The Bear Mountain Secret

by Gayle Siebert

  “Fuck no. It’d have to be more than a couple large to make the trip worthwhile. But we got people there that can give him our message, and yours, while they’re at it.”

  Twenty-six

  The Lodge

  DENVER TURNS THE truck off Bear Mountain Haul Road onto the driveway that’s little more than two wheel tracks through the forest, drives up to the gate and turns the engine off. He lets out a low whistle as he scans the clearing. “You weren’t kidding,” he says.

  “I told you,” Astrid says.

  “They can store thousands of gallons of water in those tanks. What for? One would be plenty for a household, even if they had a few horses, but I don’t see any livestock. Nice fence, though.”

  “Yeah, for a prison yard! Maybe we can put up an electrified fence around Heather’s, too. Solve the problem of women running off without giving any notice.”

  “It would keep people in and out. I like that bear statue.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice.” Astrid fidgets uneasily in her seat. “Seen enough? Can we go before the live bear shows up?”

  “Umm, you know… The neighbourly thing to do would be to introduce myself.”

  “Neighbourly? How are we neighbours?”

  “Friendly, then.”

  “They’re no friendlier than the bear. We’ll be late for our reservation.”

  “This’ll just take a minute,” Denver promises; he unbuckles his seat belt and slides out of his seat. Although he doubts the bear is around, he can’t quite convince himself of that and leaves the truck door open in case he needs to get back in fast. He goes to the intercom and buzzes a couple of times, but there’s no answer, so he gets back behind the wheel, buckles up, and starts the engine. There’s enough space at the left of the gate to turn around. He backs into it and is just about to put the shifter in drive when a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision attracts his attention. He stops for a moment to see if he can spot what moved. Was it the blinds on the big front window?

  “This wasn’t exactly just on our way.” Astrid says, breaking into his thoughts. “It must be an hour from here to The Lodge.”

  “That’s why we left home early enough for a side trip. Who lives like this?”

  “Kathy and I figured he must be a survivalist. He had on the military combat balaclava thing and black wrap-around sunglasses like Fletch used to wear sometimes so all we could see was his nose, like we told you guys. Navy Seal-wannabe. Nut job.”

  “No arguin’ that. Sane people don’t hole up like they’re waitin’ for the livin’ dead to come for them.”

  “Maybe they are the living dead. Maybe he’s covered from head to toe to keep his body parts from falling off.”

  “Could be, all right!” Denver barks a laugh. “Tell you what, though, I dunno if he’s thought it through. All those tall trees so close to the fence? A good windstorm and he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t have a dozen down on it. It won’t keep anything out then.”

  “I’ll be sure and tell him you think so next time I see him. Anyway, now you’ve seen it, can we please go?”

  “Yeah.” Denver’s frown deepens as he scans the yard one more time. He clicks his tongue, puts the truck in gear and aims it up the driveway and back out onto the road. “I imagine every busybody in town will be at there, happy to spend many times the price of a Dot’s Diner meal just to tell all their friends they were the first to eat at the Bear Mountain Lodge.”

  “Dine, not eat. And everyone’s curious. Don’t tell me you’re not!”

  “I am. I’m even more curious to know how they convinced otherwise sensible people like my wife to shell out two hundred bucks for supper.”

  “I told you, we’re invited guests thanks to your buddy Evan Briggs, so for us, it’s free. What sensible person would pass on that? And it’s not supper, it’s dinner. A set menu with wine pairings.”

  “S’pose that means I won’t be able to get a beer.”

  “Probably no cherry pie with ice cream, either. Your redneck is positively glowing.”

  He gives her a sideways glance and says, “well, if nuthin’ else, it gave you a reason to get all gussied up. I gotta say, you are an eyeful in that pretty dress.” He reaches across to give her hand a squeeze, then tickles the back of her neck and from there, traces the scoop neckline of her dress. When his fingers begin working their way into her bra, she takes his hand.

  “Hey! Keep your hands on the wheel and your eyes the road!”

  “Five years and I still can’t keep my hands off you.” He pulls her hand into his crotch. “See what you do to me? How about we find a nice spot to pull over…”

  “No!” Astrid laughs and pulls her hand away.

  “Why not? For old times’ sake.”

  “A couple of old married people getting it on in their truck out in the bush even if it means missing an expensive supper?”

  “We could make it a quickie.”

  “No, absolutely not!” Her smile belies her stern refusal. “Not now, anyway. But how about on our way home?”

  “Deal!”

  “And just so you know, I’d rather it wasn’t a quickie.”

  Just then her phone chimes and she pulls it out of her purse to see Kathy’s face. “Oh, it’s Kathy! Wait’ll she hears where we’re going.” She touches accept and lifts the phone to her ear. “Hi, Kathy!”

  She’s quiet, and then says, “Oh my god!”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  WHEN HE SEES the driver of the truck turn his head to look toward the house, Bearon quickly takes his hand off the blind. At this distance he can’t be certain, but the cowboy hat makes him think it was Denver Danielson, the big shot hero of Dark River. The reason he is the way he is. And it’s a sure bet the woman in the passenger seat was Astrid. What are the two of them doing here? Weren’t their names on the reservation sheet? They should be at the Lodge. But no, they had to come here first and snoop around.

  First Kathy and Astrid, and now Astrid’s husband, poking their noses in where they don’t belong. Probably Kathy’s husband too. He doesn’t know much about Rick other than faded memories from when he was a little kid, but Danielson is like a terrier on a rat. He’ll be tough to put off.

  The pain in his back and hip has settled down to a dull ache radiating down his thigh and making his buttock feel tingly-numb. He has to be careful how he moves the leg or intense pain knifes through his hip. It’s worse since the Buster debacle, heavy damn mutt even gutted, but he’ll have a nice new fur on the wall next to Brutus. It’s so big and furry, maybe it’ll be nice on the floor in front of the fireplace. Whatever. It was worth the effort. It’s a tribute. Roy Rogers had Trigger stuffed, didn’t he?

  Annie says keeping the dog’s hide is morbid. She especially dislikes the head being stuffed and left on. He wonders what Kiersten would think. She’s a mouse, but soft-spoken and intelligent, the total opposite of Annie. He’s beginning to understand what Clint sees in her.

  He takes a few steps away from the window. One wrong step, and the pain is so intense he almost can’t lift the leg. Communion didn’t help, but that’s always worth a little pain. Still, lately it seems to take less and less to fire it up. Thank god he doesn’t have to climb the steps to the attic meeting room at The Fisherman’s anymore. The hot tub helps, and that’s where he was headed when Danielson showed up.

  He hadn’t planned to be anywhere near the Lodge when the fancy grand opening dinner was going on, but now he thinks he’ll go, just to keep an eye on Mr. and Mrs. Danielson.

  He goes to the bathroom, gets the Oxycontin out of the medicine cabinet, opens the bottle and tips two into his hand. On his way through the kitchen, he gets a glass of water and swallows the pills, then continues out to the back deck. He can spend ten minutes in the hot tub. With the pills, that should be enough to take the pain down to a dull roar. He’ll take the shortcut and be in his office in front of the monitors before they get there.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  DENVER BACKS THE truck into t
he last space in the row of cars, watching the screen for the back-up camera to avoid hitting the planter and to make sure he isn’t blocking the lane that runs behind the building.

  “I’m not sure I feel like dinner after all,” Astrid says.

  “Maybe it’ll take our minds off it.”

  “Imagine killing an old woman! In her own home! Just to get her jewelry. A home invasion out in the country where things like that aren’t supposed to happen!”

  Denver reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. “It’s awful, babe. But there’s nothing we can do, so we might as well go inside and see if we can’t enjoy that fancy meal, at least a little.”

  They both open their doors and slide out; as he does so, Denver glances along the back of the building, and frowns.

  Astrid waits for him in front of the truck but when he seems engrossed in what he’s looking at, asks, “What’s so interesting back there?”

  “Come look,” he replies, and points back behind the building. “Is that what you saw Bear Man driving?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call him that! Especially with Lisey…”

  “She’s not here.”

  “You’ll forget yourself and say it when she’s around. You know she doesn’t miss anything.” Astrid comes to stand next to him and sees the orange and black Kubota UTV parked beside a doorway.

  “That’s it!” she exclaims.

  “Hmm. But there’s more’n one of those around. They need it here for the yard work. You know how much we use our Gator,” Denver says.

  “There’s the gunrack—with a rifle!—in the back window of the cab. They don’t need that for yard work.”

  “No,” Denver agrees, “but we are in bear territory. We get the odd bear in our pasture so it’s possible they might come right up to the buildings here. I’d sure want a rifle handy in that case. But suppose it is the one you saw. I wonder if, or how, this place is connected to Bear Man.”

  She frowns at him; he gives her a wink. She clicks her tongue and says, “maybe he’s the new owner. Look, there’s a gate behind the garage there, right where you and Fletch cut the fence, and a trail into the forest. How much do you want to bet it comes out at that survivalist compound?” A shiver courses through her and the memory of the night the fence was cut comes unbidden.

  “Possible,” Denver says. He doesn’t miss Astrid’s pinched expression. Dilated nostrils and sudden rapid breathing. Quivering lower lip. The quaking of her entire body. “But we’re not gunna prove it tonight. Let’s get inside. I’m gettin’ hungry and I can’t wait to see how small they can make those medallions of capon you told me about. I’m thinkin’ we might have to go for a cheeseburger after supper.”

  He pulls her close and hugs her until her trembling subsides. Then he give her a quick kiss, takes her hand, and they go back through the parking lot to the front entrance. Once inside, they wait while another couple is seated ahead of them.

  When she comes back, the hostess says, “Welcome to Bear Mountain Lodge. Your names, please?” When Astrid tells her, she checks the seating plan on the podium and says, “Right this way.”

  They follow the hostess into a large room with five meter high ceilings. There are huge peeled logs everywhere and a massive, full-height river rock fireplace in the middle of the room. The entire front wall is windows; a couple of them are sliding doors open onto a paving stone patio where a handful of people lounge under the umbrella at a horseshoe-shaped bar.

  A silver-haired man in a tuxedo tinkles away on the grand piano at the far end of the room. Tables, each with a rose bowl on its white cloth, are set along the window wall, around the potted palm in the center of the room, and on both sides of the fireplace. There are servers and bus boys bustling everywhere.

  They’re lead to a table for two on the far side of the cleared area giving access to the patio exit and next to the window.

  “Your server will be with you in a moment,” the hostess tells them. “Enjoy your meal.”

  They thank her and Astrid hangs her purse on the back of her chair as she looks around. “Wow, nice table! Fresh air. No near neighbours. Almost like we’re in a private room,” she says. “But I really thought I’d see more people I recognized. You see anyone you know?”

  “Jonesy from the Caterpillar dealer, over there.” With a lift of his chin, he acknowledges a couple just being seated at a table next to the fireplace. “Guess that’s his wife. That’s about it. Lots who look familiar, though. Maybe there’s more we know on the other side of the fireplace. Jeez, at two hundred a head, they’re rakin’ in thousands tonight.”

  A familiar figure is coming their way, and Astrid says, “oh, there’s Annie!”

  “Hey guys,” Annie calls out as she approaches their table. “Saw your name on the reservations. Glad to see they put you in my section.”

  “Not working at Dot’s tonight, obviously,” Astrid comments.

  “Nope! Pay’s better here. Franny has been cutting back everyone’s hours since tourist season is over, so she don’t mind. I had to learn what all these high-falutin’ menu items are, though! Nuthin’ you’d ever see at Dot’s, eh? Medallions of Capon! Can’t they just call it chicken chunks?” She rolls her eyes and then grins. “Maybe it tastes better if you call it somethin’ fancy. How’re you guys doin’?”

  “Well, we had some bad news,” Denver tells her, “so I think we’ll be startin’ with a nice half liter of house white for my wife, if we can do that. And is it possible to get a beer?”

  “Oh? What bad news?”

  “Just a friend’s mother was, er, a friend’s mother passed away.”

  “Well, that’s the shits! For your friends anyhow. Of course you can have whatever you want from the bar.”

  Astrid says, “he might think I need a liter to start with, but I think I’ll just have a glass and wait to see what comes with the first course.”

  “Good enough.” She rattles off the house wines and what’s available for beer, and when Denver and Astrid have made their selections, hurries away.

  “Good ol’ Annie,” Denver says. “I don’t think she has an inside voice.”

  “That’ll be Lisey if she doesn’t outgrow it!” Astrid says as she shakes her head. “She’s a little rough around the edges but her heart’s in the right place. She’s the reason we met Kathy and Rick, after all. Besides, they might not’ve had a lot of applications for a one-time job way out here. I’m surprised I don’t see more girls from Dot’s. Looks like they recruited girls from Hooters.”

  “We got a Hooters in Dark River? How come I don’t know about it?”

  “I guess we should go straight there when we leave. They probably have cheeseburgers.”

  “Naw, it’ll be too late,” Denver says with a wink. “Don’t forget about that other stop we have to make.”

  The hostess interrupts their conversation to serve their drinks. Right behind her, one of the young men drops off a basket with four small buns tucked inside a cloth, together with four butter curls on a side plate.

  “One of these fancy little things for each bun, I guess,” Denver says as he splits a bun and spears a butter curl with his knife. “If the rest of the servings are as small as these little gaffers, I really am gunna want a cheeseburger on the way home.”

  After appetizers of hot cheese-stuffed mushrooms and pancetta crisps with goat cheese and caramelized pear, there’s gazpacho soup, then a wilted spinach salad with warm apple cider and bacon dressing. That done, they’re served the medallions of capon with risotto and sage brown butter. There’s wine, different and in a fresh glass, to go with each course. Annie explains the wines were chosen to complement each dish by someone who knows these things.

  “If it was me, I’d have a beer with everything,” she tells them.

  “I like how you think,” Denver says. “I have to admit, this is pretty nice, though. How the other half lives, eh?”

  Boys in black pants and white shirts keep water goblets filled and used dishware ta
ken away.

  When Annie brings a small plate with a nugget of yellow sherbet the size of a golf ball resting on a mint leaf and flanked by a raspberry and a blueberry, Denver says, “I thought dessert was going to be in the Grotto.”

  “This ain’t dessert. This is to cleanse your mouth before the main course,” Annie explains.

  “Oh?”

  “Who knew your mouth needed to be cleansed, eh? I thought that’s what Listerine was for!” Annie says, and laughs. “Roland has your espresso.” She gestures to the young man hovering behind her, and hurries off.

  When their tiny cups of espresso are in front of them, Astrid picks up the menu card. “The sherbet is the Intermezzo,” she tells Denver. “Main course is slow braised short rib with garlic mustard pesto, a salmon filet in phyllo pastry with tarragon hollandaise, morel mushrooms and grilled asparagus, baby peas and a sweet carrot puree. Sounds delicious.”

  “I thought those three little chicken chunks were the main course. Maybe I’m not going to need that cheeseburger after all.”

  When she’s finished the sherbet and the very strong espresso, Astrid says, “I need a bathroom break. I think the washrooms are near where we came in.” She gets up and wends her way through the other tables, stopping for a moment to say hello to Jonesy and his wife and comment on what a nice evening it is.

  “Fancy meal,” Jonesy says. “Cold soup and warm salad. The wife’s been doin’ it wrong all these years!”

  They chuckle, then Astrid suggests, “Come join us for a drink after.”

  When they agree, she carries on to the entrance foyer, where there’s a sign indicating the washrooms are down the hall to her left. As she nears the ladies room, Annie, dishes in one hand, comes out of a door at the end of the hall. She turns to face back into the room, listening to someone inside. The door is open wide enough for Astrid to get a glimpse of an array of monitors off to one side and a bald man at a desk.