by Skylar Finn
“I can’t,” he said, trembling. “Seriously, it’s too embarrassing, but I can promise you I was in my room that night.”
“I’m supposed to believe you?”
“Do you want to see my Internet history from that night?” he offered. “Because I’m sure it’s timestamped. I have to warn you though, it’s not family friendly.”
I suddenly understood what he was doing in his room that he didn’t want to talk about. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Then what are you hiding?” I demanded. “I can tell when someone knows more than they should. You were the first one to get agitated with Detective Hawkins’s interrogations. At first, I blamed it on the situation, but now I’m not so sure. What do you know, Matisse?”
“Nothing.”
His voice cracked. I raised my hand as if to summon Odette again.
“No, wait!” he pleaded, covering his head to protect it from any incoming flying knives. “I’ll tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
He heaved for breath, cowering under his meaty forearms. “I’m not the killer, okay? I don’t know who is, but if you want more information, you should check with Ari and Imani. If anyone has secrets, it’s those two.”
“What kind of secrets?”
Matisse shook his head and came out of his defensive crouch. “No way. I’m not telling you, no matter how much you threaten me. They’re not my secrets to tell. I gave you what you wanted. Get out of my kitchen.”
Since Odette was no longer playing bad cop to my good cop, I left Matisse to finish preparing lunch, but I couldn’t fathom what he thought Ari and Imani could get up to together. The pair was known to get into petty trouble together, but not to the level of Tyler’s activities. Ari was a barista for the café near the slopes, and Imani worked as a ski instructor. Since the best friends were in such close proximity to each other during work hours, they were usually caught goofing off instead of paying attention to their duties. I couldn’t say I blamed them since the café and the slopes were bereft of guests. What else was there to do but hang out with the other employees?
I ran into Daniel on my way to the elevators. He was coming from the hallway to the left of the lobby that led to Oliver’s suite, the older guest rooms, and the original haunted wing of the resort. He eyed the thick bandage on my arm.
“What happened to your arm?” he asked.
“Freak accident,” I said. “The kettle and I weren’t seeing eye to eye. Not sure why it had such an attitude problem. All I wanted was some tea, not to murder the teacups.”
“I have to remember to stop asking you questions,” Daniel grumbled. “The answers are always so bizarre. It’s been mere hours since I’ve seen you last. I can’t believe you managed to injure yourself already.”
“I’m prone to accidents.” This wasn’t entirely false. Before my arrival at King and Queens, Jazmin and I kept a running count of how many stitches I’d acquired during the filming of Madame Lucia’s Parlour for the Dead and the Departed. If I recalled correctly, we were at a collective fifty-six. In any sense, I had pretty decent pain tolerance. I pointed to the notebook sticking out of his back pocket. “Any leads?”
He shoved the notebook deeper, wrinkling the paper. “Not yet. I don’t know what I expected. That my hunch would be correct maybe.”
“What’s your hunch?”
He rolled up the sleeves of his navy-blue thermal. I wondered if he owned several shirts in the same color. I hadn’t seen him wear anything else for most of the trip. He sported his usual leather shoulder holster, the straps of which accentuated his strong, broad shoulders. No woman would ask for a divorce from his strapping figure, thick hair, and piercing eyes without good reason. Daniel once confessed to me that he and his wife had married too hastily, that they weren’t really meant to be, but was there more to the story than unfortunate timing and poor decisions?
“You know I can’t tell you that,” he said.
“Right. Official police business.”
“Mm-hmm. Did you press the button?”
“No, I forgot.”
He pushed it with his thumb. “Have you seen Oliver around?”
“I think he’s in his room,” I said. “That’s what Riley said anyway.”
“He’s not,” Daniel said while we waited for one of the elevators to land on the ground floor. All three were occupied elsewhere, strange considering there weren’t enough people in the resort to use all three at once. “He’s going around the resort, working like it’s a regular day. I found him in his office, filing guest records from thirty years ago. When the rest of my team shows up, I’m going to request a psychological assessment for him. I think these deaths are getting to him.”
“They’d get to anyone,” I said. “If you knew where he was, why’d you ask me?”
“Just wanted a second opinion on his behavior,” he answered. “You’re one of the few people here who knew Oliver before he lost it, and you’re not one of his employees, so you’re more likely to give me a solid, unbiased opinion.”
“I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
“If you say so. What the hell is wrong with this thing?” Daniel jammed the button again and again. It lit up and went dark each time, but no elevator came to pick us up in the lobby. He slammed his hand against the panel.
“Relax!” I grabbed his wrist to stop him from punching the panel again. “What is going on with you? You’ve been getting progressively angrier in the past two days. I get you’re in trouble, but you need to keep your head in the game.”
He slipped out of my grasp. “What do you mean, I’m in trouble?”
I backpedaled, trying to escape the offended look on his face. “Just that you’re the only person here who works for the law. You’re on your own with this investigation. That can’t be easy, especially when you’re used to having an entire team to back you up. What did you think I meant?”
Daniel smoothed his already smooth hair. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Daniel, what’s going on with you?”
He opened his mouth, and I thought he might actually reply with an honest answer, but Nick Porter rushed into the lobby, his cane tapping a rapid, unsteady beat against the marble floor.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But Mr. Watson and one of the employees are having a bit of a tiff near the gift shop. It appears he’s trying to force the young man to get back to work. I left to get help when they started yelling. Well, what are you waiting for? Come quick!”
As if to mock us, the elevator finally arrived as Daniel and I jogged away from it, following Nick to the gift shop. Nick could move when the situation called for it, though his bad leg buckled and swayed like a tree in a hurricane. The gift shop was set off from the lobby, in a separate corridor that also led to the library, café, and rental shop. Oliver stood at the door to the gift shop, facing off with Liam.
“I’m the ski lift operator,” Liam hollered, red in the face. It was strange to see him so worked up. Liam was the epitome of laid back under less stressful circumstances. “Not a damn cashier.”
“You’ll be a damn cashier if I tell you to be a damn cashier,” Oliver shouted back. He’d changed his clothes. He wore a plum-colored suit—like he had tried to take a leaf out of Nick’s book—but it didn’t fit him properly, and he looked more like wrinkly grape than the owner of a fancy ski resort.
“No,” Liam said. “It wasn’t in my job description.”
“Your job description includes other duties as assigned,” Oliver sneered. “If you don’t start taking stock, you’re fired.”
“Oh, I’m fired?” Liam said. “Where the hell are you going to find a brand new ski operator in the middle of the season? That is if the police even let you reopen King and Queens after two of your family members ended up dead here.”
Oliver smacked Liam across the face. The younger man’s head whipped around, his lion-like mane flying through the air like golden silk. Daniel pinned Oliver against t
he wall as Liam pressed his palm to his reddening face.
“I’m going to sue you when all of this is over,” Liam spluttered. “Ari told me what you’ve been saying to her. We were afraid to bring it up because we needed these jobs, but I’m done with you, Mr. Watson. I won’t work here anymore, not under your management. Not in these conditions. You deserve everything that’s happened to you.” He spun away from the scene and ran into Nick. “Sorry, Mr. Porter. While I have you here, you wouldn’t happen to need a ski lift operator and a barista, would you? I’ve just resigned from my job.”
Nick looked from Liam to Oliver’s enraged expression and stuttered, “Anyone is welcome to apply to White Oak, son. We’re always looking for honest, dedicated employees.”
“You—!” Oliver spluttered, his face a fantastic shade of violet. “Get the hell out of my hotel, Porter!”
“All right, that’s enough,” Daniel said, toting Oliver away from everyone else. “Mr. Watson, Mr. Porter can’t leave and neither can your employees. Former employees. Whatever you want to call them. We’re investigating two different homicides and we’re all snowed in, remember?”
Oliver didn’t seem to recall any of that information as Daniel hauled him away. Nick, Liam, and I all stared awkwardly at each other.
“Are you okay?” I asked Liam. “That smack looked pretty intense.”
He checked his reflection in the front-facing camera of his phone and snapped a quick picture. “Works for me. If it leaves a mark, Mr. Watson’s screwed.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?” Nick asked. “Mr. Watson lost half of his family. I’m sure he didn’t mean to bully you like that.”
“Mr. Porter, I mean no disrespect,” Liam said, “but you have no idea what it’s like to work here. Mr. Watson wasn’t nice to his employees before Thelma—Mrs. Watson died either. I wasn’t lying when I said he deserved all of the crap that’s been happening to him. Riley doesn’t though. The kid’s weird, but she’s all right.”
“What about your sister?” I said, sensing an opportunity. “Was Mr. Watson saying inappropriate things to her?”
Liam examined the red welt on his cheekbone. “That’s her business. If she wants to tell you about it, she will. I have to go. Tell Mr. Watson if he comes looking for me again, I’ll punch his nose off.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass that on to Detective Hawkins too,” I said.
Liam ignored the comment and continued to the rental shop. Why he needed to be in there when no one required skis or hiking equipment, I had no idea. That left me alone with Nick Porter, who wiped his dry brow with the sleeve of his King and Queens hoodie.
“Whew! This place is a handful, isn’t it?”
When I returned to my suite on the twentieth floor, Jazmin worked at the desk and Riley lay on the floor with her hands and feet in the air like a dead bug, raising and lowering her limbs in alternating sequence. She went limp as I came through the door.
“I’m dead,” she announced. “And the culprit is boredom.”
I nudged the sole of her shoe. “Don’t joke, kid.”
Jazmin swiveled her chair around. “Did you find out anything from Matisse?”
“He’s not the killer.” I collapsed on the sofa and kicked my feet up. “Or at least he’s got a pretty decent alibi.”
“So we got nothing,” Jazmin said.
“Not nothing,” I replied. “Did you guys hunt down any more of the employees today? Matisse said Ari and Imani are hiding something.”
“They’ve been holed up in their room all day,” Riley said. “I saw them sneaking off when I was looking for Matisse and Karli earlier. Don’t know why they were creeping around like that though.”
“You didn’t get any footage of them?” I asked.
“Nope. Sorry.”
“I did,” Jazmin said. She navigated through the video files on my computer. “The interview camera wasn’t the only one we set up yesterday. I put one in the opposite corner of the lounge where all the employees were hanging out. Imani and Ari are all over it.”
I lay on my stomach to watch over her shoulder. “Let’s have a look then.”
Jazmin pressed play on a long video from yesterday’s time at the bar. In the foreground of the shot, Liam lay across two chairs, limp and solemn. Beyond him, out of focus, were Imani and Ari. The video was hours of pointless chatter. While Liam remained silent, the girls discussed everything from the snowstorm to possible job openings at White Oak to how different I looked from the “real” Madame Lucia.
“At least she’s not wearing that ridiculous kimono,” Imani said at one point.
“Or dyed her hair pink and silver again,” Ari added, both of them peering across the room, presumably at me.
“Is there anything worthwhile in this entire video?” I grumbled, toying with the ends of my hair. The pink, indeed, had faded, but the silky gray color remained everywhere except for my dark roots.
Jazmin fast forwarded through a few minutes and pressed play again. The hunched together, whispering when they hadn’t been before. Imani’s eyes darted around the lounge, and Ari checked that her dozing brother wasn’t listening in.
“Turn up the audio,” I told Jazmin. She tapped the volume control.
“We have to talk about it at some point,” Imani urged. She cupped Ari’s cheek to make the other girl look at her, but Ari pulled away.
“Don’t do that,” she hissed. “People could be watching.”
Imani’s face fell, but she dropped her hand. “Everyone knows we’re friends.”
“Yeah, and that’s all I want them to know,” Ari replied. “Look at what happens when people start to suspect. Mr. Watson—”
“Is a twat,” Imani finished for her.
“That’s not what I was going to say. He started asking me questions, Imani. Making comments. I can’t deal with that. As for Tyler—who knows what he would have done if he were still alive?”
Imani almost put her arm around Ari’s shoulders but stopped herself. “After this, we won’t have to deal with the Watsons anymore, okay? It’s decided. We’re done with King and Queens.”
“Not by choice,” Ari reminded her. “If I had a choice, I’d keep my job. I need this job, and so does my brother. We’re not like you.”
Imani drew away, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I know you like to think of yourself as one of us, but me and Liam and Parker aren’t as lucky as you,” Ari said. “We don’t have rich parents.”
“My parents aren’t rich.”
“You work this job because they said you needed to build character,” Ari said. “And because it’s convenient to get to the slopes. You can complain about the crappy discounts as much as the rest of us, but when it comes down to it, if you want to snowboard, you can ask your parents for money.”
“That’s not true,” Imani argued. “I work this job because my parents won’t pay for me to get out on the slopes. How do you think I afforded my new board?”
“Oh, babe.” Ari shook her head, as if Imani wasn’t grasping her point. “That’s the thing. You only have to worry about affording a new board. Liam and I haven’t bought new equipment ever. We got everything second hand because we had to pay for the gas to get here.”
“You think I’m spoiled.”
“No, it’s not that—”
“Really? Because that’s exactly what I’m hearing.”
Ari clasped Imani’s hands and drew the other girl closer. “Can we get back to the point here? I can’t leave King and Queens until I have another job lined up.”
“If we don’t leave King and Queens, it’s going to be like this forever,” Imani said. “Secrets and lies. Pretending we don’t know anything about Tyler Watson.”
“Shh!”
They parted again. Imani stirred her coffee as if to look busy while Ari adjusted the blanket over her knees. At the table next to theirs, Liam muttered something in his sleep and rolled over. The girls watched him until h
e was motionless again.
“We should tell the detective,” Imani said, her voice so low that the camera mic had trouble picking up all of the words.
“What? No way!”
“He’s going to figure out we’ve been lying,” Imani said. “And it’s not going to go over well. Better to come clean now than deal with the consequences of hiding it.”
Ari hid her face in her hands. “Have you forgotten what the consequences are going to be when everyone finds out? Forget about Mr. Watson. What about our parents? That’s why we messed with Tyler in the first place, remember? His big mouth would’ve gotten us into all sorts of trouble.”
“We’re adults,” Imani said. “I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. I don’t care what our parents think.”
“They’ll kick me out.”
“So you’ll move in with me.”
“And your parents?”
“I’ll move out,” Imani offered. “Come on, Ari. It’ll be an adventure. Ever since I met you, you’ve been trying to get away from your parents. What if this is the perfect opportunity?”
Ari ducked away from Imani’s proffered embrace. “Stop. This isn’t some grand road trip, Imani. It’s a freaking nightmare. It’s a game, and we’re losing.”
“As long as I don’t lose you.”
Ari’s expression softened at long last, her golden-brown eyes catching the gray light filtering in from the snowy window. She leaned her forehead on Imani’s shoulder. “We’ll figure something out.”
Imani rested her chin on top of Ari’s head. “At least Tyler’s gone.”
“Yeah. At least there’s that.”
Liam woke up soon after that, and the girls went quiet as he stretched his arms over his head. The three of them waited without talking until Detective Hawkins came over to their table and asked Imani to join him for an interview. I reached across Jazmin to pause the video.
“Matisse was right,” I said. “They definitely know something about Tyler’s death, and they’re hiding something big that they don’t want anyone to find out about. The question is what?”
Riley made a face. “Isn’t it obvious?”
