Snowed In with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “It’s coming. You can feel it,” he said, looking at the sky. “The air’s cold, but every now and then you catch a wisp of something warm. Tropical. You could even get a twister with that.”

  “Dude.”

  He shrugged, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

  “The news always exaggerates these things,” I said. “I doubt it will be that bad.”

  “I don’t know. They seem to really mean it this time. Hurricane winds. Snow. Rain. Ice. The whole lot,” he said. “Global warming.” He then revved the engine, letting out a big puff of black smoke.

  I eyed the monster clouds in the distance. I was pretty sure I saw a face in one of those clouds. A cloud face with fangs. Laughing at me.

  Red turned to me again. “You get your mother to check the fuel for the generator. Those underwater cables can go in weather like this. And the electric company won’t be able to fix it anytime soon, I’m guessing. Make sure everyone’s got what they need.”

  “It’s just me this weekend,” I said, but Red had already turned back to the wheel. I doubted he could hear me over the wind. “And Grady.”

  Suddenly I felt even colder. If this storm was as bad as Red seemed to think it would be, there would be no Christmas re-enactment … which sounded very wrong. Grady was sheriff. And a storm probably meant that he had to—

  No, no, no. Tonight was happening.

  Red flipped the boat to neutral as the pontoon drifted toward my mom’s dock. Once he had pulled up alongside, he reached for my bag before I could get to it, placing it on the dock.

  “Now, I mean it, Erica. You take care.” As he said the words, I thought I felt a small gust of that warm tropical air he had been talking about. “The wind keeps building the way they say it will, the lake will be too dangerous to cross.”

  “Thanks, Red,” I said, climbing out of the boat. “I will.”

  “And charge your phone just in case.”

  “Got it.”

  “And you call if you need any help.”

  I smiled.

  “And stop smiling at me like that.” He furrowed his brow, but the little grin came back to the corner of his mouth. He then flipped me a small salute and shifted the boat into reverse.

  Otter Lake was a pretty nice town.

  I took a few steps down the dock toward the shore before taking one last look at the clouds churning in the sky. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, there was that eerie feeling of anticipation in the air. That strange excitement that comes with a big storm …

  That was totally not going to happen because I had plans!

  I clutched my bag to my body and hurried up the steps that led to the lodge.

  I had so much to do. Take the steaks out of the freezer. Get some potatoes going. I probably should take Red’s advice and check the propane tanks for the generator.

  I crested the top of the hill. There it was. Earth, Moon, and Stars. Nature retreat and spiritual healing facility. Huh, my mom had left some lights on for me in the lodge. That was nice … and totally unlike her. Not that she wasn’t nice. She just hated wasting electricity.

  I hurried along the muddy path and up the steps to the wide porch. I reached for the door handle, resuming my list. I also needed to shower, feed my horrible fur-sibling and love of my mother’s life, Caesar, then—

  I swung the door open and stopped dead in my tracks.

  Yup, I had a lot to do.

  Number one?

  Get rid of all the people standing in my living room.

  Chapter Two

  “Who’s she?”

  “Who cares?”

  “Julie, when can we start taping?”

  “Not until Rayner gets here.”

  My eyes darted about to each of the speakers who seemed so very comfortable in my childhood home … that was supposed to be empty!

  “Um, hello?” I said stepping into the lodge, shutting the door behind me.

  Nobody answered.

  “Hello?”

  Despite what felt like one of my most outrageous facial expressions, the group ignored me completely. In fact, they had already gone back to their conversations.

  I lowered my bag carefully to the floor and took a breath.

  Something was wrong here.

  Aside, from the fact that the retreat was supposed to be closed, these people … well, they weren’t the usual type of visitor Earth, Moon, and Stars attracted.

  Three of them sat around the large harvest table where the guests had most of their meals. The unwieldy piece of furniture had been turned and centered in the middle of the common room, like a conference table. Two women with shiny make-up, maybe a mother and daughter, sat on the side closest to the fireplace. They were having what looked to be an in-depth conversation about nails, judging by the way they were holding up their bejeweled hands to one another. On the other side sat a man, early twenties maybe, dressed in some pretty stylish, urban-type clothes, probably from the kind of label that would sell a white T-shirt for hundreds of dollars. Not that his clothes would have normally stood out to me, but while his style looked like it should be carried by some easy-going pop star on the cover of Tiger Beat, this guy … well, he was rocking back and forth with his hands pinned between his knees.

  Not really sure how I felt about that.

  Away from the group, at a table in the kitchen, was another man. Middle-aged. Average-looking. Kind of sweaty. He sat bent over a stack of papers, clutching at his forehead with one hand, yanking at the tie at his throat with the other.

  Okay.

  Finally, and perhaps most peculiar, was the woman with a hurried ponytail and hip glasses standing by the windows with a camera guy, baseball cap twisted backward, pointing out different spots in the room. For camera angles, I guess?

  “Right,” I muttered under my breath. “Let’s try this again.” I cleared my voice loudly. “Um, hello?” I stepped closer to the table. “Have any of you seen my mother? Summer Bloom? She owns this retreat?”

  “Could you make me a drink? Martini?”

  When my eyes landed on the older of the two women seated at the table, it took everything in me to keep my face completely still. If I had to guess, the woman was in her forties, maybe fifties, but it was really hard to tell given that she had obviously indulged heavily in plastic surgery. The end result was both strangely compelling and repulsive. Like a fish … that was kind of hot. Maybe a fish I kind of wanted to look like … but not. I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to the punch.

  “Grey Goose?”

  I tilted my head.

  “Pinot Grigio? Champs? Come on you have to have Champs?”

  “We,” I said cocking my head even farther, “don’t usually keep alcohol on the premises.” Even though I hadn’t lived at home for years, it was impossible for me not to slip back into the role of employee. I was nearly as invested in my mother’s business as she was. Goddess only knew, if she lost the retreat, she might turn her attention even more in my direction.

  “I’m sorry, did you say no alcohol? Absolutely nothing?”

  Well, there was the extra-large bottle of red wine I had in my bag for Grady and me, but she didn’t need to know about that. I shook my head.

  The woman’s eyes widened in shock, but the effect was strange given that her forehead was paralyzed. “Julie, you must have something?”

  She was looking at the woman standing by the cameraman, but neither one acknowledged her.

  “Julie!”

  The cameraman elbowed the woman beside him. She startled and flicked her eyes over. “Sorry, Ronnie. Not today.”

  The woman flung herself back against the chair, smacking her head a little. “You’re telling me, I’m stuck in this backwoods shack with no alcohol? I’m going to be sick.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight, tight, tight, hoping that when I opened them again, all the people would be gone.

  Nope.

  “Relax, Mom,” the girl seated beside the sex
y amphibious woman said. She looked like she was in her early twenties, which I suppose meant she was a woman and not a girl, but her cute French braids made it hard to think of her as a grown-up. “I think you still have a Xanax in your purse.”

  “What were you doing in my purse?”

  “Um, looking for Xanax?” The girl laughed loudly at that, making the young man seated across the table jolt and dart a glance behind him … at absolutely nothing.

  Okay, this was getting weird.

  “That’s not funny, Ashley,” the older woman said, grabbing her purse off the floor. “You need to protect your brand.”

  The young woman sighed. “The camera’s not rolling.”

  “There are always cameras rolling.”

  The perky looking girl rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind us,” she said getting up and walking over. “Do you own this place? I love it! And you’re so pretty.”

  “Oh, well, thank you,” I said, avoiding the urge to take a step back. I found girl-bonding awkward, and girls who liked to bond terrifying, but it was something I was working on. “I … I…” I looked the girl up and down. She was wearing canvas pants with lots of pockets and a thin, long-sleeved T-shirt underneath a faux-fur vest. “I like your outfit?”

  “Thanks. I shot this hyena myself,” she said holding out the fur. “You want to feel it.”

  So … not faux. Definitely not faux. I felt my eyes widen as I took a step back without even realizing it. “Maybe later?”

  “Sure!” she said with a happy shrug, then walked away revealing a bedazzled cross on the back of her hyena vest.

  I backed farther away, whispering under my breath, “What the…”

  “Brody was here first.”

  I jumped. I had forgotten about the rumpled looking man sitting at the small table in the kitchen until I had almost backed into him. His eyes quickly shot over to the main room before landing back on his papers. So I guess that meant the twitchy young guy was Brody? I thought about asking him, but the timing didn’t seem right. Maybe it was the way he was swatting at his expensive-looking hair like he was being swarmed by … something. Hmm, it had been a while since I’d seen frosted tips. And his highlights were really frosted. More blue than blond.

  “We’ve rented this lodge tonight,” the suited man added, shuffling frantically through his stack. “I’ve got the agreement here somewhere. I’m a lawyer.”

  “Yeah, you just keep saying that, Chuck,” the fish woman by the fire shouted over. “Maybe someone will believe you.”

  “Wait rented?”

  The lawyer nodded, still shuffling. “It was all last minute.”

  I bit my lip and shook my head. So, they had rented the retreat for the night. Well, that was just …

  “Great,” I mumbled. “Fabulous.”

  “I spoke to your mother on the phone.” The man—who apparently went by Chuck—smoothed his quite thin hair down over his head. “I was hoping to meet her.”

  “So she wasn’t here when you arrived?”

  “No, not when—”

  “I saw her,” the younger man, Brody, suddenly said, wide eyes focused on nothing.

  I took a step toward him, making sure to maintain a safe distance. I mean, he wasn’t very big, but he looked unpredictable. “Do you know where she went?”

  “Wait,” he said gripping the armrests of his chair. “She’s gone?”

  “Okay.” I reached for my phone, my mind already warring over the priorities of killing my mother and working on a plan B. I swiped my mom’s number first. Maybe there had been some sort of mistake. Unlikely. Or … oh my God! Maybe this was her way of throwing me back into the family business! Maybe—

  My thoughts were cut off by the ringing of a cell phone.

  The ringing of a cell phone on the kitchen counter.

  The ringing of my mother’s phone!

  “Of course!” I whipped my phone from my face. Of course she would forget her phone. Actually she probably didn’t forget it at all. She knew she was in trouble. That’s probably why she wasn’t here now. She was waiting for me to calm down before she appeared. I mean, there was no way she would have still gone to Arizona. She would never leave a bunch of guests alone at the lodge without her spiritual guidance. So where was she? Getting last minute suppl—

  “Um, excuse me,” a voice suddenly said at my shoulder.

  I jumped around.

  “Whoa.” The woman with the cameraman flung her hands into the air.

  I dialed back the intensity of my, well, face a little and took a breath. “I’m sorry,” I said carefully. “How can I help you?” I tried to raise my angry furrowed eyebrows in polite question, but I don’t think I was very successful given the bemused fear evident in the woman’s expression.

  “We were just wondering if this place had any more lamps we could use?” she asked, adjusting her catlike glasses. “Maybe from other rooms?”

  It took me a moment to understand the question. My brain felt hot.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, I—” I shook my head. “What’s with the camera?”

  She chuckled. “Oh, I should have introduced myself. I’m Julie, and this is Kenny,” she said turning to the big man with the camera. “I’m a junior producer with Third Act.”

  Third Act. Third Act. How did I know that name? Suddenly it hit me. “You’re not … Third Act. Isn’t that the network that produces that show—” I waved my hand in the air, “—about the fighting women?”

  She smiled. “The Real MILF Diaries. That’s us.”

  I brought a hand up to rub my temple. Okay. Why not? Let’s make this moment even more surreal. “Why are you here?”

  She studied my face, then said, “You really don’t know what’s going on do you?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Well then, you, my friend, are in for a treat.”

  Chapter Three

  “We’re taking test footage for a new show,” she said nodding. “Rich Bitches.”

  I guess the lack of understanding showed all over my face.

  “Ronnie wants in.”

  “Ronnie?”

  She gestured to the glossed creature by the fire. “You don’t recognize her? She’s like head MILF.”

  “Oh.” I really couldn’t think of a single other appropriate thing to say.

  “Actually, I’m planning on pitching a new show based on the entire family.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t entirely sure why.

  “They’re gold. Never see anything like them. They’ll do anything to be famous. This could really make my career.” She looked to Kenny, the cameraman, for confirmation, but he was too busy squinting suspiciously at something he had just dug out from his teeth with his baby fingernail.

  She whacked him on the arm.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Go team.”

  She looked back at me with a wry smile.

  “That’s, um, very nice. I’m happy for you?” I offered. “But what are they doing here?”

  A satisfied smile spread across her face. “Oh, that’s the best part,” she said before whacking her cameraman again. “Get a shot of that sign over there. It’s perfect.” She pointed at the small burnt-wood plaque on the wall that had a picture of a dog smiling underneath the words, I’m the only bitch in this house. Hearts on the i’s. My mother had me get it made on a rare trip to the mall. My adolescence was like that.

  As he lumbered away, she turned her focus back on me. “They were summoned,” she answered in an unnaturally deep voice.

  I blinked. “I’m sorry. Did you say summoned?”

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” she agreed, nodding. “By the old man. Patriarch of the family. It’s an incredible storyline. He’s going to—” She cut herself off. “I don’t want to ruin it for you. See, right here,” she began, pointing at the floor, “right here is where I would put a commercial break.”

  I briefly looked down at the spot on the floor. There was nothing there. I gave my head a shake and said, “Oh,
but it’s okay. You can tell me. You see, not to be rude, but I don’t really care.” Hmm, that didn’t sound very customer-service oriented. “I mean, I have plans. Here. Tonight. I need to know—”

  “That’s what they all say,” she said. “But I can tell you are on the edge of your seat.”

  “No seriously,” I replied quickly. “I just need to know how long this thing is going to take. I—”

  “Suspense. It’s all about the suspense.”

  “Oh my God!” I suddenly shouted. “Just tell me why they’re here!”

  “You’re funny. And a little on edge,” she said looking at me with new interest. “We should talk more. Do you hunt in these here woods?” she asked putting on what I could only assume was a hillbilly accent that I did not appreciate at all. “Ashley hunts,” she said gesturing over to the perky girl.

  “Yeah. Hyenas. I got that.”

  “She’s all over social media, thanks to her mom. Ronnie’s a marketing wiz. Cheerleader taking down rhinos in short shorts with Jesus in her heart. It’s a bigger fetish category than you’d probably think.”

  “I don’t think. I mean—” I rubbed my forehead. Why? Why was this happening?

  “She’s not great for us though. Our viewers don’t really want to see Simba take a bullet.” She looked me up and down. “But survivalist stuff. Now that’s hot.”

  I shot her a look from under my hand that I now had clutching my temples.

  “How do you feel about bikinis?” she went on. “Oh! Or hunting in bikinis?”

  I threw my hand away from my face. “You know what? There’s a lamp in that room over there,” I said pointing to my bedroom. My old bedroom. Whatever. “Knock yourself out. I need to find my mom.”