Stroke of Luck

by B. J Daniels

  She felt her mouth go dry. “I went to visit her. I’ve already told Will.”

  Dean’s laugh sounded brittle. “He’d believe anything you told him. But how do we know that you didn’t kill her? Come on, why would you visit Lexi? Had you met her before this retreat?”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Will instructed her. “This is a murder investigation. We’re all suspects. The sheriff will be asking the questions when he arrives. He’ll want to talk to all of you.”

  “Only the ones of us who are still alive,” Dean said. “If we’re that lucky.”

  They all turned at the sound of a vehicle busting through the fallen snow and coming to a stop right outside.

  A huge sigh of relief blew like a breeze through the room as everyone jumped up to see who it was.

  “Thank God,” Dean said. “It’s the sheriff. Finally, we can get out of here.”

  But the person who came through the door was Huck, followed behind by a limping Kirk. All the air felt as if it had been sucked from the room.

  Will seemed to take one look at his wrangler and knew. “Huck, you didn’t get through,” Will said, sounding as depressed about that as the rest of them, Poppy thought.

  Huck shook his head. “I had to turn back. I barely made it. And look what I found on my way back.” He motioned toward Kirk. “He was damned near frozen to death. If I hadn’t come along when I did...”

  Kirk walked in, head down. As he passed Channing, who was sitting on the end of the couch, her hand resting on the arm, Poppy would have sworn that Kirk either passed her something or took something from her hand. A note? She blinked, telling herself she’d imagined it since Channing jerked back her hand as if the devil had just touched it and glared after Kirk.

  Still, it certainly had looked like the two had passed some sort of message between them. As Kirk moved to stand in front of the fire, Poppy noticed that both of his hands were now thrust deep into his pockets.

  She moved over to give him room on the hearth. He was shivering, but he didn’t look like a man who’d been lost for hours in a snowstorm.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  AFTER EVERYONE TOSSED their alibis into the basket, they left, seeming anxious to get back to their cabins and lock themselves inside. Will hoped they all stayed that way until lunchtime. But Lexi had been locked in. Who had she opened her door for? Someone she thought she could trust.

  Dorothea had gone up to her room no doubt to try to cast more protective spells. He hoped one of them worked because at this point he didn’t know what to think. There was no clear motive for what was happening. All he knew was that he had two dead guests. He told himself it had to be about the thief Big Jack had suspected. But still that felt wrong.

  As he looked around the deserted room, he saw Poppy was sitting on the hearth as if cold. He threw more logs on the fire and then joined her. The soft crackle and pop, the scent of burning pine, and the heat on his back had a familiar comfort to it that he needed right now.

  This guest ranch was his home. There’d been accidents over the years and trouble with guests, but nothing like this. He felt as if he’d been set up. Big Jack had suspected he had a crook in the company. Was that the purpose of this retreat? He’d brought his troubles here thinking he would get to the bottom of them?

  Obviously he hadn’t known he would end up dead or that another employee would die. But he’d known something.

  Will knew he had to talk to Lamar. But right now, he just wanted to sit here with Poppy. “Are you all right?”

  She looked up seeming surprised, as if her mind had been a million miles away. Or maybe just as far as Whitefish. Had she been wishing she’d never come here? Like she’d said earlier, her plan had backfired.

  “I was trying to figure out a connection between the murders,” she said.

  He let out a laugh. “I thought you were wishing you’d never laid eyes on me and this ranch again.”

  She shook her head as she smiled over at him. “Admittedly, this is not how I planned these four days, but then again my plan went awry a long time ago. No, I was thinking. The only things connecting the murders are that Lexi worked for Big Jack and they were both killed in much the same manner.”

  He nodded. “It seems to be about whatever was going on at On the Fly.”

  Poppy agreed. “Whoever chased Lexi that day at the waterfalls, it couldn’t have been Big Jack. He was with Ruby.”

  “I can’t see the two of them being in on it. Why harass Lexi?”

  “Exactly. Wasn’t Lexi the head of the sewing department? That doesn’t seem like a job that would put her in danger.”

  “Unless she discovered something about one of the others,” he said.

  “Or about the fly-fishing vest company. When I went down to see Lexi, she was scared. I think she was writing down what she knew.”

  “About Kirk Austin?”

  “Maybe,” Poppy said thoughtfully. “The name on the notebook that has now disappeared from Lexi’s room was his.” She turned to look at Will. “Did Kirk seem like he’d been lost in a winter storm for hours?”

  He shook his head. “According to what Huck told me, Kirk’s story is that he went off the road and got the pickup stuck. But Huck said he didn’t see it on his way back here.”

  “How far did Huck get?”

  “Not far. He said the roads were drifted in worse the closer he got to the valley. He was smart enough to turn around and come back before the roads closed behind him.”

  “Where was Kirk all that time? In Slim’s truck?”

  “What are you suggesting?” Will asked. He could see that she wasn’t sure.

  “That maybe he didn’t go very far at all? That maybe he was only trying to establish an alibi for himself?”

  “But he would have had to have hidden somewhere until he showed up on the road and Huck found him,” Will said. “He couldn’t sneak into the bunkhouse or his own cabin without fearing he’d get caught. The barn was locked up. I suppose he could have stayed with one of the others, but then that would mean that they were in on it with him.”

  He saw her eyes widen. “What about cabin nine? You said it had a water leak and wasn’t ready for guests. But it still had heat, right?”

  Will got to his feet. “I suppose you’re going with me.”

  She smiled. “I’ll get my coat.”

  * * *

  LAMAR WASN’T ALL that surprised to return to his cabin and find Mick gone. He swore. So much for taking a nap. He looked outside at the storm. His brother wasn’t fool enough to try to leave, was he?

  Stepping into the bathroom, he caught the scent of his brother’s favorite aftershave and shook his head. Nothing seemed to be missing from his brother’s things he’d left behind. Which meant that Mick had gotten up as soon as he’d left, shaved, dressed and gone courting.

  He told himself that whatever had happened earlier with Lexi, it couldn’t have had anything to do with his brother. But it could have had something to do with Allison. She’d looked as if she’d been crying.

  Lamar raked a hand through his hair and told himself he’d deal with it when they all returned to California and On the Fly. His brother breaking the no-dating rule was nothing compared to two murders involving the company. More than ever, he needed to know what was going on before anyone else died.

  Locking the cabin door, he went to his bedroom and pulled out the envelope. Sitting down on the bed, he began to go through each file. He hadn’t gone very far when he found a loose sheet of paper that his father had made notes on in his chicken scrawl. He frowned as he tried to read them.

  No vacation. Works late.

  New supplier. Falsified documents?

  Card reader logs time, place, and employees in and out.

  Cameras in key locations.

  The last note his father had written read: T
alk to Lamar.

  He stared at the words, knowing now that Big Jack had definitely thought someone was stealing from them. Someone who never took a vacation? Who worked late? He frowned as he studied the list his father had made. They did have a new supplier for some of the fabric. Did his father think there was something questionable about the supplier? The rest of the notes were things his father thought they should be implementing at the company. Except for the last one. Big Jack had been trying to narrow down the suspects. Had he been getting too close to the truth?

  Still, Lamar couldn’t believe that whoever was stealing from the company had resorted to murder to keep from being discovered. As Will had said, it seemed a long shot since, once Lamar got back, he should be able to figure out what was going on. His father was right. He hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the day-to-day operation. He’d trusted his employees.

  And it had gotten his father killed. And now one of their employees.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back against the headboard. What he’d told his brother was right. It hadn’t set in yet that Big Jack was gone. Murdered. He could hear the roar of the wind and the storm outside the small cabin but that wasn’t what chilled him to the bone. The killer had realized that Big Jack was getting close to exposing him—or her.

  But how had his father known something was going on at the company? He spent so little time there. It came to him like a shot. Ruby. If his father was seeing her away from On the Fly, then she might have told him about her suspicions.

  He put the papers back into the envelope, stuffed it back under his mattress again and, dressing for the storm raging outside, headed for Ruby’s cabin.

  * * *

  CABIN NINE WAS a good walk from the lodge under normal conditions. But as Poppy stepped out she was hit by a blast of wind and snow. She ducked her head and followed behind Will as he broke a trail through the drifting snow.

  There was already somewhat of a trail that Will had shoveled and the guests had made along the front of the cabins. But still the snow was up to her knees. She caught glimpses of the cabins as they passed, but often could see nothing but Will’s back ahead of her through the snow.

  She’d been in one whiteout since returning to Montana. That time, she’d been driving and suddenly she couldn’t see the road. There was nothing but white. She recalled that panicked feeling. That’s what made whiteouts so dangerous. She couldn’t help but think of Kirk’s story about going off the road. If she was right and he was lying, then he could be the killer. His leaving was about establishing an alibi—a ruse.

  The snow got considerably deeper once they passed cabin eight. Will pushed through a drift that was up to his thighs to the last cabin. He tried the door and it groaned open, snow blowing inside. Will reached back for her, practically dragging her through the deep snow and inside out of the blizzard. He closed the door behind them.

  It was surprisingly warm in the cabin. She saw that Will had noticed it, as well.

  “The heat had been turned off, along with the water,” he said as he moved to the thermostat on the wall. “Someone turned it back on.”

  “I feel like mama bear,” she said. “And someone has been sleeping in the bed.” There was an indentation in the comforter.

  Will checked the bathroom before turning back to her. “Someone definitely stayed here.”

  “Kirk.”

  “It certainly looks that way. Unless some of the others have been using it as a clandestine cabin so no one could see what they were up to.” Will shook his head. “If it was Kirk, then he lied about how far he went.” He sighed. “I need to talk to Lamar. I’ll walk you back to the lodge.”

  “Wouldn’t you like a woman’s perspective when you talk to a suspect?”

  “I was going to say that I don’t want you any more involved in all this than you already are,” Will said. “But realizing how ridiculous that is...” He met her gaze. “You’re saying that women see things that men miss?”

  She raised a brow and smiled. “Maybe we just see different things than men.”

  He still hesitated for a moment, then said, “None of us are safe until we figure out who is behind the murders. Okay. Let’s start with Kirk.”

  “Lead the way.”

  * * *

  LAMAR KNOCKED AT Ruby’s cabin door and waited, huddling against the storm as he did. He knocked again.

  “Who is it?” she asked through the door.

  “Lamar.” He waited, not sure she was going to let him in. But a moment later, the door opened a crack.

  “What do you want?” She looked upset, which surprised him. She’d kept her cool when the others had been falling apart.

  “I need to ask you about my father.”

  She hesitated but only for a moment before she opened the door and he stepped in. Her cabin felt overly warm after he’d been outside. He stood just inside the door as she moved into the center of the cabin. “What about Jack?”

  “Do you mind?” he asked as he took off his jacket and stomped snow off his boots. She motioned to the chair from the desk but he shook his head. He was too keyed up to sit down.

  She waited, looking as if she’d been expecting him to question her at some point.

  “How long have the two of you—”

  “Six months.”

  He raised a brow. “That long?” He did a quick calculation in his head. “So before you went to work at On the Fly. I assume that was why my father insisted on hiring you.”

  Her smile had sharp teeth. “He hired me because I’m good at my job.”

  Lamar couldn’t argue that. “You were the one who told him something was wrong inside the company. Why didn’t you come to me?”

  She said nothing, just met his gaze and held it.

  “You can’t think I have anything to do with...” His words died off in a curse. “If there is money missing—”

  “There is money missing.”

  “How do you know that? You’re the design and marketing person, not the bookkeeper.”

  “I have eyes and ears.”

  So did he, but apparently he hadn’t been using them. He grabbed the chair and pulled it over to drop into and sat for a moment with his head in his hands as it all seemed to hit him. There was a thief at On the Fly. Maybe even a drug deal going on, and he’d missed it and it had cost his father and Lexi their lives. Ruby seemed angry about it and he couldn’t blame her. While his father owned the company, Lamar had been the boss who should have known.

  When he finally pulled himself together, he raised his head and asked, “So you told my father your suspicions.” When she said nothing, he said, “Did you have someone in mind at the company besides me?”

  * * *

  WITH A START, Dorothea realized she was all alone in the lodge. “Hello?” she called as she came down the stairs to find everyone gone. Her voice seemed to echo. She passed through the dining room into the kitchen, convinced Poppy would be hard at work preparing for lunch.

  But the kitchen was also empty and when she went back into the main lounge she saw that Poppy’s coat was gone. So was Will’s. She felt a chill. Where had they gone? Had there been another murder?

  She was considering what to do when the front door blew open on a gust of wind and snow. She jumped and spun around as Dean Donovan came in. He managed to retrieve the door, slamming it, before he began brushing snow off himself.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked, glancing around.

  “Will should be back at any minute,” she lied, surprised how uncomfortable she felt alone with the young man. He seemed weak. She told herself she could take him in a fair fight. But she wasn’t about to turn her back on him.

  She watched him remove his glasses and wipe off the moisture with the tail of his shirt before putting them back on and pushing them up his nose.

  “I don’t
smell food,” he said, glancing toward the kitchen.

  “It’s still too early for lunch. Poppy hasn’t started cooking yet.” That alone was very strange. What if something had happened to her and Will had gone out to look for her?

  “I’m hungry.” He started for the kitchen and Dorothea followed, annoyed that the young man thought he could just help himself. He opened the refrigerator and looked inside, then closed it.

  “There’s fruit and brownies,” she said, pointing to where they were left out for guests.

  He shook his head. “I was going stir-crazy in my room. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.” She knew the feeling. “When is this storm supposed to finally stop?”

  “I don’t know. Last I heard late tomorrow.”

  Dean swore and headed out through the dining room.

  Dorothea put on her apron, remembering the knife she’d left wrapped up in the pocket and, taking the plate of brownies, followed him.

  “You must have a theory about what’s going on,” she said as she put down the plate before going to stand nearer the fire. Dean plopped down into one of the large leather chairs and put his feet up on the coffee table. He hadn’t even taken off his snowy boots.

  She started to say something about that, but held her tongue.

  He saw her eyeing his boots, though, and slowly removed them from the table with an angry grunt. “How would I know what’s going on?” he demanded. “No one ever tells me anything. Or asks what I think.”

  She knew the feeling, but said, “You work with these people so you must have a pretty good idea who is doing this.”

  With a huff, he said, “I’m just the stockroom guy. Like they pay any attention to me. I’m like a piece of furniture around there. Did you know that I was almost killed a few weeks ago? That’s right, a crate of boxed vests fell from the forklift. If I hadn’t moved when I did...” He shook his head.

  “Who was driving the forklift?”