“I made a point of getting their full names then did some private networking on my own and guess what?”
“I’m not even trying,” I said. “Get anything specific?”
Martha gave me another grin. “Oh, nothing much, just Carlo’s grandparents’ significant job during WWII.”
I leaned in closer. “Now you’re talking. Doing what?”
“They were the cleaning staff at an embassy.”
“I swear I don’t know how you find stuff out.” I said.
Martha merely smiled. “Don’t ask because I won’t tell.”
“You belong in hackers anonymous,” said Betty.
Martha waved her off. “At my age? It’s hopeless.”
Interested, Mona asked, “Exactly where did they work?”
“Surprise, Surprise. At the Russian embassy.”
“I bet they were spies!” said an excited Betty.
Martha nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
I agreed. “If you found out, maybe others did too.”
“Maybe, but then guess what? Their trail dead-ended.”
Mona grudgingly nodded in approval. “They say you’re never to old to hack. You, dear lady, are living proof.”
Martha preened. “I’ve expanded my, uh …networks.”
“My trail dead-ended on Herr Kraus too,” said Mona. “I did get a confirmation that Kraus was trained by the US and fluent in Russian, but that was it. Oh, and he’s an author of some obscure old Swiss travel books. There was nothing after that. Zip. Zero.”
“That corroborates so far what Clay told me and what I found out on my own,” I added.
“Could that couple’s link be plausible?” Betty asked.
“Possible,” mused Martha. “Both appear to be the right age to be heirs of WWII spies.”
“But,” said Betty, “they’ve worked here for some time. Why would they wait that long to go after Kraus?”
Martha leaned in. “Maybe being sleeper spies runs in Carlo’s family and he was called back to active duty. Being married, his wife, Maria must have known all about it.”
“But why back to active duty?” I asked.
“Kraus wasn’t a threat then, but is now,” added Mona.
“Hmm ...” At this point, I wasn’t discounting anything.
I then told the others about what I had seen at the chalet with Peter, Hans and that strange couple confronting him.
Martha laughed. “They must be running a special on spies and suspects around here.”
“Looks suspicious to say the least,” said Mona.
“Maybe we’re looking for something that’s not really there,” I countered. “I might be reading too much into what I actually saw and heard out there.”
“I say we keep going on this,” said Martha.
Mona nodded. “I agree. Let’s keep looking into it.”
I nodded too. Then I turned to Hazel and Betty. “What about you two? You’ve been too quiet.”
They both glanced my way then toward the others, who shrugged, eye-rolled and nodded for Hazel to speak. I wasn’t exactly getting good vibes from their reactions.
What did they all know?
Hazel quickly nudged Betty, who finally said, “…Well, uh, we spotted a young woman leaving Clay’s apartment.”
My mouth fell open.
…He’s a dead man.
Chapter 40
Under Whose Covers?
I wasn’t one to lean toward jealousy, but this sure felt like it as my face flushed. Who was she? There had to be a logical reason for that woman being in Clay’s room, right?
Betty patted my arm. “Easy does it, Sam.”
“He better have a good excuse or else good insurance.”
Mona laughed. “Revenge is good. I personally find it extremely cathartic.”
“Show restraint,” said Betty, shaking her head at Mona.
“You need to look at the big picture,” added Hazel.
“I am, and it seems to be changing by the minute!”
Martha stepped in. “No sense getting riled up yet.”
“And why not?” I asked the other revenge queen.
“You need more proof. Walking out of someone’s room is not solid evidence. It’s merely circumstantial.”
I couldn’t believe she’d said that to me. “Since when does circumstantial come into play when it concerns Clay?”
Martha thought about that for a second. “…Since we’re in a foreign country, that’s why.”
That stopped me.
“What does that have to do with this?”
I always had difficulty following Martha’s logic. I felt the whole conversation had been gaining momentum until she threw in her two cents. Now I wasn’t so sure.
Betty stepped in. “I think you need to rethink this, Sam.”
I turned to her. “Rethink what?”
“Pardon my interruption,” said Hazel.
I then focused on her. “What?” I asked gritting my teeth.
“You are going about this all wrong,” she said.
Martha turned to Hazel. “And how is that?”
“Now I’m completely lost,” said a confused Mona.
I looked at her. “Welcome to the club.”
Mona raised a brow to me. “What club?”
“The what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about, club,” I said.
“We’re dealing with spies,” said Martha, “You have two choices. One: spy on Clay. Two: confront him point blank.”
“I’m leaning toward the direct approach,” I said angrily.
“On the other hand,” countered Mona, “surveillance might reveal something interesting, if you get my drift.”
I did, but was leery of what that drift might be.
“Why not let Betty and I do a stakeout,” offered Hazel.
“No,” I said. “Keep an eye on Peter. I’ll focus on Clay to find out who this mystery lady is. Martha, you keep tabs on that duo. Mona, find Kraus. He’s got to be somewhere.”
I needed a Hail Mary pass. Bases were loaded…
I needed a winner or me and my book were toast.
What Clay deserved was a swift kick.
What I deserved was an explanation.
What my readers deserved was a great ending.
What we’d all end up with was anybody’s guess.
Chapter 41
This Was Not My Forte
Spying was not my forte, especially spying on someone I was personally involved with. In this case, I was more upset about what I might find out. Was Clay involved with another woman, or was she merely a spy? Of course, I could be way off-base and it was nothing more than a get-together of friends between the two.
But I didn’t think so.
The more I thought about it, nothing was unintentional about Clay and everything connected to him was usually preplanned. This job was up close and personal for him since it involved his family’s history. He was directly zoned in on setting the record straight. So in a way I kind of understood his line-of-sight regarding this case.
I had to set aside my personal feelings and deal strictly with the facts. Forget the romance angle. Was she an agent or a descendent of one? Or both? Did Clay initiate contact or was it visa-versa: her arriving unexpectedly threatening Clay’s guarded target: Herr Kraus? Possible. …But twice?
Knowing Clay and his calculated strategies, it seemed likely that he was working the angles. Deep down I felt he was truthful when he confided at the bar about his family and why he was there: to protect Kraus and his book and to expose the assassin.
I paused at my laptop. But what if there was more than one killer? Plausible? I gave it some thought…maybe, but not likely. I’ve learned to never completely rule out abstract considerations. That kind of thinking was an approach of mine that helped me put everything into perspective.
Unfortunately, this time nothing was falling neatly into place. There were way too many coincidences, convenient meetings, confrontations and questions to
put anything to rest yet. The one figure I was after was the one in the center of it all: Herr Kraus. Where was this elusive figure?
He seemed to be all-knowing and mythical at this point. Having never met the individual, I was at a loss as to how to read my instincts or what they were telling me. Those instincts hadn’t failed me yet, but still…
I backed up my info onto my flash drive, then shut down my laptop and stored it securely in my room safe. That way, if someone got to it, I still had all the information as backup. I didn’t think anyone might take it, but after the Spanx incident I wasn’t taking any chances. I felt violated enough. I didn’t need my thoughts violated too.
I took one last look back at our room, memorizing the simple placement of everything. I had told the others to do the same. If someone was messing with me, I didn’t want to be caught off guard again. I locked the door and left the hotel to spy on my favorite gumshoe, Clay. I took my iPhone for snapshots, determined to find out…
Who was that woman?
Chapter 42
The Other Woman
I was freezing, clocking in on the end of an hour when Clay’s door, the one Betty and Hazel told me how to find, opened up. A striking blonde, like the one they’d described to me, walked out. I won’t get into detail about her curves and perfectly placed features. It would hurt too much. Let’s just say I was dealing with Miss Switzerland.
Who was she? As a side-note, I wanted to rip her eyes out, but you know how demure and ladylike I am in real life. But in this mystery, I suddenly had gratifying visions of placing a huge wart on the end her nose just for spite.
Those thoughts came totally unexpectedly. I tried to tamp them down, but jealousy surfaced faster than I thought was humanly possible.
…I know, I know, no man is worth that waste of good emotions, but you weren’t the recipient of all those great undercover moments we had in the past.
I mentally slapped myself. I must keep my decorum.
Oh, the hell with that…
I marched right up to Clay’s door located at the back of the hotel and pounded, hard. Even though his private apartment had a doorbell, the emotional and direct physical contact against wood felt real good: all those hormones screaming with vengeance. How dare he cavort with such a beautiful woman! I was about to drive my point home once again with more pounding when the door swung open.
Clay looked relieved. “Just who I wanted to see.”
I stood there, wordless. Now what kind of angle was he pushing with that greeting? Was he trying to catch me off-guard to recoup somewhat from being confronted by my sudden appearance at his door?
“Greetings from behind that bush,” I said pointing to it.
He got my message. “…Oh, so you saw her leave.”
I pushed by him. “Yes, I did. What, no brunettes?”
He shut the door, chuckling. “I specialize in blondes.”
I whipped around. Was he playing me? “Explain.”
“She’s Herr Kraus’s granddaughter and was concerned about her grandfather’s well-being.”
I gave him a doubtful look.
Clay laughed. “She’s happily married with two small toddlers safely tucked away behind security. She snuck out to check with me. She’s worried sick over her grandfather.”
Clay smiled when he saw my shoulders slump in relief, then he wrapped his arms around me and brushed his lips against mine, whispering, “You’re the only blonde for me.”
I could barely breathe. “…Talk is cheap.”
He came in for one of his killer kisses. When we finally came up for air, he looked me in the eye. “Proof enough?”
Still weak-kneed, I held steadfast. “…I’m still not sure.”
A repeat performance was given. I loved it and he knew it, smiling confidently when our lips finally parted.
Then I whispered, “…Now tell me who she really is.”
Chapter 43
Who?
“…And add how she ended up in your room twice.”
“She showed up the first time saying she knew about Kraus, his book and why I was here.”
“Did she sound legitimate? Is she trying to cash in on all the rumors flying around about this book of Kraus’?”
“Well, she claimed she was the granddaughter of a spy who worked with Herr Kraus during WWII. Her grandfather was Vichy French. Herr Kraus would know exactly who he was because they worked closely together during the war. She said to tell Kraus his name was Claude, who Kraus knew all too well.”
“Did she have any proof about all these claims of hers?”
“No, none that she could show me. Then she begged me to tell Kraus to keep her family’s name out of it. Claude killed no one. She said her grandfather had nothing to do with my grandfather’s death and Kraus knows that.”
“Did you believer her?”
“The only one who could answer that was Kraus. So I told him exactly what she said. He laughed and dismissed her claims completely. I relayed back to her his response when she showed up this second time.”
“Is Kraus playing some kind of game with the truth?”
“If he is, it’s bewildering why. The list keeps growing.”
To include my name too. Time to put my foot down.
“I’m being placed at risk. My mutilated Spanx was most likely a warning shot for you to take your eye off who you should be guarding. I think I deserve to meet Kraus. I want to ask some questions. I won’t accept this mythical man behind a curtain: a puppet master pulling the strings.”
Clay agreed. “You’re right. I’ll set something up.”
I crossed my arms. “Now, let’s discuss Peter.”
“…What about him?”
“No stalling this time, Clay. I’m not buying it.”
“I knew my charisma could only buy me so much time.”
“Maybe we’ll work on that at the end of this book.”
“I’d like that,” he said, tipping up my chin for a kiss.
But I drew away. “Have you considered the original assassin might still be alive? Tell me what you know.”
“Peter got wind of the rumors about Kraus’ book and also found out why I’m here. His grandfather was a spy as well. It’s a small village, gossip spreads: the book, my presence… Anyway, Peter insisted on helping me protect Kraus until the person who threatened Kraus was outed. He was also concerned Kraus might make false accusations about his grandfather killing my grandfather and father, which would ruin his own family name.”
“I take it you confirmed Peter’s story and background?”
“Yes. Peter’s grandfather was already arrested by the Americans for spying for Germany at the time of my grandfather’s death. He couldn’t have killed him.”
I then told Clay what Martha found on the Italian duo.
“So there’s one more heir of another spy.”
And I was still figuring out the elderly Hans/Peter link.
“Clay, have you checked Kraus’ background?”
He nodded. “I tried when all this first started, but all information about him dead-ended after 1945.”
“When Mona checked out Kraus it was the same thing. And according to the publication dates, his old travel books on Switzerland predated 1945.”
“Peter and I’ve been closely guarding Kraus in shifts. Now we’re waiting to see who will make the next move.”
I smiled. “…Can I suggest a possible next move?”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Blondie?”
“As gumshoes go, you’re pretty savvy on the uptake.”
Oh, the fringe benefits of all this spying and sleuthing…
Chapter 44
Back To Sleuthing
I’d just walked through the rear door of the lobby from Clay’s apartment when Herr Miller, the hotel manager stopped me, his eyes barely meeting mine.
“Ms. Jamison, may I have a word with you in private?”
What could I say but, “…Sure, of course.”
&
nbsp; “Please follow me to my office. I wish to be discreet.”
He walked briskly through the lobby at a much faster clip than me. I had a difficult time keeping pace: forget catching a side-glance to get a read on him.
What was the big rush?
By the time I rounded his door, he was already behind his desk, gesturing for me to have a seat. I waited for him to start talking. I knew if you waited patiently and stayed silent long enough, people became uncomfortable, feeling a need to fill in the gap and start talking. He did.
“An unfortunate incident that took place on our hotel grounds was brought to my attention by someone.”
Now, be honest, what were the odds someone saw me?
I managed a smile as he sat there waiting for a response, but my voice had somehow gone AWOL. Someone must have witnessed my rock-throwing event. Or Hans, my victim, had complained. Well, so much for me keeping a low profile. I took the play-it-dumb route.
“…Are you referring to anything in particular?”
“Our hotel is known for decorum and discretion because our guests expect it. And even though this is stressed on our premises, unfortunately your incident didn’t fall into either category. Of course, I am not referring to your trashcan episode that was awkward at best. …But this one?”
I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair, feeling like a kid being sent to the principal’s office for misbehaving. How could I possibly explain throwing rocks at a man I hardly knew, but at the same time still felt threatened by? Even I wouldn’t buy that lame excuse. Was Hans a hotel guest and the ‘someone’ who had complained? I refused to ask.
So I sat there and said nothing.
“I’m sure you know this latest episode I’m referring to.”
Elaborating would have compounded it, so I nodded.
“Then let’s put this last and final event behind us.”
I started to get up, but then sat back down.
“Is there something else, Ms. Jamison?”
Considering my episode, Miller reacted pleasantly and in an efficient manner: a loyal employee. I figured I had nothing to lose by asking one question.
Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) Page 8