Charlotte Pass

by Lee Christine

  ‘Yes, it is. Oh, one other thing. Did you know that Celia had a relationship with—’ Ryder made a show of looking through the file, long enough to make Miller sweat ‘—Gary Bennett.’ He looked up. ‘He’s your guitarist, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘And, no, I didn’t know.’

  ‘I wondered if he might be the man Celia told you about, the one you thought she might have invented to make you jealous?’

  Miller raised both hands, exasperation written all over his face. ‘I have no idea. You know more about it than me.’

  Ryder studied the man’s face, which looked to have aged ten years since he walked in the door. ‘Okay, I think that’s all for now.’

  He called Benson over. ‘Detective, accompany Mr Miller to the inn, and bring Aidan Smythe back with you.’ He spoke to Miller again. ‘Please don’t mention to Mr Smythe what we’ve been discussing.’

  Shortly after Benson left with Miller, Henry and Di Gordon arrived.

  ‘Detective Ryder,’ Di started talking before she’d even reached him. Henry skulked along behind, clearly happy to let her do the talking. ‘Have you found Bruno?’

  Ryder finished straightening his papers before looking up. ‘We have.’

  Di’s pencilled eyebrows shot up. ‘So, that means we can re-open the resort?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Gordon. Mr Lombardi hasn’t been charged with any offence yet.’

  The woman’s expression changed from hopeful to crestfallen. ‘Detective, we run this place on a very small margin. We can’t afford this.’

  ‘You can’t afford another murder.’

  At this point, Henry emerged from behind his wife’s skirts. ‘Bruno took off this morning. Doesn’t that tell you he’s guilty?’

  ‘No. Our investigations are ongoing.’

  The husband-and-wife team looked at each other aghast, as though their future lay in the hands of an incompetent police force.

  ‘Before you go, tell me something, Henry,’ said Ryder. ‘Do you still ski?’

  Di blinked.

  Henry’s eyes bored into his. ‘Sometimes, if it’s a quiet week. I’m a fair-weather skier. We’re here all winter. No need for me to venture outside when the weather’s bad.’

  It was the first time Henry had volunteered anything without being probed.

  ‘Did either of you leave your quarters last night?’

  ‘Of course we didn’t,’ snapped Di. ‘Heavens above. We came up here to find out if we could open the resort, not to be interrogated.’

  Ryder nodded. ‘Thank you for answering my questions. Oh, and before I forget, I appreciate you turning my makeshift office back into a second bedroom. We need it at the moment.’

  His sudden thanks flustered Di, and she opened her mouth then snapped it shut. In the end, she gave a brief nod and hurried after her husband.

  Ryder watched them go, wishing he could dredge up more sympathy for them. He didn’t underestimate how difficult their position was, having to deal with demanding guests and the police crawling all over their property, but their pure self-interest and lack of empathy festered beneath his skin. No matter how hard he tried, he was always left with the feeling that they couldn’t be trusted.

  ‘Good evening, Detective.’ Aidan Smythe folded his elegant frame into the chair opposite Ryder. ‘I hope this won’t take too long. I have a top-shelf oaky Chardonnay waiting for me in the bar.’

  Ryder smiled a little. From the slight slur in Smythe’s voice he guessed he was already well on the way. Not that it bothered Ryder. Alcohol loosened the tongue.

  ‘Shouldn’t keep you too long,’ he said, taking the cigarette case from where it lay under some papers on his desk. ‘This was found on Celia Delaney’s body,’ he said, holding it up for Smythe to see. ‘Nigel Miller said it was a gift from you.’

  Smythe peered at the silver case then looked up at Ryder. ‘Yes, it was.’

  Ryder frowned. ‘Why would you give another man’s wife such an extravagant gift?’

  Smythe chuckled. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Detective, but I didn’t buy it. Before I went to Europe, I spent some time in the US. I was an up-and-comer, transitioning from juniors to seniors. You might find it hard to believe, but I was young and good-looking back then.’

  Ryder smiled. Smythe was likeable, personable, and Ryder could imagine him being very marketable back in the sixties. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I wasn’t a big name, so I was pretty flattered when Tiffany offered to sponsor me. The exposure in the glossy magazines definitely lifted my profile.’ He pointed to the cigarette case. ‘I was paid with women’s trinkets, to the amusement of my rivals. Most of them were sponsored by the big-name ski brands. I was given about five of those cigarette cases during the course of our business relationship. I gave one to Celia, and I think I gave one to Di as well. I remember handing them out. The girls loved them.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Frustrated, Ryder leaned back in the chair, thinking about the glossy magazine advertisements he’d studied in Bruno’s scrapbook. So much for his hunch that the cigarette case might point to the identity of Celia Delaney’s mystery lover.

  Ryder changed tack. ‘During the course of our investigations we’ve learned that at around four-thirty on the day Celia Delaney went missing, a ski patroller instructed the liftie who was working at bottom station to put the chain across and go inside. Can you remember the names of the ski patrollers who were working here back then?’

  Smythe gave Ryder a doubtful look. ‘That’s a difficult one. The ski-patrol industry wasn’t formalised in those days.’

  The unexpected reply took Ryder by surprise. ‘It wasn’t?’

  ‘No. Anyone could be added to the ski-patrol roster—anyone who was good enough, that is. I remember the village doctor doing it a lot. Then later on, when the industry became regulated, they got specialised training and uniforms and the like.’

  Ryder digested the information with a sinking heart. ‘You’re sure about that?’ he asked. ‘The patrollers worked on a voluntary basis?’

  ‘Yes.’ Smythe gave him a puzzled look. ‘I’m certain.’

  Bruno had been adamant it was a ski patroller who had told him to close the lift. It was all there in Lewicki’s notes from 1964. And Burt Crofts was supposedly looking through old slides in Jindabyne in the hope of finding out which patroller had been on duty at the time.

  Conscious of Aidan Smythe’s inquisitive gaze, Ryder put down his pen. ‘Tell me about the troubled chairlift.’

  Smythe folded his arms. ‘We could be here all night talking about that, Detective. The old chairlift,’ he mused. ‘Well, it was most famous for breaking down, and it was downright dangerous to ride on. To be honest, that whole weekend is a bit of a blur. It was the final weekend in what was a thirty-day blizzard. All season we were rescuing people off that chairlift and, when we weren’t doing that, we were repairing it or retrieving luggage that had fallen off and carting the bags into the village. It was a bloody nightmare. I was due to go overseas a few weeks later to compete. The end couldn’t come quick enough for me. All I wanted was to finish up and get the hell out of this place.’

  So had Celia Delaney.

  Ryder smiled and stood up. ‘You could be leaving with the same feeling this time.’ He held out his hand and Aidan Smythe gripped it in a firm handshake. ‘Thanks for coming in.’

  ‘No problem. The sooner you make an arrest, Detective, the better it will be for everyone.’

  Twenty-nine

  Vanessa stirred and stretched beneath the bedclothes, semi-aware of hushed voices deep in conversation.

  A glass pane rattled.

  She sat up, her gaze darting from one indistinguishable shadow to the next. She was in Ryder’s room at the inn. The voices she could hear were his and Lewicki’s, coming from the lounge room. Outside, the wind had picked up. It blew through the pass with a ghostly wail, forcing freezing air through the gaps in the windows and chasing away her fleeting sense of safety.

&nbs
p; Vanessa padded across the room, the luminous hands on her watch glowing ten to midnight. She hesitated at the door to pull a hoodie over the top of her flannelette pyjamas.

  ‘There were several Tiffany advertisements in the scrapbook,’ Ryder was saying, ‘so all that adds up.’

  ‘And Bruno’s not talking?’

  ‘Not so far. He’s right about those wire ties, too. It’ll be hard to prove he was the one who left them on the grave.’

  ‘Might come down to DNA evidence.’

  ‘I’m not hopeful. Long Bay’s an old building. God knows what they’ll find in there.’

  ‘What about the rental gear?’

  ‘Depends when they were last cleaned. They don’t launder them after every use, apparently. We’ve got Harriet working around the clock.’

  There was a pause in the conversation, and Vanessa shivered, wondering what Tiffany had to do with anything, and who’s scrapbook they were talking about. She pulled the hoodie closer around her. The building’s central heating was set to low during the night; at this hour, guests were expected to be snuggled up cosy and warm in bed.

  ‘I’ve got Benson chasing Burt Crofts,’ said Ryder.

  ‘You think he’s the other person involved?’

  Another pause; Vanessa could picture Ryder shrugging or nodding. Then, ‘Did you know patrollers were voluntary back in the sixties?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘According to Smythe they were.’

  ‘It’s news to me,’ said Lewicki.

  Another pause.

  ‘I was banking on Crofts.’ Vanessa moved closer to the door as Ryder went on. ‘I was hoping he’d find the old slides so we could narrow it down to one or two people then put the pressure on Bruno. But if the roster was voluntary, it could be anyone.’

  ‘The village was a lot smaller back then, though, and Crofts might still come through.’

  ‘Or Harriet. We’re going into the second day of lockdown. The media frenzy will only build from here.’

  ‘Just ignore that shit.’

  ‘I’m going hard on Bruno tomorrow,’ Ryder said on a yawn. ‘Whatever part he played, I’m certain he’s the key to all this.’

  There was the sound of bodies moving as though the men had stood up.

  ‘Get some sleep, Lew. You’re too old for this.’

  ‘Fuck off. I’m not going anywhere, not when we have a second chance to solve the Delaney case.’

  ‘And Libby’s,’ added Ryder.

  The suite door opened, and their voices receded as though they’d moved out into the corridor. A minute later, there was a soft click followed by the sound of Ryder turning the bolts.

  Vanessa was halfway back to the bed when a knock came at her door. She froze, a pulse fluttering in her neck.

  ‘Vanessa?’ he said quietly. ‘It’s me. Lew’s gone back to his room to get some sleep while I’m here.’

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered, spinning around. ‘How did you know I was awake?’ she asked, opening the door. ‘You must have the hearing of a—’ She caught her breath at the sight of him. He was close, one hand propped against the doorframe, the other resting nonchalantly on his hip. Dark haired, dishevelled and totally distracting. The top button of his white shirt was undone. His tie, the one that had been blown over his shoulder when he’d first walked into the kids’ club almost a week ago, was unknotted and hung loosely around his neck—as though he’d been about to slide it out from under his collar.

  ‘You were saying?’ he asked.

  ‘Huh?’

  He pushed himself off the doorframe and straightened up. ‘Something about my hearing …’

  ‘Oh, a canine.’

  He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘I heard the bed creak when you got up. Go ahead if you need to use the bathroom. I can wait to have a shower.’

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t need the bathroom,’ she said, trying not to think of him naked in the shower. ‘I woke up when I heard you talking.’

  ‘Lew said you’ve decided to go home tomorrow?’ he asked, his eyes searching her face.

  ‘Not to the farm. I’m going to Eva’s lodge. I can lie low there, and help her with Poppy. When all this is over, I can decide whether or not I want to come back here.’

  He turned his head and looked towards the windows, though there was nothing but blackness outside. ‘You’re doing the right thing.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, though her words belied the hollowness in her chest. ‘Lew’s trying to hide it, but he’s desperate to be more involved in the case. And you can better utilise the people you have on the door here, too.’

  ‘Sure.’ He brought his gaze back to her face. ‘I’m heading to Monaro at first light. Lew will arrange for a chopper to fly you to Thredbo. An unmarked car will take you to your sister’s lodge. I can’t give you a flight time yet; it depends on the weather. But we’ll get you there.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Unsure if this was ‘goodbye for now’ or ‘goodbye forever’, Vanessa searched her mind for the right words, but they escaped her. She stared at the carpet.

  ‘Well,’ she said eventually, taking a step towards him. ‘Take care, Pierce, and thank you for looking after me.’ With luck, there would be a prolonged court case sometime, and he’d need her as a witness. Or would he delegate that work to Flowers, while she glimpsed him from afar?

  She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his warm cheek, closing her eyes and breathing him in for a few precious seconds. He went to return her kiss, the roughened texture of his jaw scraping her cheek and sending spikes of pleasure rolling through her body. His lips caught the corner of her mouth, lingering there for a long moment.

  Vanessa didn’t move—didn’t open her eyes—didn’t dare break the moment.

  ‘Look after yourself,’ he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

  She nodded.

  Seconds ticked by.

  Neither of them pulled away, and from the rise and fall of Ryder’s chest she guessed his heart was racing along with hers. Then, ever so slowly, ever so teasingly, he slid warm, firm lips across hers.

  ‘Stay with me,’ she whispered, breaking away before he could deepen the kiss. Gripped by a profound longing, she stepped backwards towards the bed, ridding herself of the hoodie in the process. ‘I want to leave Charlotte Pass,’ she said huskily, watching as he pulled the tie out from under his collar before starting to unbutton his shirt, ‘but I don’t want this—you and me—I don’t want this to end right now.’

  He nodded, hungry eyes raking over her body as she flung the borrowed pyjamas onto the floor. ‘It doesn’t have to. Not yet. Not yet.’

  Ryder stroked his thumb across Vanessa’s smooth hip, wishing he could slow time down. ‘Where are you going to this summer?’

  She blinked sleepily at him. ‘Deer Valley. It’s in Utah, part of the Wasatch Range. They held a lot of events there during the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics.’

  ‘Isn’t Utah a dry county?’

  ‘Not in the ski fields,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘They wouldn’t be able to recruit anyone if it were. No, it’s amazing there.’

  ‘The skiing?’

  ‘The tips.’

  He laughed and pulled her closer. Despite the grimness of their situation, he hadn’t felt this good in years.

  ‘I love going over there. I get to work with the avalanche dogs.’

  He guessed she would need the dogs, if part of her job was digging people out of tree wells. ‘How come you’re the rookie here, when you’ve had all that experience?’

  ‘Well, Johan’s worked a few seasons here already, and he’s older than me, so he’s automatically senior. I haven’t been back to Charlotte’s since I skied here with Mum and Dad as a teenager.’

  Ryder frowned. ‘So, where have you been working in the southern hemisphere, then? Victoria?’

  ‘Nope. New Zealand. I went over there to do the back-country avalanche course and, after I finished, they offered me a job.’

 
‘Of course they did.’ Ryder curled a long strand of her silky hair around his index finger. ‘How long are you going to keep doing …’

  ‘The itinerant thing?’

  ‘I was going to say the back-and-forth-between-hemispheres thing.’

  She smiled. ‘Wondering when you’ll get to see me again, Detective Sergeant?’

  That’s exactly what he’d been wondering, but how could he say that when less than two days ago he’d given her an entirely different message? ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘No offence taken. We get asked all the time when we’re going to get a real job.’

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a smile. ‘I have no problem calling myself an itinerant worker. That’s what I am. A seasonal worker who moves around, like a fruit picker, but a lot more glamorous thanks to the God suit.’

  ‘The God suit?’

  ‘The God suit makes the plainest person irresistible, according to the ski instructors. But they’re full of it.’

  ‘Irresistible? I’ll have to think about re-joining the uniform branch.’

  ‘I don’t know if it works for the police.’ She stretched her body, unwinding and loosening those long limbs that minutes earlier had been wrapped around him. ‘I can’t imagine you in uniform. You have the whole serious thing going on—the frown, the white shirt, the dark suit. Hot.’

  He frowned.

  ‘See.’ She pointed at his forehead. ‘There it is.’

  ‘Why are we talking about me, when I asked you a question?’

  ‘If you’re questioning me in bed, Detective, can you blame me for forgetting? What was it? Oh, right, how long until I get the snow out of my system? I think Mum and Dad want me to take another couple of years.’

  ‘Your mum and dad do?’ he asked, trying hard not to frown.

  ‘They want me to travel and have fun.’ She propped herself up, chin resting in her palm as she gazed down at him. ‘Believe it or not, I’m the golden child, the responsible one who’s going to take over the farm when they retire. That’s why I’ve been living the dream for the last fifteen years, well, not all year. I’ve been working on the farm in between seasons, you know, learning the ropes. A property like ours—it ties you down. It’s not impossible to get away, but it’s difficult. Once Mum and Dad join the herd of grey nomads, I’ll be tied to the farm.’