Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

I fell into the nearest chair.

  What was going on?

  “I should call Clay,” I said concerned.

  Mona grabbed my wrist again. “No, don’t.”

  “And why not?”

  “Nothing happened, that’s what.”

  I looked at her, and then at her half empty small bottle.

  Maybe I should call a doctor instead.

  “You’re not making sense.”

  “It’s not what you think,” she said shaking her head.

  “Then tell me exactly what happened.”

  “I’m not exactly sure myself.”

  I checked her pupils. “Did you hit your head?”

  “No!”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  “It felt like a near-death experience, but I…”

  “…Wait a minute. Back up to the beginning.”

  She took another swig. “Well, I begged off from the ladies, saying I’d check out downtown first, then join them. I was walking past the ski shop and saw Peter leaving, deep in conversation with Nick, the elevator repair guy you said you met when it got stuck, and figured I would tag along.”

  That’s a second sighting. “Okay, so far I’m following.”

  “They walked between two buildings, and then stopped. Peter handed something to Nick, who pocketed it. Then they parted. I followed Peter. Other than Clay vouching for him, we really don’t know much about Peter now, do we?”

  “Smart, I agree. I would’ve done the same thing.”

  “I followed him to the cable station, and then the ski lift, staying a discreet distance still keeping him in sight. When he hopped off, so did I. Then he took a trail, one I’d never noticed before. I followed him for some distance until he stopped at a chalet and disappeared out back. It was like something out of one of those picture postcards in the lobby: stacked firewood, snow-covered pine trees, and get this, a corralled horse in the back…”

  She stopped when I inhaled sharply, throwing me a questionable look. “You okay?”

  “What color was that horse?” I asked.

  “A blondish colored one.”

  I gave a gasp. Was it the same horse? Same chalet?

  “What does the color of the horse have to do with this?”

  I didn’t like the connection I was seeing. “…Hans.”

  “What does this Hans have to do with what I just said?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “How about giving me the shortened version.”

  I did just that, plus my rock-throwing episode…

  “Does Clay know about any of this?” she asked.

  “Everything but those two times I encountered Hans.”

  Chapter 35

  I Swear, I…

  It was obvious by the startled look on Mona’s face she was just as surprised as I was by what I’d said about Hans, including his possible black eye, which then explained how we ended up sipping from our own small bottles. I was feeling a bit lightheaded, having eaten very little at lunch. Having eaten nothing, Mona was too.

  I was dying to hear what happened to her.

  “So why do you look like hell? Were you spotted and chased? Did someone tackle you?” I asked her.

  “I wish I could claim something dramatic, but can’t.”

  “Well then, why do you look like a bad mugging?”

  “I was trying to take iPhone pictures and backed up to get the whole chalet in my shot when I heard two voices coming from around the back. I needed to hide. Using my poles, I continued skiing backward on a decline to take cover, aiming for some trees, while still keeping my eye on the chalet. I gave myself one final shove and brought the camera up for my last shot: a major miscalculation.”

  “…And?”

  “Moving way too fast, I glanced behind me…”

  Mona stopped to take a sip from her bottle, shuddering.

  “And what was there?” I asked.

  “Not a whole lot. I had gone off the edge of a drop-off.” She closed her eyes and shaking her head, remembering.

  “How far down did you fall?”

  “Just far enough to get religious. Scared the bejeezus out of me, probably hundreds of feet of shrubs, trees, rocks…”

  We both took another sip: me because I could imagine the visuals and Mona because she actually felt them.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked doubtfully.

  “I think so,” she said, taking another sip and winking at me. “For once I was glad I’m a well-padded large woman.”

  I grinned with relief. “You know, after hearing your story, you don’t look so bad.”

  “After hearing myself describe it, I agree.”

  We clinked bottles. “A toast!” I announced.

  Mona started giggling. “To what?”

  I gave it some thought. “To unexpected screw-ups.”

  It seemed that was what surrounded us: one mishap after another that somehow connected at a later time. We tipped back our bottles then broke out laughing. At that moment, the door opened. The gang was back.

  “My goodness,” gasped Betty, stopping in place.

  Hazel read her watch. “A little early, don’t you think?”

  “Okay, what did we miss?” said a hopeful Martha. “By your expressions and Mona’s appearance, it’s a doozy.”

  “You won’t believe it,” I said.

  “I’m warning you,” said Mona. “It’s a whopper.”

  “Have the decency not to steal my lines,” said Martha.

  “Go ahead,” said Betty. “I think we need a distraction from all this skiing.”

  “Major distraction about sums it up,” said Mona.

  “Pull up a chair,” I said. “It’s a long story.”

  “How about the shortened version instead,” said Hazel.

  Martha eyed Mona. “Where’d you get those bottles?”

  “Backpack, upper left pocket, compliments of Clay.”

  Martha nodded. “If anything, you’re organized.”

  By the time Mona and I brought everyone up to date, someone suggested a snack to help offset the booze effect. We automatically turned toward Mona.

  “Upper right hand pocket: cookies, chips, you name it.”

  “Did you leave any for the airline?” asked Martha.

  “I’m big-boned. I must maintain my blood sugar levels.”

  “Hey, let’s focus on what to do here,” I said.

  “Let’s case the lobby, Betty,” suggested Hazel. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and spot who this Herr Kraus is.”

  “I’ve got to find that cleaning couple,” said Martha.

  “I need to make some calls about Peter,” added Mona.

  They all looked toward me. “And I’ve got to find Hans.”

  Betty paused at the door. “Be careful. Hazel and I will thoroughly case the lobby then walk the grounds out back.”

  Hazel turned to Betty. “Case is a great word use, Betty.”

  Betty nodded. “Well, in this case, you would normally use the word case as a noun, but I thought using it in its verb form was a nice touch: very apropos in this situation.”

  Martha ushered them out the door, shaking her head.

  “Ladies, this is not the time for old B movie jargon.”

  Betty frowned. “But you see? That’s the whole point.”

  Martha stopped walking. “What is?”

  “Those phrases sum up precisely what we’re doing.”

  “It’s a colorful way to speak too,” added Hazel.

  I faintly heard Martha say, “Well, I’ve got colorful…”

  Mona looked at me. “You do realize those three could screw up everything.”

  I was staring at the closed door, now a little worried.

  “They looked a little tipsy, didn’t they?”

  Mona chuckled. “Who would notice the difference?”

  I shrugged. “They do come up with results, though.”

  Mona reluctantly nodded. “That is what’s so scary.�
�

  “Good thing they’re walking,” I said.

  “Forget that. It’s the talking, I’m worried about.”

  Chapter 36

  “And Then There Was…”

  “And then there was…”

  By the time I finished on the phone, running the outline of my new mystery by Sandra, my agent, who miraculously was somehow still my friend, I was met with total silence.

  I’ve been known to stretch the truth a time or two with missed deadlines, stretches of time with no communication and pitching hard-to-believe stories. This usually ended up with her taking the heat from my publisher, who was more interested in his profit margin and what would sell, certainly not speculation.

  Always defending me over the years, Sandra ultimately became a good friend. So I was grateful when she gave me feedback and advice. Besides, I wasn’t close to an ending on this one. I was simply looking for a positive response.

  “…Are you still there?” I asked, thinking maybe we had been disconnected accidentally. But then a second or two later, I figured maybe she’d actually hung up.

  … Silence.

  “…Sandra?”

  “…This actually happened, is happening?” she asked.

  Doubt had entered the picture.

  “As far as I can tell…”

  “Sam, talking to you is such a challenge.”

  “…Look, I only have a few loose ends to tie up.”

  I heard a loud sigh at the other end of the line.

  “You have to trust me on this. It shows real promise.”

  “So do a lot of other authors,” she shot back.

  Ouch!

  “I deserved that, ever since…”

  I left the rest unspoken. She knew I was referring to the unexpected death of my husband, Stephen, and what a rough time I had afterward getting through my next book. She was there for me as a staunch supporter, encouraging me with some much-needed tough love and a reality check regarding my contract.

  “Enough said. Go with it,” she finally said. “It’s good.”

  “…You mean you like it so far?”

  “I know I’m going to regret this, but yes, I do.”

  “I knew you’d like the take on this one.”

  “It’s unusual. Just do me one favor, okay?” she asked.

  “Sure, what?”

  “Try not to get yourself carved up like your Spanx.”

  “I’ll be careful. Hey, did I mention I’m skiing here?”

  “Now I’m really concerned.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

  “Physically you’re lousy at sports.”

  “But mentally I’m at the top of my game.”

  She laughed. “That’s what has me so worried.”

  “If I didn’t know you so well, Sandra, I’d take offense.”

  “At what?” she asked.

  “Your lack of enthusiasm for me pulling this off.”

  “Don’t waste your breath convincing me, just give the publisher a great ending minus missing body parts: yours!”

  “Trust me. I’ve got a great ending.”

  I just had to find it, that’s all.

  Chapter 37

  I Shouldn’t Have, But Did Anyway

  I shouldn’t have, but grabbed my skis and took off for that chalet. It was foolish to ski there without a partner, but not knowing was far worse. After skiing by there with Peter, my hit, my cross-country trek and that horse, with luck, I’d find it again to confirm it was the same chalet.

  I had plenty of time before my afternoon lesson with Peter because, once again, he pushed it back until later. I hadn’t read too much into it before, but after Mona mentioned seeing him at the chalet, his whereabouts at that moment were looking suspicious.

  Was it a different chalet? If not, what was Peter doing there in the first place? Would I get lucky and find him still there? After arriving, I skied to a sheltered spot behind some cover: an evergreen that camouflaged me perfectly. I wasn’t about to move closer until I felt it was safe to do so. Still sore and afraid of undergoing the same fate as Mona, I checked behind me…just in case.

  My head jerked back to the chalet. Were those voices?

  Two men came from behind the chalet and stopped. One had his back to me. The other was Peter, who said “Ich…”

  “I don’t have time for your German. Speak English.”

  “Trust me,” said Peter. “She has no idea.”

  Before I jumped the gun, I let their conversation play out. I held my breath as Peter glanced my way then back.

  Had he sensed someone watching?

  I lifted a branch for a better view. The other skier turned my way. That older man, Hans! Why was he meeting with Peter? Were they both involved in this? Was Peter playing both sides? Was Hans paying Peter to get to Herr Kraus? Was Hans one of the spies? He was old enough to be an original one and Peter was young enough: an heir of one.

  My mind zigzagged with scenarios. I had to warn Clay. …But warn him about what: that I saw two people talking and became suspicious? I couldn’t even snap a picture to show Clay. I’d left my phone at the hotel.

  Why bother? No signal, remember?

  Hans turned back to Peter. “I am not concerned. She’s an amateur and appears easily manipulated. Let’s continue as we planned. Keep both of them on the back burner till this is over. I doubt they know enough to do much damage. If we’re lucky, her own reckless behavior will do her in.”

  Was he referring to Clay and me? Was a skiing accident planned for me if I became an impediment?

  My motor-mouthed brain was rambling once again. I attracted trouble just second-guessing myself. But then maybe those thoughts weren’t so far-fetched. Perhaps those two were plotting to do away with Herr Kraus before Clay caught on. Like I had said earlier, with me in harm’s way, Clay was distracted and they’d go in for the kill. Literally.

  Peter skied off, confirming this was not Peter’s house.

  Well, whose house was it? Hans’?

  Chapter 38

  Hey Wait!

  I had to wait for Hans to leave before making a move.

  …Hold on! Who are these two?

  Two skiers swerved to a stop right in front of Hans. It was as though they were waiting in the wings for Peter to take off. One took their knit hat off, but not their sunglasses: an older woman with a prominent gray streak running through her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair.

  The other skier, whose voice was masculine, removed nothing. Both were smaller in stature than Hans. I strained to hear their conversation. Then the wind abruptly changed and their words drifted toward the evergreens and me.

  “…Arguing isn’t getting us anywhere,” said the woman.

  Her ski partner nodded. “She’s right. Plus that kind of money is ridiculous. No one has that amount lying around.”

  I didn’t think they were arguing the price of ski lessons.

  Hans laughed. “Did you think this was about money?”

  “Well, isn’t it?” said the woman, getting upset.

  The man with her laughed in Hans’ direction. “No my dear, this is all about him getting even, isn’t it?”

  Hans scowled in anger. “Don’t play word games with me. You have no idea how I could destroy you both.”

  This time the woman laughed. “And you have no idea how we could destroy you in turn.”

  Hans raised his hand, but then lowered it.

  “Don’t even think about it,” her partner said angrily.

  The woman moved in closer to Hans. “This game you are playing of cat and mouse could cost you dearly. I would think twice before it’s too late.”

  With that said, the two skied off, leaving Hans standing there, looking clearly upset. He cursed then skied away taking a different trail than theirs.

  I tried to make sense of what was said, but couldn’t.

  It would have helped to hear their whole conversation.

  I waited five more minutes, and then s
kied back to my hotel. I didn’t want to meet up with any of them, especially, Hans, who wouldn’t think of me favorably, especially after that incident in my hotel’s rear garden.

  Hans knew me. Did they? Hans’ prominent black eye was exposed when he removed his goggles to talk to Peter. And he kept them off. None of the three mentioned it once.

  Then they probably knew how he got it: from me.

  I glanced all around. The coast was clear, so I took off. This was proving more involved than I expected. Plus, my trust factor was tanking fast on Peter. I should be careful around him.

  I had to speak with Clay. Was he being upfront about Peter? There must be more. Was Clay picking and choosing what he told me? If so, why? Was it for my protection? Telling Clay what I just saw and heard would be up for grabs depending on what he told me. For now I’d take the high road and wouldn’t judge Clay’s reasoning. I’d hear him out first then maybe threaten to leave, and after he apologized profusely for leaving me out of the loop…

  I just loved that apology part. Like I said, we’ll see…

  Chapter 39

  Deciphering An Enigma

  I was about to call Clay when first one, then the rest of my crew filed through the door. I set the phone back down. I would call him later.

  Silence reigned: a rare event with my bunch.

  Mona, the last one in, closed the door behind her. “This Herr Kraus is a tough nut to crack,” she announced.

  “Were you able to find anything out?” Martha asked.

  “I can’t believe the favors I called in from my sources.”

  “Same here, but on our cleaning duo,” said Martha.

  Hazel was looking everywhere but at me, so was Betty. I wondered why, but then turned back to Martha when she cleared her throat loudly to get my attention.

  “So what did you find out?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “…Well, I didn’t actually talk to them.”

  Martha always spoke in circles. “…And why not?”

  “That manager, Herr Miller said their names are Maria and Carlo: husband and wife, who speak only Italian.”

  I didn’t get it. “So then why are you still smiling?”