“The paper’s trying to offer some digital content to stay competitive. The message boards get some good use such as when we have wildfires to communicate shelters and people check in as safe. But, when one person continues to use the boards for their own personal pulpit, I don’t believe the public good is served.
I kept from laughing, barely. He did editorials containing primarily his opinions but didn’t see how listening to the people would serve the public good. Okaaaaaay. I seemed to remember that he had written some controversial editorials. There had been quite a bit of hubbub over his staunch pro-gun and pro-life stands and the flack he received because the two views are at odds. I’m sure many expressed their opinions in the forums. So, Kara felt bold enough to take him on. Interesting.
Other guests joined the conversation, mostly with stories of Kara bragging or trying to make friends in pushy and obvious ways. I couldn’t help thinking she sounded sad or even needy. We’d had a long drive and the nice dinner that prompted a desire to settle into our room, so we said goodbye to the other guests.
We decided to tour the facility first and found the spacious exercise room with everything from treadmills and ellipticals to stair-climbers that I had every intention of visiting at least once during my visit. Porsche laughed at that.
We also found the lovely indoor pool with a ten person hot tub to the side that looked like a Hollywood set. A few people were enjoying an evening swim and a group lounged in the Jacuzzi. I wanted to enjoy a luxuriant soak during my stay.
The spa was closed so we took a brochure on the services they offered and swore we would take advantage and treat ourselves.
We stepped out on the deck adjacent to the indoor pool and took in the town lights twinkling through the trees that surrounded the resort. It was a quick look since we didn’t bring our coats and the snow had begun, plus the temperature was plummeting.
On the way back to the room we discussed breakfast in the morning and walking around town before I needed to check in for the conference.
Once in the room, I slipped into my coat and stepped out on the small balcony and took a deep breath. It was good to be alone for a moment. The air was icy but invigorating. I’d needed a change of routine, a break from the job and family. The conference would be good for me.
There was no moon because the ominous sky was smothered with dark clouds. The trees surrounding the property gave the illusion of isolation. A wolf howled off to the right near the stream that I could faintly hear gurgling.
“You going to call Mason back?” Porsche joined me on the little deck.
“Never figured you for the mother role.” I shot back harsher than I’d intended.
She held out my cell phone that showed I’d missed three calls from Mason, one from my boss Chad, and two from Felicia my cousin. Mason was the only one to leave a message.
“I was hoping to talk with you, but I know how difficult reception can be in the mountains. This job should be done soon. I was thinking of joining you at the resort. I’ll call in the morning. Miss you.” My heart did an unexpected flip at hearing Mason’s voice.
I deleted the message. My thoughts swirled as I stared at the evergreens that were taller than the three stories of the Alpine Sun complex. Did he really miss me? He’d been traveling a good bit, either for his landscape photography business or taking bodyguard jobs for celebrities under the guise of a playboy photographer.
It took time to build a relationship and I was feeling our getting-to-know-you stage was dying a slow death from neglect. Plus, everybody in the world saw him as footloose and very fancy-free. Could the world know him better than I did? Those two thoughts combined didn’t reassure me about a close relationship with him. It came down to how he wasn’t giving off any vibes of being a one-woman guy anytime soon as he convinced me last fall.
Chapter Two
Despite the crisp mountain air and long day driving and settling in, I tossed and turned as sleep eluded me. No doubt the Mason dilemma was weighing heavy on me, not to mention the sense of dread. At least the foreboding had vanished. Maybe tonight I’d sleep better. Porsche was still sleeping, peaceful or not I couldn’t tell. I left her a note and went down for breakfast early.
I waited at the entrance and was the first seated when the breakfast café opened. It was in the Alpine Chalet with a breakfast bar set up along one wall. The large windows along the opposite wall overlooking the ski mountain and the town were now a view into the storm that had descended on the town overnight. Snow swirled, churned, and gusted. A strong blast struck the windows, setting them rattling. A waiter had started the fire in the grand stone fireplace in the center of the dining area open on both its front and back for patron’s enjoyment.
The breakfast bar included standards of scrambled eggs, waffles, bagels and so forth, plus the traditional Bavarian white sausage and huge pretzel. I opted for the chef’s special item for the morning, a sweet onion and herb quiche with a fruit cup.
Halfway through my first cup of coffee, shortly after my trip to pick out my breakfast items, I observed several staff run out the side door and congregate on a small overlook. The staff were pointing into the trees surrounding the property.
A few early rising guests walked out, bundled up in ski jackets with earmuffs and their scarves were caught by a breeze and whipped around. They danced in the age-old attempt to stay warm. Could there be a moose or other striking animal below the patio of such interest? What would warrant standing out in a brutal storm?
I savored the next succulent bite, eyes closed for full appreciation, but my culinary rapture was suddenly interrupted with the tramping of several feet. My eyes opened in time to see two police officers in heavy parkas go outside with the gawking group. Oh no. A sense of the world tilting a bit hit me. Not again.
“It’s a body out there.” The waitress with the nametag of Kylie spoke in low tones to the waiter name tagged Zachary.
“Are they sure? Could it be an animal? A deer maybe?” Zachary replied.
I took another bite of my quiche. I wasn’t going to let this ruin my amazing breakfast. Too late, it tasted flat now. The fruit cup wasn’t any better. I thought about my sense of dread on the trip here and how it was gone this morning. As if there was a cosmic anxiety about the coming death. I didn’t think this was an accident. Gulp.
“No, clearly a person. This early and the cold temperatures overnight, it won’t be pretty.” They shook their heads in sympathy. They seemed too young to have that much experience with the sadder side of life. I, on the other hand, should have been too young also but sadly I couldn’t claim that innocence any longer.
One policeman in a parka was pointing and seemed to direct others below to the body via his hand radio. Some resort patrons gathered to one side with excited gloved gestures and heads together.
Zachary questioned a few people who scampered inside, blowing into their hands or rubbing them together.
“No way! Seriously.” Zachary’s stage whisper made it to my table. It took Kylie seconds to run over to Zack with a pot of coffee still in her hands. Eventually, she returned to topping-off coffee for the few early risers.
“So, what’s all the excitement about?” I asked when she reached my table.
“Well, there was this really difficult woman staying here. It seems she’s dead, her body’s just over the patio there. This is terrible.”
“Who was it again?” Surely Kara from dinner last night wasn’t the only difficult patron.
“She’s some realtor who liked to throw her name around like she was somebody. She could be a good tipper if you played up to her.”
“Can you describe her? I think I ran into her last night.”
“You know, older, mid length styled blond hair.”
Well, it could be the impatient woman last night, or any middle-aged woman from that vague description. Kylie wandered off.
By the time the officers came inside, apparently done directing from the patio, I had finished my secon
d cup of coffee and assembled a breakfast to go for Porsche.
I braced myself against the frigid air and bolted out onto the patio overlook. I had to know if it was Kara from last night. The arctic blast when I opened the door made my eyes water and sucked the air from my body. Ice had already built up on the patio surface and I slid the last foot to the railing. I nearly lost my breakfast from the unintended ice-skating and accompanying adrenaline jolt.
The blowing snow made it hard to see down to the ground. I could barely make out two men below loading a person into a body bag – blue metallic shoes and navy-blue pants stuck out in the white tableau.
I was positive it was the woman everybody was talking about, the divisive Kara. What a sad epitaph for her life. I squinted against an icy blast and took a brief moment to look around for splashes of blood, but there wasn’t any visible, or it was already covered from blowing or drifting snow. I gingerly walked back to the door, already chilled through in less than two minutes.
Chapter Three
I made my way to the spa lounge area with curved couches in a circle around the semi-open fire to catch the gossip and warm myself in the process. Porshe’s breakfast was a bagel and cream cheese, so it could wait for a few moments. The fire was an open gas pit with an oblong stone base to set drinks on, with an off-white stucco flue hanging from the ceiling. It created an illusion of sitting around a campfire, in plush luxury though.
One wall was a bank of floor to ceiling windows displaying the gusting snow outside and a weak gray light, a testament to the sun’s struggle to penetrate the storm. Last night this had a peaceful view of the trees surrounding the building, this morning I couldn’t see anything but snow.
“You’re shivering dear. You went outside to see what the police were going on about, didn’t you?” A white-haired lady inquired in red track pants and jacket emblazoned with the Givenchy name down the sleeve.
I could only nod and hold my hands out to the fire, but every head turned in my direction.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, for heaven’s sake. What’s the ruckus about?” The Givenchy clad woman pressed her garish bright red lips together.
I fought to keep my teeth from chattering long enough to say, “Woman is dead. Don’t know how she got there. No coat. Couldn’t tell much else.” I had everyone’s full attention now.
Somebody brought me a hot coffee from a nearby dispenser while another encouraged me to sit on the base around the fireplace. I drank the black coffee and the espresso strength started to shoot warmth through my body.
Once I had drained the cup, the interrogation began. “Was she a guest here?” “Did you know her?” “You’re positive she is dead and not just injured?” “How do you think she died?” “Do you suppose she fell over the railing?”
I held up my hand to stop the onslaught. It was like being with my Aunt Regina and the family, who I missed terribly in that moment.
“From the little I saw, there was no obvious signs of how she died. I don’t know if she fell over. She was being placed in a body bag, so she’s definitely dead and... I think it’s Kara Caine.”
A fifty-something man with a few extra pounds, styled salt and pepper hair, and Hugo Boss glasses gave a start at the name. He wore an LL Bean moss green flannel button down shirt with tan Docker pants. His eyebrows drew together making his already serious frown lines deeper.
The red Givenchy woman sniffed. “Is she that loud woman who argues in public?”
I shrugged in answer. I was more interested in what the others had to say. It took fifteen seconds before they were all talking again.
“She got all huffy at dinner last night I hear.” Red Ginvenchy woman said.
“Oh, that’s nothing. She was arguing in the lobby with some man, then yelled at the desk clerk.” Another woman joined the conversation. I made a mental note to follow up on what man she was arguing with. It could be important and I will gladly share information with the police.
“Is she the one I heard is a troll on the newspaper message boards and carries a grudge? Sounds like she can be mean.” Yet another woman dressed in all green said.
“Sure, I think she’s the troll. She’s a realtor, isn’t she? How can she sell houses with that personality?” Givenchy woman asked.
The man who was startled by my pronouncing Kara dead joined in, “I’m a realtor too, her clients love her. She’s charismatic, charming, even funny when she wants to be.”
“Hey, there are a lot of realtors here. You guys all vacation at the same time?”
“No, we have a continuing education class here. Well, it’s at another hotel but I love Alpine Sun. A few of us stay here.” He whipped out a business card, “Preston Pinder. Look me up if you are in the market.” His lips smiled, his eyes were non-committal.
“Hey, back to the Caine woman. How can she be hot and cold, mean and charismatic all at the same time? Don’t people get wise to her?” The man with glasses brought the conversation back on track as if I’d coached him.
The realtor Preston shook his head. “All I can tell you is, she really does have a following on Facebook and has people who think she is phenomenal.” I mentally heard an unspoken “but I’m not one of them.”
I looked him over a little more closely. I saw his rose-gold Cartier watch on his wrist and Prada leather loafers on his feet. Working in the resort business you get to know the expensive styles. Success dripped from him like oil. Wonder how many houses he had to sell to maintain just the watch. My immediate impression was one of privilege and polish. I figure as competitors he and Kara were like oil and water.
I was about to ask if anybody knew who the man Kara had argued with last night was, but a parka-clad police officer approached the group with the concierge following behind looking a bit flustered.
The concierge, Peter, rushed to speak before the officer could, “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience. The police will be taking statements regarding the unfortunate passing of a guest. If you could please wait here until he calls you into one of the spa rooms for an interview.” Interview? Who was he kidding?
Several more guests arrived, having been directed to wait for their interviews. Peter unlocked the spa facility doors and after a few short minutes he joined us with a clipboard. He checked off our names and room numbers from a master list and then took note of who was getting their interview with the cop. Either it was too early for the spa to open or treatments were postponed today. I realized Porsche’s bagel was going to be a tad later than I thought.
I was the third person ushered into the bright spa room with mint green and white accents and a fireplace on one wall. The massage table had been pushed against the windows. My gaze took in the snow now turned to a brutal blizzard. I wished I had brought my clarinet because I wanted to play “A Hazy Shade of Winter”. My fingers itched to fly through the chord changes to calm my nerves.
A folding table and chairs had been set up for the interrogations...um interviews. The wind howled rattling the windows.
“I’m Detective Johan Larson, and you are...?” He had sandy blond hair, weary blue eyes, and a voice somewhere between butterscotch and caramel, sweet and warm with a touch of salt. Perfect for interrogating the resort-set. A mild voice or handshake signaled weakness to many in these circles. His voice was just masculine enough for the realtor Preston Pinders of the world to take him seriously and just sultry enough for a woman to feel flattered by his questions. He wore black corduroy pants and a thick cable knit teal sweater...and snow boots worthy of Alaska.
“Julienne LaMere.” That was first rule of interrogations I learned from being the prime suspect last fall, only answer the specific question, don’t overshare like I do when I’m nervous. I sat back in my cold folding metal chair and scanned him up and down. I know what you’re thinking, but not like that! I was taking his measure. A detective, huh? So Vail had somebody who, at least on paper, was up to the job. That made me feel a tad better.
Detecti
ve Johan Larson took a few seconds to study me as well, no doubt looking for a speck of blood or something. He then devoted his attention to his notes and began asking questions.
“And what brings you to Alpine Sun?”
“I’m attending the resort management conference.”
“How did you know Ms. Caine?”
“I didn’t know her. I knew of her.” I was careful to make that distinction.
He looked at me, the full force of his now intense eyes laser-focused in on me. Gulp. Is this what a mouse feels like when a hawk is swooping in? My heart began to drum faster.
“Another interviewee stated you shared earlier that the victim was Kara Caine. How would you know that if you didn’t know Ms. Caine?” He stared at me. The hawk is circling.
I cleared my throat and tried for aloof. “Oh, I saw her for the first time last night at dinner and she was a bit loud when she had to wait. I found out her name was Kara Caine after dinner in the Royal Club because people were talking about her. When I looked over the railing this morning they were putting the...you know, in the body bag and I noticed the metallic blue shoes and navy-blue pants, just like what she had worn for dinner. That’s all.” I swallowed loudly and tried to slow my shallow breathing before I passed out or something equally pathetic.
Detective Larson’s attention was all on me and not his notes. Oh, goody! I gave up on aloof and tried to look as innocent as I could - the deer in the headlights look, which may have already been on my face for all I knew.
“Where do you live, Ms. LaMere?” He was looking at his notes and jotting down private comments.
“Colorado Springs.” My voice wobbled.
“Same as the victim. But you didn’t know her before dinner last night?” His eyes were back to staring at me and never wavered. I wanted to look away so bad, but I felt it would be a confession or something. So I met his gaze, squirming inside all the while.
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