and made the sign of the cross. “Evil.” She said.
Victoria carefully placed the plate on a ledge and raced into the room. Inside, Simon Larch, the descendant of the Baron, who had built the hotel, was pacing around, much the same way as Leo Loams had just minutes ago.
A cold wind had turned the room into an arctic zone. The curtains flapped around like butterflies, dancing near a smashed window that had drops of blood sticking to the sharp edges of glass bordering it. The same window Victoria had leaned against, just fifteen minutes ago.
“How did this happen!” She asked.
No one answered her, as everyone was still in shock. Simon, who was relatively battle hardened, said, “We don’t know yet.”He sighed, and tried dialing his phone yet again. “Systems are still down.” He said.
“What happened, exactly?” Victoria asked.
“I’m not sure,” Simon said. “I think Loams committed suicide.”
There was a gasp from the others, and a loud scream. A woman collapsed into a chair. Victoria saw that it was Deedee.
Immediately, others gathered around her. One man, a huge giant rather resembling a bison, wet a handkerchief under the sink and pressed it to Deedee’s head. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a careless flick.
“I’m alright,” Deedee said, blinking weakly. “Oh poor, poor Leo. How ghastly.”
“We have to call the RCMP,” Simon said. “The storm isn’t making it very easy for them to get out here, though.” He sighed, and left the room. “I better go downstairs and help with the clean up.” He said.
“I’ll come,” Victoria said, running after him.
“Victoria,” Simon smiled. “Victoria Armstrong. Well, well well. History does repeat itself.”
“What’s that mean?” Victoria asked.
“Only that you solved the Pelletier case,” Simon said. “I was telling Leo about it only last night. He was a very interested listener.”
“He told me you two had whiskey together,” Victoria said.
“You met him today?” Simon looked shocked.
“I did.” She said. “I was his caterer.”
“Ah yes, of course.” Simon nodded. “Well, it’s no use talking about him now. He’s gone. That window was seven stories up. Funny. He didn’t strike me as a suicidal type.”
“Simon.” Victoria took a deep breath. “I was with him until about fifteen minutes ago. He was distressed, but I don’t think this was suicide. There’s no way it was.”
Simon shuddered. “Oh please.” He said. “The hotel couldn’t take another murder. Do you know how much we had to spend on PR the last time we had a murder here? Leo was famous too!” He groaned. “Why me! Why couldn’t he have had his stupid retreat elsewhere.”
Victoria frowned. “I don’t suppose he wanted to die, Simon.”
“Oh, I know,” Simon said. “You think I'm awful. Well, running a hotel makes you callous. Death happens all the time. You won’t believe the number of little old ladies, or middle-aged men who croak here. It’s a regular nuisance.” He sighed again. “I’m sorry, I'm cold hearted and cranky, but the truth is, one person’s death is another person’s mess. I hate messes, personally. I’m always the one cleaning them up.”
“Oh, you’re a kind, gentle soul, Simon,” Victoria said, a little more acidly than she’d meant to.
He grinned at her. “You almost make me believe it, despite the sarcasm.”
“Here he is.” They’d reached the spot, under the window, where another crowd had gathered.
The groundskeeper was bent beside Loams’ body, checking the pulse.
“No good, is it Willy?” Simon asked.
The man shook his head. “Dead, sir. The fall killed him.”
“The fall killed him. Genius.” Simon muttered under his breath. Aloud he said, “Well, I suppose we better call the RCMP. The network isn’t working, so maybe the sat-phone or the radio? Could you handle that, Willy?”
“Yes, sir.” Willy jumped up and ran inside.
“As for the rest of you, I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside the kitchen. Feel free to order a drink from the bar; it'll be on the house. I suppose it’s a little too early for drinks as it's only 8 a.m., but this is an unusual situation.” Simon said. “I feel it's best if you don't linger outside in such weather. It’s an unfortunate thing, the suicide, but that’s life.”
The crowd reluctantly moved back inside, while Victoria knelt and studied the body.
“Well?” Simon asked her.
“He’s dead alright,” Victoria said. “Still, I’m not at all sure that he committed suicide. I’ve never heard of a man flinging himself to death through a closed window. The human instinct to avoid pain means that most people open the windows before they jump.”
“Maybe so.” Simon said, “But you see, some hotels, including Larch Luminary, seal their windows shut just to avoid suicides.”
“Well then, say he was suddenly of the notion to kill himself, even though he’d given me every indication that he wanted to talk,” Victoria said. “Why wouldn’t he throw a chair against the window, break it, and then commit suicide. Why would he even commit suicide when he knew I was coming back any second? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Great. Just great. You think it’s murder. So you’re telling me we’re trapped here in a blizzard with a murderer running free?”
“Are we cut off?” Victoria asked.
“Pretty sure we are,” Simon said. “The roads were closed soon after you arrived. We could use a snowmobile to get out to Larch Hot Springs, I suppose, but in this weather, that’s not advisable. Come on, Victoria. Let’s you and I go inside before we freeze out here like poor Loams.”
“The guests aren’t going to like this,” Victoria said.
“No, they’re not.” Simon agreed. “As a matter of fact, there will be mass hysteria if people find out that this is murder. Until the RCMP arrive, you and I are going to call this suicide, not murder. Agreed? Not a word otherwise.”
“I won’t say anything,” Victoria said. “But you’ve got to realize, Simon, rumors will fly.”
“I’ll swat them down then,” Simon said grimly. “Wait and see. None of my staff will say a word.”
“Alright.” Victoria agreed. “But you can’t stop the guests from talking.”
Simon’s lips pulled downward. “I can try.” He said.
“I suppose I better go up and check on Deedee,” Victoria said.
“Who?”
“Loams’ secretary,” Victoria said. “Simon, you’ll let me know when the RCMP arrive, right?”
“Sure I will,” Simon said. “And Victoria, thanks.”
“No problem.” She smiled. “You’re cold-hearted, but you’re also an efficient man, Simon.”
“At my age, you have to be,” Simon said. “Fifty-three years old and still so much stress in my life.”
“Fifty-three? You’re not a day above Forty.” Victoria said.
“I’m almost the same age as Loams,” Simon said, with a shake of his head. “Poor man. Poor, poor man.”
Chapter 6
When Victoria re-entered Loams’ room, it was empty save for Deedee and the hulk of the man who had offered her a handkerchief. He was sniffing discretely at his wet armpits when Victoria entered. He looked up guiltily at her. Ignoring him, Victoria went to Deedee and checked her pulse. The hulk came and sat beside her, giving Deedee worried looks, and tapping his fingers on the chair’s back. The broken window had now been sealed up with plywood.
“Deedee,” Victoria said. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Deedee nodded, looking shell-shocked.
“Who are you?” The hulk asked.
“Victoria Armstrong. I'm the caterer.” She said. “I suppose that’s off now.”
“He was my guru.” The hulk said. “I’ll … I’ll pay for whatever your expenses were, don’t worry about that.” He paled. “I suppose we might just need you for the funeral. I don’t know when we’ll have it. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Oh, I wasn’t...” Victoria’s words cut off as a man entered the room. For a minute, she had the uncanny image of a fox in a suit tip-toeing into the room. The man had a mane of bright red hair and bright, watchful eyes that focused on Deedee. He dressed in a sharp suit that perfectly complemented his slender yet muscular physique.
“Leo’s gone.” He wailed, dabbing his eyes with a silk handkerchief. “Can you believe it, Jimbo?
“My name’s Jim.” The hulk growled. “And no snarky remarks from you, Gray. Deedee’s very upset.”
“I used to call him Jimbo all the time,” Gray said to Victoria. “He used to be good-natured about it back then. Then, he lost all that weight and became a strongman. Now he gets stuffy if I call him Jimbo. So I say to him, I say “Sorry Jimbo”, but then he gets even madder, can you believe it?”
“You want me to deck you?” Jim said fiercely. “What’s the matter with you, Gray! Leo’s dead, and you’re acting like it’s a big joke.”
“It is a big joke,” Gray said. “I can’t believe he’s dead, don’t you see? It breaks my heart.”
“Did he have a family?” Victoria asked.
“Leo?” Gray laughed. “We are his family, or at least, we were. What’s to become of us now that he’s gone?” Theatrically, he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. Jim sat looking increasingly uncomfortable.
“I wish I knew what to do,” Jim said.
“Perhaps we should all move to the lobby or another room,” Victoria suggested. “The RCMP might want to seal this room for their investigations.”