The Most Slippery Crime of the Year: Death On The Slopes: A Massanutten Tale (The Artzy Chicks Book 4)

by Judith Lucci

  "Do that, I'd appreciate it," Kenzie nodded. She waited as Parker texted Paul.

  "What about the condition of the slope, the Diamond Jim? Anything there that would've been a surprise for someone like Sam?"

  Parker hesitated as he considered her question. "No, not really. There shouldn’t have been. We had fresh snow on Tuesday. Today's Thursday so the snow is packed, but even if we blew snow both Tuesday and Wednesday if would be fine. The slope is packed and there’s a good base for skiing. Besides, Sam was the first and only skier on the Diamond Jim yesterday. He was here early, during the VIP hours."

  Kenzie nodded. "Are you sure the slope was groomed the night before last?" She raised her eyebrows.

  "Oh yeah, the slope was fully groomed. It’s harder skiing on hard packed snow than powder, but Sam was experienced so there's nothing about the condition of the Diamond that would've made a difference for him yesterday."

  "So, he was essentially skiing Eastern Coast hard blue ice. Generally, that's considered easier, isn't it?" Kenzie’s eyebrows were arched.

  Parker picked up his pencil and doodled. Kenzie watched as Solomon walked over to the door looked out and decided to lay down for an afternoon nap. "Yeah, that's what we’ve got up here — hard, blue East Coast ice. Sam knew, as an expert skier, that the effects of gravity would pull him down. He skis these slopes two or three, sometimes four times every month."

  "Yeah I know." Kenzie studied her feet. “Gabe, my husband, always said East Coast skiing was easy — once you realized how fast you were going to go. Gabe liked to ski powder because it took a lot more muscle and the slope was more difficult because you're constantly weighting on your skis, twisting, edging and jumping to keep control. He’d be bored after a couple of runs down any of the advanced slopes here." Kenzie has a wistful look on her face as she remembered her dead husband.

  "I hear you, Doc. We hear that a lot. Wasn’t your husband from Colorado?"

  Kenzie grinned as a quick pain passed through her heart. "Yep. He was and he said East Coast skiing couldn't even begin to compete."

  Parker nodded and remained quiet as he watched the emotions flicker across Kenzie’s face. He wanted to reach out and hug her in an effort to decrease her pain.

  Kenzie collected her thoughts. "So, I consider you an expert skier for Massanutten. So, you think there's nothing at all about skiing conditions or slope maintenance that could've made a difference in Sam’s accident?"

  "No, ma'am, I don't. Honestly," Parker declared. "I can’t imagine what happened."

  Have you ever known there to be boulders or rocks on the run?"

  Parker shook his head. "No, there wouldn't be. The grooming machine would push anything like that to the side. There wouldn’t be a big boulder up there."

  Kenzie pulled out her phone and flipped to the pictures with the large rock. "Take a look at this. This was out there yesterday about a quarter of a mile from where we found Sam's body. What do you think of this?"

  Parker paled as he looked at the rock. "There's no way a rock that big would have been on the ski slope — no way at all. We haven't had any weather that would cause a rock like that to fall." He searched Kenzie's eyes.

  "So, what does that suggest to you, Parker?" Kenzie’s brown eyes locked with Parker’s eyes.

  Parker shook his head and looked at the floor then he looked back up at Kenzie. "It says to me that someone put that big rock, the boulder, up there and hoped Sam would hit it, lose control of his skis, and wreck." He pounded the desk with his hand in anger. Solomon jumped up and growled.

  Kenzie reached out and soothed her dog. Then she nodded. “That's what it suggests to me.” She gestured towards Solomon. Would you take us down the slope in the snowmobile? I'd like to take another look."

  "I sure will, Doc. My pleasure. If somebody screwed around and killed Sam, we’ll figure it out somehow,” he promised her. His face was flushed, his voice emphatic. He rose from his chair, opened the door and the pair walked outside into the freezing weather. It was cold and sunny, precisely the same conditions as yesterday.

  Kenzie and Parker jumped on the snowmobile and Solomon ran beside them and enjoyed the exercise on the bright crisp day. A few minutes later they reached the downhill slope that Kenzie was convinced was a crime scene.

  The two of them examined the area where they’d found Sam’s body. Kenzie could tell by Parker’s jerky body movements that he was angry and felt powerless. He stared at the rock and turned to her, shaking his head. “There’s no way that rock was here yesterday morning. They groom this slope every day at daybreak.” Parker whistled and looked around the slope.

  Kenzie nodded. “How do they groom these days? Do they use a tractor still or has Massanutten come up in the world?”

  Parker threw back his head and laughed. “Nope. Not anymore. We’re first class these days. We have a Snowcat. It’s a snow grooming machine with two large rubber and steel tracks. The tracks disperse the weight of the machine evenly across the snow surface until the slope is perfectly groomed. The Snowcat wouldn’t have been able to move or groom around that rock! No way on this earth,” Parker said emphatically as he pointed to the rock and shook his head again.

  “So, what do you think happened?”

  Parker shrugged his shoulders. “Someone came up here after six in the morning, and before eight or so when the slopes opened. That’s the only way to explain it.”

  Kenzie’s heart beat steadily in her chest. She looked around the scene. There were dozens of sets of footprints where ski patrol, rescue workers and local police had checked the scene from yesterday. The footprints were still visible, even though the resort had blown snow all night. “If someone came up here a little after dawn yesterday, two things had to have happened. They must have taken the ski lift to get up here, and they must have left tracks somewhere in the snow from the vehicle that toted the rock.”

  Parker’s eyes darted around the scene. “Yeah. That would have required two trips. He climbed off his snow mobile and walked into the woods. Kenzie watched as he thrashed through a group of evergreens and barren trees, his eyes glued to the ground. Kenzie and Solomon followed him. Kenzie covered a ten-foot-wide area fifty yards from the crime scene.

  “I’ve got something,” Parker yelled. “Come here, Doc, and take a look.” Parker’s voice was excited.

  Kenzie stomped her boots in the snow and moved in the direction of his voice. Parker had a coffee cup from the Woodstone Coffee shop he’d picked up with a stick.

  “Check out this cup. It hasn’t been up here long. It even has a little bit of coffee left in it.”

  Kenzie grinned as she eyed the frozen, tan liquid in the bottom of the cup. “Good work. Where was it exactly? We need to be sure it didn’t come from a rescue worker.”

  “Oh, it didn’t. I’m sure of that,” Parker’s voice seethed with anger. “It was wedged right down here between this boulder and dead log.” He squatted in the snow and pointed his finger. “Someone, and I’m guessing the same person or persons who placed the boulder, left their coffee cup here yesterday,” he scoffed. His face hardened. “It’s even possible they stayed here and waited for the show.”

  Kenzie shook her head and turned her face away to gather composure. The murders had stayed to watch the show. They had wanted to be sure Sam died. She took a few deep breaths of mountain air and turned around. “That’s low. About as low as it gets.”

  Parker nodded. “I hope you can get some DNA from the cup.”

  Kenzie nodded and pulled a large plastic glove out of her pocket. “Me too. Put the cup where it was. I want to get a picture.”

  Parker removed his gloves and donned the plastic gloves. He replaced the cup. It fit perfectly in the space between the rock and the fallen tree. Kenzie smiled to herself. “Yeah. Someone sat here on the log and drank coffee...”

  Parker flashed her a dark look. “Yeah, after they blocked the ski path and sat here until Sam Painter hit the faster part of the run and crashed.”<
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  Kenzie nodded. She was furious. She clenched and unclenched her gloved hands. Solomon stood stiff at her side and growled.

  “Yeah. The men staged, set up and watched a murder play out before their eyes.” Kenzie’s eyes darted around the scene as she looked for other evidence.

  Parker shook his head, his eyes dark with anger. “Anyone who knows anything about skiing knows it would be almost impossible — for the most experienced skier — to stop on a dime before that rock.” Parker took a deep breath. “I’d venture that Sam hit the rock and then the ground so hard that he suffered a massive spinal cord injury – most likely brain stem.”

  Kenzie stared at him. “That’s exactly what happened. He died immediately. Broken neck. That’s the only good thing about his death so far, if there could be good thing. He didn’t suffer any pain or lay on the frozen earth for a lengthy amount of time and freeze to death.”

  Parker cursed softly under his breath. “We’ll find out who did this, Doc. I’ll check around up here. Even that early in the morning people are out – workmen, maintenance men, ski personnel, lift operators... someone had to have seen someone, somewhere.”

  Kenzie nodded. Anger clouded her eyes. “Good. Thanks. Can you take me back down? I need to check in with my office.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll tell the ski director you want this slope closed at least another day. I’ll be happy to come back in tomorrow and help you look around.”

  Kenzie smiled at him. “Thanks, Parker. I’ll take you up on that. I’ll bring Benson, my chief investigator in as well. We’ll search this area with a fine-toothed comb.”

  Kenzie nodded as she walked over and got in the snow mobile. A few minutes later, she walked to her car and put Solomon in the back and made her way home.

  Chapter 15

  I straightened up after Kenzie and Benson left and sent LauraLea a text. I’d decided not to go to the gallery. I picked up my cell phone and looked up Rosemary's phone number. Most people in this day and age are glued to their cell phones. I pretty much use mine as an address book. I do try to remember to take it with me when I go places. I'm getting a little better at that, but I still forget it at least half the time.

  I was delighted when Rosemary picked up on the second ring. It seemed like she was always in a staff meeting.

  "Rosemary, how are you? I haven't talked with you for ages," I said with warmth in my voice.

  "Lily, goodness! Where have you been? I haven't seen you in forever, not even around town." She sounded delighted to hear from me.

  "I know.” My voice was apologetic. “I missed all the holiday parties. I caught cold and spent most of the time before Christmas at home. That's where I've mostly been."

  "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm glad to catch up with you now. What's up?"

  I smiled to myself. No moss grew under Rosemary Lambert's feet. She knew there was a direct reason for my call.

  "I want to pick your brain. Can I take you out for dinner this evening?"

  "Sure, I can be bought and I’m pretty cheap. Where do you want to meet?"

  "Why don't we meet at Spotswood Country Club. It's close to both of us and the food’s pretty good—or at least it has been lately." I didn’t go to the country club that often, but I did try to eat my quarterly food allowance.

  "Sounds perfect to me. How about 6:30? I have a few things here to finish up before I go home. I seem to spend all of my time in meetings these days," she moaned. "It gets so tiresome."

  I laughed. "That's why they pay you the big money, Rosemary. Because you're willing to sit in those meetings."

  "You're probably right, Lily. Most folks wouldn’t put up with half the crap I do every day." She laughed, but her laugh sounded a bit hollow to me.

  "We both know you're more than qualified for your job. There's no one around the Shenandoah Valley that knows the area quite like you. And that's not to mention your Engineering degree from Virginia Tech. Plus, you have a MBA. You're definitely the person who should be our county planner."

  Rosemary chuckled, "You must need something really important because you’re certainly boosting my ego. Can you give me a hint?"

  I struggled about whether to tell her or not but decided to. "Yeah, Wendell Hallet. I'm just wondering what he has up his sleeve these days."

  There was a pause before Rosemary answered. "Wendell has a lot up his sleeve. If he had his way, the mountain would be wall-to-wall condominiums, shopping centers, and subdivisions." Rosemary sighed. I detected a note of futility in Rosemary's voice.

  "I figured that. He's buttering me up these days, so I wanted to get a little bit of info on the QT."

  "See if you can get us that private table in the corner of the dining room at the country club. We probably don't want to be overheard." Rosemary's voice was resigned.

  I considered this and changed my mind, "You know, why don't you just come over here? I've got wine just as good as the country club and my malted scotch is even better. I'll order us dinner and pick it up."

  "Well,” Rosemary hesitated. “That may be a better idea. That way the only people that will overhear us will be those adorable dogs of yours." She paused and continued, "Can I bring anything?"

  "Nope, just yourself," I assured her.

  "Well, in that case I'm going home and lose the high heels and put on my jeans. Then, I’ll come to your house."

  "That sounds even better," I agreed. "I didn't want to put on stockings tonight or dress-up. This is great! I'll see you in a little while."

  After we hung up, I thought about the change in Rosemary's voice. She certainly wasn't excited about Wendell’s plan for development in the area. I imagined her job was tough. She answered to so many people, including the county manager, the board of supervisors and the planning commission. And, it was ultimately always about the bottom line. I shook my head and decided I had enough time to make a double chocolate fudge pie for dessert." Rosemary was a good friend. She was worth the effort. No question.

  Chapter 16

  Henry Hamilton and Wendell Hallet sat in Henry’s walnut-paneled office, complete with triple-crown molding, located on the Charlottesville Downtown Mall. It was a posh office. Heavy, velvet curtains hung to the floor. The art on the walls was original and expensive.

  "How are things going with you and Miss Lily?" Henry asked between bites of his tuna sandwich. His mouth was smeared with mayonnaise and his hands dripped with oil.

  Wendell watched him lick the mayonnaise off the sides of his sandwich and scowled. Henry had atrocious manners and ate like a pig. “For God’s sake, Henry. Use a napkin. You’re making a huge mess. Do you eat like this when you’re out with clients?” Wendell was appalled.

  Henry’s dark eyes flashed anger at Wendell as he grabbed his napkin from his lap and hastily wiped his hands. “Now,” he glowered, “are you satisfied? Now, answer my question about Lily Lucci.

  Wendell shrugged. “They’re not ‘going’ well at all. I called her last night and invited her out to dinner – well, both of them, actually." He shook his head and frowned. “I’m just not sure I’m gonna be able to reel her in. She’s a tough old bird and very independent.”

  Henry rolled his eyes and his thick lips parted. "Well, I certainly hope she's going. You need a few people like her on your senate campaign to stump for you. You’re a little short on law and order support, not to even to mention the support of respected people in the Valley." Henry's voice was tinged with sarcasm.

  Wendell glared at him. “Hamilton, just shut up and do what I pay you for. Now, do we have the votes we need to further develop Massanutten Mountain?”

  Henry Hamilton glared at the would-be senator. Sometimes it was hard to represent and advise Wendell. Wendell had a mind of its own and he changed it often, sometimes without thinking things through. He lacked critical thinking skills. He’d never make it without me. Hamilton congratulated himself and, as a reward, he pulled a bottle of Virginia bourbon out of his desk drawer. The wall clock said a li
ttle after one. "It's five o'clock somewhere he thought to himself as he poured two fingers into a leaded crystal glass. “Nope, no votes. Certainly not enough to pass anything. No need to search for votes. I got an email from the County Planning office that they won’t review your proposal until you meet the stipulations from last week – a new site plan and everything else they asked for.” Henry took a large swig of whiskey. He liked the way it burned all the way down.

  Wendell contained his anger. Sometimes Henry Hamilton's aloof, demeaning snobbishness irritated him. But, he needed Hamilton's legal protection, his law firm and his contacts. Not to mention that Henry was a huge investor in his company.

  “A little early for whiskey, isn’t it?” Wendell asked, his eyebrows raised in disapproval.

  “Not your business, Hallet,” he muttered between clenched teeth. “You’re the one who has raised eyebrows. My drinking isn’t nearly as much of a problem as your mouth.”

  Wendell sighed. Henry was right. He’d had already raised a few eyebrows by speculating too quickly on what he’d be able to do once elected senator. He’d irritated one local reporter to the point of anger. The man was a sworn mortal enemy. He cursed under his breath when he thought about Jeremy Futrell, the young, daring, idealistic investigative free-lance reporter that published in every local newspaper in the Shenandoah Valley. He took a deep breath and responded. "I'm sure I can garner Lily Lucci's support in my senate bid I'm pretty sure her friend will jump on my bandwagon. LauraLea practically salivated over a larger space for her gallery," he told Hamilton.

  A low whistle escaped Henry's lips "Were we at the same meeting? I didn't think she seemed particularly interested at all. I gathered that she was content where she was. She even said her location provided her a ‘captive audience.’”

  “LauraLea was interested. I could tell she was,” Henry’s voice was stubborn.

  Henry stretched his thick lips into a smile. “In no way did I see her ‘salivate over a new gallery location,’” Hamilton scoffed, his voice incredulous.