by Joanne Fluke
Grace and Paul were still chuckling as they headed to the parking lot. The sky was beginning to darken, but it was still over eighty degrees on the neon-studded Strip.
“It is summer down here.” Paul opened the window to enjoy the warm night breeze as Grace pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward Henderson. Grace didn’t reply, but she knew exactly what he was thinking. While it was summer in Vegas, it was winter on Deer Creek Road. And they were about to embark on a long cold trip up the mountain.
An hour had passed, and the residents of Deer Creek Condos were beginning to gather at the spa. No one wanted to spend the evening alone and Laureen had organized a potluck dinner.
Jayne had dressed for the occasion in a natural buckskin dress with fringes at the hem and matching moccasins. Paul had called her Pocahontas whenever she wore it. Her hair hung around her shoulders in a curly black cloud and she brushed it back with her hand as she surveyed the tables set up around the pool area. She’d set them with china and silver, even though Paul was no longer here to object to paper plates and plastic utensils. They’d fought over that issue bitterly throughout their marriage. Jayne had stubbornly maintained that picnic ware was perfectly adequate for everyday use while Paul had insisted that dining wasn’t dining unless the food was properly presented. She’d never come out and admit it, but food really seemed to taste better his way.
“Okay, kids. It’s vacation time!” Hal stepped out of the elevator with a pitcher of margaritas. He was wearing his favorite artist-at-home outfit, faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater. “As long as we’re stuck here for a week, we might as well party.”
“Here’s the chili.” Laureen set a huge pot on the buffet table. She wore slacks with an oversize shocking pink sweater. The sweater was intended to hide her extra weight, but the splash of bright color made her look even larger.
Hal rubbed his hands together. “Okay, we’ve got Laureen’s incredible chili for starters. And Clay’s brought . . .” Hal paused to grin. “Blue chips! That figures.”
Clayton, dressed in chinos and the green and black rugby shirt Rachael had given him for Christmas, looked puzzled as he set down a bowl of blue corn chips. Hal figured he’d better explain. “Isn’t that what you tell your clients to buy? Nothing but blue chips?”
“Oh.” Clayton frowned. “I get it, Hal. Blue-chip stocks. But the connection is a bit tenuous.”
“Here’s the salsa.” Rachael arrived with Vanessa and Moira. “The blue bowl is mild, for you, Clay. The one in the red bowl is dynamite.”
All three women had a distinctive style. Rachael wore her yellow Tai Chi uniform with tire-tread sandals, Moira was impressive in an orange silk caftan which swirled around her ankles, and Vanessa was dressed for a cocktail party in a purple satin minidress that fit like a second skin and huge, dangling gold earrings.
“This is my special fat-free herbal dip.” Vanessa’s high-heeled gold sandals clicked against the tiles as she crossed the room to set a bag of potato chips on the table, along with a bowl of dip. “I know everybody’s watching their weight. Or if they’re not, they should be. You can have all you want because there’s only eighty calories in the whole thing.”
Laureen gave Vanessa a venomous glare. “Unless you count the chips!”
The door to the elevator opened again and Ellen stepped out, carrying the thirty-cup coffeepot. “Where do you want this? It’s all ready to plug in.”
“Over there.” Alan pointed to the ledge by the Jacuzzi. “I rigged an extension cord.”
Vanessa frowned as Ellen plugged in the coffee. “I wish Ellen would wear one of the dresses I helped her pick out. That big old shirt and those awful pants must have come straight from the men’s department. No wonder Johnny dumped her. When I latch on to a really neat guy, I never let him get away.”
“Of course you don’t.” Laureen gave her a withering look. “Parasites always cling to their hosts.”
“I think Ellen did the right thing by cutting Johnny loose.” Jayne jumped in before a full-scale fight could develop. “I like him, don’t get me wrong, but he goes through women like Kleenex. I’m glad Ellen wised up before she got screwed.”
“Maybe that was the problem.” Vanessa giggled. “I don’t think Ellen’s ever been . . .”
Hal put his hand over his wife’s mouth. “Cut it out, Vanessa.”
The elevator doors opened again and Marc stepped out. He was wearing a maroon velour warm-up suit with his monogram, and he carried a large pink bakery box.
“Oh, God!” Laureen moaned. “A pink box. Those yummy pink boxes chase me in my dreams.”
“Sorry, Laureen.” Marc set the box on the table. “I was planning on taking these to my crew this morning, but now you’ll have to help me eat them.”
Laureen lifted the lid and groaned. “Raspberry Danish. There must be three dozen!”
“Thirty-four. I had a couple for breakfast.”
“That means we have to eat three apiece.” Jayne sighed. “I’d better put in my laps now or I’ll sink like a stone. The pool’s all right to use, isn’t it, Marc?”
Marc nodded. They’d discovered a crack in the decorative tile of the pool, but since it was triple-lined, there was no leakage. “You might as well use it. Once we start the repairs, it’ll be down for a while.”
Jayne went off to the cabana to change and Ellen came over to take the empty chair next to Vanessa. Jayne was right; she couldn’t avoid her forever.
“I’m glad you’re all right, Ellen.” Vanessa turned to her with a friendly smile. “I wanted to come up and help when you were stuck under that bench, but they made me go to Betty’s. Everybody figured I’d faint or something.”
Ellen nodded and tried to smile back. It wasn’t fair to blame Vanessa. She’d been only one in the long line of Johnny’s women, but Ellen had been too blind to realize it.
“Let’s fix you up.” Vanessa reached over to open the top three buttons on Ellen’s shirt. “You need to show off your neck, Ellie. It’s your best feature. And that awful denim shirt’s way too big for you. No man’s ever going to look at you twice if you dress like a bag lady.”
Ellen’s first instinct was to pull away, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. Before she could think of a reply, Vanessa had unhooked the gold mesh belt she wore and cinched it around Ellen’s waist.
“Not bad.” Vanessa eyed her critically. “Of course, it’d help if you wore tighter pants, but sloppy’s in this year. A little eye makeup and you’d look right in style.”
“Thanks, Vanessa.” Ellen couldn’t help but smile. Vanessa didn’t have a tactful bone in her body, but she was honestly trying to be nice.
“I need a list of your damage, Ellen.” Clayton turned in his chair to face her. “We’ll have to file a group claim.”
Ellen nodded. “Will our homeowners’ insurance cover it?”
“That depends entirely on the proximate cause of the damage. I reviewed our policy and I’m gratified to report that we elected the earthquake option. Even though an avalanche is subsumed under acts of God, we can claim vis-à-vis the exceptions provision.” Clayton held up his hand as Ellen opened her mouth to ask a question. “On the other hand, if Vanessa’s theory has any probative weight, we have an action for damages against the Nevada test site.”
Ellen gave Rachael an expectant look. Since Rachael was also a lawyer, she was often called upon to assume the duties of translator.
“Clayton’s trying to tell us that we’re covered one way or the other. Oh, look!” Rachael pointed toward the springboard. “Jayne’s going to do one of her dives.”
Everyone watched as Jayne bounced on the springboard and executed a perfect one and a half gainer into the deep end of the pool. Alan whistled. “I wish I could dive like that!”
“And I wish I could look like that in a swimsuit.” Laureen’s voice was envious.
“Jayne’s really a water-rat.” Moira watched as Jayne came up for a breath of air and then disappeare
d beneath the water again. “She was swimming when she was nine months old. Her mother took her to Crystal Scarborough classes. You know, the woman who taught babies to . . . what’s the matter, Jayne?”
Jayne’s eyes were wide with fright as she came up in the shallow end of the pool and scrambled out of the water. Moira handed her a towel and helped her to a chair. “Are you all right?”
Jayne was shaking so hard, she couldn’t speak. All she could do was point at the pool.
“I’ll get her a hot cup of coffee.” Ellen jumped to her feet and hurried to the coffeepot.
“Tell us what happened, Jayne.” Laureen looked worried. “Was it a cramp?”
Jayne shook her head and gulped several times. “There’s a . . . a hand down there!”
“A what?”
“A hand! It’s down there behind that crack!”
“Try to calm down, Jayne.” Laureen looked worried. Jayne wasn’t an excitable person and she was clearly hysterical. “Alan’ll go down and take a look.”
Marc pushed back his chair. “I’ll go, too. It’s probably something that fell in during the avalanche.”
Moira hurried to get one of the heavy terry-cloth robes they kept by the sauna and wrapped it around Jayne’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Jayne. They’ll check it out. What made you think it was a hand?”
“I saw it!” Jayne insisted. “I dived down to look at the crack and there was something shiny behind it. So I grabbed it and . . . and it came loose.”
“The hand came loose?” Clayton frowned as he tried to make some sense out of Jayne’s words.
“No! The ring it was wearing came loose. I . . . I got so scared I dropped it.”
Vanessa giggled. “You can’t fool me, Jayne. I watch Vampira all the time and I saw the one where the skeleton comes up out of the pool.”
Ellen came back with a steaming cup of coffee and set it down in front of Jayne. “Drink this, Jayne. You’re still shaking.”
Vanessa turned to Ellen and winked. “It’s all an act. Jayne’s trying to make us think that someone lost a hand in our pool. And Alan and Marc fell for it.”
“It’s no act!” Jayne shook her head. “There really is a hand down there . . . or something that looks like a hand.”
Vanessa examined Jayne’s pale face for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. I believe you. You never could have pulled it off. After all, you’re not an actress like me.”
Laureen opened her mouth and then closed it again. They’d all seen the video of Vanessa’s film debut. Supposedly terrified, her character had jumped from a sinking speedboat into a lake, wearing a white silk bikini that turned almost transparent when wet. Her acting had consisted of two piercing screams, which were later dubbed. Laureen figured that they’d cast the bikini and then looked around for someone to fill it, but this wasn’t the time to critique Vanessa’s acting ability.
Alan surfaced with a splash and climbed out of the pool. “There’s something stuck in the plaster, but the crack’s too narrow to see very much. Marc went back down for the ring.”
“Got it!” Marc hauled himself out of the pool and brought the ring to the table.
“My grandfather had one of these.” Laureen picked it up. “It’s made from a horseshoe nail and he told me it was a good luck charm.”
Alan gave a short laugh. “Well, it wasn’t very lucky for the guy who lost his hand in the cement.”
“Gunite, not cement,” Marc corrected. “And we’re not sure it’s a hand.”
Vanessa looked exasperated. “Of course it’s a hand. What else wears a ring?”
“She’s got a point,” Hal conceded. “The question is, how did it get there? And who does it belong to?”
Jayne laughed shrilly. “It’s a soap opera. All we have to do is tune in tomorrow to get the exciting answers to these and other questions.”
“Easy, Jayne.” Laureen patted her on the shoulder. “Maybe it’s a fake hand, like the skeletons kids buy at Halloween. This could be some kind of dumb practical . . . Alan!”
“What did I do?” Alan flinched as Laureen glared at him.
“We all know who’s the biggest practical joker in this group!”
“No way, Laureen. Whoopee cushions and dribble glasses are as far as I go.”
Marc looked thoughtful. “It could have been somebody on my crew. Planting a fake skeleton in the liner is right up their alley. Maybe we ought to dig it out and . . .”
“That wouldn’t be advisable,” Clayton interrupted. “The police should handle something like this. After all, we don’t want to disturb a possible crime scene.”
Marc considered it for a moment. “You’re right, Clay. I’ll go call them on the shortwave.”
“I think it’s a real live hand.” Vanessa’s eyes were gleaming with excitement. “And I bet I know who it belongs to.”
Hal turned to stare at his wife. “It’s not live, Vanessa, not anymore. But I’ll bite anyway. Who does it belong to?”
“Johnny Day!”
There was complete silence and Vanessa scowled. “Why are you all staring at me like that? It could be Johnny’s. Maybe Johnny didn’t go back to Italy at all. Maybe somebody killed him and stashed him in our pool. And all the time we’ve been diving off the board and playing in the water, we’ve been only inches from discovering poor Johnny’s body!”
Hal was the first to recover. “And here we have another example of my charming bride’s superlative logical abilities. Now listen carefully, Vanessa, and try to follow. The pool was built before anyone moved in. Is that right?”
Vanessa nodded.
“And that makes the pool over four years old. Do you agree?”
Vanessa nodded again.
“Now, here comes the tricky part. Since the hand was stuck in the liner, it had to get put there before the pool was finished. Got that?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid, Hal!”
“And that means the hand’s been down there for over four years. Is that right?”
“Well . . . yes, but . . .”
“Now we know that Johnny left only five weeks ago and I think we can assume he took both his hands.”
Vanessa pondered the whole thing for a moment and then she shrugged. “Okay, then. But I still think something funny could’ve happened to Johnny. He promised to keep in touch and he hasn’t called once since he left.”
“That’s true,” Jayne agreed. “He asked me to pack up his stuff, but he never called to tell me where to ship it. Has anybody heard from him?”
“I certainly haven’t.” Clayton scowled. “As his legal counsel, I naturally hold his full power-of-attorney, and speaking strictly in camera, I’ve been forced to assume the entire responsibility for his portfolio.”
Everyone turned to Rachael and she laughed. “Clay’s upset because he’s had to wing it alone with all of Johnny’s stocks and bonds.”
“I know Marc hasn’t heard from him either,” Alan confided. “Johnny hasn’t even called to find out if his condo sold and that’s a million-plus property.”
“But Johnny’s got a lot on his mind right now.” Laureen pointed out. “After all, his father just died and I’m sure he trusts us to take care of everything on this end while he sorts out things with his family.”
The elevator doors opened and Marc got out carrying the shortwave radio in both hands. The case was smashed in on top and loose wires dangled down in back.
“My God! What happened?” Hal gasped at the broken radio.
“That jolt we took must have loosened the shelves in Jack’s office. Either that, or we had some kind of aftershock. I found it under a pile of rubble.”
“I think we’re in big trouble.”
There was a frown on Hal’s face as he pried open the case and Vanessa stared up at him anxiously. “You can make it work again can’t you, honey?”
Hal gave a bitter laugh. “I’d have a better chance of fixing a busted balloon.”
SIX
“How much farth
er?” Grace leaned close to Paul and shouted into his ear. The roar of the big snowmobile’s engine made communication difficult.
“Five or six miles.”
Paul’s words were whipped away by the wind and Grace huddled as close as she could. “What did you say?”
Paul turned his head and shouted. “Five or six miles! Do you wish to rest?”
“No! I’ll turn into a solid block of ice if you stop.” Grace huddled down a little in the seat. They’d both dressed in winter parkas and ski masks, but it was less than thirty degrees outside and the wind chill brought that down to below zero.
“Drink the brandy, Grace. It will warm you.”
The snowmobile had come equipped with a plastic flask that fit in a holder on the dashboard. Grace reached for it and took a swallow. Flame’s boyfriend’s landlady’s cousin had told them that the man who’d designed the holder and flask had made millions.
Paul swerved to avoid a pine tree. His fingers felt frozen even though he’d worn his choppers. The fur-lined leather mittens had been a gift from his relatives in Norway and he’d never had occasion to wear them before. Tonight he yearned for the whole outfit, including the fur-lined leather cap with the earflaps and the heavy woolen pants his ancestors had worn. Grace had given him a pair of warm-up leggings from her dance wardrobe, but they weren’t designed for temperatures like this.
With great difficulty, Paul managed to pull up his sleeve to glance at his watch in the dim light from the dashboard. It was almost nine. They’d left Vegas at seven-thirty and it had only taken them twenty minutes to drive to the wall of snow in the road. Unloading the snowmobile had taken another five minutes, which meant they’d been out in this bitter cold for over an hour. They’d been forced to make several detours, and right now they were roughly paralleling the access road. Paul figured they should be able to see the lights of the building in a half hour or so. If they didn’t run into more obstacles. If the snowmobile kept on running. And if he didn’t smash into a snow-covered bump that was really a big rock.
