Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  I smiled innocently. “…Well, maybe a small bandaid.”

  Clay aimed straight for the bathroom mirror. “Oh, no!”

  I came up behind him and peered my head around his shoulder. “…Well, maybe a shiner too.”

  By this time he was cleaning the blood off his face.

  “…Let me do that for you,” I suggested sympathetically.

  He jerked away. “No! I value my other eye.”

  I threw in my perfected teary-eyed look. “…Please?”

  His shoulders slumped and he sat on the toilet seat.

  “Clay, I’m so sorry about all this,” I said, then started to gently kiss him all around his eye, then the tip of his nose. He started to grin. Then I ever-so-softly kissed all around his lips and came in for a killer kiss of my own. He actually swooned and my lips curved upward, still attached to his.

  Next thing I knew his hands were on my hips and he drew me onto his lap, whispering softly, “Great anesthetic.”

  “I thought so,” I whispered back.

  “When is everyone coming back from skiing?”

  I chuckled. “Why, Clay! What are you suggesting?”

  “I think I’m going to need more than bandaids.”

  “Does it hurt that bad?”

  “More than you will ever know. How about it?”

  I grinned. “They should be back soon.”

  He whisked me up and carried me to the bedroom.

  “Which one is yours?” he asked. “We’re on the clock.”

  I pointed. And that’s when his words hit me.

  …How’d he know they were out skiing?

  Chapter 29

  Aha! I Knew It!

  “Stop right there and put me down, now!” I demanded.

  Then I pushed Clay away from me and scowled.

  Clay threw his hands up in the air. “Now what?”

  “What did you mean, ‘when is everyone coming back?’”

  He lowered his hands. “…Oh, so you caught that slip.”

  “I sure did. And I’m waiting to hear how you knew.”

  He hesitated. “I haven’t been all that far from you.”

  I stomped my foot. “Aha! I knew it! Where were you?”

  “I was using one of the hotel’s apartments in the back.”

  “For what purpose may I ask?”

  “Surveillance.”

  “Herr Kraus, right?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Peter.”

  “Funny, like Olaf, he never mentioned that either.”

  “Does it really matter now that he told me?”

  “I guess not. Not after getting caught here by you.”

  “By the way, how’d you get in here?” I asked.

  “I had a key, a bad headache and needed some aspirin.”

  Hmm… “And why did you have a key to my room?”

  Clay winced in pain, saying, “…For your protection.”

  “Let me get that aspirin,” I said, considering his answer.

  Was he wincing for sympathy or deflection? Ah, trust…

  After swallowing the pills, Clay followed me back into the bedroom, but abruptly took my wrists and pinned me up against the door and kissed me. “Now, where were we?”

  “Uh-uh. You have too much to answer for.”

  I felt the door handle against my spine wiggle a little. I smiled thinking it was some playful move of Clay’s as he gave me a wicked smile in return.

  “I’m about to, right now,” he whispered leaning way in.

  “Stop! You know I can’t think straight when we kiss.”

  “That’s the whole point,” he said, not letting me go.

  I swear I was balancing on one foot, raising my one knee, about to nail him to get his attention to stop. But then the door was shoved open and we both lost our balance, and fell to the floor: me landing on top. I looked back up.

  “What the…? Tell me I’m not seeing this,” said Betty.

  Hazel went scarlet. “Oh, my!” she said, looking away.

  “It’s not what you think,” I said, trying to get up.

  Clay’s face, obscured by my body, lay beneath me as I attempted to untangle us. He was chuckling.

  I finally got to my feet, glaring down at him.

  “Ladies,” Clay said, as he got up off the floor.

  Hazel and Betty drew closer, but before they could ask what was going on, I quickly ushered them inside the room, shut the door and announced, “Clay’s been here the whole time and knows everything.”

  Bunched by the door, everyone began talking. The door flew open again. We all turned to look. It was Martha.

  “What’s this, a skier’s anonymous meeting?” she asked.

  Hazel and Betty parted. Clay smiled. I was tucking my shirt in and straightening my hair from our kissing episode.

  “Should I ask about Clay’s swollen and bruised eye, or leave?” Martha asked me.

  Clay pointed at me. “She threw a perfect fast ball.”

  I grinned at her. “Hey, Martha, where’d you buy that face cream? It really works.”

  Chapter 30

  And Then There Were Two

  Antsy to get back on the slopes after lunch, the others left to retrieve their skis. Mona had not joined us to eat. The ladies said she was taking a walk. Clay and I headed to the bar and ended up at the same table where Peter and I had sat. It was my invite. I needed to talk to Clay alone.

  “You have some explaining to do, mister.”

  “You sound just like Martha,” said Clay laughing.

  I smiled at his intentional snarky compliment. “No nonsense, straightforward, that’s me, now spill the beans.”

  “Ah, another Martha euphemism.”

  “They do come in handy. And I’m still waiting…”

  Already knowing my stubborn streak and that I wasn’t about to be put off any longer, Clay sighed his usual sigh of being forced to admit some truths.

  If I wasn’t so confident with the new me, I’d be hanging on his every word. Trust me, those days were long gone. Now I mostly ignored his advice and went with instinct.

  But he didn’t really need to know that now, did he?

  “I gather you’d like to know exactly why you’re here.”

  “That would help,” I said, eyeing him warily.

  “After all this time, and you are still suspicious of me.”

  I went on glaring at him, saying nothing.

  He laughed. “I guess I would be too.”

  “So?”

  “I was asked to guard Kraus. I hired Peter as backup.”

  “That much I know. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Like what?”

  I wanted to wring Clay’s neck. “Like, why would Kraus ask you of all people? Why not someone local?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Then give me the short version.”

  He looked at me steadily. “I haven’t told anyone this.”

  I bit my impatience back, saying, “Told anyone what?”

  His smile faded. “What I’m about to confide in you.”

  Then I realized he was dead serious. “And that is…?”

  “It’s something I’ve never spoken about before.”

  “…Why not?”

  “Because it involves the past about a few people.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like my grandfather, Herr Kraus, and my father…”

  I sat there waiting for the rest, but then Clay rubbed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

  “…What is it, Clay? You know you can trust me.”

  “I know that. If anything, I know that much.”

  So I waited patiently as he stared off, thinking.

  His eyes fixed back on me. “My grandfather was a spy.”

  In lighter circumstances I would’ve asked for what side, but this threw me. I flagged the waiter and ordered a drink.

  “I can’t afford leaks. That’s why I invited you, Sam.”


  “…And a bunch of loudmouthed, opinionated women?”

  That alone proved he was desperate.

  Chapter 31

  Looking Through The Spyglass

  Clay stared at my drink. “Vodka and orange juice?”

  “I needed the Vitamin C boost to handle this shocker.”

  He shook his head. “I never make it easy for you, do I?”

  I took a sip. “No, but you keep it interesting.”

  This couldn’t be easy for him either.

  “…As a young US spy, my grandfather was assassinated during World War II. Many years later, as an investigative reporter, my father decided to look into his father’s death.”

  “Your Aunt Jenny raised you. How’d you find this out?”

  “Well, after my Aunt Jenny died, I cleaned out her attic and found letters: one from my Aunt with the truth, and the rest from my father to her. He was close to uncovering my grandfather’s killer and mentioned Kraus had helped him in his search.”

  So, the onion gets peeled further back on Herr Kraus.

  “Your dad didn’t die from illness, like your aunt said?”

  “No. I located Kraus to confirm what was in the letters. Kraus said, yes, he knew my grandfather and father.”

  “Did Kraus say how he met your grandfather?”

  “In a foreign language class of the US government’s.”

  This was not the obscure, aged author I had imagined.

  It was obvious what Clay was referring to. “I’m thinking the OSS, a precursor of the CIA. What was the language?”

  “You’re right. It was Russian. My grandfather was a young field agent. For years my father investigated to find out who killed his father.”

  I couldn’t believe Clay’s unexpected mystery. “And…?”

  “Following up on a lead, my father was shot and killed.”

  “Two deaths, too coincidental. Sounds like a setup.”

  “Kraus figures my father came too close to the truth.”

  “But what does this have to do with Herr Kraus now?”

  “He’s publishing a memoir to flush out the killer.”

  From obscurity to notoriety. Interesting metamorphous.

  “Kraus let that news leak out on purpose, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but there’s a snag. He said it’s one of three spies.”

  “…And Kraus isn’t sure exactly which one,” I added.

  “He was sure the guilty party would surface. They did.”

  “Because they’re not sure how much Kraus knows.”

  “Kraus wants to be certain exactly which spy it is.”

  “This all sounds complicated. How about more info?”

  “I can’t tell you too much for your own protection.”

  I didn’t like it, but I now understood Clay’s intentions.

  “Kraus won’t even give me the names. He said I’m just here to protect him. I have no choice but to wait. If I say no to this arrangement than I find out by reading his book like everyone else. I want to at least be in on the takedown.”

  “This is a dangerous bluff: Kraus playing a live decoy.”

  “He’s terminal: cancer. All I’m after is the truth…”

  “…Before Kraus dies,” I added, getting the crux of it.

  “By killing Kraus, the killer’s identity is preserved and so is the integrity of their heirs.”

  “Why don’t they wait so Kraus’ secret dies with him?”

  “No one else knows Kraus is terminal. And Kraus is determined to keep it that way. Once the book is published, time or death is irrelevant. The truth will finally be out.”

  “You’re fighting an unknown entity though,” I said.

  “Kraus won’t stop until the killer’s name is in print.”

  “Why the rush, the obsession on Kraus’ part?”

  Clay eyed me steadily. “He has descendants too.”

  “And he’s worried about their safety?” I added.

  “Yes.”

  This whole thing was nothing but a rat’s nest.

  Chapter 32

  As Memoirs go…

  “Where did Kraus’ threat come from?”

  “An untraceable email. Trust me, a specialist tried.”

  “What exactly did it say?”

  “That Kraus would end up the same way my grandfather and father ended up if he published his memoir.”

  “What did Kraus have to say to that?”

  “If it was just himself, he’d have dismissed it, but this anonymous email also threatened his family. They must be stopped, but we don’t know who they are!”

  “How horrible! Where is his family?”

  “Kraus had them whisked off under guard to an isolated village in Switzerland. He said there are individuals and their descendants who owe him a few war debts.”

  “So then he called you, and Peter was hired to help.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you trust Peter with this?”

  “Yes.”

  I recalled Peter’s meeting in the lobby. “Are you sure?”

  Clay weaved his fingers through mine. “Sam, trust me.”

  Even though I was an amateur among professionals, I’d trust, but verify on my own. This had multiple tentacles.

  “I do trust you. I was asking if you could trust Peter.”

  I tried to think.

  So where do I play in the scheme of things?

  Was I perceived as a threat?

  Would anyone expect me as Clay’s back up?

  Not even Kraus. I was Clay’s girlfriend. You know, a blonde ski bunny: arm candy for Clay, the disarming PI. What kind of threat could I possibly be?

  I thought about my Spanx. Whoever did that must have thought I was the perfect bargaining chip for Clay, who landed on the scene, causing a ripple in their so-called plan to get rid of Herr Kraus so this book wouldn’t be published.

  It would be much easier to scare me as a diversion than try and go after and stop Clay, who was more experienced, hardened, and had an agenda of his own. I was a soft target: an author who would scare easily. Protecting me instead of Kraus would then compromise Clay and his focus.

  Kraus would be bare: without protection.

  I was already mentally weighing the pros and cons of what was going on so that I could help Clay and possibly solve this mystery. But with Clay there’s always more to it, and for some reason I felt he was holding back. Why?

  I couldn’t wait for everyone to get back from skiing. This had book potential written all over it. Computers and phones would buzz as we considered angles and unraveled facts on another mystery because this was personal.

  It involved Clay.

  Right now I’d leave the physical side of it to Clay, but the mental side was wide open as far as I was concerned.

  As Clay and I parted, I was a little more than curious and somewhat concerned after checking my watch.

  Where was Mona all this time?

  It was unusual for her to skip a meal with us.

  Uh-uh.

  Something was up.

  Chapter 33

  Speaking Of Which…

  The door to our suite slammed shut. I personally locked it myself, so it had to be Mona or the ladies. After having just left Clay, I knew it couldn’t be him.

  I peeked around the bathroom door where I was getting dressed for my walk into town. My mouth fell open. Mona was a mess. Her dark brown hair looked like it was used as a mop. And her clothes weren’t in much better shape: jacket half off, knit hat askew, one pant leg half up, broken sunglasses, dangling slightly, and one glove was missing.

  At least she was grinning. When she saw me, she panted quickly: “Don’t worry—I’m still alive.”

  “What happened to you?” I asked, approaching her.

  “You had to be there,” she said. Her breathing was fast, as though she’d just been running.

  I ushered her over to the chair to sit. “Try me.”

  “I had to take the stairs,” she sai
d, sucking in air.

  Was that a twig sticking out of her hair?

  I covered my smile at her comical appearance, pointing.

  “What?” she asked, raising a hand then yanking it out.

  “I’m surprised they let you in the lobby,” I commented.

  “I tried the back door, but some damn idiot locked it.”

  Uh-oh! Change the subject. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Just give me a second to catch my breath and wits.”

  I leaned closer to her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She held up a hand: a signal she’d speak.

  “…I need a drink,” she said hoarsely.

  “I’ll get you some water,” I said, turning to get some.

  She clutched my arm. “No! I need something stiffer.”

  At that moment, I didn’t think it was necessary to inform her I’d needed one myself earlier.

  “Sorry, no can do. We could go to the bar or order in.”

  “There are small liquor bottles inside my backpack.”

  I moved toward it, but then stopped. “What’s alcohol doing in your backpack?”

  “I’m like a St. Bernard. It comes in handy if I ever get injured and need first aid real fast, like now.”

  I gave her a skeptical look.

  “…Okay, I threw them in there on my flight over here. You know me when it comes to lucrative endeavors. It was a bonanza with that first class seat that Clay arranged for me and all those free hard liquor bottles for the taking…”

  “He sent you first class?” I choked out. “Why that…”

  She held up another hand. “I was a rush-order backup for you and on the next plane. Clay freaked when he heard about your Spanx. I was to watch over you and see what I could do to help. His mind and efforts were elsewhere.”

  “I know,” I said, handing her one of the small bottles.

  “He told you?”

  “Earlier. I’ll explain later. Now, what happened?”

  She cracked open the small bottle and took a swig.

  “I followed Peter and barely escaped alive.”

  Chapter 34

  I Kid You Not

  “…Peter?”

  “I kid you not.”