Off Season

by B. Allison Miller

  “It’s Mr. Crater,” said Esmeralda. Crater McMurphy? What had he done? He wasn’t even supposed to be at the Chalet. As far as I knew, Crater McMurphy was out camping with his friends. Maybe Crater had ditched his camping plans and had come back to the Chalet after he left Rascal’s the previous night.

  Fearing the worst—namely—destruction of Chalet property or an assault, I answered, “I’m on my way.” I headed straight to Crater McMurphy’s suite, taking the stairs two steps at a time. When I arrived, Esmeralda and Jason, one of our catering staff, stood outside of Crater McMurphy’s suite with concerned looks on their faces. Jason usually works the late shift—midnight until nine—and it was nearly ten, so, I was surprised to see him at the Chalet.

  “What seems to be the problem?” I asked.

  Esmeralda shrugged and turned to Jason for him to explain. “Mr. McMurphy placed an order for food last night, but his Do Not Disturb sign was on the doorknob, so I knocked, said ‘room service’, and left his tray for him.”

  I looked at the floor. A familiar-looking room service tray piled with untouched plates of cold and congealing food sat outside of Crater McMurphy’s door. The Do Not Disturb sign hung from the doorknob. That was odd. Even if Crater had returned to the Chalet, why would he order food from room service and then leave it untouched outside of his door? Perhaps someone discovered that the celebrity was staying at the Chalet, and ordered food as a joke? It didn’t seem feasible.

  “Have you tried knocking?” I asked. I knew Esmeralda’s answer would be ‘yes,’ but I felt I had to ask.

  “Yes, many times,” replied Esmeralda. She shrugged. “No one answered.”

  “But you didn’t go in?” I asked.

  “No, Miss Mandy, I remembered that he’s a VIP, and his do not disturb sign was up, so, I decided not to go in,” replied Esmeralda. I couldn’t fault the head housekeeper for her decision, she was just following protocol.

  “When did you deliver Mr. McMurphy’s food, Jason?” I asked the caterer.

  “Around one last night,” he replied. Our kitchen closes at two which leaves the staff time to clean up and start to prep food for the next morning. Crater McMurphy had caught the catering staff towards the end of their shift when he placed his order. Crater McMurphy wasn’t supposed to be at the Chalet.

  I grabbed my universal room key, and then I knocked on the door. “Hello? Mr. McMurphy?” I said loudly.

  There was no answer. I waited for a beat and knocked again. “Mr. McMurphy? This is the Chalet Manager, Mandy Swift, I need to check on you. I am using my room key to unlock the door and enter your room.” I waited for a beat to allow Crater to answer, and when he didn’t, I slid my keycard over the key reader and unlocked the door. I hoped I wouldn’t find the man in bed or worse, in the shower. If I did find him, I hoped that he would be alone. I would hate to stumble on Crater McMurphy with one of his reputed conquests.

  I took a deep breath and entered Crater McMurphy’s suite. The first thing I noticed was that it was dark inside of the suite. The curtains to the balcony were partially open, but the suite faces west and very little sunlight penetrated the crack. There were no lights on in the suite. I felt the wall for the light switch and flicked it on. The lamp in the sitting area became illuminated. The lamp didn’t cast much light—only a warm amber glow. There was just enough light to see a human-shaped lump on the bed. I decided that Crater McMurphy must have tied one on in at Rascal’s the night before, and slinked away to his room to sleep it off. That was my initial thought. But then, I noted the coolness in the air and a slightly pungent odor in the room. The odor smelled like sulfur combined with something sour. I walked to the patio doors, and I pulled the curtains open completely. I noted that the sliding glass doors were open, but the screen door was shut. Suddenly, morning sunlight illuminated the room. I turned and gasped when I saw Crater McMurphy lying naked on top of the king-sized bed. With the room lit, I could see well enough to tell that the celebrity’s eyes were wide, he had a gag in his mouth, and he wasn’t moving. I ran to the bed and lit the lamp on the bedside table. Suddenly, I saw the sticky dark blood that saturated Crater’s pillow. I cringed at the quantity of blood. Crater’s skin looked grayish and dull. I noted a huge slash in Crater’s throat where the blood began to thicken and dry. I didn’t need to be a doctor to know that he was dead.

  I didn’t realize that Jason and Esmeralda followed me into the suite until I heard Esmeralda gasp. I spun around in time to see Jason move quickly to catch Esmeralda as she fell into his arms. She remained conscious but in shock. I couldn’t blame her, the sight of the dead man alarmed me too.

  “Don’t touch anything,” I commanded Jason and Esmeralda as I pulled my phone from my pocket, and I dialed 911.

  FIVE

  “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind?” – Robert Burns

  OFFICER JED LINK ARRIVED only a few minutes after I made the call. Silver Powder Village is small and the tiny police station is less than a mile from the resort. I planted myself just outside of the Chalet to intercept Jed on his arrival. I didn’t want the sudden appearance of the local police to startle the guests. I’d already asked Janine, the dispatcher at the police station and an old friend of mine through my father, to request that the officers arrived without police lights and sirens. I was glad to see that Jed complied with my wishes.

  I’ve known Jed most of my life. Our dads were friends when we were kids—his dad was on the local police force and my dad was an attorney. Jed and I were basically raised together, and we were best friends until the second half of our senior year of high school. After completing a stint in the Marines, Jed followed in his dad’s career path and became a police officer—first in Denver and now in Silver Powder Village. Some might think the move from Denver to Silver Powder was a demotion—leaving a large metro area police force to work for a tiny one—but Jed is now a police captain—something that might have taken much longer if he’d stayed in the city. When I was a kid, my dad directed me to do anything but practice law. I went to college, majored in business, and became a professional snowboarder. Our fathers are now both retired. My parents still live locally. Due to factors beyond their control, they don’t get around much these days. Jed’s dad lives in Florida, and Jed lives alone in his family’s old house just outside of town.

  To say that Jed and I are still good friends would be exaggerating. We only talk if we have to, and that isn’t very often. Our friendship began to unravel in 12th grade when Mike Petersen asked me to the senior prom. Jed got pissed off with me for saying ‘yes’ to Mike. He tried to convince me to turn him down. How could I have known that Jed had planned to ask me to prom too? And anyway, Jed and I had never crossed the friendship line, we’d always had a strictly platonic relationship. Jed and I were like siblings. On the other hand, I barely knew Mike. He went full-stop. He made me a ‘promposal’—you know what I’m talking about—a sweeping gesture. It was the kind of invitation you see posted on YouTube that gets a million likes. That’s what Mike Petersen did for me.

  Mike managed to hire a horse-drawn carriage to show up after school one day. The driver parked the carriage right in front of the high school’s main doors. When we were released from classes, the first thing everyone saw was a magnificent beast—the giant tan horse—hooked to a magnificent carriage covered in flowers. On the back of the carriage, a big sign said, ‘Mandy Swift, please go to prom with me.’ The carriage incident was a huge spectacle. Everyone in school talked about it. To be honest, the gesture embarrassed me. I had never given Mike Petersen much thought. He was rich, popular, and flirtatious and I was the opposite of him. I wasn’t popular because due to my training schedule, I rarely stayed on school grounds except to attend my classes. I had a small circle of friends, mostly other snowboarders, and I rarely attended school events. Everyone knew about the promposal, and it seemed like everyone assumed I would say yes. For that reason alone, I agreed to go to prom with Mike Petersen. Thank god Mike h
adn’t proposed marriage, I might have been peer-pressured into a wedding at seventeen.

  Prom was awkward, to say the least. Mike turned out to be a handsy jerk, and he ditched me after I fought off his advances. I hung out by myself for a large part of the evening. Jed, who didn’t have a prom date, drove me home that night. I’m still confused by what happened after the prom. What I know for sure is that Jed and I tested the boundaries of our friendship that night, and we broke it. Together. We broke our friendship together. We are both to blame. It wasn’t just me. I’m still haunted by the words that murdered our friendship.

  “Do you love me, Mandy?”

  “Jed...”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Jed, you’re my best friend. I love you but...”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t think I love you in that way.”

  “Mandy, we just... you don’t love me?”

  “I love you as a friend, Jed. I always will.”

  After the prom, Jed grew cold towards me. He avoided me. I lost my best friend because we made an impulsive decision. To be fair, I didn’t realize Jed’s feelings for me were more than friendly. If I’d known how Jed felt, I would have done things differently. A few weeks after the prom, I remember my dad asking me why Jed didn’t come around anymore. I burst into tears and shut myself in my bedroom for the rest of the night. When my dad came looking for me to find out what happened, I couldn’t tell him what Jed and I had done. My dad persisted. He would tell me to invite Jed to dinner or to family game night and again and again, Jed didn’t answer my phone calls. The pain I felt was excruciating. I felt like I lost my friend, my right arm, and a couple of organs too. I felt lost. I threw myself into training—Taekwondo, running, skateboarding, trampoline—trying to forget Jed. None of it worked.

  On the first Friday of June, Jed and I graduated from high school. The following week, Jed turned 18 and enlisted in the Marines. I had to hear about it from my dad. Jed and I had long-range plans to attend college together, and those plans were destroyed. I didn’t hear from Jed for years. I didn’t see him. I only knew that Jed was alive because our fathers were close, and I would get an occasional Jed update. When his time in the military ended, Jed went to college—out of state—for four years. I was in the thick of my snowboarding career by then, and we still hadn’t made up. We still hadn’t even talked. By then, I guess, the damage was done. Our falling out scarred more deeply than I would have ever imagined.

  Jed came back to town less than a year ago to serve on the police force as the new Police Captain. Remarkably, our paths rarely crossed these days. We managed to place a lot of distance between us despite the small size of the village. I just always assumed that Jed never let go of his anger with me for things that happened years ago. My anger toward Jed stemmed from his inability to let go of the past. I missed him, but if Jed couldn’t forgive me, then I knew we couldn’t be friends.

  Presently, I took a deep breath as Jed Link extracted his lean six-foot-three-inch frame from his police cruiser and greeted me in a cool and matter-of-fact manner. “Mandy,” he simply said while tipping his cowboy hat towards me. I knew that under the hat was a shock of close-cropped dark brown hair and that under his aviator sunglasses, Jed had magnificent silvery-blue eyes with just the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners. My heart clenched at the familiarity of my old best friend. He was familiar, and yet, he was all grown up if you know what I mean.

  “Jed,” I stifled the urge to curtsey at Jed’s formality and tried my best to match his business-like tone.

  “I heard you’ve had a bit of trouble,” Jed said with a nod. I don’t know how he manages to keep the cowboy hat on his head—Jed is prone to making head gestures.

  “Jed, would you mind if we enter the Chalet through one of the service entrances?” I asked. I didn’t want to alarm any of the guests or attract any unnecessary attention.

  “Lead the way, Mandy,” said Jed with a low voice and another nod. I didn’t think he understood the gravity of the situation.

  I walked to the side of the building and entered a non-descript entrance using my passkey to unlock the door. We walked inside, found the staircase, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. We were in the correct hallway to access Crater McMurphy’s suite.

  “Jed,” I whispered as we approached Crater’s room, “there’s something you need to know. The dead man is a bit of a celebrity. That’s why I am trying to keep this especially quiet. I don’t want to upset the other guests. I also don’t want any bad press.”

  “Oh? Janine didn’t say anything about the victim being a celebrity. Is he a movie star?” Jed asked, “or a pro football player?”

  “Not exactly,” I replied as we stood together outside of the suite.

  “Looks like he ordered enough food for two people,” Jed noted, directing my attention to the untouched food tray just outside of the door. I noticed two sets of silverware too. Had Crater McMurphy been expecting his killer? Had he invited his killer into his room?

  I unlocked the suite’s door for Jed. I prepared to step into the room, but Jed set one of his large hands on my shoulder and stopped me before I could cross the threshold.

  “Police business, Mandy,” Jed said in a low and commanding voice. To say that Jed’s words irked me would be an understatement. Didn’t he trust me? Well, that was a stupid question. Of course, he didn’t trust me. This was Jed, after all.

  “Jed, I’ve already entered the room,” I argued. Was he worried that I would contaminate the crime scene? “I’ve already touched the door, the light switches, and the curtains. The patio door was already open. I didn’t touch it.”

  “Still. Please remain outside while I have a look,” said Jed in a surprisingly forceful voice. Honestly, I didn’t know he had it in him. He was always such a friendly, quiet kid, content to let me lead the way. Maybe Jed Link was no longer the guy I remembered.

  “Fine.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe and decided to be annoyed.

  I watched as Jed entered Crater McMurphy’s suite. I saw Jed reach into his jacket and pull out what appeared to be a pair of plastic gloves, and I watched as he slipped the gloves over his hands. Jed slowly walked into the room as I hovered in the doorway observing him. My staff had already blocked off guest access to the hallway so I didn’t need to worry about any looky-loos hovering outside of the suite—aside from me, of course.

  The lights that I had turned on earlier were still on in the suite, but I re-closed the curtains for privacy before I left to meet Jed in the parking lot. Jed approached the bed on which Crater’s lifeless body remained. He stepped forward and took a long look. He stood quietly and stone still for at least a minute. Then Jed grabbed his abdomen, hunched over, and ran through the suite towards the bathroom. A series of loud gags, wet sounds, swearing, and more gags followed. I could barely believe my ears—Jed Link was throwing up! The entire situation might have been comical if it weren’t for the dead body in the room. After waiting for what seemed like several minutes, I heard the toilet flushing and the sound of water running. Disobeying Jed’s orders to remain in the hallway, I entered the suite to check on him.

  I wandered past the crime scene keeping a wide berth as I walked to the bathroom. I found Jed sitting on the edge of the bathtub with his head between his knees and his cowboy hat in his hand in front of him. It didn’t take a detective to discover that the crime scene made Jed queasy.

  “Jed?” I said softly. I set my hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, I rubbed my hand up and down his surprisingly muscular arm a few times to comfort him. He was cold and as still as a statue. I wondered if he was in shock.

  “Huh? Oh, Mandy. Nothing to see here,” Jed said in a rough voice with his head still between his knees.

  “Um, yeah. I heard everything I needed to hear out there,” I replied swallowing my urge to laugh at him. I knew I was acting harsh, but after my history with Jed, being sweet to him didn’t come easy for me.
<
br />   “Dammit, Mandy,” Jed said angrily without looking up at me. His voice sounded scratchy and raw from vomiting.

  “Do you still have hemophobia after all of these years?” I asked. Honestly, I was a bit surprised. I assumed that Jed’s childhood fear of blood was something that he would eventually outgrow. If he didn’t grow out of his fear when he joined the Marines, surely, Jed, a police officer, would be desensitized to it by now. I mean, don’t police officers see blood every day? The whole situation was preposterous.

  “Don’t you see blood pretty much every day?” I finally vocalized my thought as I lowered the toilet’s lid and sat down on it. I glued my eyes to my former friend. His predicament astonished me.

  “Police scene,” Jed choked out a low, ineffective warning accompanied by a futile nod. He lifted his eyes and saw me perched on the porcelain throne. I struggled not to laugh.

  “I can’t believe you still get sick when you see blood. Remember the time when I lost control of my sled and hit that tree? I broke my nose, and you were the one who passed out,” I snickered at the memory. We were ten at the time and best friends.

  “Mandy, stop!” Jed said with a hoarse voice. He sounded like he could get sick again at any second. Perhaps my seat on the toilet was ill-advised. He might need the receptacle again. I considered moving.

  “Oh geez, it’s still bad, isn’t it?” I asked with astonishment, “I can’t even talk about it or you’ll get sick, won’t you?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. How did Jed function as a police officer with his affliction? How did he serve in the military?

  Jed snarled. “Anyway, in answer to your previous question, no, as a police officer, I do not see blood every day. I mostly issue speeding tickets and pick up drunk tourists.” He lifted his head slowly to test if the wooziness passed. I noticed Jed’s normally tan skin was pale and that his usually brilliantly gray-blue eyes were now a bit bloodshot which made his eyes appear bluer.