Murder, She Slopes

by Rachael Stapleton

  “We’ll be safe and dry at the resort by then,” Lucas said.

  The driving seemed to calm him and it didn’t hurt me, either. From the moment we drove into the Tremblant area, we were surrounded by milky white skies. The mountains, hills and fields were completely covered in bright and fluffy snow blankets. This was exactly what I needed if I was going to deal with Lucas’ hysteria for the foreseeable future.

  “So, tell me why the police think you did it.” I said.

  “Golly gee whiz, Pen. They don’t seem to want to confide in me,” he answered after a moment of silence. I actually giggled. Truthfully, I was relieved to hear the sarcasm in his voice. That was the jerk I knew and loved. “Sleighs & Slopes Adventure Resort is pretty isolated. It’s unlikely that a stranger would have been on the grounds last night, and none of the others staying at the resort knew Holly.”

  “Who are the others?” I asked. “Run them down for me.”

  He sighed before speaking, but complied. “First, there are the Tremblés, Marie-Angelique and Justin. Marie-Angelique’s overly friendly; she tries very hard to make everyone comfortable, but her husband Justin is a bit strange.”

  “Strange like Paul Bernardo, Jason Vorhees or Mr. Dress-up?”

  “A combo, I suppose,” Lucas retorted. He looked over at me with amusement in his eyes. He reached his hand out and pressed it over top of mine, at the same time pressing down on the gas pedal. The snowy trees whizzed by.

  “Lucas?” I had to know the answer. “You asked me here to investigate because that’s what I used to do for a living… not because you want to get back together, right?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” he exploded, pulling his hand away.

  “Well?” I probed, all the while watching the road nervously.

  His foot eased up on the gas. “I do miss you. We’ve been best friends for years. Can you blame me for turning to you right now?”

  “Yes, I can and I do. You married someone else right after we broke up. Good lord, some people take longer to decide on what to eat.”

  “I know. I know. I was dumb.”

  “The dumbest. But, Lucas, I need you to know I’m not here so we can get back together.”

  “I understand. I don’t know who else to turn to. The police suspect me. I would, too, if I were them. You used to be a cop and you think like them.” He glanced over at me, his swollen eyes pleading.

  I switched on the heated seat, sat back and watched the white landscape scroll past my window, wishing the heat could penetrate the cold knot of dread churning inside. “I was barely a cop. I quit after the first month. You know that I never really thought like them—that was the problem.”

  “You worked for your dad as a private investigator, and, as a journalist, you must investigate?”

  “Well, yes.” Damn, he had a point. “I was more of a junior-level private investigator and I was always getting myself into hot water,” I said softly. “I’ll see what I can do on two conditions.”

  “Anything… name them.”

  “No coming on to me and you’ve got to tell me everything. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” he said flatly, as if the feeling in his voice had been washed away by his tears.

  “So, back to Mr. Strange. Give me details.”

  “You’ll see when you meet him. One minute he’s laughing and the next he’s vacant—sort of a split-personality type. His wife calls him an eccentric artist.”

  “Do they have any other family there?”

  “Their teenage son, Felix, and their handyman, Noel Bluebird. He’s not family, but he’s not an outsider, either. I don’t know what to make of him—he has an odd relationship with the kid.”

  “Odd, like how, as in my affectionate uncle used to play games with me kind of odd?”

  “Gross, no. I mean. I don’t know. They’re just close, you know? Like a father and son usually are. The boy listens to Noel, and he seems to interact with him more than his own father. That’s it for staff that was there last night.”

  “What about other guests?”

  “Besides me, there’s a Spanish dude with a limp. I forget his name—he’s quiet.” He stopped for a moment to think. “There’s Dr. Amélie Belle. She’s a psychologist with a big personality. I think she’s a lesbian but I can’t figure out who her girlfriend is. Her niece is with her but I think she’s leaving now that all of this happened. Then there’s Denise. I mentioned her before. The one who insisted on a search warrant? She was married to a lawyer for twenty years. She’s always with another woman but I haven’t really spoken to her.” He paused. “Those are all the guests I’ve met.”

  “That’s it?” I asked incredulously.

  “Well, there are more people but not everyone socializes at the main lodge. Besides, I told you the Tremblé’s are looking to increase business. That’s why they invited me down here this weekend. They want me to invest. It was primarily a ski resort and spa but they’ve added treehouses, zip lines, and dog sledding in an attempt to re-brand it as an adventure resort. They’re also adding rock climbing to the summer program. It could be a good investment for me.”

  Lucas’ tone was conversational now. Providing hard information seemed to have done him some good.

  “Back to the people who were there last night,” I said. “Did anyone seem to know or have a history with Holly?”

  “No,” he answered thoughtfully. We drove along a tree-lined road for ten minutes or so, winding up and around a mountain. Along the way, we passed a sporting goods store touting the exciting sport of ice fishing and snowmobile rentals. I hoped this place had a fireplace, I couldn’t imagine what a cabin or tree house in the woods in December would be like.

  “We’re here.”

  As we drove through the gap, the trees gave way to a wide clearing, and scattered cabins of various shapes and sizes appeared. They all had sunny terraces, picnic tables and fire pits. Snow blanketed trees surrounded the resort. Big wet snowflakes had begun to fall. The place was charming, despite the yellow crime scene tape we passed.

  Lucas pulled up alongside a car in the parking lot. Two women were being dropped off by a younger woman in a Cadillac.

  “Yoo-hoo!” The younger woman waved her hand out the car window at us and honked as she drove away.

  I shifted in my seat and looked at Lucas curiously. “Friends of yours?”

  He nodded his head. “The tall woman in the vest with grey hair is Denise but I forget the other lady’s name.”

  Denise was practically Amazonian. She beamed at me through the glass of our windshield, smoothing her black-and-red puffy down vest with her free hand. Her solid backside was packed into original Levis jeans with only flannel covering her arms. The other woman was wearing a fur coat that swallowed up what I imagined was a petite, five-foot frame.

  We waited a moment and then followed them down the path. Snow-covered and surrounded by tall pines, the chalet looked like it belonged in a storybook. We climbed the stairs and crossed the large porch, past a log bench and invitingly placed Muskoka chairs. Lucas held open the oversized wood door and waved me into an attractive lobby decorated in plaid, fur and warm tones. An enormous fireplace with a bright and cheerful fire beckoned me toward the couch and chairs

  I sighed, for the moment forgetting the reason I’d come.

  “Isn’t this place cozy?” Lucas said in my ear.

  I glanced upward.

  “Let’s just get down to business.” I said.

  We shook the snow off our coats and stamped our feet and then he hurried to the registration desk. The shelves that flanked the stone fireplace were stocked with books and board games. Despite my comment, I imagined a cozy weekend with Cody, curled up by the fire: reading, sipping coffee, and playing cards.

  At the desk, a young woman smiled at us from behind a laptop and lamp.

  “Bonjour, welcome to Sleighs & Slopes Adventure Resort,” she said. Her name tag read: Lea Bonnet. She wore oversized square glass
es that I was sure were fake, an ostrich feather vest, and her sleek black hair covered one eye.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Vallerand.”

  Just as Lucas began to respond, we heard, “There you are, my little Lucky Penny! And there’s jerk face.”

  I felt Lucas stiffen next to me at the sound of his oh-so-flattering nickname. We both spun in the direction of the voice and, as I had already surmised, there stood my troublesome sidekick, Eve Banter. At five-foot-four, she was almost completely overtaken by her oversized winter scarf and woolen cap.

  “I’ve been chasing you for hours,” Eve said as she rushed toward us. “This place is gorgeous, don’t you think?” She waved her arms to encompass the lobby. “I can’t believe I finally caught up to you!”

  “Eve?” I squeaked in complete and utter surprise.

  She cocked her head at me. “Yes?”

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Bohemian Lake, spiking the egg nog and annoying the nurses at the Retirement Center, like normal.”

  “Ah, ha! So, you do think I’m normal.” Eve smirked.

  “I meant normal for you, you weirdo.”

  “Touché. I followed you.” She replied.

  “Hello, Eve,” Lucas interjected.

  “Hello, Lucas. How’s your honeymoon going? Killed anyone else lately?”

  Lucas frowned.

  “She’s still mad at you,” I clarified. He nodded. “Anyway, why have you followed me?”

  Before Eve could answer, the desk girl, Lea, interrupted, “Je m'excuse...but we’re completely booked at the moment...” Lea clicked on her laptop but shook her head the whole time.

  “Booked?” I turned to Lucas. “I thought you were here to help them fill in the place? Doesn’t sound like they’re having any trouble to me.”

  “If I may answer that for you, most of our cottages are under renovation at the moment, it does not leave much space.”

  Lucas nodded. “Yep, what she said.”

  “Let me check some other nearby hotels for you. The weather network is calling for a storm so you won’t have much time.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’m Eve Banter.” Eve said in a determined voice. “I called earlier. I’m planning to stay with my friends. Nice bird, by the way.”

  The girl frowned.

  “She likes your vest,” I interpreted. “And she is not staying with me, so please find her a room.”

  The girl winked at Eve and nodded.

  That didn’t look good. Just what was Eve up to now?

  “C’mon, ladies. Everyone is in the dining hall at this hour.” Lucas steered us through the lobby toward the back of the building. We stopped when we passed by the stairs to the upstairs loft.

  “Any idiot could do your job—I don’t know what your problem is!” a shrill voice announced from upstairs. “You must be a special kind of idiot.”

  Eve and I glanced at Lucas but he shrugged his shoulders. A young woman in a maid’s uniform peeked over the upstairs balcony wall and scrubbed at her eyes.

  “Are you okay, sweetpea?” Eve called up to her.

  She nodded and sniffed. “I’m fine, Miss. Thank you.” Then she turned and disappeared back out of sight.

  Eve turned to me and then locked her eyes on Lucas. “Who in the blazes was yelling at that poor girl?”

  “I’m not sure.” Lucas shook his head. “It could have been the owner, Justin.”

  “Well,” Eve huffed, “perhaps I should just go and give him a lesson in manners.”

  “Eve,” I said, grabbing her by the arm. “Don’t. Not that I disagree with you, but we can’t go off half-cocked.”

  “Why? It’s never stopped us before,” She challenged.

  Lucas grinned, and I punched him lightly in the arm. “We didn’t see who it was, for one thing. We didn’t hear the whole altercation, for another. Not to mention that it’s not really our place to intervene in someone else’s business practices.”

  “You mean with regards to how some dumbass manages, or rather abuses, his staff,” Eve said, crossing her arms while she chided me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Exactly.”

  “Plus, I’m not exactly sure it was Justin,” Lucas said. “I mean it could have been, but it also could have been the handyman, Noel. Hell, it could have been one of the guests. There are some rooms up there.”

  “Well, let’s go ask her,” Eve said.

  “Later,” I replied. “We’re here to find a killer.”

  “I don’t know why,” Eve mumbled. “It’s always the husband.”

  “Ignore her,” I said to Lucas as we moved on.

  As Lucas and I opened the glass doors to the dining hall, the sound of Christmas carols and laughter reached us, along with the woody, sweet scent of tree sap. The room was spacious with high wood-beamed ceilings and large windows. One long harvest table dominated the room with at least thirty smaller tables scattered around it—all covered in plaid cloths and dotted with birch stick arrangements. In the corner, watching over the room, was a large stately spruce covered in multi colored bulbs.

  At least twenty five people occupied the room, and I quickly located the source of the laughter, a woman with an olive-skinned face smiling under a shiny mane of dark hair sprinkled with gray. She wore a thick red sweater and grey ski pants as if she had just come off the slopes. She was now whispering in the ear of a petite young girl who twisted her silky shoulder-length hair into a ponytail. The young girl was staring longingly at the teenage boy who sat at a different table by the windows, playing on his phone.

  The swinging doors to the kitchen opened, and a petite blonde woman in a green turtleneck and red holiday vest bore down on us, one arm clutching linen napkins, the other balancing a tray of steaming mugs.

  As I took in the room full of happy-go-lucky vacationers, it struck me as odd that one of these people could be a killer. Lucas brushed his fingers along my arm and my skin prickled into goose bumps. I looked up at him—or was the killer a stranger at all?

  Two

  _____________

  “B

  onjour! Joyeux Noël! I’m Marie-Angelique Tremblé. Welcome to Sleighs & Slopes Adventure Resort,” bubbled the woman musically. She smelled of rosemary and thyme and I guessed she was making a turkey in that back kitchen of hers. “Just a moment, please.”

  She walked to the table next to us where a rosy-cheeked couple wearing similar holiday sweaters sat with their two kids. “Here you go: one elf in the eggnog, one sleigh bell cider, and two candy cane cocoas,” She said, setting the mugs on the red table cloth. The young boy leaned forward and licked his lips as Marie-Angelique slipped a candy cane into his mug.

  “Thank you Mrs. Tremblé. You make the bestest hot chocolate,” the kids said in unison. Marie-Angelique smiled and took the empty tray under her arm and placed a tin of gingerbread cookies at the table's center. “These cookies are on the house. I hope you and the children had fun at the reindeer games this week.”

  “Oh yes, did we ever,” the woman in the holiday sweater grinned.

  “I won Frosty’s Snowball Challenge!” the little girl hollered.

  “You did?”

  “And I won the Santa’s Sled Off.” The boy compared.

  “The kids have been begging us all day to stay longer so they can go tubing again, but I’m afraid with… well, you know… yesterday’s incident we just need to get going. Hopefully, we don’t get caught up in this snow storm.” The man said.

  Marie-Angelique frowned as she dropped the napkins on the table and tugged at the collar of her green turtleneck. “Of course, we’re so sorry that you’ve been forced to cut your holiday with us short. I hope you will return again next year, or possibly sooner.”

  “Sooner. Sooner,” the kids both chanted.

  “We’ll have the skating rink up and running for the next three months if you decide to come back.” She winked at the kids and walked around their table to where Lucas and I stood watching.

  As soon as she
reached us, she set down her tray and clasped my hand in hers. “I’ll bet you’re Lucas’… err… other girl… you know… err… friend.” A tremor of uncertainty traveled across Marie-Angelique’s soft face. I sympathized.

  “Ex,” I corrected as I glanced at Lucas. He looked uncomfortable but said nothing.

  Just what were the rules of etiquette at a time like this?

  “Call me Penelope.”

  “Bienvenue, Penelope,” she said with a relieved rush of breath. She clasped my hand again. “I’m happy you’re here. Well, happy probably isn’t the right word considering the circumstances but you know what I mean. Is it hot in here?” She flapped the lapel of her sweater vest open and closed.

  A turtleneck plus a sweater vest, it’s no wonder she was hot.

  “Anyway, we fixed up a tree house for you—it’s on Candy Cane Lane—close to Lucas.”

  “Thank you. This is my friend, Eve.” I ground out the word friend through gritted teeth.

  “Ouch!” Eve jumped backwards. Then I felt something stab my leg.

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry,” said Marie-Angelique, wringing her hands. She bent over and, mumbling or perhaps scolding in French, she picked up an immense tortoise-colored ball of fur. “Jolly Ginger, she just loves black,” she admonished. “That’s why we had to put the plaid blanket over the leather couch in the common area; she kept poking holes in it with her claws. I hope you’re not fond of those pants.”

  Eve and I were both wearing black. I looked down at my tights. “It’s more the legs underneath that I’m attached too.”

  Marie-Angelique chortled. “Oh, goodness, I like you so much better already.”

  “Better already? You didn’t like me before?” I teased. I couldn’t help myself. Sarcasm was a drug, and I was an addict.

  “What? Oh, you are teasing me.”

  From the safety of Marie-Angelique’s arms, Jolly Ginger looked anything but jolly as she glared at me, practically sharpening her claws.

  “This one here is my little Buddha baby.” She ended her sentence by burying her face in Jolly Ginger’s fur.