After hanging up with Helen, he tried Dale but had to leave a message. He then headed back into the room, opening and closing the door as quietly as he could. He heard the rustling of sheets—Sara was stirring.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said.
She was in the middle of a large yawn, but when she saw him, she pulled the pillow over her head. Just like a teenager.
He knew what the next request would be and powered on the in-room coffeemaker. He’d already emptied the packet of grounds into the filter, topped up the water, and set it to brew. Now it was gurgling and spluttering.
“Coffee’s coming. All will be right in the world soon.” He sat next to her on the edge of the bed.
She slowly removed the pillow from her face and sat up, leaning against the headboard. “I can’t believe it’s morning already,” she moaned.
He was smiling. Watching her greet a new day never got old.
“How long have you been up?” she asked him.
“Almost two hours.”
Her eyes widened. “You should have woken me.” She moved to get up, but he put a hand on her shoulder to keep her in bed. It wasn’t just because he liked her where she was, but they didn’t need to go running out the door.
“We have a murder to solve, Sean.”
“Yes, and it will be there after you’ve had your coffee—all three cups—and a healthy breakfast.”
The fire in her eyes calmed, and she smiled at him. “Thank God for coffee.” She laughed.
“I’m not sure what the coffee companies would do without your support. Go bankrupt maybe,” he teased.
“I’m not the only person in the world who loves coffee, darling.”
He never wanted to change a thing about her, but he did wish she’d ease up on her caffeine consumption. Three-plus cups a day wasn’t good for anyone’s health. Still, it was far from a deal breaker, and if it made her happy, well, who was he to interfere?
Sara went to get up again, and Sean moved out of her way. Her motive in rising was different this time, more urgent. Probably her morning bathroom break. He wasn’t going to mess with that.
By the time she returned, the coffee was ready and he had poured her a cup.
“Aw, thank you.” She accepted it from him, blew on the hot liquid, and then took a sip. She tapped a kiss on his cheek, and he nuzzled into her neck before maneuvering his face to take her lips.
After their kiss, she stepped toward the window and drew back the blinds. She sheltered her eyes from the brightness of the morning sun that glinted off the snow like a zillion little diamonds. He came up behind her and hugged her around her waist. She put her one hand on his arm while the other held the coffee mug. They stood like that for maybe ten seconds before she spun to face him.
“We need to figure out who killed Adrian, Sean. There is no way he had an accident.”
“Even professionals have accidents,” he said.
“I know.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “But an accident doesn’t sit right with me. That’s not even mentioning the phone call to the front desk after he was dead.”
Sean could argue against the doesn’t sit right with me part. How someone felt didn’t make it the truth. He was used to Sara having feelings and hunches about things, and they were right on the mark more often than not, but he needed more than emotion to lead him in any direction. In this way, as in others, they complemented each other. While he wanted hardened facts, she could see between the cracks. But in this case, he agreed: the phone call was an enigma.
“If you don’t believe it was an accident, we’ll just have to prove it,” he said, trying to encourage her.
She nodded and took a quick sip of coffee. “We will.” She set her mug down on the table next to the window and hurried in the direction of the bathroom. He stared out at the mountainside.
“Sean?”
He turned around.
“Are you going to join me?” She winked at him from outside the bathroom door and disappeared inside.
-
Chapter 7
WITHOUT A BADGE TO STAND ON
SARA WOULD RATHER SOLVE A murder than face another ski slope. Sean told her she did a terrific job yesterday, and her intact bones testified to the fact that she’d survived, but she wasn’t in any hurry to press her luck again. The truth was she’d mostly agreed to this trip for Sean. She didn’t hate skiing, but she didn’t love it, either. And she wished for Sean’s sake that the investigation hadn’t interfered with their vacation, but their stay could always be extended. Maybe she’d visit the resort’s spa while he hit the slopes. That actually sounded like a lovely idea.
As it was, she and Sean were still in their room. She was in front of the mirror applying a coat of mascara. While another cup of coffee was definitely on her list of things to do before going out in public, she was eager to get moving for the day. She had so many questions she wanted answered.
Like why was Dale Peterman so keen on having them investigate Adrian’s death, and why didn’t he trust the police with the matter? If he was hoping they’d rein in the news of Adrian’s death, he was wrong. That would be impossible. The news had probably hit thousands of blogs and social media sites already, if not actual news broadcasts.
“We need to call Mr. Peterman.” Sara paused with her arm in the air, the applicator mere inches from her lashes. “I think we need to call him first, find out his exact motivation for hiring us.” Her suggestion was met with silence, and she quickly finished applying her mascara and left the bathroom.
“Sean? Did you hear me?” She found him looking out the window again. Skiers were already dotting the mountain.
He slowly turned to her. “Sorry, my mind drifted.”
She tilted her head. “As soon as we get this wrapped up, you’ll go skiing. We can extend our stay.”
“What about the business? There will be more cases waiting for us back in Albany.”
“Yes, and they can wait.” She walked to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not too late to say no to this case.”
He took her hand in his. “We’re going to find out what happened to Adrian Blackwell.”
She peered into his eyes, and his resolve was clear. Maybe it had been her promise to extend their vacation, but seeing that Sean had changed his mind made her happy. She hated feeling like she had somehow destroyed his vacation.
“Why the change of heart?” she asked.
“I’ve just been thinking. I mean, you have this Olympic skiing champion who dies on a hill… It seems poetic in a macabre way. If he didn’t die from an accident, maybe the killer was trying to say something.”
“Do you think the killer was up on the hill with him when he died?”
He shrugged. “Without knowing more about how he died, I can only guess. But the rumor seems to be that he had an accident, so I’d guess he was alone. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t drugged or his equipment wasn’t tampered with.”
“We need to find out his cause of death,” she said.
“That would be a terrific start.”
“Do you think Detective Callahan would tell us?” Her question hung in the silence, but she sensed his response. It was in the way his eyes lit up and kept shooting to her lips and then back up to meet her gaze. “You want me to use what God gave me, don’t you?” It wouldn’t be the first time they used her looks to get information.
“It couldn’t hurt. Our PI licenses can still get us the databases for background checks, but otherwise…”
She sighed. “Why does this always happen to us?”
“You just want to flash that PI license, don’t you?” Sean laughed.
“Of course, and I don’t get to often enough. For every on-the-books case we take on, there are ones like this.”
“Dwell on the positive, darling. We can gather information legally
on anyone we want.”
“I think we should have Helen start with Adrian Blackwell and Dale Peterman. Maybe we’ll find motivation for someone to kill Adrian.”
“I agree, and while Helen’s taking care of the background checks, we need to find out how Adrian died.”
“Well, no need to stand around here.” Sara tugged on Sean’s arm, leading him in the direction of the door. “I do remember you mentioning something about breakfast. We should probably grab a quick bite. I mean, especially if I’m going to use my looks to get in with Callahan.”
“Actually, darling.” Sean stopped. “I have an even better idea. Callahan probably won’t tell you any more, anyhow. Why should he? If we press him with questions, it will just put us on his radar. He’ll know we’re looking into things.”
“Good point, but how are we going to find Adrian’s cause of death?” She scanned his eyes and had the answer.
They spoke at the same time.
“Adam.”
-
Chapter 8
A GOOD WAY TO START THE DAY
ADAM LAVERTY’S REALM OF EXPERTISE never ceased to surprise or impress Sean. They found him in New York City at Universal Acquisitions Corporation, one of the many businesses Sean had inherited from Quinn. Adam had been working as the assistant to the CEO at the time, but he was a genius and the position didn’t allow him to use his brain to its full potential. Not long after their first meeting, Sean and Sara realized how he could help them. He was brilliant with technology, and his know-how had been of help on more than one occasion before they gave him a promotion within Universal and offered him contract employment with the PI Firm. He could hack into any system, and Sean believed that included the federal government. Of course, Adam didn’t breach systems for fun or malice; he only did so at Sean’s request. This was one of those legally questionable means they were about to implement.
Sean had called Adam before they headed for breakfast at the Alpine, a restaurant at the resort. They were seated at a table, and Sara was sipping another cup of coffee while he was drinking orange juice. The waiter had taken their orders and returned just now with their food—sliced apples, grapes, berries, and Greek yogurt for Sara and eggs Benedict for Sean.
“Will there be anything else I can get for you?” the server asked.
“No, thank you,” Sean answered. His stomach growled at the sight of his food. This was a breakfast that could hold him all day, but he suddenly felt like a pig watching Sara dip a spoon into her yogurt. She licked it clean and pointed the utensil at his plate, particularly indicating the Hollandaise sauce that coated the poached egg and English muffin.
“You give me a hard time over drinking too much coffee and you’re putting that into your body?” She smirked and then slid another spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. After swallowing, she said, “The Sean I used to know never would have ordered that.”
She was right to a degree. He never would have. At least not in front of her. There were times he’d divert from a healthy diet to indulge in this vice—if one wanted to call a seven-hundred-calorie breakfast a vice. He could justify it when it held him over like it did.
“My one weakness, but it does fill me up,” he replied as he laid his napkin across his lap. He took a knife and fork to his food, and took a bite. The flavor made him want to close his eyes out of sheer pleasure.
“Good, darling?” Sara asked.
He might have moaned out loud. “That it is. Possibly too good. How about your fruit?” Yep, he was definitely feeling like a pig.
“Good.”
“After breakfast, I say we swing past the front desk and see what they can tell us about this phone call they received.”
“But we don’t have any legal authority here.”
“The front desk clerks won’t know that.”
“You think they are going to part with information related to Adrian? They know he’s dead by this point.” Sara said the name at a lower volume than the rest of her speech so nearby patrons wouldn’t overhear.
Sean stabbed another piece of coated egg with his fork and put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Maybe this calls for a little undercover work.”
“Now you want to use my looks?”
“They never hurt.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled demurely.
“Adrian apparently had a lot of female friends. You could pretend you are one of them.”
“And how would that work exactly?” she asked, one eyebrow cocked. “People remember my face.”
He grinned. “They remember more than that.”
“Sean.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine.”
She had presented a good question, but he was pretty certain he had the solution figured out. She’d have to pull off the role with the skill of a seasoned actress, but he didn’t doubt her abilities, especially when it came to getting answers.
“We use what we know,” he stated simply.
“And…?”
“You’ll need a disguise.”
-
Chapter 9
A FRESH APPROACH
SARA WASN’T THE TYPE OF woman who blended into the walls. She had a memorable face and her beauty was something both men and women noticed—at least she’d been told as much many times before. She had used these attributes in her favor on several occasions, but she still wondered if manipulating situations by using her genetics was an ethical thing to do. But sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
She moved her wedding band from her left ring finger to the other hand, but she knew she’d need a good disguise to avoid being recognized by the staff. When she and Sean had checked in, the front desk had made a big fuss over their arrival.
The thought of going undercover reminded her of a previous case when they both changed their appearance. Sean had worn a wig with a ponytail, a fake mustache, and bell-bottoms. She had worn a blond wig, and a red skirt that fell just below her knees and flared out like a fifties-style poodle skirt. The seventies had a revival, but Helen had sworn it was the best she and Jimmy could find at the vintage store.
Jimmy Voigt used to be their sergeant, but he had started working for them over a year ago. Sara briefly wondered how he was making out this week. He was vacationing, too, celebrating his one-year anniversary with his girlfriend.
Her mind returned to her current quandary as she and Sean wandered through the lobby. Here, there were no vintage stores. Besides, if she even attempted a wardrobe and ’do like she had for that case, she’d likely be kicked out of the posh resort.
“You don’t happen to have that wig with you, do you?” he asked. He must have been thinking the same thing she was. “You know, the one you wore for the case in Virginia?”
“Do I remember?” She had an eidetic memory. “Are you referring to the bouncy blond curls? I was just thinking about those.”
“Hey, you have no right to complain. Blondes have more fun.”
She bobbed her head side to side. “I did have fun.”
“See?” He laughed.
“But it washed me out. I look better as a brunette.”
“You, Mrs. McKinley, are a knockout no matter what your hair color.”
“Even purple?” She thought she’d test him.
“Even purple.”
“Now, where to get a purple wig…” She tapped a finger to her lips, but she caught the way he was taking in her natural locks. “I’m not dying my hair.”
“I never said you should.”
“Would you stop?” She recognized he was teasing her and fell into his embrace.
They stopped walking and stood facing each other, arms wrapped around each other’s waists.
Sean pulled away. “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to go shopping.”
“I like the way you think,
but I don’t have any idea where we’re going to find a wig around here.”
He scooped her hair back with his hands and angled his head left and then right as he studied her.
“What are you thinking?”
“I have another idea.”
“Tell me it still involves shopping.”
“It sure does, but I’ll be doing this alone. You head back to the room.”
“What? You’re getting all cloak and dagger on me, Sean.”
“It’s fun, isn’t it?”
“Almost as fun as shopping,” she lamented.
SHE MADE HERSELF ANOTHER CUP of coffee in the room while she waited for Sean to return. She wished they could just approach this case directly and realized how frustrated she was that their PI licenses were not valid in Colorado. She didn’t think Detective Callahan would tell them much more. He had seemed to shut down the dialogue rather quickly when the subject of Adrian’s shortened stay came up. And Sara understood why. He’d told them too much as it was without confirming they were who they’d said they were. It left her discouraged.
If they approached things from the standpoint that they were former officers in blue and had him confirm their backgrounds, it could open up entirely different issues for Callahan, foremost of which would be why they were so interested in Adrian Blackwell’s death. It would likely lead him to suspect why they were even in Vail. She and Sean could become murder suspects. That was the worst-case scenario. Best case, he’d find out they were PIs and charge them with interfering in an open investigation.
Sara sat at the table next to the window, admiring the slopes from the comfort—and safety—of her room. She felt much more secure with her feet solidly on the carpet than she did barreling down a mountainside.
The door opened and Sean entered, his arms loaded with bags. She got up to greet him, and he dumped the contents onto the bed. Her eyes went immediately to a floor-length maroon duster with beige fur around the hood. She picked it up and hugged it to her.
“Oh, this is gorgeous. If this is undercover work, sign me up.” She held the coat against her chest and then put it on. She petted the fabric on her right forearm. “I like.”
Skiing is Murder Page 3