Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Peter laughed. “That is for the small kinder ski class.”

  I gave him a confused look. “The what?”

  “Kinder, in German, means children.”

  “Oh…”

  “Don’t worry. My method will teach you how to make short turns and have strong pole placement.”

  I was already white-knuckle gripping my poles. They looked more like lethal weapons than something that would save me. Of course in my hands one never knew.

  Peter patted my shoulder. “We only have a few days.”

  Wearing my bulky ski jacket and pants, scarf, padded gloves and knit hat, I gave a reluctant, “…Okay.”

  “Many people think it is safer on a groomed course and skiing those moguls is unsafe. But once you learn and understand a few simple techniques, it is easy and safe. Today you will learn control, balance and technique.”

  Technique? Me? “But we’re high up and I’ve never…”

  “I know,” said Peter. “I can see the fear written on your face. Relax. You won’t need fast reflexes with this.”

  I frowned. “What else did Clay tell you about me?”

  “He said you have an excellent sense of humor.”

  A smile finally tugged at my mouth. “Depends.”

  “On what?” Peter asked.

  “I’m allergic to pain. I also have this height thing…”

  He arched his brow. “And you want to ski the Alps?”

  “Who said anything about wanting to? I have a point to prove to a small select group of people and you’re going to help me do it in four days, right?”

  He nodded and smiled. “We will work on both, okay?”

  “My life is in your hands, Peter. Lead the way…”

  I could do this. No, I swear, I really mean it this time.

  Chapter 12

  A Pain In The Neck, Literally

  We met up at our suite. I was incapable of changing out of my ski clothes for lunch downstairs. I was stiff and sore, but single-minded in seeing this through. Martha signed the receipt for room service and turned back to me.

  “After France, I’ve got this exchange thing down pat. Besides it’s not my money so I gave him a generous tip.”

  After four hours of ski lessons, I was aching all over.

  “Serves Clay right for suggesting I practice skiing.”

  Chairs were arranged around a linen-topped table on wheels, laden with soup, breads and fruit. The girls were kind enough to set it up right next to my bed. All I had to do was painfully swing my legs over and under it to eat.

  Betty was concerned. “Don’t overdo it, Sam.”

  Hazel patted my arm. “You’ll be a pro in no time.”

  “Hey,” laughed Mona. “It could be worse.”

  “I don’t see how?” I asked after popping some Advil.

  “You could’ve broken something already,” she said.

  “Ah, words of encouragement. Just what I needed.”

  Martha grinned. “Someday you’ll be skilled like me.”

  “At what? Clipping people as you race by?” said Mona.

  “Hey, I gave him fair warning with a loud whistle.”

  Betty shook her head. “Maybe he was hard of hearing.”

  “Poor man looked to be in his late eighties,” said Hazel.

  “Then he should’ve had a special vest on,” said Martha.

  “You mean the kind with a bull’s-eye on it?” said Mona.

  I began laughing. Their banter worked faster than pills.

  “Feeling better, Sam?” asked Hazel.

  “A little. Is this normal, all this pain I’m feeling?”

  “Cramming all that skiing into four days is a bit much. I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Betty.

  “Since when does Sam limit herself?” Mona asked.

  “Obviously, not since she met you,” quipped Martha.

  “Listen old lady. I know black belt,” warned Mona.

  Martha eyed Mona. “Aren’t belts off-limits with you?”

  “Don’t venture into my weight issues. I’m big and tall.”

  After lunch and much laughter, I was feeling better. I checked the clock. “I’d better hit the trail for more torture.”

  Betty and Hazel exchanged glances.

  “We almost forgot to tell you, Sam.”

  I paused in place. “What?”

  “Hazel and I saw Peter and Nick exchange something.”

  “Where?”

  “In the lobby,” said Betty. “Think that’s unusual?”

  “The locals must know everyone here,” said Mona.

  “We tried to get closer to see and hear,” added Hazel.

  “But new people checking in prevented us,” said Betty.

  “I wouldn’t be concerned,” I said.

  “No?” said Martha. “When should we be starting to?”

  “Always question who, then the why,” warned Hazel.

  Martha cracked, “Must’ve been a ski lesson schedule.”

  “Very funny,” I said. “I still wouldn’t be concerned.”

  Chapter 13

  Ready, Set…Wait!

  I leaned forward staring down that hill. Although Peter was right next to me, I felt queasy. I glanced at the tips of my skis hovering slightly over the edge just waiting for me to push them off on a run. This could be painful and lethal.

  I was aiming for calm and collected, but didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off. Uncertainty was rearing its ugly head. I tried to suppress it by giving myself a mental pep talk.

  It can’t be that bad. Peter is here. Snow is soft, right?

  Then I smiled at Peter. “Maybe this is too soon for me.”

  All he said was “Give me those two.”

  I stared at him, confused. “What two?”

  He looked down at my hands. “Your two poles.”

  I laughed at the thought. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He held out his hand, waiting. “No, I am not.”

  I stared down that hill. …When hell freezes over.

  He stood with his hand outstretched. He wasn’t kidding.

  Neither was I. “I definitely should practice some more.”

  “Samantha, we’re taking this first run without poles.”

  Was he trying to kill me?

  Now that was a novel thought. “Uh-uh,” I said.

  His hand never wavered. He just smiled. “Trust me.”

  I did and I didn’t. Reluctantly, I handed over my poles.

  He immediately skied over to a sign and stuck them into some packed snow. Then he did the same with his. He then grabbed a long stick he had leaning against a post, then skied back right next to me. He held it sideways in front of both of us. “Grab onto the other end like I’m doing.”

  It was like holding onto the safety bar of an amusement park ride with Peter right next to me. Unfortunately, the bar wasn’t attached…to anything.

  He smiled at me saying, “Remember all that I taught you this morning. You will do perfectly fine. Just trust your instincts about which way to lean and turn. I will help you and be right beside you the whole way. Are you ready?”

  I stared down at all those moguls. “Nooo…!”

  I guess he didn’t hear me because he pushed us off.

  “We’ll go slow so you can learn how it feels.”

  I was so frightened, I was sorely tempted to just shut my eyes and wasn’t the least bit interested in what we were probably going to hit that would most likely strike me dead. But something made me keep them open.

  “Relax, Samantha. Feel the terrain and go with it.”

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Before I realized it we were about a third of the way down the hill. I was still in the upright position, but now I was smiling instead of grimacing and gritting my teeth.

  “What do you think, Sam?”

  “This is great. I feel it! I feel it!”

  “Good. Now let’s go a little faster.”

  “Hey, wait
a minute! Nooo…!”

  I swear, I didn’t even have time for my life to flash by.

  Chapter 14

  Returning To The Crime Scene

  When we finally reached the bottom I was so surprised I patted myself down to make sure all of me had made it. Then I looked back up the hill, amazed I was still alive.

  “I can’t believe I…I mean, we… did that!”

  “You have a natural talent and feel for the slope, Sam.”

  Did I just hear what I thought I heard? Me? Talent?

  “Why thank you, Peter. I did have my doubts, but…”

  “Now, are you ready to go back up?”

  Uh-uh. My writing deadlines were torture enough.

  “…What do you mean, back up? Whatever for?”

  “To go for a different run this time.”

  I took a steady breath. “…Different run?”

  “I thought you might like to see some Swiss chalets and ski through the forest to practice the skills you learned.”

  “…I don’t know.”

  “Trust me. Would I let you go if I thought you couldn’t handle it? Besides, I will be with you the whole way.”

  I stared back toward the village. I could go shopping…

  “Do you want to become proficient?”

  “…Well, yes and no.”

  Peter laughed. “Didn’t you want to prove something?”

  I smiled then. “I guess I could take more Advil later.”

  Peter laughed again. “I’m positive you can do this.”

  I had to suck it up, bite the bullet, and all the rest.

  “You’re right. If you think I can do this, let’s go!”

  “We will ride back up like we did before,” he said.

  We arrived where I had waved goodbye to Martha and the others. Peter retrieved our poles and handed me mine.

  I glanced around, relaxing. “Okay, where to?”

  “We get on the next lift to go higher.”

  I barely managed, “…We’re going higher up than this?”

  “To see the magnificent views and glacier first,” Peter explained, “above the tree line then ski through the forest.”

  I cast a wary eye at the lift, and then looked downward.

  …Higher?

  I heard children laughing and turned. They were eagerly climbing onto the lift.

  …I did have insurance.

  I squared my shoulders, skied over and jumped on, with Peter getting on beside me. “Let’s do this,” I said.

  I came to get a job done and would do it.

  I stared down as we ascended, watching people on the ground getting smaller …and smaller. I was grabbing the bull by the horns, not pussyfooting around, I was…

  Oh my God! I was thinking in Martha’s clichés!

  This was a mistake. I was an author, not a professional skier. I was supposed to kill my antagonists not myself!

  “What is it, Sam?” Peter asked as I gripped his arm.

  “Does this thing go in reverse?”

  All he did was laugh all the rest of the way up.

  Ski instructors sure have a strange sense of humor.

  Chapter 15

  Over The Hills & Through The Woods

  When we arrived at the top, Peter saw my reluctance and gave me a gentle shove. I quickly landed on my feet and wobbled to a stop a few feet from the lift. He slid in beside me. “See?”

  I conceded the point by smiling. “I guess I’ll live.”

  “Sam, look around. Isn’t this beautiful up here?”

  I had to admit it was spectacular. I looked off in the distance at the glacier and other mountain ranges. “Yes!”

  “You have the skills for this run. Plus, I’ll stay close.”

  Who was I, the student, to second-guess him? “Okay.”

  “I will lead, but keep a constant visual on you.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t know which way to go anyway.”

  “Exactly. Plus I don’t want you veering off track.”

  I had no interest in sightseeing the local hospital either.

  “This easy run I chose is gradual, but heavily forested. If we get separated for a bit, just follow the ski tracks. It’s popular with the locals because there aren’t many tourists. It’ll be safe to practice on. I know the way, so follow me.”

  I smiled, encouraged by his words. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Peter nodded and took off. I followed right behind him observing his body language, while remembering all he’d taught me. I leaned into the turns and paralleled my skis to slow down, and pivoted to skirt all the trees laden with fresh snow. It was a gorgeous, brisk and sunny afternoon.

  Every once in a while someone would either whistle or give a type of yodel to let me know they were skiing past me at a faster speed. I held steady as Peter instructed and was gaining confidence negotiating my turns and digging my poles in every once in a while for balance and speed.

  Now I knew the exhilaration and thrill Martha and the others always talked about. Between the concentration, physical exertion, the thrill of the ride, and the stunning beauty of my surroundings, fear never entered the equation.

  I caught my breath as a deer darted off to the left. A clump of snow cascaded off an evergreen branch to the ground on my right as I swooshed by. I felt like I was skiing through one of the numerous postcards I’d seen in the hotel shop. Growing ever more self-assured, I let the gap between us slowly lengthen.

  Every once in a while I’d catch Peter turn and raise his pole slightly, waving it in the air. Knowing he was keeping an eye out for my progress, I relaxed. And the further we skied, the more confident I felt. Coming up on the right was a Swiss chalet surrounded by snow-covered evergreens and with stacked firewood and a corral. It took my breath away as I sped by. Then I turned away and skirted some trees…

  What the…? Peter was gone!

  I followed the well-worn ski trail, rounding more trees, but he was nowhere in sight. I stopped. There was nothing but more trees. I looked down. Tracks veered off all over.

  …Hey, wait a minute! Which ones were his?

  Chapter 16

  Getting My Bearings

  Panting from exertion and uncertainty, I peered up. The sun was angled. It was getting late, but how late? Other than giving me the time, carrying a cell phone would’ve been useless so I had left it at the hotel. A lot of good it would have done anyway. With all these mountains, getting a signal was futile. I checked all around me on the forested ski trail. Not a sole. It was eerily quiet.

  Where was Peter?

  He must’ve realized I wasn’t behind him by now, right? Could Peter ski back uphill to get me? I stared at the trail as it sloped downward, feeling disoriented. I knew the village was down below, but how far, and which way? All the trees surrounding me now obscured any distant views.

  I couldn’t stand there and wait any longer. I had to get moving and take my chances before the sun set. Skiing in the dark was not exactly a specialty of mine. Come to think of it, skiing in daylight wasn’t either. I adjusted my goggles, dug my poles in, and…bam. I was struck hard.

  The wind knocked out of me, I collapsed to the ground.

  I lay in the snow on my back, too stunned to move from the hit and the sudden pain, trying to catch my breath. After a minute, I finally opened my eyes expecting to see a skier standing over me, apologizing to see if I was all right.

  But no one stood there.

  I raised my head a little and glanced around. Zip. Then I slowly sat up. I still had my skis on, which were positioned awkwardly in the air. Somehow I managed to get them flat on the ground, grabbed my pole, and stood up, then bent to grab the other. Then I took stock of my surroundings and a much-needed calming deep breath.

  I couldn’t believe someone would hit me and not stop to see if I was okay. Of course, I was in the middle of the trail. Perhaps with all the trees obscuring long distance views, the skier hadn’t seen me until the last minute.

  But still, it didn�
�t excuse their actions. Would someone else come along? I hadn’t seen anyone for a while: which was a good and a bad thing. The good thing: I wouldn’t get another surprise hit. The bad thing: there would be no one to direct me back to town. I had to get out of there, after having visions of me wandering aimlessly and spending the night slowly freezing to death or, maybe in just hours.

  Then my crazy mind kicked in. Did I have identification on me? I frantically searched and came up with my wallet. Good. At least if they found me in a frozen lump they could identify the body. I stood there visualizing that.

  Uh-uh. Not in my book. I’d ski downhill in the dark first, rather than freeze to death. There’s no way…

  Then an idea hit. That chalet I’d passed. I could go back there for help. I turned around. It wasn’t that far and the trail looked almost flat.

  It’d be like cross-country skiing…

  Chapter 17

  What Was I Thinking?

  I half skied, slid, limped and finally dragged myself to the clearing where the picturesque chalet stood. Now I felt like I was in the postcard from hell. I was panting heavily, making a mental note to never, and I mean never, go cross-country skiing. I was born to drive not ski. Scratch sports.

  I was panting and dripping with perspiration: so much for freezing to death. I’d probably have a heart attack first. That would have been preferable at that point. I could barely stand. My thighs were screaming bloody murder.

  If Clay suddenly appeared I would have committed one.

  I tried to focus on my mission: ask for directions. I stuck my poles in the snow and unsnapped my skis, propped them against the fence of the chalet and tore off my scarf. Then I unlatched the gate and approached the front door.

  I found a pull chain attached to a bell and rang it.

  Nothing.

  I started knocking on the door. Then I pounded.

  Nothing.

  I stepped back from the door and surveyed the whole chalet. It was shuttered tight. No one was there. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Then I started walking the perimeter. It was the same everywhere: locked up tight. My eyes drifted over to a horse in an enclosed corral. He was leaning over the fence post and just staring at me.