by Judith Lucci
"Do that," Denease said, her face grey with worry. "I don’t know who it is, but I want for him to be okay. I wonder if it's really true that skiing is the most dangerous sport ever," she asked more to herself than anyone else.
"Actually, it's not," I said. "I think they’re about fifty or sixty ski deaths a year. You're more likely to lose your life in a kayak or in a boat and for sure in a car.”
“Yeah. Lots of people die when people drive boats drunk,” Diane’s face darkened. She’d lost a family member in a boating accident a few summers ago up at Smith Mountain Lake a few hours south of Massanutten.
“Drinking and boating has become a bad issue." I only knew this because I’d had a friend lose her grandson in a drinking and boating accident. Plus, I knew about Diane’s relative.
Diane looked doubtful. "Water sports are dangerous, but most people are well-trained to do them. Skiing is pretty rough and rugged." I watched as she dialed her son. She turned away from me to talk with him. There was no way I was going end up in a disagreement with Diane. I didn't have the energy, or the time. She always won!
I shrugged my shoulders and turned back to Angie. "What time is dinner? I'll call LauraLea and get her to meet us. She was here a minute ago and left to go to into Elkton. You do mean the new Asian place downtown, right?
"That I do, Miss Lily Lucci," Angie’s smile and deep Southern accent cheered me for a moment. "I'll see you in a few hours," she promised as she tossed her head and left the gallery with the same infectious giggle she’d had when she entered.
Diane, Denease, and I looked at each other. Diane shook her head. “Honest to God, she comes in here like a hurricane and leaves in a whirlwind. I never know what's going on when she's in here and the next thing I know, she's gone. What's that about?" Diane frowned as she shrugged grabbed a seat by the fireplace.
"Oh, I love it when she comes in,” Denease smiled. “She's always so happy and that’s such a great trait to have," she glanced at Diane out of the corner of her eye. "She's like a breath of fresh air, don't you think, Lily?"
I nodded. "I do, yes I do. I love to have Angie around. She's a ton of fun," I murmured as I watched a lady peruse my books on my signing table. "Looks like I may have a customer," I said as I walked over into the front room of the gallery and introduced myself. I wondered how long I had before I’d have to go on the snake hunt with the Diva.
Chapter 3
I was hiding in the little storage area of the gallery when Wendell Hallet returned and asked for me.
Diane cracked open the door, pointed her finger at me and snickered, "He's here."
I rolled my eyes, fluffed my hair, and gathered my things as I took a swift look at my face in the bathroom mirror. Sometimes I couldn’t believe the face that looked back at me was mine. When did I get so old? I shook my head and walked into the main gallery. I graciously accepted the man's cold, limp hand. It felt a little slimy.
"Mr. Hallet. How nice to see you again," I said in a fake voice. I didn't like the man. But, I was pretty good at pretending I did.
Wendell offered me a wide, fake smile. "Ms. Lucci. I must buy all your books. I've heard so much about them," he gushed in an ingratiating voice that made my skin crawl. He looked like a shyster.
"There's no need to do that, Mr. Hallet, but if you’d like to purchase them, I am happy to sign them for you. How are things going for you?" I looked up at him. Everyone was taller than me. The guy was about five feet ten which I might add is significantly taller than my five feet one in heels. I hated to look up at him. It made me feel small and insignificant.
"Things are going well for me, Ms. Lucci. As you know, I’m running for the State House in Richmond."
I nodded. “Yes, I’d heard that.” I was noncommittal on the subject.
A shadow flickered across the man's features. Angie had nailed it. He had little pig eyes. "Well, you do get around, don't you, Dr. Lucci. I hoped we could set up lunch for next week so I could talk with you," he said again in his ingratiating voice.
I scrambled for a way to say no. I looked down at the floor and shifted my feet as I struggled for a reason not to go. "Is there an agenda for this lunch?" I asked. I hoped my face didn’t look as suspicious as I felt.
Hallet gave me a thoughtful response. "Not a specific one, but I would like your help with my campaign, my senate campaign. You’re well known in the area and I could use the help of someone like you.”
I nodded but remained silent. “I don’t think I can help you. From what I can see, the world knows you’re running. I see you on TV three or four times every evening.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too smart-alecky. I had a hard time being nice. I just didn’t like the guy.
“I think, as a crime and thriller writer, you command a fair presence in this area. I'd like to use your presence for my benefit," he said as he boldly stared at me in the face.
I was stunned at his audaciousness. He’d just admitted he wanted to use me and my name to win his election. Well, that was pretty ballsy. I waited to see if he would add more, but he didn't. He stood quietly and looked at me.
I gave him my sweetest Southern smile, instilled in me from the age of five by my grandmother to direct toward people I didn’t want to associate with. I hope I pulled it off. "Honestly, Mr. Hallet, I'm a neutral political spirit. I've made it a point never to get involved with political candidates or campaigns. I’m not interested in working on any political campaigns, nor do I have the time.”
I saw a shadow of anger flash across Hallet’s face and he clenched his fist, but I continued my rejection anyway. “That said, I do wish you the very best in the election. I hope things turn out the way that you desire." It was a boldfaced lie and I was surprised how easily it slipped out.
Wendell gave me a puzzled look. Now, that shocked me. He must've thought I would be a real pushover, but I wasn't.
I smiled again. “Look at it this way, Wendell. I won’t work for your opponent either,” I smiled brightly, but he sneered at me. The man frosted my blood. I really didn’t like him at all.
"Well, Dr. Lucci, you know I’d value your expertise in medicine and healthcare not to mention your knowledge of crime. I believe we could forge a great working relationship." His smile looked more like a sneer.
The man just didn’t give up and I could feel my blood pressure shoot up. I’d become uncomfortable with the way the man was staring at me. I wondered if this was perhaps a bit more than a business relationship that he was seeking. "Always happy to tell you my views on situations from time to time if you'd like, Wendell. But, I really don't have the time to assume any type of a campaign position. My life is on overload now." I studied my fingernails which were in considerable need of a manicure. That was better than looking at Wendell.
He flashed me an angry look, but I continued, “But, I’m honored that you thought of me.” I touched his arm and walked with him into the private area of the gallery. If he decided to be ugly, I didn’t want the customers to hear. I could feel heat flash from his body as we walked. This was a man who was used to getting his way. Tough toenails for him. It wasn’t happening today.
Wendell held his temper and continued. “I'm looking for support to build the new courthouse. I was hoping you could speak on my behalf for that."
Ah, so that was what the guy was after. Building that new courthouse in the ‘Burg was more than a political sticky wicket. It was a political volcano. I gathered my thoughts and spoke, "I don't really have an opinion on that. I do however know there was a feasibility study done and the recommendations were that Harrisonburg and Rockingham County rehabilitate the current courthouse. Consequently, I don't think I can be helpful in that area of your campaign either. You’ve probably heard I’m a fiscal conservative."
Wendell pressed his thin lips together and remained silent. It'd become quite clear that he was angry with me. But, that was just too bad. A minute or so later, a reporter from the local paper came in and, and much to my chagrin, flashed a couple
of shots of us together in the gallery.
Behind the reporter was the owner of the Artisans Gallery and my partner in art and crime, LauraLea. She’d returned from Elkton. Her face was flushed, and her green eyes flashed angrily at me. She had a grocery bag filled with wine with her.
“LauraLea, do you know Wendell Hallet? He’s currently running for the state senate and he wants our support,” I mustered as brightly as I could. I could tell from her body language that she was none too pleased. I turned to Wendell and said, “LauraLea owns the gallery.”
Wendell offered LauraLea his hand. "You have a lovely gallery," he smiled.
LauraLea nodded. “Thank you. What can we do for you, Wendell?” LauraLea was strictly business.
“Why, I’d love for you lovely ladies to join me and my attorney, Henry Hamilton for drinks up at the Ski Lodge a little later this afternoon. I have a few ideas and little proposition for you,” Wendell’s pig-like eyes held LauraLea’s angry green ones for a moment.
“What time? We’ll be there,” LauraLea agreed with a quick shake of her head.
I was stunned, but kept my mouth shut. Generally, LauraLea knew what she was doing.
“Five o’clock... will that suit you?” Wendell looked pleased and gave LauraLea a gleeful, triumphant smile. I’m sure he figured she was a push over after my rejecting every offer he made to me.
I intervened. “LauraLea, we’re meeting friends in town for dinner,” I informed her as I touched her arm.
LauraLea raised her eyebrows. I realized I’d made plans for her in her absence. “Oh, well, then...” She turned to Wendell.
Wendell held up his hand to silence her. “Three-thirty then, I’ll see you in the bar at the Ski Lodge at three-thirty,” Wendell informed us as he moved closer to LauraLea so the photographer could snap another picture of the three of us.
“I must be off now, ladies!” Hallet said happily. “I’ll see you shortly.”
“We’ll be there,” LauraLea called after him. We watched out the window as he jumped into his car, the reporter and photographer followed him in their van.
“Are you nuts?” I stared at her, speechless for once in my life. I had a frown on my face. “We will? Why? I don’t like the little toad. He’s up to something.” I glared at her as she looked down at me. “The idiot asked me to be on his campaign.”
LauraLea tossed her head. “Better to know what’s going on than be surprised,” she said as she removed her hat and coat. “Isn’t it you who has always said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”
I shrugged my shoulders and followed her into the back room. I never knew with LauraLea. Just when I thought I’d figured things out, she surprised me. Obviously, she knew something I didn’t, or she’d never have agreed to have drinks with that creep.
Chapter 4
Cocktails with Wendell and his UVA lawyer, Henry Hamilton, was the last thing I’d planned to do today. I was grumpy and irritable, in spite of the wonderful lunch from Ciro’s that LauraLea had used to butter me up with to hunt snakes. At 3:30, I jumped into LauraLea's Lexus to head up the mountain. The one good thing about the afternoon was I hadn’t had to hunt for the snakes. We’d gotten busy and I was tied up signing books. LauraLea had been forced to repair the Slushee machine that made a thousand times its weight in dollars, so snake-catching had been postponed.
We drove up the mountain as quickly as the roads would allow. There was snow and ice everywhere. "I don't want to do this so let’s keep it short and snappy," I whined as the rounded a sharp mountain curve.” I reached over and turned my heated seat up to ninety degrees for a greater burst of warm air on my rear end. I loved heated seats.
LauraLea flashed her green eyes at me and shook her head. "I don't want to go either, but the man is a huge player in commercial real estate development around here and I'd like to know what he's planning. Plus, he’s running for state senator."
I shook my head. "You’re incorrigible. He’s a crook and he steals people’s land and pays them a pittance for it. You know that. Look what he did to Diane’s family.”
A frown crossed LauraLea’s face. “Yeah. I hated that. But, they did pay Diane’s family a fair market price...”
“That’s not the point,” I hissed indignantly. “Diane didn’t want to sell. She was coerced, and all the money went to pay the legal bills.”
“Yeah, I hated that,” LauraLea agreed. “It totally sucked.”
“You only want to know what Hallet’s up to so you can gossip about it, right? You’re not seriously contemplating doing business with him, are you?” I gave her a snide look. I certainly hoped LauraLea wasn’t gonna give that shyster a chance.
"Pretty much," she admitted with a sly grin. "I want to know what kind of shopping center he plans to build at the bottom on the mountain and whether he’s shopping for other art galleries."
I was impressed. I shifted my position and adjusted my seatbelt. "I gotta say, LauraLea, you’re becoming quite the businesswoman. While you're checking out the competition, why don't you negotiate us some super-cheap classroom space. We could use a big enough space for fifteen students."
LauraLea looked at herself in her rearview mirror and ran her tongue across her pristine white teeth that could light up the darkest cave in the Shenandoah Valley. "That's exactly what I intend to do, Lily. Plus, I intend to have a couple of glasses of Vino on his tab." She shot me a look that reminded me of a satisfied Cheshire cat. She was good at this business thing. She’d come a long way.
I reached out and high-fived her. She returned it as we continued up the mountain. It was a beautiful drive. The sun shone through and the ice on the pine trees looked like diamonds. The sky was a perfect shade of winter blue. A perfect day to ski and snow tube. The resort was busy which meant more sales for the gallery and more books sales and watercolor students for me. For a moment, I was happy, and the icky Wendell Hallet wasn’t on my mind.
“Why is there a traffic back-up?” Laura asked as she crawled around a hairpin curve. “The roads are in pretty good condition,” she concluded.
"Wow, look at the ambulances!’ I wonder if they've gotten the body off the slopes yet? It's been three or more hours since I heard the first sirens.” I was puzzled. “I would've thought things would've cleared out by now."
One of Massanutten’s finest was directing traffic. The Massanutten police were the bane of our existence. I’ve never known any law enforcement officials to be so ridiculously inept and... well, dumb. Just last week, Diane had called them about the snake in the gallery and the guy had said he was from New York city and knew nothing about snakes. That’s the kind of service we got from them. Plus, if the gallery alarm went off during off hours, they called us. They didn’t even investigate it. That burned my butt too.
“Oh no. Isn’t that Dick Derek directing traffic?” LauraLea wailed. “If so, we’ll never get to the Lodge until after drinks. Dick’s most likely the reason for the traffic backup.” She drummed her finger on her steering wheel. “I can’t believe this!”
“Oh, look, we’re gonna be saved,” I exclaimed.
LauraLea glanced into her rearview mirror at an approaching vehicle. "Yep, here comes the medical examiner's van. The body must still be up here." LauraLea watched as the driver skillfully maneuvered the van as close to the ski runs as he possibly could.
I stayed in the car as the driver emerged from the van. "Look, it's Fred. That'll certainly make Angie happy," I said as I winked at Laura.
Laura nodded. "Yeah, and there’s Kenzie’s SUV so she’s here. I wonder if dinner will be a bust because we both know that Angie is gonna hang around with Fred." She shook her head.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Maybe not. Kenzie will probably wait until tomorrow to get the body back to Roanoke so she can autopsy the victim. That way Fred can just deliver the poor soul over to the morgue at Sentara.”
"Yeah, that's true. I hadn't thought about that,” Laura agreed as we watched as several crime scene tec
hs and local Massanutten police officers jump off of the ski lift. Another two men with dark jackets emblazoned with the word “forensics” were in the second lift cart.
“Look! There’s Kenzie and Solomon. She’s walking down the slope. See her?”
“Yeah. I do.” Solomon was Kenzie’s black lab. The two of them were inseparable and he accompanied Kenzie everywhere she went whether it be cocktail party, presidential inauguration, or crime scene. People just accepted it. Solomon was also best friends with Vino, our gallery dog who was famous, unfortunately so, for drinking wine. Vino was currently staying at my house recovering from a broken leg he’d gotten caught in a bear trap. He was doing well, thought, but the entire thing had made me furious.
"Looks like they’re checking this one out pretty good," I observed as I watched the forensic tech walk to the van.
“Look, we even have the Shenandoah police here. I wonder who the victim is. Perhaps someone from Shenandoah county?”
LauraLea shook her head. “Nah, I doubt it. Probably a resort guest who had no business on the advanced slopes. We’ll find out soon enough.”
"Most likely," I concurred. “We’ll have to pump Kenzie tonight at dinner. If the family has been notified, she’ll tell us.” Kenzie lived on the mountain with Solomon and was a great friend to us and the gallery. She was also a lot of fun and the three of us, along with Benson, her lead detective, enjoyed each other's company often. Kenzie also wanted to learn how to live on the right side of her brain, so she took all our art classes — most of them two or three times — to “balance her brain” as she often said. That said, she was an amazingly skilled physician and medical examiner.
An officer waved LauraLea’s vehicle forward. "We’d better hurry," Laura encouraged. "We can get the scoop from Kenzie later."
I nodded. For some reason I had a knot in my stomach. "Yeah. I just wonder who the victim is,” I said almost to myself as a bad feeling overcame me that chilled my body in the now overly warm vehicle. I had a bad premonition about this death. The skiing conditions were perfect. Nothing should go wrong. I shook off the feeling and prepared myself to meet with the creepy Wendell Hallet, and his most likely shyster lawyer from Charlottesville. The rest could wait.
