Snowed In with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  I eased my way down the slick back steps. I could already see through the slats of the cooling vents that the power was on. That was good. I lifted the lid of the enclosure. Now I just needed to check the—

  I froze.

  No.

  I stepped closer.

  No. That couldn’t be right!

  I stared down at the tiny little computerized screen that was supposed to say Ready to Power, but instead blinked—

  Error.

  The wind gusted, sending my hair flying around my face.

  I pulled my hat out of my pocket and shoved it over my head. Okay, I just needed to stay calm here. I had obviously read it wrong. My eyes were a little watery. I blinked them a few times, then looked back down.

  Frick!

  I tapped the screen with my finger and waited a moment.

  Nope, tapping didn’t help.

  I angrily hopped up and down on the spot a few times … but that didn’t seem to help either.

  I mean, I knew how to fix our old portable gas generator … but this thing … this thing was complicated. And it had lots of tubes … and shiny bits … and wires. But none of that should have mattered because the machine was supposed to be completely reliable.

  I took another breath. It was time to handle this the way I would any other malfunctioning piece of computerized equipment.

  I would turn it off. Wait a moment. Then turn it back on.

  I reached out to flip the power switch when the wind gusted again, freezing my hand mid-air.

  Come on …

  I took a long breath in through my nose. I didn’t smell it before, what with the wind, but that last gust had sent an unmistakable stench right up into my face.

  Rotten eggs.

  Propane.

  Chapter Eleven

  I whipped my flashlight out and darted it around the inside of the generator. I couldn’t see anything, but …

  I leaned down, edging my head closer inside.

  I could definitely hear something.

  Hissing.

  No. No. NO!

  I clicked on my flashlight and aimed the beam of my torch on the spot where I thought I heard the leak. Given that it was probably a valve, I didn’t really expect to see anything.

  Except I did.

  My light caught a good-size nick in a thick piece of tubing.

  I took a step back from the generator and raised my flashlight in a defensive position as though it might attack. Then I realized that probably wouldn’t help me if the sucker blew up. I turned my body sideways and reached one finger out to quickly flip the power switch. Then I reached in even farther to turn the little knob that I thought led to the propane tank.

  I then jumped back again, and threw my hands into the air.

  I waited a moment, fully expecting to be blown apart, but when that didn’t happen, I stepped forward and cocked my head, bringing my ear slowly back toward the generator.

  No hissing.

  I let go of the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding and slapped my hands down my body a few times. Not exactly sure why I did that. They weren’t dirty. But that had somehow felt like a dirty job.

  I stood in front of the machine a few seconds, doing nothing, but blinking.

  Way down deep in my conscious, there was something stirring, something a little like panic, but I was putting a lot of effort into ignoring that something, because I really didn’t like what it was trying to say.

  Eventually, I gave into it a little bit and flicked my beam back on the tubing where I had seen the nick.

  Now, how the heck had that happened?

  I mean, I obviously didn’t know a lot about these machines, but it almost looked like …

  A deliberate cut.

  No, I thought, stepping away. Why would someone vandalize my mother’s generator? Nobody hated my mother. She was a beloved oddity in this town …

  … but maybe she wasn’t the target.

  I wiped some more wet snow from my face.

  Watch your back, Boobsie.

  No … couldn’t be.

  Jake? No.

  I had known him my entire life.

  Like I had known his cousin. The murderer.

  I gave my head a shake. This was crazy. Maybe I had inhaled too much propane. But suddenly I was feeling very unsure about everything. My eyes flicked back to the retreat. No. No way. Unh-uh. This was … it was just the storm getting to me. Everything was fine. I was just stressed and tired … and getting really, really hungry.

  Still …

  All the more reason for us to get out of here.

  The wind gusted again, strong enough to nearly make me lose my footing on the slippery ground.

  Well, no sense staying out here staring at a broken generator. I turned slowly away from the machine back toward the lodge, every muscle in my back tight. I rolled my shoulders a few times and took a careful step onto the slick stairs of the back porch.

  Bad tubing. That’s all.

  Maybe I could duct tape it? Didn’t duct tape fix everything?

  No. Better not. It was fine. The lodge had the fireplace and lots of lanterns. I’d be fine.

  I shuffled back around to the front door. I mean, I would for sure get Grady to have a look at it the next time he was over—if he ever came over again—but in the meantime, I needed to focus on the real threat. The sun was going down fast, and the last bit of daylight was almost gone. If we were going to leave, it had to be now.

  Hopefully, that little power-outage scare and my yelling had been enough to motivate the group to get ready. Julie wouldn’t be able to film in the dark anyway. I reached for the door. If they still didn’t want to leave, maybe I could scare them with the whole propane-leak thing. I mean, I didn’t think it was a danger now, but they didn’t need to know that. Whatever it would take. Playtime was over. We needed to go before something really went wrong.

  I stepped inside, pulled off my hat and gave it a shake. “So is—” I cut myself off before I even knew the reason why.

  It was quiet.

  This was not a quiet group.

  I looked around, trying to meet someone’s gaze, but they were all on their feet staring at the harvest table.

  I took a few careful steps toward them. All my senses on alert. “What’s going on?”

  Julie looked at me, face sick.

  “He’s dead. Rayner’s dead.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Julie stepped aside, just far enough for me to see Rayner collapsed over the table. Chuck stood over him, hand at his neck.

  “Are you sure?” Ronnie asked.

  “I think so. There’s no pulse,” the lawyer said, snatching his fingers away. “And I took this course one time, and they said if there’s no pulse it means, you know, he’s probably dead.”

  “No way,” Brody said, stepping back, pulling a chair in front of him. “No way, man. This has gotta be some kind of … Wait! She did it! For the show!”

  All eyes snapped to Julie who was shaking her head so quickly it almost looked like a shudder. “It’s not. It wasn’t. I swear.”

  “Then he’s faking,” Brody yelled, looking back to the man slumped over the table. “To make us talk.” Suddenly, he leaned around the chair and struck out his foot, heel connecting with his grandfather’s seat.

  The body tipped over ever so slowly then thumped onto the floor.

  A bunch of us screamed as Ronnie jumped back into her daughter, sending them both tumbling into a heap. Brody threw himself back against the wall, looking horrified by what he had done.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “Has anyone tried CPR?”

  That killed some of the noise. The question got me a lot of looks but no answers.

  I pushed my way around the end of the table through the scattered chairs toward the fireplace, but Chuck side-shuffled into my path. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that,” he said, pinning his lips together.

  “Why not?”

  “My uncle, I mean, clien
t, had a Do Not Resuscitate order. Heart condition.”

  “But—”

  “Besides,” he said, tapping his wristwatch frantically, “it’s been over six minutes. Brain death has already occurred. They said that too. In my course.”

  I looked around for confirmation. Julie was the only one to say anything. “Yeah, he’s right. It’s been at least six minutes.”

  “You’re going to need to move now,” I said looking back at Chuck. “I want to check for myself.”

  “Sure. Sure. Good idea.” He skittered around me to stand back beside the wall, his hands in the air.

  I kept my eye on him as I moved past. For some strange reason, I wasn’t quite ready to look down yet.

  Come on, Erica. You can do this.

  I stopped walking after a few more steps. I had arrived at the body. Ha! You have arrived. Just like Freddie’s GPS. Funny the things you think about when you’re totally freaked o—Focus, Erica. I took a breath and clenched my fists. This was silly. I couldn’t exactly check for a pulse without looking. Right, so, time to just woman up and do this thi—

  My eyes dropped down to the body lying on the floor, still in a seated position … just a tipped-over one.

  Oh boy.

  Despite all of my experience with murder as of late, I had never actually touched a dead body.

  My eyes shot up to the ceiling. Why had I thought this was a good idea? Chuck knew what he was doing. He had taken a course. I looked around to the others. They were all looking back at me. Waiting. Okay, time was a wasting. Brain death time. I pulled my hair back and twisted it behind my neck. It was fine. All I had to do was put my fingers on his neck and—

  “He’s not getting any deader,” Ronnie snapped.

  I jolted. Right.

  I quickly dropped to my knees, and I carefully put my fingers on the man’s still warm neck. Nothing in that spot. I tilted my head to look at the ceiling and slid my fingers a little more toward his throat. Nope. Nothing there either. I slid them a little higher—

  “What are you doing down there?” Ronnie asked.

  “I just want to be sure.”

  But I already was.

  “Is he dead or not?”

  He was dead. Like really, really, dead.

  I shook my head and leaned back on my heels. “Pass me that blanket,” I said, pointing back at the afghan draped over the top one of the sofas. Chuck hurried to retrieve it, stumbling over the corner of the hearth. I laid it gently over Rayner’s body before rising to my feet. This … this couldn’t be happening. I brought a hand to my cheek. This night … these people … I couldn’t remember the last time everything felt normal. At the sheriff’s department? Talking with Matthew? This was just—

  “We all need to calm down.”

  Who said that?

  Oh. Me, again.

  Good thing somebody knew what to do.

  But funny thing was, I really didn’t need to tell everyone to calm down because everybody was already pretty calm. Nobody was upset. Nobody was crying. Everybody was just quiet. Shock, I guess. Either that or nobody really liked Rayner. My eyes moved to the teenage boy, Kyle, standing at the end of the table. It was hard to say what he was feeling. His face was still. Good thing this family had money for therapy.

  “What happened?” I asked, looking round the room again.

  “He just clutched his chest,” Ashley said, putting a hand to her furry vest. “He was … he couldn’t breathe. Then he just collapsed. Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly, throwing her a look that was completely wasted. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are all going to sit back down and—”

  “By the body?” Ronnie shrieked.

  “What? No! I don’t know. Find another seat,” I said, waving to the couch. “Or, actually, don’t sit! Get your stuff. Who has the keys to the boat docked outside?”

  The security guard raised his massive hand.

  “Get her fired up.” I gave myself a pat down trying to find my phone. “I’ll call the police. Then we go.”

  Nobody moved.

  “Do it!”

  I gave my fingers a shake in the air then pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket and took a step backward toward the gloom of the kitchen. I needed privacy. It seemed rude to have the group overhear me tell the authorities how crazy I thought they all were.

  I tried calling Grady first, but there was no answer, so I tried the station next. As the phone rang, the lights flickered once again in the living room. Great. That’s what this situation needed. Darkness. I blew out a shaky breath. I really should have pulled the lanterns out already.

  “Come on. Come on,” I muttered into the still-ringing phone.

  “Otter Lake Sherriff’s Dep—”

  “Rhonda! Thank God!”

  “Well, well, well, look’s who’s ready to apolog—”

  “No. Rhonda, listen to me. There’s no time for that. I’m at the retreat and—”

  “Oh! That’s right. I forgot. Erica Bloom apologizes to no man.”

  I hustled over to the back corner of the kitchen, where the others wouldn’t be able to see me. “Rhonda, seriously. I’ve got a situation here. I—”

  “Regular old heartbreaker, aren’t you? I bet—”

  “Dead body, Rhonda! Dead body at the retreat!”

  A half-second of silence passed before she said, “Say what now?”

  I shook my head frantically … at nobody. “Dead body at the retreat.”

  “Really?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “Again? Man, they don’t call you Erica Doom for nothing.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  She paused a moment. “You’ve never heard that before? Forget I said anything. What do we got?”

  I hurriedly filled Rhonda in on Rayner’s keeling over, but before I could get to any of the other details, she cut in with, “Okay, well, it sounds like a heart attack. We’ll get out there as soon as we can, but I gotta be honest with you, Erica. Everybody’s already out on calls. Grady’s over at Honey Harbor. There’s some missing kids on the water. So it may be a while before we can get anyone out to you.”

  “That’s fine,” I said quickly. “We’re leaving now. I won’t lock the door.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.”

  An icy-cold sensation rushed down my body. “What? What’s the problem?”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  I knew. I already knew what she was going to say, but—

  “Sorry, Doom, it’s too dangerous. You’re stuck on the island until the storm passes over.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Rhonda, this is so not what I want to be hearing from you right now,” I said giving my phone an angry stare.

  “Look, I get that it’s not”—she paused for a moment—“pleasant, but, come on, it’s not like it’s your first body. Why are you so freaked out?”

  “It’s just that it’s been a really weird day. There was a lot of stuff that led up to the death. Like family drama stuff.” I pinched my lips together and looked up at the darkened ceiling. I didn’t know where to start. I peeked back into the living room, then darted right back. Yup, they were all looking at me again. I dropped my voice. “I don’t even know how much of it was real. Then there’s the whole thing with the generator and—”

  “What thing with the generator?”

  The kitchen window suddenly shook in the wind. “It’s probably nothing.” I launched into what I had found out back—the propane leak, the nicked tubing—and what Jake Day had said about watching my back. I then finished where I started, with, “So, I mean, like I said, it’s probably nothing.”

  A moment of silence passed before Rhonda hissed, “Holy crap, Erica!”

  “What?”

  “That’s really freaking creepy,” she said almost in a whisper. “A dead body and a sabotaged generator! I just saw this movie last week where there was this killer who cut the power to a cabin before cr
eeping inside with his big hunting knife and—”

  “Rhonda!”

  “Okay, okay, sorry. Calm down,” she said almost more to herself than me. She then found her normal volume of voice and said, “You’re right. It’s probably nothing, although it does kind of seem like—”

  “Still not helping.”

  “Right. Right. You’re right,” she said. “I mean, it’s creepy, but probably nothing. And the old guy who died probably did just have a heart attack. Family drama is pretty upsetting. I mean it’s not like there was anything else suspicious about—”

  “Well…”

  “Doom?”

  “It’s just that before he died, he did kind of accuse his family of trying to kill him, but—Rhonda?” I thought I heard the phone drop on the other end. “Rhonda?”

  A moment later, after some fumbling noises, she said, “I’m going to need to ask you a few questions.”

  “No, Rhonda, listen—”

  “Okay,” she snapped in her most authoritative voice. “Is anybody else at the lodge currently being murdered?”

  “What? No! Nobody is currently being murdered.” I peeked back into the living room just to be sure, and they were all still looking at me. “No.”

  “Good. Good,” she said. “And for the record, next time we have one of these calls, why don’t you lead with the victim suspecting he’s about to be murdered?!”

  I gripped my forehead with my hand. “I don’t know if he really thought he was going to be murdered, or if it was just like for the show.”

  “What show?”

  Oh boy. I shook my head and told her everything I could in the shortest amount of time.

  “Wow” was all she said when I was through.

  “I know.”

  “I love The Real MILF Diaries. Cassandra’s always throwing fits about—”

  “Rhonda!” I snapped, chopping the air with my hand. “I can’t … can we please just focus?”

  “Right. Of course.”

  “So as I was saying, because they’re all working on this new show, I don’t know how much of this drama is—was—scripted.” I wrapped my free arm around myself. I was suddenly feeling a little cold.