“Report what?” Kalin asked.
The officer gave her a quick update.
“He does need to report this. Monica, can I see you for a moment?” Kalin turned without saying more. Monica looked wide eyed at Ian. “Sorry,” he mouthed at her. She frowned and followed Kalin.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Early the next morning, Kalin hesitated at Reed’s office door. Her eyes perused the photos of Reed’s son that plastered his walls. The theme: ski racing. The pictures catalogued Ian’s skiing accomplishments.
She cleared her throat to get Reed’s attention. “You wanted to see me?”
“Come in.” He motioned to an empty chair. “I’m not happy.”
Kalin lowered herself, placed her phone on the table and asked, “With me?” Crap. He’d heard about Monica being on top of the lift station. She’d convinced him Monica was the right person to be the HR manager. At least Ian had been with her. If he reprimanded Monica, he’d have to do the same with Ian.
“I know you’re new at this, but it’s your responsibility to ensure our premises are secure.”
Kalin didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. She assumed he meant new at being a director. Less than a year ago, Kalin had relocated to Stone Mountain with the intention of staying a year. By the end of the winter, she’d fallen in love with Stone Mountain, with her job and, best of all, with Ben. Now, she couldn’t imagine leaving.
“That doesn’t just mean making sure the doors are locked, although that’s important. It also means keeping people under control.”
Still hoping he wasn’t talking about Monica, she played dumb. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
He slapped the Calgary Herald on the table. The paper was open to the sports section. Kalin read the headline he’d highlighted. Stone Mountain Run Injection Causes Death. Reed gave her a moment to read the article, which wasn’t as damaging as the heading. A newspaper story wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Maybe he hadn’t heard about Monica and Ian.
“I understand the media was at the lift yesterday, and you let security officers handle the situation.”
Kalin nodded, and a lump wedged in her throat.
“You have certain responsibilities as a director. You cannot allow junior staff to give statements to the media. Yesterday, you should have taken control of the situation and spoken to the reporters yourself. If you didn’t feel comfortable making a statement, then you should have brought them to me or to public relations, but you should not have let them wander around talking to anyone they wanted.”
Kalin had been a director for four days and wondered if she’d made a mistake accepting the promotion. Reed expected her to be an expert at everything already. “I’m sorry. Security was escorting the journalists away from the lift. I thought it would be okay.”
“But you didn’t stick around to make sure.”
“I hadn’t realized they would write something that damaging.”
“The paper is wrong. Dangerous conditions didn’t cause McKenzie’s fall. The RCMP confirmed someone sabotaged his equipment.”
Kalin took in the implications of his statement and asked, “Someone murdered him?”
“Yes.”
She understood why Miller had dragged her into the office last night to get Nora’s file. His story about trying to prevent gossip was bullshit. He must have already known McKenzie was murdered, and he suspected Nora. She wasn’t sure how Reed would feel about her giving Miller access to an employee file and decided not to tell him. “Do they know who did it?”
“No. Not yet anyway.”
“It’s hard to believe. Who would want to kill a ski racer?”
“I have no idea,” Reed said, sounding impatient.
“Does the RCMP think it’s one of the racers?”
“They haven’t said. Do you think it’s one of the racers?”
“I don’t know. Who knows about this?”
“The coaches all know. They’ve been asked to tell their teams, but to try to keep everyone from talking about it.”
“That’s impossible.” Kalin couldn’t believe she hadn’t already heard about the RCMP’s declaration. The news would spread like a virus from one mouth to the next. This was too big a story. Monica probably knew, but she’d been hiding from Kalin all morning.
“I agree, but instruct your team to only talk among themselves.”
“What happens now?” Kalin asked.
“What do you mean?”
Kalin’s thin knit sweater felt unbearably warm, and her skin prickled. “Will race training be cancelled?”
“The teams want to continue training. The RCMP agrees it’s best. They need time to investigate. Without training, the skiers will leave the area.”
“Don’t McKenzie’s teammates need time to grieve?”
“I’m sure they do, but not one of them wants to miss any training. Their careers are on the line. Jenkinson cancelled training for the day of McKenzie’s funeral. This is a lot to take in, but I need you to focus. I expected the skiers’ equipment to be secure. You need to work on that,” Reed said.
“I need some time to come up with a plan. I haven’t been involved with the race training.” Lame. Definitely lame.
“I understand, but I want to make sure you’re clear on your responsibilities going forward.”
Kalin nodded even though she was anything but clear. “Do you know how his equipment was sabotaged?”
Reed tapped his pen on the table’s surface and sounded as if he was practicing his speech for reporters. “The RCMP hired an independent expert who examined the binding. The outer cover was removed. The internal mechanism that sets the DIN was fixed to a low setting and then the cover was put back on. Whoever did this knew how to set the DIN low enough that the binding would release when McKenzie was skiing, but not so low that it would release before he picked up speed.”
“Didn’t the murderer take a chance McKenzie would notice the setting was wrong?”
“The indicator on the outer display was glued to his normal setting. If McKenzie checked the display, he would have seen the needle set to the correct number. We know his bindings were tampered with. What we don’t know is how someone accessed the tuning room or his skis. I want you to find out how that happened before the RCMP figure it out.”
“I’m not really—”
“You have an experienced security team at your disposal. Use them.”
“Okay.” She wished she’d started out better with the security team. Fred wasn’t openly hostile, but he wasn’t going out of his way to help her either. She’d have to work harder at gaining his trust but wasn’t sure how. Luckily, she’d supported security at the lift and taken the officer’s side over Monica’s. She hadn’t pressured him to look the other way. She couldn’t afford another divide between herself and the security team.
“I also want you to make sure the tuning room can’t be accessed by someone without the authority to do so.”
She’d come to the meeting thinking the worst thing was if Reed had found out about a party on the lift station. She never imagined they’d be talking about murder.
CHAPTER TWELVE
How am I supposed to do what Reed wants? During the ten minutes Kalin loitered in the entryway of the tuning room, she counted twenty-five people who entered or exited and only recognized a few of them. The room took up three quarters of the ground floor. A foyer lay between the tuning room and the stairs to the first floor. To access the foyer a person either had to use the exterior door to the administration building or the stairs from the second floor where her office was located.
Files scraping metal buzzed through the room, and the odor of melted wax accosted her. Four teams used the large space. The tuners, engrossed in their task, didn’t pay attention to the other teams. None of them noticed Kalin examining them. It was unnerving that every person she evaluated could be the one who killed McKenzie. Anyone could enter or exit the room during operating hours without drawing
attention to themselves.
Kalin wandered through the room, trying to appear casual. She caught snippets of conversations, but the voices lowered as she neared.
Donny Morley sat in a wheelchair while he tuned a ski, and Kalin’s breath caught. The way his head tilted to one side as he concentrated and the way his blond bangs drooped across his forehead reminded Kalin of her late husband, Jack. She’d never noticed the similarity before. The last time she’d seen Jack, his head had been tilted at just the same angle as he oiled the chain on his bike. Two blocks from their apartment, a car hit him and didn’t stop. The police never found out who killed him. Experience told her the cops might not find out who killed McKenzie either.
Monica sidled up to Kalin, jolting her out of her memories. “Hey.”
Kalin kept her eyes on the tuning room and her voice civil. “I wondered when you were going to talk to me.”
“I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Here’s the thing. I convinced Reed you were ready for this position. I can’t have you getting into trouble on resort property even if you were off duty.”
“I know. It won’t happen again. Did Reed say anything?”
“I think you got lucky. He’s distracted right now. Maybe he won’t read the security reports today. You put me in an awkward position. Sticking me right between security and HR, and making me choose.” If Constable Miller hadn’t called Kalin and asked her to meet him, she never would have seen Monica and her gang on her way home, and maybe security wouldn’t have reported the incident since Ian was Reed’s son.
“I’m really sorry. Thank you for not telling Reed. I heard McKenzie—”
“Now is not the time. I’ve got too much to do.”
Monica blushed. “Okay. I’ll be at my desk.” She turned and bolted for the stairs.
Kalin recognized Charlie Whittle, head tuner for the Holden team, and stopped at his station. In his late forties, he’d kept half of his red hair. Freckles dotted the other half of his head, and a birthmark in the shape of a scythe lay above his left temple.
He glanced at her. “Can I help you?”
She introduced herself as the new head of security. “I’ve been asked to secure the tuning room and would like to get your ideas on how best to do that.”
“You’re taking over Tom’s job?”
“I am.”
“Tom was a good man. Do you mind if I work while we talk? I’ve four more sets of skis to tune before I can go home. My wife gets annoyed when I’m late.” He shrugged as if apologizing for her.
“Not at all. Do you live in Holden or up at the resort?”
Charlie ran a file along the side of a ski and tested the results with his palm. Apparently not satisfied, he slid the file again. “Holden, when I’m not traveling with the team.”
“What time do you usually finish work?”
“By seven. Although it could be later if one of the skiers did serious damage to their skis.”
Kalin canted her head in the direction of the tuners. “Do the others finish at the same time?”
“It depends on how many skiers had runs, how many runs and how hard they were on their skis.”
“Any idea how often someone would be here after seven?”
“Not a clue.”
“Who locks up at the end of the night?”
“The last person to leave. There’s really no security if that’s what you’re getting at. We’ve never had a problem before. Just the techs, skiers and coaches enter this room. No one else has a reason to be here.”
Except the person who killed McKenzie. “Would you notice if someone, who didn’t belong, was in here?”
“Maybe not.” He scratched his beard with his fingernails. “I’d probably notice if someone was tuning skis who shouldn’t be.”
“Is the equipment left here overnight?”
“Sometimes. That depends on where the team is from. Some of the locals like to take their skis home at night. The racers aren’t supposed to take skis to their hotel rooms but some do anyway.”
“Did McKenzie keep his skis here?”
“He had the spot in the corner.”
Kalin looked in the direction Charlie pointed. McKenzie’s ski jacket still hung where he’d left it on the day he died. “I think we should limit access to the room and have a lockup procedure. I’d like to put a plan together and run it by you before I show it to the rest of the group. Would you mind helping?”
“Not at all. Everyone’s in a bit of shock right now, and anything we can do to settle them will help.”
“I’ll get back to you.” It occurred to Kalin that Charlie could be the guilty one, just as well as anyone else in the room, but she needed his help if she wanted the others to support a new process. She’d have to risk his involvement. But right now, her stomach demanded attention. Time for lunch.
* * *
Kalin’s stomach growled. The walk from the tuning room to the cafeteria took her five minutes and by the time she arrived, her throat ached from the cold. She didn’t have time to be sick. Food! She needed food to keep her healthy. She breathed through her nose and her nostrils stuck together. The Farmer’s Almanac had predicted a cold winter in British Columbia and, so far, the weather supported the forecast.
Kalin reached the cafeteria and stomped on the metal grate, clearing snow from her boots and waiting for the sliding glass doors to open automatically. She entered and let warm air breeze over her cheeks. Cedar timbers stretched across the vaulted ceiling. The walls, constructed of glass from floor to ceiling, displayed a spectacular view of the ski hill. Skiers and employees crowded the room. Cutlery clinked, talking mixed into a blur of voices, and equipment scraped over tile. The sounds of life.
A mixture of aromas—cooked pasta, grilled meat and something sweet—drew Kalin to the buffet. Dishes heavy on carbohydrates and protein covered the table and most racers helped themselves to large portions. Kalin took a small square of lasagna and grabbed a side salad. She spotted Ben sitting at a corner table with two other ski patrollers. He may be an inch shorter than she was, but he was still the hottest guy in the room. He waved her over.
Ben shifted his chair, making room for Kalin, and stood when she arrived, taking her tray and placing it on the table. She sat, and Ben reached over and pulled her clip from the back of her head. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders. “Way sexier.”
She glanced sideways at him, and he pressed his thigh tight against hers.
“It’s cold out.” Kalin rubbed her hands together and then wrapped her fingers around her mug of tea. She didn’t want the others to know why her cheeks had gone red. “You guys getting enough breaks to warm up?”
All three patrollers laughed.
“She never takes off her HR hat. If the racers can take the cold in their polyester race suits, I think we can stand it,” Ben said.
“I know. You people are tough. What’s the talk about McKenzie?”
“There’s a rumor circulating that he was murdered and his bindings were damaged on purpose. Have you heard anything?” Ben bit into his burger and sighed.
Racers’ skis, duffle bags and poles were haphazardly spread on the tiles. Melted snow created a sea of puddles. The skis that weren’t on the floor were leaning against the wall outside the cafeteria entrance. No one paid attention to the equipment, which begged the question of how often McKenzie had left his gear unattended. She didn’t want to talk in front of the other patrollers, so she didn’t answer Ben. Instead, she waved her hand in the direction of the gear. “If it’s true, why isn’t anyone worried about the safety of their own equipment?”
Ben raised one eyebrow. “Do you think they should be?”
She shrugged. “Who’s being gossiped about?”
“Just who you’d expect. Other team members or competing teams. Someone who wanted McKenzie off the circuit. And obviously Donny Morley.”
* * *
Jeff Morley sat in his truck and
turned the heat to high. He’d had a good training session, but now his quads ached. He’d looked for Donny before heading home, but couldn’t find him. He’d have to catch a ride with someone else.
His cell rang, and he checked the display before answering. “Hi, Aunt Lisa.”
“Have you talked to Nora today?”
Jeff used to talk to Nora every day until McKenzie stole her away. Even after they broke up, they still spoke. The car accident had brought them closer, as friends Nora liked to say. Unfortunately, the crash had brought her closer to McKenzie too. He didn’t get it. “I’ve been training all morning.”
“I’m worried about her. She says she’s fine, but…”
He understood his aunt’s anxiety. She lost her daughter, and Jeff suspected she felt guilty about not preventing Rachel’s death. Nora was the only daughter, even if she was adopted, Aunt Lisa had left. “I’ll call her.”
“That would be good but don’t pressure her. Just be her friend.”
“I am her friend. Don’t worry.”
“I need you to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s okay.”
Jeff couldn’t count the number of times he’d wanted to bash in McKenzie’s head. He didn’t know what Nora had seen in him. His initial euphoria over McKenzie’s death had diminished. He’d wanted the guy out of Nora’s life. Not dead. Well, he was certainly out of her life now, and Jeff intended to take advantage of his absence.
The passenger door opened, and Vicky Hamilton’s sweet perfume entered before she slid in.
Now here’s a pretty face. “I saw you were back. Nice try at the lift with Ben.”
Vicky pushed her jacket hood onto her shoulders, and the fur trim of the hood blended with her blonde hair. “Shut up.”
“How come you left Whistler?”
“That didn’t work out.”
Jeff chuckled. “I heard. So did everyone else here. I guess sleeping with your boss at work wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had. Is it true his wife fired you?”
“Really, shut up. So what do you know about this Kalin chick?”
Descent (A Stone Mountain Mystery Book 1) Page 8
