He laughed, kissed her goodbye, and checked his watch. It was time to find Sven.
Chapter 18
Jason found Sven in the resort’s world-class gym. He could get used to a place like this. It made the decrepit gym in the basement of the sheriff’s office seem like someone’s idea of a cruel joke. The equipment here was state of the art, but he had the feeling it wasn’t living up to its purpose. Currently the only other patron was Sven’s client, an overweight old lady who complained about every lift of the five-pound free weight. Jason meandered to the weights and began to lift until at last Sven called an end to the painful session.
“When do you think I’ll see results?” the old lady asked. Jason had watched her reluctantly lift the weight four times in twenty minutes, each time being coaxed by Sven like a marathoner on her last mile.
“Thoon,” Sven promised as he cleaned the weight and deposited it back on the rack. “Time for your mathage, Mitheth Hudthon.”
“I’m ready for it this morning after all that hard work,” Mrs. Hudson said, dabbing delicately at the non-existent sweat on her upper lip. She toddled out of the gym. Sven waited until she was gone and then came over to stand beside Jason. He picked up a fifty-pound barbell and began to pump with a vengeance.
For a while they lifted in silence. Jason tried to figure out how to broach the subject of the murder and make it seem normal. In the end, Sven did it for him.
“It’th Rick, right?”
“Sure,” Jason said.
“How’th Joan?” Sven asked.
“Doing well,” Jason said, somewhat uncertainly. Was he asking about Lacy’s overall health or her weight loss?
“Thee mutht have been thaken up after dithcovering Jill like that,” Sven said.
“It was a shock,” Jason agreed. “I was with her, you know.”
Sven squinted. “You’re a polithe offither. You mutht be uthed to thingth like that.”
“If you ever get used to finding dead bodies, it’s probably time to retire,” Jason said. He set down his weight and retrieved a bottle of water. Since the resort didn’t believe in using plastic, the bottles were made of glass. Maybe it was his imagination, but the water tasted better somehow, as if by virtue of being more expensive it also had to have a better flavor. Or maybe plastic actually made water taste bad and he had never noticed before.
“I thtill can’t believe thee’s gone,” Sven said. He seemed chatty, which went a long way toward helping Jason’s cause. Prying information out of reluctant suspects was never an easy task.
“You guys were tight?” Jason asked. Sven set down his weight. Jason grabbed another bottle of water and tossed it to him.
“I wouldn’t thay that. Jill wathn’t the type of perthon you could be friendth with. But we had worked together awhile. We were competitorth. I think that made me a better trainer.”
“Who do you think killed her?” Jason asked.
Sven frowned. “I don’t like to thay bad thingth about people.”
“Even if it gets your butt out of the sling? You know the locals think you did it,” Jason said. His tone was conspiratorial, as if he thought the cops were crazy and there was no way Sven was the killer. In reality, he thought Sven was the most likely culprit. While it was true that he seemed like a nice guy, he also had the physique of someone who took steroids, and they could do crazy things to a person.
“Thee and her boyfriend had been fighting a lot,” Sven finally said.
“Who was her boyfriend?”
Sven looked pained, but it could have been part of his nice guy act. After all, he was still coughing up the information, no matter how reluctantly. “Derek. He workth the front dethk a lot. I thought they were getting theriouth, but then thee up and dumped him.”
“Did she say why?”
“Thee thaid thee would be moving on thoon and didn’t want Derek to ride her coat tailth.” He took a surreptitious look around the room. “I think he hit her.”
“No offense, but Jill doesn’t seem like the type who would lie back and take a punch.”
“I didn’t thay thee didn’t hit him back,” Sven said.
“Did she say what she meant by moving on?”
Sven shrugged his massive shoulders. It was like watching two boulders rise and fall. “Jill wath alwayth talking about thome big thing that wath going to make her famouth.”
“The police think it was your drink. They say she wanted to bottle and sell it.”
“Of courth thee did. Thee wath crathy, but it wathn’t going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, the cotht would have been athtronomical. My couthin picked it up in remote Mexthico, not the kind of plathe where they have Fed-exth. Thomeone would have had to go down there and pick it up, but that wath the leatht of the problemth with it. No way it would have been FDA approved.”
“What did Jill say when you told her that?”
“Thee thaid we could thell it black market and charge thuch a high prithe that the thipping problemth would be worth it,” he said. “Like I said, crathy. I wanted no part of thome illegal thipping and thelling thcheme.”
Jason was becoming adept at translating the lisp. He barely noticed it anymore. “So if it wasn’t your drink she was bottling, do you have any guesses on what her alleged big break was?”
“No, although thee thpent a ton of time on her phone the latht few weekth, which wath a real rithk. We’re not thuppothed to have our phoneth on uth while we work.”
“I thought you can’t get a signal here,” Jason said.
“You can’t. That’th what made it tho weird. Thee kept checking and checking her phone like thee had methageth, but there wath no way, unleth it wath operating on thatellite or thomething.”
Jason wondered if the locals had discovered Jill’s phone. He made a mental note to ask Detective Green.
“One of the cops told me that a witness saw you two fighting the day before the murder.”
Sven sighed, a long expressive sound. “We did, and I puthed her. Not my finetht moment.”
“What happened? What was it about?”
“It’th tho embarrathing, I hate to even tell you.”
“Any information you give me might help your case,” Jason cajoled.
Sven took a breath like he was gearing himself up for something unpleasant. “Jill wath making fun of me.”
“What about?” Jason asked, although he had a good idea. From what he had heard about Jill, she seemed like the type of person to pick on a person’s obvious flaws. Sven’s lisp must have made good fodder for someone like her.
“Ithn’t it obviouth?” Sven asked.
“I’d still like you to tell me,” Jason said.
“Thee wath making fun of my bald thpot.”
Jason blinked at him. He couldn’t see any bald spot, but Sven was taller. “I can’t say I’ve noticed a bald spot.”
“Are you joking me? It’th tho obviouth. It hath to be the firtht thing people notithe about me.”
“I highly doubt that,” Jason said.
“No, it’th awful. I’ve been theeing a doctor about it, and Jill found out. Thee wath tormenting me, calling me hairleth, and I lotht it and puthed her. You try tho hard to be perfect, you know? And then thomething like thith happenth. It’th thuch a huge turnoff. I know it’th why I can’t get a date.” He smoothed his hand nervously over his hair.
“I highly doubt that,” Jason repeated. “Maybe you’re dating the wrong sort of women. Lacy—er, Joan—isn’t like that. She doesn’t care about physical appearance or any other, uh, impediment.”
“Joan ith one in a million. I could tell from the beginning we were kindred thpirith.”
“Hmm,” Jason said. He didn’t relish another man describing his girlfriend as a “kindred spirit,” especially when that man looked like a blond-haired mountain.
Sven checked his watch. “I have another client. Thankth for letting me unload thtuff, man. And if you could put in a good w
ord with the local copth, I’d apprethiate it.”
“I’ll talk to them right now,” Jason promised, and he didn’t feel guilty because he hadn’t found anything condemning on Sven, nothing more than Detective Green already knew, except the fact that Sven was beginning to bald. But if baldness made men murderers, then the jails would soon be overflowing.
Sven left. Jason found Detective Green at the resort’s “coffee” bar, sucking on a cup of something hot with a sick-looking grimace.
“I can’t believe people pay more than I make in a month to stay here and drink this stuff,” Green said.
“Why don’t you send one of your newbies on a coffee run?”
“Can’t. I don’t have any to spare. There’s a hostage situation on the other side of town and every free hand went there. It’s just me and one guy from the state crime lab today.”
“Tough break,” Jason said. It took an army to investigate a murder properly. Scenes had to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb, witnesses had to be interviewed, areas had to be canvased.
“It is what it is. Did you talk to our man?”
“I did,” Jason said. He sat.
“And?”
“And I’m afraid I didn’t get your motive. I found out what the fight was about, though. She called him bald.”
The detective choked a little. “What?”
“Jill called him bald. He got mad and pushed her.”
“What is this, the second grade?”
“Apparently he’s fairly sensitive about his hair.”
“Well, that certainly makes him a psycho in my book,” Detective Green said. His hair was mostly gone, and it didn’t seem to bother him.
“Did you find her phone?”
“No, but then we could never establish she had one. Some of the people here don’t because they buy into all the no technology crap.”
“She definitely had one, and Sven said she was on it all the time in the weeks before the murder?”
“What would have been the point when there is no signal here?”
“Exactly,” Jason said. “My guess is whatever got her killed was on that phone and the murderer knew and took it.”
“Well, that’s just great. How are we supposed to get Sven’s phone to check it out? He doesn’t bring his phone with him to work, because believe me we checked. We can’t get to it unless we get another warrant for his home, and we can’t get another warrant for his home until we have enough to arrest him, and now we can’t get enough to arrest him unless we get his phone. Great, although I’m sure he’s deleted everything incriminating by now, if he has an ounce of brains in that giant albino gorilla head of his.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Sv…”
The detective held up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t say it. Because if it isn’t him, I’ve got nothing else. Everyone else checked out.”
“What about the boyfriend? Sven said he thinks he hit her. Could be the source of her chin punch.”
He set down his cup so hard that a bit of murky green liquid splashed over the side. “What boyfriend?”
“Derek, the desk clerk.”
“That sniveling little creep who’s been shuttling us around here was dating her? He never said a word, of course why would he, but nobody else did, either. How’d you find out?”
Jason didn’t want to tell him about Lacy’s snooping, but thankfully he didn’t have to. “Sven mentioned it.”
The detective slammed his hand on the table. “I’m going to skin that little chipmunk alive and make him wish he’d never been born.”
By the mention of the word “little,” Jason assumed he was referring to Derek. “Go get him,” he said, although if what Lacy had told him was true, he wouldn’t find much. The detective stalked off looking determined. Jason contemplated ordering something, decided against it, and turned to go. Maybe he would find the guys and have another game of basketball before it was time to leave.
He met up with Kimber outside the cafe. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, concern heavy in her voice.
“Yes, why?”
“Because Lacy is out with another man and you’re not doing you’re usual alpha male jealous freakout.”
“Oh, Kimber, how I love our talks.” He poked her shoulder. Kimber loved to call him out on his jealousy, but the truth was that she was jealous, too. She wasn’t used to having to share her best friend with anyone.
“Seriously, though, have you finally decided to go Zen about your relationship?”
“I don’t know how to put this without sounding like the shallow jock Lacy used to accuse me of being, but have you seen the guy? He looks like Winnie the Pooh, only less threatening.”
“That’s where you’re wrong because he’s a software developer. You know what that means? Ka-ching,” Kimber said.
“Money means nothing to Lacy.”
“He’s also an artist. He did this picture.” She pointed to the giant photograph to her right. Jason stared at it for a few beats longer than necessary, took a step closer, and sniffed.
“Uh, what are you doing? Is this some new form of art appreciation?”
“Come here and smell this,” Jason commanded.
“No, thanks, I’m good,” Kimber said.
He put an arm around her and pulled her forward. “I’m serious. What does this smell like to you?”
“Chemicals?” she guessed, still not sure what he was getting at.
“Exactly.”
“Why is that weird?”
“Because most people today make sepia toned pictures on their computers. It smells like nothing more than canvas when it’s finished. This was done the old fashioned way.”
“So?”
“So do you remember junior year when we were on yearbook together?”
“You mean when the guidance counselor made you join because all your extracurriculars were sports?”
“Yes, now shut up and think back. Remember how we wanted to do that layout in sepia? This was back in the days before Photoshop became ubiquitous, so we had to do it the old school way.”
“Right,” she said.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“We had to get special permission and have Mr. Schmidt, the chemistry teacher, oversee us,” she said.
“Why?” he prompted.
“Because the chemicals were dangerous. We had to use potassium cyanide.” Her eyes widened. She looked from the photograph to Jason, and then smiled. “Jason, come on. Do you really think Snaps could be a murderer? You just compared him to Winnie the Pooh. Boy couldn’t even make it through show choir without breaking down in tears. There is no way he’s a murderer.”
“You said he develops software. What kind?”
“I don’t know. Apps, I think?”
“Like maybe a weight loss app? Something that could be revolutionary to the industry? Something that could make a lot of money? Something you could use on your phone?”
“Oh,” she said. She sounded as breathless as he felt.
“Where exactly is Lacy?”
“Wherever snowy owls have been spotted? Somewhere off the beaten path probably. She said they had to ski and she was nervous about that,” she said.
“Geez,” Jason breathed. He grasped Kimber by the shoulders. “Go find Detective Green and tell him everything we just talked about. Then tell him to get some men and help me find Lacy.”
“Do you really think she’s in trouble? I mean, it’s Snaps.”
“If what we think is true, he’s already killed one woman. What’s to stop him from killing another? And this one is a novice on skis,” Jason said.
“Maybe he has no intent to hurt her. Maybe he thinks he’s getting away with it since the attention has been on Sven.”
“Let’s hope so. Maybe she won’t say anything to tip him off. What we need is a stroke of good luck.”
“It’s Lacy,” Kimber said.
“I’d better hurry,” Jason replied and jogged in the direction of the ski lift.
Chapter 19
“I don’t think this is a good idea. Please, let me go.”
Snaps had a hand on Lacy’s giant yellow snowsuit, anchoring her in place. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”
“What if the chair knocks me down and I fall? What if it takes you away and I’m stuck here in the snow?” Lacy said.
“Then you’ll die on this mountain,” Snaps said, then catching sight of her horrified expression, laughed. “Lacy, it’s going to be fine. We’ve been over this. The lift will come and bump the back of your legs. You’ll sit. We’ll go. The world will go on spinning.”
Lacy was still uncertain. “The system looks complex.”
“The ‘system’ is a wooden chair that moves,” Snaps said. “Come on, after all your hard work this weekend, don’t let the chairlift defeat you. You stuck to your diet, you lost the weight. You can conquer sitting on a moving chair.”
He was right. Even better, he got it. Why couldn’t Jason understand how important it was for her to have made it through the weekend with her discipline intact? He made it seem like dieting was some sort of issue for her when, really, the lack of dieting was the issue. Wasn’t it? Was her relationship to food so unhealthy that she couldn’t see the difference anymore?
“I’ve lost you,” Snaps said.
“No, I’m here. My mind wandered for a minute.” She took a breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this thing.”
They stepped forward. The lift came toward them. He grasped her wrist. The chair tapped the back of her knees and she sat.
“That was it?”
“That was it,” he said.
“That was so easy, way better than the evil tow rope. Why do they put that on the bunny hill and the chair down there?” she asked.
“Probably because kids could fall off and die,” he said.
At that she made the mistake of looking down.
“Don’t look down,” he said.
“Too late.” The ground was dizzyingly far away. “What happens when it’s time to get off?”
“We get off,” he said.
“How?”
“The chair deposits us gently on the snow.”
“What if I fall?”
Last Resort of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 9) Page 13
