Chocolate Hearts and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  All of that went away at the sound of shouting. Despite my heels I spun and ran, awkwardly to be sure, back into the foyer to find Ethan and Noah Perry screaming at each other while they did their best to land punches.

  Ava hovered, Simone beside her, the two not helping any while they shouted for the brothers to stop. How Ethan had escaped Dad and Noah slipped away from Crew I had zero clue, but the two law men appeared from the dining room and, from their grim expressions, they wanted answers, too.

  Between them they were able to pull the brothers apart, Noah’s nose bleeding, Ethan panting with a cut over one eyebrow.

  “I told you two to stay put,” Crew said, face red. Embarrassed they hadn’t listened? One was drunk, the other his main murder suspect and he thought a firm order would keep them confined.

  “Don’t look at me,” Ethan scowled. “Noah broke the lock on our room and let me out.”

  “Just get over her already,” Noah snapped as if he wasn’t part of the same conversation at all, hoarse from puking, I could only imagine.

  Ava’s face darkened and she opened her mouth to speak but Ethan beat her to it.

  “You don’t know anything,” he said, spittle flying as the intensity of his emotions got the best of him. Crew held him back with his arms through Ethan’s, but the young waiter didn’t fight him further, sagging in his grip while Noah shook free of Dad, wiping at his dripping nose.

  “I know that you killed Mason to make sure Ava left with you,” Noah said.

  “And I think you killed Mason because he wouldn’t forgive all the money you owed him.” Ethan stepped free of Crew after the sheriff slowly let him go.

  Noah’s face twisted in rage, gaze flickering to Crew and back. “You traitor.”

  “I owe you nothing,” Ethan snarled. “You’re not my brother. Not since you started hanging out with that piece of trash who bought your soul.”

  “You have no idea.” Noah swayed, cracks showing in his drunken rage. “Mason was my best friend.”

  “You were freeloading off him and he’d had enough.” Ethan chopped the air with one hand, blood flying from his knuckles. “And everyone knew it.”

  Ava stepped forward, hand on Ethan’s arm but he shrugged her off.

  “Please, Ethan,” she whispered.

  “Forget it.” He backed away from her, hands in the air in surrender, face sad but still angry. “Don’t you see, Sheriff? Lots of people had lots of reasons to hate that jerk and want him dead. People who pretended he was their friend.” He seemed to absorb what he’d just said, his own words reaching him. “I should have walked away ages ago, Ava. But I trusted you. I was an idiot to believe you still wanted to be with me. I knew better. Everyone did. Thanks for making me the laughing stock of our friends all this time.”

  “I wasn’t staying at the lodge job for Mason,” she said, but Ethan wasn’t hearing her. Neither, from the devastated look on Simone’s face, was she.

  Dad led Ethan away, Noah tipping his head back to stop the nosebleed and succeeding in losing his balance. I got to him first, steadied him, hoping his stomach was empty now and that more puking wasn’t in his future. But he seemed much more stable than he had just a short time ago and I shook my head at the resiliency of youth. Yeah, because I was an old lady or something.

  “Noah,” I said, meeting Crew’s eyes, “you were sitting right next to Mason, weren’t you?”

  Crew sighed like I’d just made his life more difficult, but it would have been impossible for him to miss the information Ethan gave up about Noah’s relationship with the victim, so I was just handing the sheriff more ammunition, right?

  “Let’s go, Noah,” Crew said, hand on the young man’s arm. “You seem much more capable of talking than I first thought. Your turn to answer some questions.” The sheriff glared at me as they headed for the dining room but I just crossed my arms over my chest, tilted my head at him and made sure he saw without a scrap of hesitation the amount of crap I gave he didn’t like my interference.

  Oh, snap.

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen

  I turned slowly after Crew disappeared, attitude leaving me, thinking hard. There was more to the friend’s circle than they were telling, I was sure of it. I really needed the means to investigate them without having to talk to them. And that meant snooping in their online lives. But in the middle of a snowstorm that knocked out the power?

  Electricity meant possible internet connection. I spun and marched to the desk, smiling at Paisley who waved a little in her perky and friendly way as I leaned over the counter with a conspiratorial wink.

  “Any chance there’s Wi-Fi?”

  She shook her head with a sad smile. “I’m sorry, we have nothing.” She gestured at the TV behind her, blank and black. “Even the satellite is out, though I think it’s likely just snow on the receiver. Bill is looking into it.”

  “The maintenance guy?” I bit my lower lip, thinking. “Do you know him very well?”

  She frowned a little, then shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “Aside from his name, Bill Saunders. I’m sorry, I’m not much help. He keeps to himself mostly, and we don’t often see him in the lodge itself.” She hesitated then, lips clamping together. “I don’t usually make it a habit to talk about people I work with.”

  I nodded, seeing her reticence and knowing she had something juicy. “Spill it. I won’t tell.”

  She seemed to relax at that. “I hate gossip, but Bill’s not a bonded employee.” Bonded. What, he had a record? Interesting.

  “Thanks for that,” I said. “Anything else you think of, let me know, okay?” If Bill was an ex-con, could he have reason we didn’t know about to target Mason? And why would this place even consider hiring a non-bondable employee when surely there were tons of people who could take the position? Lots of questions to chase down.

  “Thanks for the help,” I said, knowing I had one option for an online search left. “You’re doing a great job.” I don’t know why I said that, except that she’d been keeping her cool and working hard, at least from what I could see, since I got here and that was the sign of a great work ethic. I fully intended to approach her about shifts at Petunia’s when this was over.

  She flushed, looked down, but she was smiling. “Thank you,” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear her. “That means a lot.”

  I left her with the compliment still making her grin and headed for the stairs. Yes, I could have used the elevator to go to my seventh floor room, but my luck? The stupid genset would die and I’d be trapped in there for the rest of the investigation. Storm. Same thing.

  Instead, I slipped off the horribly uncomfortable heels and, with a satisfying tug at the tape to free my toes and now in my bare feet, climbed the endless walk to my floor. The stairwell felt quiet, too quiet, echoing as I accidentally tapped the heels against the metal railing. Whoever designed the stairwell didn’t expect anyone to have to use it, obviously, because the concrete and steel wasn’t in keeping with the ultra lush and luxurious design of the rest of the lodge.

  Cutting corners, were they? Well, Pete Wilkins had been part of the construction, so they were lucky the place didn’t fall apart. Come to think of it, maybe that was inevitable as it had finally been proven after all Dad’s hard work Pete’s company was shirking on materials and skimming the extra funds.

  I made it upstairs and into the main floor hall, found my room down the endless corridor, the keycard I tucked into my bra working on the third try. Again, good thing the generators were functioning because there’d be a lot of trapped guests if something happened to them. I needed to mention that to Dad. And had a moment of sympathy for Olivia in all this.

  The mayor had to be having a hissy fit by now.

  My phone lay on the bed, still messy from Daisy’s attempt to make me gorgeous—a success, thanks—the corner just visible under the edge of the t-shirt I’d discarded. I sank into the soft mattress, crossing my bare legs and turning the phone on, checkin
g my data. And finding bars. Would wonders never cease. I actually squeaked out a little war cry of delight and fist pumped the air before hopping onto social media and searching for Mason Patterson.

  He was easy enough to find, the selfie king of every freaking app I looked at. I wasn’t judging or anything, but can you spell narcissist?

  But what I was seeing really didn’t tell me more than I already knew. I needed inside his accounts. And I knew someone who might have access. After second guessing the chance to change I made a compromise in favor of haste and slid my feet into a pair of flats I’d brought only to be poo-pooed by Daisy. Well, my toes were happier and so was I as I hurried out of my room and to the stairwell, heading back down to the foyer. And paused at the top of the stairs on seven. I had no idea where Simone’s room was, where she was now. But there was a quick way to find out.

  Holla, Jazz, I texted quickly in the quiet of the stairwell, the soft beeping as I tapped echoing in the silence. You have Simone’s number handy?

  The instant I sent it off I second guessed my choice. She’d know something was up. I was terrible at hiding anything from her. If she tried to call instead of texting I was dead in the water. Idiot, I could have just gone back downstairs and looked for Simone instead of bothering my friend.

  Too late. It was literally three seconds between me hitting send and my friend’s response and I was a goner.

  FEEFEE. Sigh. I hated nicknames, but how could I reject that one when it came from tall, happy and awesome? At least she didn’t call me Fanny. Hugs, woman. Simmy squeeze you yet?

  Phew. So she didn’t know or suspect anything, wicked. I just had to keep it that way. The fact I didn’t have six million texts waiting already told me Simone kept her mouth shut. Now it was my turn.

  You bet, I sent. Awkward, two words like that. Seriously?

  Good think awkward was my regular state. She tagged a phone number on the end of her next text and I quickly shot off a query to Simone while answering her sister. Like, giant squeezes?

  Biggest squeezes outside yours, I sent. Thanks, gotta run.

  That was short, Jazz sent back as I waited for her sister to respond. And, just when I thought I’d avoided disaster, I go and step in it. Everything kosher?

  I could have told her then. Probably should have despite knowing it would end in screaming and phone calls and Simone hating me forever because I tattled. Not to mention worrying one of my dearest friends from a time when friends had been a scarce commodity thanks to Ryan. But since Simone hadn’t said anything to Jasmine, it really wasn’t my place. I had to smooth this over. Still, I ached with guilt as my fingers typed then hovered a moment over send before I winced and responded. Hoped I hit the right note of airy nothing with my next text.

  All good, I sent, exhaling as I finished. Partying in Reading, you know. Luvs. Hit send. Waited, worried, pictured her freaking out and not believing me and not being able to do anything actually helpful while losing her massive mind.

  Then, ding. Have all the FUN. Wish I was there. MWAH. And Jazz was gone.

  ***

  Chapter Eighteen

  I didn’t have time to linger over my betrayal, though, because my phone whistled once more and the number Jazz gave me appeared.

  Bar, Simone sent. Hiding.

  I ran down the steps, out of breath but feeling rejuvenated from the rush of adrenaline as I pushed through the doors and into the lobby, heading directly for the bar and Simone. She was tucked into the back corner, head in her hands when I sank into the soft padding of the bench seat and hugged her.

  Simone leaned into me, weeping softly, her hands clutching at me and I held her a long moment, chin on the top of her head, wishing there was something I could say. But her boyfriend was dead, she was a suspect and, though I knew she didn’t do it, I also understood from experience how devastating it was to be fingered for murder. And, from the sound of things, that same boyfriend wasn’t faithful, though to be honest it seemed he’d never claimed to be anything but a player, at least in his public life.

  Simone finally leaned away, using a cloth napkin to wipe her cheeks and the drips from her round chin. “Thanks for that,” she choked, tried a smile. “I was going to stay in my room like the sheriff asked but I just couldn’t. I had to get out of there. All the staff are talking, about Ethan and me and Ava.” She blew her nose before tossing the used napkin back to the table. “This is the worst night of my life.” Simone tried a brave smile. “It means a lot, knowing you’re here.”

  “Anytime,” I said. “Then again, do your best not to be accused of murder from now on, okay?”

  She laughed, so I’d hit the right note after all. Simone squeezed my hand before cocking her head at me, her sleek, black hair shining in the light. “How did you get my number?”

  “Jazz,” I said and then held up my free hand to silence her fearful protest. “I lied to her and told her everything was okay. I swear.” She nodded, looked down at the crumpled and makeup stained napkin. “You’ll have to tell her eventually, obviously, but it can wait until the hotel isn’t locked in a snowstorm. Because knowing Jazz she’d hitch up sled dogs and Nanook of the North her way here to kick ass and save her little sis. Before murdering the two of us.”

  That made both of us laugh. “I can totally see it,” Simone said, big smile making me happy. And then she sighed and sagged back into the cushions. “What am I going to do, Fee? I didn’t kill Mason.”

  I handed her my phone. “Do you have access to his social media accounts?”

  She frowned at me but took possession, long nails tapping on the screen. “He didn’t seem to care who had his passwords,” she said, handing the phone back a moment later. “But what does his online stuff have to do with his death?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said, “but this might give me a clue to find out who really did kill him.” I paused, winced. “Simone, do you think Ethan did it?”

  Her face crumpled as she fought off tears. “I don’t know,” she said. “We all arrived in January, just after Christmas. The jobs Mason got us were sweet, you know? I was basically a glorified guide, got to wear the cutest uniform out on the hill, didn’t really work much, just looked pretty for the guests.” She shrugged, apology in her expression. “Like our jobs were made up out of the blue to give us all something to do.”

  “All but Ethan.” Wow, that was a blow to a guy’s ego.

  “Well, and Ava. She took her teaching position seriously.” Simone didn’t seem impressed by that at all. “It was a cushy thing, just for a few months, a chance to take a break from school.”

  “Your parents must have been pissed.” I’d met Jazz and Simone’s folks, both hard working, both white collar and dedicated to their daughters. Loved their big voices and strong beliefs and stunning brownstone in New York.

  “Jazz was the most against it,” Simone said, sounding small and frail. “Mom actually told me to go. Get this out of my system so I could focus on school.”

  Good for her. “Did it work?”

  She blew a long breath between her full lips. “Not in the way she expected, but yeah.” Simone’s big eyes met mine. “I can’t wait to go back to college.”

  I bet. “Ethan, Simone.”

  My friend’s sister swallowed hard, like she didn’t want to answer. “I don’t want to think he had anything to do with Mason’s death,” she said. “But I worry he might have. He was so angry, Fee. I adore Ethan, he’s a great guy. And Ava is awesome. Noah’s been a dick since Mason started calling him his bestie, but those two are my closest friends.” She lost her sadness and anger flickered. “Were. Now that I know Ava was lying all along and planned to stay at the lodge. I guess you just never really know people.”

  I had my doubts about Ava’s motivations, but didn’t bother arguing with Simone. Instead, I tucked in closer to her and started looking through Mason’s accounts. She took interest when I prodded her and answered questions when I asked.

  “That’s the common room
in the house Mason rented for us at college,” Simone said of the first photo I held up to her. “Party.” She shrugged at the mass of people, Mason’s grinning face and the usual suspects around him. “Nothing unusual.”

  Three more photos from the same event and I noticed a trend. “Who’s that?” While the face was hard to make out, the blue hoodie with the school logo didn’t change, nor the glasses and dark hair. Lingering in the background in every photo at the party. I switched to another night—clear from the alteration in wardrobe—and found the exact same lurker in the background, this time in a bulky red sweater.

  Simone frowned over the images but shook her head at last. “There’s tons of people who came to Mason’s parties,” she said. “He’d announce them on his social media and the house would fill up and that was it. No real planning or anything.”

  “And he almost died at one of those parties?” I kept scrolling.

  “Last birthday,” she said. “Before we left for Aspen.” And she flinched.

  “And Elizabeth Adler disappeared,” I said. And pointed to the lurker. “Is that her?”

  Simone squinted but sighed at last. “I honestly didn’t know her very well. I wasn’t in Mason’s inner circle at that point.” She sounded embarrassed by that. “Here.” She took out her own phone from the small bag she carried, skimmed through her photos then handed the device to me. “That’s Elizabeth.”

  She certainly looked like the lurker with dark hair and glasses. An unfortunate nose and acne that lingered despite her age. I hated to bring it up, but… well. “She doesn’t seem Mason’s friend type.” And now I was going to hell for judging the poor girl because I was sure she was perfectly nice and all that and I was looking at her picture and making assumptions.

  But Simone’s sad face told me I was right. “She was… awkward. And kind of in love with Mason. Embarrassed herself a lot.” Sigh. “She hung out with us because of him, because Lucas asked him to be nice to her for James’s sake. But she was more a source of amusement for Mason than really liked, if you know what I mean.” She met my eyes with her own full of guilt and I realized Simone did nothing to stop what had to have evolved into bullying for her to look so uncomfortable.