“You’re not here…to check in?” Howard stammered. “Then what can we help you with, Miss Burch?”
“I’m here for Adrian Blackwell.” She delivered his name directly to see if it met with any notable reaction.
The two clerks looked at each other.
A couple of other guests shuffled in behind Sara, and Howard’s gaze acknowledged them. He turned to Cliff. “Please help these people.”
Cliff invited the next guest in line to approach the counter.
Howard addressed Sara. “Miss Burch, would you kindly come with me?” Howard jacked a thumb over a shoulder to indicate a back room.
“Sure,” she stated, unimpressed. “What is this about?”
“If you’ll just follow me.” Howard’s eyes pleaded that she do just that. He clearly didn’t want to tell her about Adrian in public. From his standpoint, it made sense for at least one reason: he had no idea what her reaction to Adrian’s death would be.
She consented with a small dip of her head.
Howard unlatched a section of the counter and lifted it up, making it possible for her to join him on the other side. He led her through a corridor of offices, stopped at the third door on the right, and then entered.
It was a small conference room with a maple table and seating for six. Howard pulled out a chair for her and then sat next to her.
She put her purse on the table. “You better have a good explanation for this.” She gestured around the plain room as if disgusted by her surroundings.
“I don’t know how to tell you this…”
“Spitting it out might be a start.” Wow, it sounded harsher when she said the words aloud than it had in her head, but she was playing a snooty role. Still, she felt bad about it.
“It’s about Adrian.” Howard pinched the edge of the table and ran his fingers along the wood—right to left, left to right, right to left. The brushing noise was loud in the otherwise silent room.
She gave him a minute to gather himself, as he was obviously uncomfortable.
“Adrian? Yes?” She rolled her hand for him to continue.
“There was an accident.”
Sara wondered if that was the official leaning or if Howard was trying to ease the blow.
“An accident?” She decided not to play the victim but, rather, the inconvenienced. “He’s in the hospital, then? This is going to ruin all my plans.” She hated forcing this poor clerk to come right out with the news of Adrian’s death, and it had her wondering where the manager was and why he or she wasn’t handling this conversation. Maybe Howard was the manager. She rose to her feet and took a few steps. “You know, this is just like Adrian.”
Howard’s face contorted. He seemed perplexed by her reaction, and given the way his brow sagged, he may have been considering coming straight out with it.
“What is just like Adrian?” His voice was barely above a murmur, unsure.
She paced a few more steps away from Howard and spun, pointing a finger at him. “He put you up to this, didn’t he? He’s here with another woman.”
“No, no, it’s not like that.” Howard stood now and came toward her but stopped when she raised a hand.
“It’s ‘not like that’? Like what? He wasn’t here with another woman, then? He was supposed to be alone.”
Howard let out a deep, jagged exhale. “He was here alone.”
She had the confirmation she sought. In one respect, at least. “And you’re sure of this?”
He scanned her eyes. “Yes.”
She crossed her arms. “Where is he? I demand to see him right now.”
Howard pulled on the collar of his shirt. His neck was red and blotchy. Sara felt bad for the man again. Death was hard enough to deal with as someone accustomed to being around it. There was a lightness about Howard that made Sara think he hadn’t ever faced a personal loss.
“Please, sit back down.” He pulled out a chair next to where they stood.
She flicked a glance at him and sat down with a sigh.
He took a seat in the chair beside her. “There was an accident.” He paused as if expecting her to interrupt. When she didn’t, he continued. “Sadly, he…” Howard’s face paled with the exception of a dab of red in each of his cheeks. “He didn’t make it.”
“Didn’t make it? You mean he’s…dead? Adrian’s dead?”
A small nod. Howard wasn’t meeting her gaze now.
“I can’t believe it.”
His eyes shot to her hers. “Ah, what can’t you—”
“All of it.” She formed a fist and slammed the side of it on the tabletop.
“I assure you—”
“So he’s dead?” She rose to her feet again. “You’re sure he didn’t just check out early?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Panic filled Howard’s eyes. He seemingly never anticipated the reaction he was getting.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How can you be sure?”
“Ah, the police came here.” His words sounded thick and slow.
“So he didn’t check out early? He’s definitely dead?” She just needed him to tell her who had called down to cancel Adrian’s stay.
“Ma’am, I’m sure this is hard to hear…” His voice trailed off, but she sensed he was considering saying something to the effect of life moving on and her finding someone new.
“He was supposed to be here until this Friday.” She rubbed at her arms now. She’d have to be a little more forthright to get him to say what she wanted to hear.
“He did cut his visit short with us, yes.”
“And not just because he died?” She realized how cold that sounded when Howard’s eyes snapped to hers.
“We received a call at the front desk last Thursday afternoon from his room.”
Bingo! Now, I’m getting somewhere.
“From his room? I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to elaborate. How can a room make a phone call?” A snooty question, but it fit her character.
He blinked slowly. “A man called from Adrian’s room to cancel the remainder of his stay.”
“A man? So Adrian called?”
“I’m not sure, Miss Burch.”
She sensed Howard was lying. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, the police…” He paused, seeming lost in his own thoughts for a moment. “The police believe he died in the early hours Thursday.”
“But you received the call in the afternoon.” She made sure to meet his gaze.
“Precisely, ma’am.”
“So if Adrian was dead, who called to cancel his stay?”
Howard was shaking his head. “We don’t know, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“Do you have a recording of this call?”
“We don’t.”
“But it was a man?” she pressed.
Howard nodded and then stood. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
She gripped her coat at the zipper. She couldn’t just leave now, could she? “I’d like a room with a king-size bed.”
“I will see what I can do.”
-
Chapter 12
PROMISING LEADS
SEAN WAS GETTING CABIN FEVER and was pacing the room like an expectant father—or so he assumed. It’s not like he had experience in that regard. Adam still hadn’t called about Adrian’s autopsy. They didn’t even have the preliminary cause of death yet.
His phone rang and caller ID showed it was the firm. That meant it would be Helen. Adam would come up as “Universal Acquisitions.”
“Tell me you have something, Helen.”
“I do. I have the background reports on everyone you asked about.”
He dropped onto the sofa. “All right, let me have it.”
“I’ll start with Adrian Blackwell. No criminal record, but his online persona s
hows a man who was popular, very accomplished at skiing, and a two-time Olympic gold medalist.”
He sighed. “All this we know.”
“Yes, but did you know that Adrian was in a Twitter fight about two months ago, and it got quite heated? A lot of celebrities let public relations people manage their social media accounts, but Adrian seemed to take an active part in his own.”
“What was the fight about and with whom?”
“That’s an interesting tidbit. The person’s name is Tony Frasier. Tony works for Arctic Blast Athletic Wear.”
“That was Adrian’s largest sponsor.” Sean recognized the name from the bit of online searching he’d conducted himself.
“That’s correct.”
“And what were they fighting about?”
“It’s hard to say for sure. They kept the messages somewhat cryptic. But Adrian told Tony he didn’t like what he stood for and that he was two-faced. He said the world had a right to know. Tony responded to Adrian saying he didn’t realize how lucky he was and that he was a spoiled brat.”
“You mentioned cryptic so I take it you don’t know what the underlying issue was?”
“No.”
“Well, either way, it doesn’t sound like they got along.” Sean thought over what Helen had just told him. The obvious was Adrian didn’t get along with his largest sponsor, but he realized something else. If the men argued in a public forum, it likely carried over to a private one, as well. He’d have Adam look into Adrian’s call and e-mail history. He reached over to the side table and grabbed the resort’s notepad and pen and wrote, Arctic Blast—Motive? Connection?
“What about Dale Peterman’s record?” Sean asked, wondering why Dale never mentioned this fight when they asked if Adrian had any enemies.
“Like Adrian, his record is clean. Online, he’s presented as a professional. That is, once you find him. He keeps a very low profile. He only represents athletes of Olympic ilk. I’d guess he gets most of his contracts by referral.”
“Referral?”
“Coaches, current clients.”
“All right. That leaves us with Adrian’s two stalkers.” Sean was referring the woman and the man Dale had hired to watch over Adrian.
“Gina Huff served with the military for a couple years. She was never sent into active duty. Last year she left and now she’s on Dale’s payroll.”
“And her job title?” They had yet to get a clear answer on why Adrian was being trailed in the first place.
“She’s just listed as a consultant. The same goes for Brent McCoy. Now, he never enlisted with the military, but his criminal record is clean.” Helen paused, then asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“What about Monique? Did Dale send you her information yet?”
“Ah, yes, but I just received it.”
“She was Adrian’s more ‘steady’ girlfriend. Find out anything you can about her,” Sean said.
“Will do.” Helen paused a moment. “Will that be all?”
“Yes. Thanks, Helen. I’ll call if I need anything else.” Sean hung up, his mind on his notations and how Sara was making out. Hopefully she’d have news to share.
He felt pretty good about this tidbit regarding Tony Frasier, but Dale’s failure to mention the falling out between Adrian and Arctic Blast raised a few flags.
He dialed Adam.
“Mr. McKinley,” Adam answered.
“I think we’re well beyond that point in our relationship.” Sean was smiling. Adam’s inclination was to address Sean and Sara formally, but they were trying to bring him around to calling them by their first names. Most of the time he did, but sometimes the old habit would resurface. And just when Sean thought he had Adam trained…
Adam laughed. “Sorry, Sean.”
“What do you have for us?”
“Hello, Sara,” Adam said, assuming she was there.
Sean looked around the empty room. “She’s not here, Adam.”
“Oh.”
Sean was laughing now. He and Sara were mostly inseparable and usually talked to Adam together on speaker.
He cleared his throat, getting back on track. “Any luck hacking into the morgue?”
“Yes, actually. The good news is there shouldn’t be any need for undercover work, at least not in this regard.”
He must have guessed that the next request might have been to get Sean or Sara a job in the morgue to get close to Adrian’s body.
Adam continued. “The autopsy was rushed by Dale Peterman.”
“That’s his agent,” Sean clarified for Adam. “How did he manage that?”
“Adrian was estranged from his family and his will stated that they should in no way have any say over his burial. They were left nothing and are not even permitted to attend his funeral. Essentially, Dale was his next of kin.”
Another thing that Dale had failed to mention…
This fact revealed another point of interest. It had first struck Sean when Dale had mentioned that Adrian was worth millions. “Who benefited from his will?”
“Most of his money was divvied up to charities. Dale received some money, too, but I wouldn’t think enough to kill for.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen thousand, but Peterman is worth millions.”
Sean agreed with Adam’s assessment. If Dale was behind Adrian’s death, it wasn’t for the inheritance money.
“The official ruling on cause of death was a broken neck caused by Adrian’s fall,” Adam continued. “He also broke two legs and one arm. But it seems to me that the accident could have happened as a result of his insulin levels, which were quite high.”
Sean knew that insulin levels could rise based on certain foods, but in Adrian’s case, he was certain it amounted to something more. “Was Adrian a diabetic?”
“Well, that was why it was taking me longer to get back to you.”
He really was the Wonder Kid. For Adam, something “taking longer” meant the few hours it took him to hack into the morgue’s records and Adrian’s health history.
“According to his records, he didn’t have diabetes.”
Sean’s gut sank. Adrian was killed—no doubt about it. It seemed plausible that someone could have given him a shot of insulin. He set out up the hill and maybe didn’t even feel the effects until he got off the chairlift or even partway down the run. The other part was plain to conclude. Ruling out natural causes, whoever drugged Adrian had access to insulin.
“Now, I did some more research into insulin itself.”
Of course he did.
“And?”
“Since Adrian didn’t have diabetes, the insulin would have caused hypoglycemia. Symptoms can include elevated heart rate, blurred vision, lack of coordination.”
“All those things make an accident quite conceivable.”
“Exactly. Adrian would likely have felt drunk. And I want to point out that insulin is a liquid, and while we normally think of it as being administered by a needle, it doesn’t have to be. In fact, the full autopsy report makes no mention of an injection site.”
“Adrian was last seen at dinner Wednesday night. Maybe it was added to his food.” Sean pondered Adrian’s time of death and what it could mean.
Somewhere between leaving the restaurant and getting up the mountain, the insulin would have kicked in. Adrian would have let his food settle. He also likely changed his clothes and grabbed his gear. Since Dale’s people lost track of him, it was unlikely that he went back to his room. Someone else at the resort must have been holding his equipment. With the time of death established, thanks to Callahan’s loose lips, Adrian likely didn’t go up the hill until at least midnight. That led to another question: how did he get up there?
Sean shared his thinking on the timeline with Adam. “We’re probably looking at insulin to hit h
is system in one or two hours, right?”
“Since he wasn’t a diabetic, even regular-acting insulin would have hit faster and harder than it would a person with diabetes. Regular insulin would’ve reached his bloodstream within thirty minutes, peaking anywhere between two and three hours later.”
Sean provided Adam the full names for Gina and Brent. “Find out if either of them have diabetes. Same with Dale. Also, look into Tony Frasier of Arctic Blast Athletic Wear. Not just his health history, but also his financials.” Maybe Frasier decided to take up the fight with Adrian in person and showed up at the resort.
“On it.”
“Terrific job so far, Adam. Remind me to give you another raise.”
“Sean, remember to—”
“Ah.” Sean laughed. “Nice try.” He ended the call.
Wow, both conversations had netted them a lot already. Now, where was Sara? They had work to do.
-
Chapter 13
THE PROOF IS IN THE BLOOD
SARA WAS FEELING GOOD ABOUT what she had gleaned from her undercover work. Adrian had planned on vacationing alone, and the person who had called to shorten his stay was a man.
Based on how cavalier Adrian was in his personal life, maybe a jealous husband had caught the skier in bed with his wife. Since Adrian’s vacation was apparently not widely known, someone close to him could be behind his death. It was also just as possible that a person he’d encountered while on vacation killed him.
Sara was leaning toward his murder being planned. It wasn’t easy to make homicide appear to be an accident. That required premeditation. Of course, once she knew how Adrian had died, it would be easier to hypothesize.
She got back to the room to find Sean pacing. He looked up and hurried to greet her at the door.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
She laughed. “I haven’t been gone that long. Twenty minutes, maybe? Thirty at the most?”
“Given what I’ve found out in that time, it might as well have been longer.”
She had been eager to tell him what she had learned and confirmed, but based on his wide eyes, he had something good to share, too.
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