Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  I nodded then smiled. “Well, now that you mention it.”

  “Yes, Ms. Jamison?

  “Who occupies the suite across the hall from my suite?”

  His firm but friendly tone changed to one of displeasure.

  “I’m afraid we don’t give guests’ names: hotel policy.”

  Reluctantly, I stood up. “I understand.”

  I’d just have to find out myself.

  Chapter 45

  Laptop Notations

  Nothing noteworthy occurred during my last ski lesson. Peter was his usual self: a methodical, ski instructor, taking me through various exercises and practice runs. It was a waste of my energy to be so psyched up, being on the alert for him to shove, trip or have me do something dangerous.

  I was beginning to think I was mistaken about Peter when I spotted him talking with Hans in front of that chalet. Their conversation had disturbed me. But now he was acting nothing less than harmless and cordial toward me. A few times he even warned me about the hazards of skiing improperly and how best to ski safely.

  Had I misinterpreted his words to Hans that day?

  There was one thing that kept nagging me. Peter never took me back to the ski trail where that chalet was, the one with the horse. Was he avoiding it on purpose? Was I reading too much into this? Could he really be trusted?

  After jumping off the ski lift for our third run of the day, I suggested, “Why don’t we ski that one trail again.”

  “What trail?”

  “Remember that first time I lost sight of you?”

  “How could I forget that one? What about it?”

  “Why don’t we go that way again?”

  “There are other trails that are just as scenic.”

  I checked my watch. “It’s getting late and since we’re heading back toward the village, that run virtually leaves me right across from my hotel. We might even see that elderly man I met, who then disappeared into thin air.”

  “If you insist.” Then he paused. “…What older man?”

  “That older gentleman, Hans, the one I described to you that I met behind that chalet the day Olaf joined us?”

  “What about him?”

  “I believe you know him.”

  “…I think you’re mistaken.”

  We weren’t that far from where that chalet’s trail veered off into the deep woods. I had to stir things up, so I lied.

  “My friends skied that run on my suggestion. They saw you talking to him in front of that chalet as they skied by.”

  His pause was too long. “…Oh, yes, now I remember. I spoke to an older man who stopped there. I knew the owner of that closed chalet was away and was curious why someone was there. At first I thought it might be the same man you described. It wasn’t. He had a different name.”

  Was he lying, playing both sides or telling the truth?

  Peter just stood there. None of this made any sense. Playing it safe, I kept it light until I could figure this out.

  “Don’t mind me. I see everything as one big mystery.”

  “One should never jump to conclusions,” he said. “What we think we see isn’t necessarily what we actually see.”

  “The savvy ski instructor’s advice is duly noted.”

  Peter smiled “The author would be wise to take it.”

  …Was that a warning?

  Chapter 46

  Parting Ways & Parsing Words

  Skiing down the mountain felt rushed. Had I disturbed Peter back there? I was now afraid of getting hurt and had to work hard to keep up. The chalet was still shuttered tight as we flew by it at what felt like a breakneck speed.

  My heart was in my throat with every break and turn. Was he testing me? Pushing me? Being careless with my safety on purpose? I wanted to cry with relief when I finally caught sight of the village. I wasn’t certain whether I was more doubtful of Peter at that point or disappointed when nothing actually happened to me.

  After arriving at the village, I waved goodbye to Peter and turned away, more than a little uneasy by what sounded like a warning from him back there. I glanced back, but he was already gone. Where was he headed? Why the rush?

  I still hadn’t spoken to Clay after I’d made numerous calls. His voicemail was wearing thin. Where was he?

  I started to cross the street to the hotel, but was yanked back onto the ski path.

  “What the…”

  A hand quickly covered my mouth. “Shh… It’s us.”

  I twisted around to face my mugger: Betty. Hazel was beside her. They started talking at the same time. I couldn’t make head or tail of what they were trying to tell me.

  “Hold on! One at a time!” I said, just then noticing they were dressed for a late run with their skis and poles.

  Hazel came in real close. “Something is going down.”

  Then Betty added, “This caper is becoming perilous.”

  “Who? Where?” I demanded.

  I swear, I expected to hear, ‘right here in River City.’

  Those two were so cliché driven, as was Martha, that it drove me nuts. But then it was probably the era they grew up in. I couldn’t help but snicker, expecting more of the same until I was finally able to get to the real reason why they stopped me.

  “What are you both trying to tell me: bottom line?”

  “Martha is missing!” said Betty.

  “Call Interpol,” Hazel said dramatically.

  “…Martha is missing? Are you sure?”

  “She was to meet us, but never showed up,” said Betty. “Remember she was going to hunt up that cleaning couple, Carlo and Maria?”

  “When was she to meet you?” I asked.

  “About two hours ago,” said a distraught Hazel.

  “And Mona?” I asked.

  “We looked for her too. We have no idea,” said Betty. “She went out looking for Herr Kraus, remember?”

  Now I had two missing women unaccounted for and two frantic friends. What happened to my dream vacation in the Alps, Swiss chocolate and romance with my gumshoe?

  “Have either of you two seen Clay?” I asked hopefully.

  “No,” said Betty, “Since it was an emergency, I called his room, but got voicemail. He doesn’t answer his door.”

  They turned to go.

  “Hey, where are you two going?”

  “Checking out a tip on the case,” said Betty rushing off.

  “Before it turns dark,” added Hazel waving goodbye.

  Everybody was giving me the brush-off, why?

  “…What kind of tip?” I yelled, but they didn’t hear me.

  As I approached our room, I caught the tail end of an ornately carved walking cane entering the opposite suite.

  Must be an elderly guest: so much for that mystery.

  Entering our suite, I froze. Martha and Mona were there.

  “Where have you been? Hazel and Betty were so upset.”

  “Bad karma struck then Mona’s backpack beckoned.”

  I was venturing into the land of the unknown.

  “…Huh?”

  “I’m fleet of foot, but this? Uh-uh,” complained Mona.

  Angry, Martha leaped out of the chair she was sitting in.

  “We were being stalked. How’s that for an opener?”

  Chapter 47

  Who Was Following Who?

  “The tables were flipped on both of us,” she added.

  I tried to decipher her Martha-speak, but couldn’t. “As usual, I’m confused. How about a few more details?”

  Mona cut in. “Martha tried to track down that cleaning couple from the hotel, but ended up being followed by what appeared to be, from your description, your ski-clad Hans.”

  Martha leaned in. “Forget Kraus, Mona found herself being followed by Carlo and Maria, our cleaning crew.”

  “We couldn’t shake them,” said Mona. “When we saw each other later comparing notes, it was creepy. Me, the stalker, was being stalked by who she was supposed to be stalking in t
he first place. Hers was just plain weird with that Hans.”

  My head was spinning. It was easier just to ask, “And?”

  “And we don’t know why,” added Mona.

  “We wasted hours dodging our tails,” said Martha.

  “I’m good at that,” said Mona. “But they were pros.”

  “Exactly who are we dealing with?” asked Martha.

  I sighed. “We’re nothing but a bunch of amateurs…”

  “Speak for yourself,” snapped a touchy Mona.

  “I take offense by that statement, Sam,” said Martha.

  I continued, “…who are caught up in a deadly spy web.”

  “What did Clay expect?” asked Mona.

  “It looks like what Clay expected, and what he’s getting, are two entirely different animals,” said Martha.

  I sat down. “You know what I think?”

  “What?” Mona asked.

  I looked from one to the other. “Clay’s emotions are outweighing his usual skepticism on this one. He’s become obsessed by his family’s deaths. I would be too. But by trying to find an answer, he’s gotten himself and us swept up in this spy game agenda on all sides. I don’t think he’s sure who to trust at this point. Neither am I.”

  “It’s far from cut and dry, that’s for sure,” said Martha.

  “Now, what’s this about the old ladies?” asked Mona.

  “They stopped me on their way to the ski lift all upset. They thought you two were missing.”

  “This is getting really bizarre,” said Martha.

  “They called Clay, but got voicemail. Then they said they had a hot tip on the case and hurried off.”

  “Did we buy traveler’s insurance?” Martha asked.

  Her question hit home. “I was trying to stay positive.”

  Mona glanced at her watch. “What was this hot tip?”

  I got a bad feeling all of a sudden. “…They didn’t say.”

  “We’d better go look for them,” said Mona getting up.

  “Yes,” I said, urgently. “It’ll be dark soon.”

  “We’re looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Martha.

  Mona’s brows furrowed. “You got a better idea?”

  I stood up. “Let’s get our skis. Martha: your flashlight.”

  “This sounds like more bad karma,” warned Martha.

  “Where could Betty and Hazel be going?” Mona asked.

  My head whipped up. “That chalet! Must be!”

  Chapter 48

  Now, Where Would They Go?

  As the three of us rode up on the cable car, bad thoughts intruded. Had someone called them with this so-called tip? Could Hazel and Betty possibly have been set up for something sinister: perhaps they were going to be left as an example for the rest of us to lay off our digging around where we didn’t belong?

  Martha was irritable: a sure sign of her concern about her two friends. Mona remained silent. I knew she was plotting a worst-case scenario with us three as the rescue party. And I was praying we weren’t too late.

  I pushed off first with Martha and Mona following close behind. I was sure we each had our own vision of what we thought might be taking place with those two sweet ladies, who loved sleuthing and most likely thought they were onto something big that would break this case wide open.

  We arrived at the bend in the trail near the chalet as the sun began its descent behind the snowy peaks. Taking cover under the low branches of some evergreens that lined the path. We anxiously stared at the chalet. Had my hunch been right? Was this where our friends were?

  Even though the window shutters were still closed, a flickering light was filtering through the uneven gaps in the shutters. It looked as if someone was inside.

  My own worst-case scenarios struck me painfully. Had Hazel and Betty gotten inside? Was that flickering light a candle? Were they being held hostage? We hadn’t planned on breaking in. We couldn’t exactly call the Swiss version of 911 either.

  No signal, remember?

  I turned to Mona and asked her, only half-joking: “You wouldn’t have a gun stashed in that backpack, would you?”

  “Now how would I get through airport security?”

  “One thing is for sure with her backpack,” said Martha.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “We won’t starve to death or dehydrate out here.”

  Mona turned on her. “Lay off old lady. Don’t venture into areas that might prove detrimental to your well-being.”

  “What do you call this, the happy hour?” Martha asked.

  “Okay, okay, stop it, Martha. What do you suggest?”

  “Let’s at least check it out before something bad…”

  I held up my hand to stop her. “We got the message.”

  “Hey, look!” said Martha pointing. “Isn’t that smoke?”

  It was seeping out from some of the windows.

  This was bad. “Those flickering lights must be a fire!”

  Martha turned to me, “Even though you said that place was Fort Knox, maybe we should try to at least break in.”

  “Well, we can’t stand here looking. Let’s give it a try.”

  Mona grabbed my arm to stop me. “Maybe it’s a trap.”

  “For who?” said a voice from behind us.

  Chapter 49

  Things Heat Up

  Startled, the three of us turned back to look.

  Hazel and Betty were staring right at us.

  “Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes,” chuckled Martha.

  “It’s Sherlock Holmes and Watson,” laughed Mona.

  Martha glanced toward the chalet then back at Hazel and Betty, demanding, “Now, where have you two been?”

  “We’ve been behind that tree,” said Betty pointing.

  “Wondering what you three were up to,” added Hazel.

  Betty appeared puzzled. “Why are you three here?”

  “Looking for you two,” I said.

  “We were told to come here,” said Betty.

  “Did you get a note too?” asked an anxious Hazel.

  “What note are you talking about?” said Martha.

  “It was slipped underneath the door,” she said

  “Well, what did it say?” asked Mona.

  “It was a map leading here to find some evidence.”

  I stared at Mona and Martha. “Why send them here?”

  “It said to go inside the chalet to find it,” said Betty.

  “Of course,” said Hazel. “We’re much too smart to enter that deserted looking place without scoping it out first.”

  “Then you three showed up,” added Betty. “So…”

  A loud explosion came from the Chalet.

  “Holy Moses!” exclaimed Martha turning.

  No one said a word. The flames spoke for us.

  Then Betty whispered, “That could’ve been us inside.”

  “Fried to a crisp,” Hazel added, starting to shiver.

  “Now why in hell would they send two old ladies to a bomb-rigged chalet?” asked an enraged Mona.

  “Maybe it went off prematurely,” said Martha, “or…”

  “…Their main target was already inside,” Betty added.

  Hazel sucked in a breath. “…Do you think Clay got a note too? That would explain why we couldn’t locate him.”

  We stared at the fire. I dropped my poles, unsnapped my skis and began running across the yard to the chalet, safety be damned. Footfalls sounded behind me. I glanced back. Mona was on my heels followed by Martha and the others.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mona yelled.

  She was closing the gap between us. I turned to her.

  “If there is a breath left in me and if Clay is in there…”

  “Don’t think it, Sam,” she said, now panting beside me.

  We arrived at the burning structure breathing hard.

  “Clay!” I screamed.

  “Try the door,” ordered Martha. “We mi
ght get lucky.”

  Betty and Hazel brought up the rear, breathing heavily.

  “Dear God,” said Betty. “Think he’s really in there?”

  “Maybe his note said we were in there,” gulped Hazel.

  The front door was locked. I rammed my shoulder against it. Mona joined me as well as Martha.

  It didn’t budge.

  “Lord almighty,” Martha hollered. “This can’t be!”

  It was a futile effort.

  Hazel fell to her knees reaching under big empty pots on the ground. “Martha shine your keychain light down here.”

  “Now what in hell are you trying to do?” Martha asked.

  “Shut up and do it now!” Hazel ordered, tipping one up.

  Martha was stunned into silence and clicked it on.

  “I got it!” said a grinning Hazel, holding up a large key.

  I could see the fire spreading inside. “Hurry please!”

  Mona grabbed the key and shoved it into the lock.

  Chapter 50

  And Behind This Door Is…

  Billowing smoke and sweltering heat struck our faces.

  “Better pull up your ski goggles and scarves,” I shouted.

  My eyes stung as I yelled out for Clay. But my words were lost to the sizzling fire as it burned out of control.

  Martha was right at my side.

  “Do you see him?” I yelled.

  She no longer needed her flashlight. The flames were consuming drapes and everything else in its path. I had this sinking feeling my efforts were in vain, but kept on yelling. I took another step and stumbled, falling forward. “Oh!”

  Mona was at my side instantly. “Are you alright, Sam?”

  “My goodness,” shouted Hazel. “It’s a body!”

  I scrambled on all fours to the person I had tripped on.

  “Who is it?” Martha asked standing over me.

  I prayed as I rolled the body over. “…It’s Peter!”

  He was either unconscious or dead—it was hard to tell.

  “Quick!” Mona ordered. “Let’s get him out of here.”

  We all turned when the front door slammed shut loudly.