Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Peter stood his ground. “It’s too late, Kraus.”

  Maria and Carlo turned surprised to see him there.

  Carlo spoke first. “We can handle this ourselves…”

  “No, I don’t think so. I am Inspector Peter Hoffmann, Swiss National Police. Herr Kraus, you are under arrest!”

  I stared at Peter, stunned by his remark. “…What?”

  He smiled. “You mean Kraus hasn’t told you yet?”

  Peter looked way too confident. Something was terribly wrong. “…Told me what?” I asked uneasily.

  “Now, Kraus, let’s see. What could you be hiding?”

  “How dare you! You can’t intimidate me like this!”

  “Intimidation has nothing to do with this,” laughed Peter.

  Kraus turned toward me, whispering, “He’s corrupt and one of the spy assassins.” Then he winked, reached into his jacket, and in one fluid stroke, slipped out a gun, turned and fired directly at Peter, who crumpled to the ground.

  I stared down at Peter. No movement whatsoever. I couldn’t breathe, not believing what I’d just witnessed.

  Kraus chuckled. “This old spy still has what it takes.”

  Initially I thought Peter the good guy, then bad guy, then good, then… I couldn’t keep up. Now what? I was numb.

  “Was that necessary?” asked a now uncertain Maria.

  “Yes, as you can see, I don’t play games,” said Kraus.

  “Are you implying Peter tried to pay you off?” I asked.

  “Yes, to save his reputation and keep his family name…”

  I suddenly got it. “From your list of suspect assassins.”

  Chapter 62

  Aftershock

  “But we are not assassins, Kraus,” called out Maria.

  An upset Carlo added, “And you know that.”

  “Collateral damage for a bestseller,” countered Kraus.

  Floored, I said, “You added them to sell more books?”

  “Their embassy family history would add some sizzle. Besides, I’m tired of living in obscurity taking a backseat to other authors with boring books. I want fame before I die. I want myself plastered across news headlines: How a spy defied the odds and came out on top exposing other spies!”

  Where was the friendly Kraus from the night before?

  “But how could you just destroy people like that?”

  He smirked, enjoying this. “It takes years of practice.”

  “Is this how you want your legacy to read?” I asked.

  “Legacy? What legacy? I’m not dying.”

  Having a sinking feeling, I looked at Maria and Carlo.

  I asked Kraus, “Tell me I’m wrong about assuming…”

  He pushed me, whispering, “Shh…I’m stalling them.”

  “Stop. Don’t push her further back,” warned Carlo.

  “Why? What do you intend to do to us?” asked Kraus.

  I slid back further. This whole thing was confusing.

  “Don’t move another inch, young lady,” Maria ordered.

  Why did they keep warning me?

  I laughed nervously. “Next thing you’ll say is I’m about to fall off a cliff and…”

  I froze.

  Kraus had turned and was now grinning at me.

  …Why?

  I glanced backward. I was on the precipice of one very steep cliff. I remembered Mona’s warning about how she fell. This fall was way further than that.

  Now what?

  “Stop!” Maria shouted. “Don’t move!”

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  His gun at his side, Kraus abruptly spun around and fired at them both. They dove to the ground for protection.

  Kraus turned back to me sneering: the persona of evil, the deadly spy: an individual my gut had initially warned me against.

  I smiled weakly. “…You, you wouldn’t, would you?”

  “Oh, yes I would,” he snarled.

  “…Why? Why me?”

  “You were a bonus, my dear.”

  I had to keep Kraus talking. I had to think of something.

  “Bonus? What bonus? I’m not making the connection.”

  Kraus smiled. “I needed Clay here because I wasn’t sure how much he knew about his grandfather’s and father’s deaths. By enticing him to come, it gave me the opportunity to eliminate any potential future threat of him ever discovering the truth and to further sanitize my reputation.”

  “What made you kill the two of them in the first place?”

  “His grandfather and father discovered I was a double agent. By killing them, I eliminated some loose ends. Then Clay entered the picture with his phone call. I couldn’t take the chance he might dig further like his father had. I was losing control of my laid-out plan of historical revision!”

  At a fever pitch, Kraus was on a roll, almost yelling at this point. This situation could go either way. I realized then that it would all come down to timing.

  “I still don’t understand…” I said, trying to appear interested so he’d keep on talking, while I frantically tried to come up with a plan.

  Kraus fell for it. “I knew Clay would come to help me if he thought he could solve the mystery of his father’s and grandfather’s deaths. So I told him I needed his protection. We’d be helping each other. Clay bit the bait. But then you showed up. My bonus! It was perfect.”

  “…But I didn’t do anything to you.”

  His pupils were black holes: dilated.

  This guy was crazy!

  He smirked. “I relished the thought of causing more pain! It was just like in the old spy days.”

  How cold-hearted could one person be?

  “…My gut instinct about you, Kraus, was right.”

  “Don’t give yourself too much credit. You bought into my sob story a few minutes ago.”

  I had to admit, he had sounded convincing, but then weren’t spies supposed to be convincing? Lying came naturally.

  What should I do now?

  I could feel the snow crumple under my skis as I tried to shift my weight anywhere but backward to maintain the delicate balance between me standing there and falling off the edge. I swallowed hard when I heard clumps of snow hurtling down into the ravine, dropping hundreds of feet behind me.

  I quickly glanced past Kraus. Maria and Carl watched in horror as he leaned into me. I knew they dared not make noise by getting up, fearing it would draw Kraus’ attention to turn back toward them, throwing off his balance.

  Then I’d fall.

  I could see no way out and realized it was over or would be in minutes, but then I caught movement peripherally. It was Clay! Would Kraus hear him and turn?

  Keep Kraus talking.

  “I don’t see how you can get away with this.”

  Clay was skiing silently, ever so slowly toward us. I knew he didn’t want to shoot Kraus for fear he would fall onto me, thus causing me to fall off the cliff. He’d have to yank him back toward himself and away from me. Like I said this would all come down to timing.

  Hearing nothing behind him, Kraus suddenly cackled, totally focused on me. He was enjoying this.

  He was clearly nuts.

  “You’re a second-rate sleuth, who’s in over her head.” He then laughed. “An amateur hack and a bad one at that.”

  Kraus nudged me, taunting me to fall.

  Sick bastard!

  He laughed again. “I bet spellcheck is your best friend.”

  That did it! Like I said, don’t criticize an author.

  I lunged for his gun, but he twisted back.

  My arms flailed in the air as I teetered on the edge then I latched onto his jacket and hung on for dear life to stop from falling backward.

  Like Martha, I yelled, “I’m too young to die.”

  Clay unsnapped his skis. Leaping, he caught Kraus from behind. “Hang on Sam,” he yelled.

  Then Maria and Carlo scrambled to get up to help.

  I’d be damned if Kraus was going to win. I let go wi
th one hand and hauled off and let him have it with my right fist. Then I latched on again and threw my head forward and heard the crunch of cartilage breaking.

  But Kraus was a crazed and manic bull, and even though Clay tried to pull him back from the edge, Kraus wouldn’t go down. Kraus raised his gun with me still attached to his sleeve, laughed maniacally and yelled, “The irony!” His arm swung back and the gun connected with Clay’s head.

  Kraus attempted to turn, but I refused to give up as I reach through his bent arm trying desperately to grab onto Clay, clearly throwing Kraus off balance. Bloody, Clay reached out for me, straining one last time to save me, but Kraus’ weight played against him and me.

  I strained harder.

  I’m so close…so close…

  I flex out my hand further for Clay’s outstretched one…

  I’m almost there…

  Our fingers barely touch, but then slip apart…

  I’m falling…

  I hear a shot…

  “Noooo…!”

  In the distance the last thing I hear is a bell tolling…

  Chapter 63

  Cleanup & Aftermath

  When referring in the future to this particular vacation, if you could call it that, I would have to quote, hey, it might not be the exact words, okay? F. Scott Fitzgerald when Gatsby said, ‘It was the best of times and the worst of times’ or something close to that, but you pretty much get the core of what I’m trying to say, right?

  We were currently traveling on our first class flight on Swiss Air that would take us back home. I was taking notes, balancing my laptop on my full leg cast (yes, you heard me right) that was propped up, dealing with cuts and bruises and chomping away on my Toblerone candy bar, exactly like the ones I warned the ladies not to eat, but was assured this one was not poisonous.

  Normally I wouldn’t be eating candy, but with all the painkiller drugs they had me on, I got the munchies and had to have one. Mona’s backpack was now my best friend.

  Bodyshaper be damned.

  I really think that last line was the drugs talking, which now ran a close second in my best friend department.

  The plane jerked and I winced. “Oh!”

  “Are you okay?” asked a concerned Hazel.

  Betty jumped out of her seat. “Need anything?”

  I looked at them both and said, “I’m doing okay.”

  And I was, considering the aftermath from my death-defying, hair-raising fall with Kraus.

  Martha declared, ‘Thank the Lord! She’s still alive.’

  This pain proved that point, which was a good thing. The bad thing was that I had a triple sprain and a fractured ankle. I looked down at my full leg and foot cast. No lying needed. I had now bragging rights on this one. This was definitely not from a skiing accident.

  This was attempted murder!

  I still got the chills remembering. I must have blacked out because I woke up at the doctor’s clinic to see him viewing my x-rays, shaking his head and mumbling in a low voice to Clay, who kept glancing back at me. I smiled back at Clay, already high on drugs to kill the excruciating pain. Next thing I knew I was ensconced in a full leg cast and handed metal crutches with red reflectors on them.

  Now I ask you, where in hell did they think I was going with them, to play in traffic?

  I accepted them graciously and shakily half-walked and was half-carried by Clay out of the clinic and brought back to the hotel. Clay had me moved to his private apartment until emergency tickets could be booked to fly us home. He lovingly washed my long hair that night while I leaned back over the tub in my temporary cast. They couldn’t put on a regular one because my leg and ankle were so swollen.

  Clay said he wasn’t letting me out of his sight.

  The next day we traveled two trains to get to the airport. In changing trains, you were expected to go down a flight of stairs, walk a long walk and then up a flight of stairs to the next track. Clay tipped the baggage car attendant to set me on the wooden luggage cart with my leg propped up. It was allowed to cross the tracks directly to the next train. I felt like a piece of luggage as I bounced along while the porter sang something in really nice in German.

  Keep in mind I was still drugged to deal with the pain.

  Maybe he wasn’t singing at all.

  I was capable of hearing anything at that point. I was also ecstatic because I was still alive. I had survived that death-defying fall.

  The aftermath was something else…

  Chapter 64

  Final Words On The Aftermath

  As for the final words on Herr Hans Kraus, infamous spy and international assassin, Clay decided to wait before telling me the gory details right away. By the time Clay worked his way down the cliff, which felt like forever to him, he found me out cold on a ledge, which saved my life. But much farther down the ravine, a grotesquely sprawled out Kraus lay dead. Kraus would finally get his fame, guaranteeing his name being in the headlines. Clay said it was eerie when he looked down at Kraus. That church bell was still tolling in the distance: a symbolic message.

  Death knell in the Alps.

  That shot I heard was Kraus’ gun. He had accidentally shot himself while trying to kill me in our struggle. As he fell off that cliff, he bounced off boulders and trees. I shiver thinking about it. It could have turned out so differently. The doctor said that because of my young age and my extraordinary good luck in landing on that ledge, I was able to withstand the fall surprisingly well.

  That ledge had changed the whole dynamic.

  Carlo and Maria were innocent, as they had proclaimed.

  Peter was lucky. The shot barely missed his heart. His prognosis was good. In time he’d be up and skiing again.

  I took another small sip of the champagne courtesy of Swiss Air. “To a job well-done,” Clay had toasted earlier.

  I looked over to Clay, who was now sleeping, my cast propped up on his leg. He was smiling: his doubts and questions finally resolved after all this time. The mysteries concerning his past would finally be put to rest.

  It’s funny how you think you know someone, but they keep surprising you. This was how I thought about Clay. He was always surprising me. Like he said at the start,

  “Remember one thing, Sam, it will never be dull.”

  He was right.

  I looked over at my crew, who were laughing and remembering the crazy, close calls that were now part of our ‘ski vacation’ and the tall tales that would be told for years to come. I wondered what would be next. Then I laughed too. If anything it will be as usual: the unexpected.

  Thinking about this book, I hadn’t seen spellcheck pop up once since I began typing, and was now looking forward to handing everything over to my agent and editor, who would critique it thoroughly with a fine-toothed comb.

  I leaned back. Where next? Clay hinted at a nice respite from all this chaos and my recent death-defying antics.

  “How about a romantic stay at a B & B to sightsee a historic area and deal with people who are already dead?”

  But as usual, I had a feeling another mystery would conveniently fall in our laps and we’d be off and running again. That was just fine with me. As long as it was like my other mysteries: easily solvable.

  …And they say some authors have no sense of humor.

  This ends Death Knell In the Alps.

  For a preview of the first book in the Samantha Jamison Mystery Series, Volume 1, The Puzzle, please continue reading right after this:

  SPECIAL NOTE TO THE READER

  Thank you for reading Volume 6, Death Knell In the Alps: I do hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked this book, I hope you choose to check out and read the rest of the mysteries in the series. Here are some other possible suggestions:

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  Please read on for the preview excerpt of the first book in the Samantha Jamison Mystery Series, Volume 1, The Puzzle

  The Puzzle

  A Samantha Jamison Mystery

  Volume 1

  A Novel

  by

  Peggy A. Edelheit

  Copyright © 2011 by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Chapter 1

  Fatal Obsession

  My Letter To My Dead Husband

  Stephen,

  For the first time, I find myself at a loss for words to describe exactly how I feel, but I will try. You see, I need somewhere to park my anger, and even though you will never read this, I must have something tangible in my hands, written in black and white. When I look back, I actually thought we had some kind of life together. Maybe not a great one, but, at least in the beginning, one that I thought was worth an emotional investment. Now, I’m not so sure. The big shocker? I didn’t expect to be a widow. It stopped me in my tracks. How and why did this happen? Undeserved as it was, it now dictates my search for the truth, regardless of what that truth might turn out to be. I ask myself, how was I to piece together all the shattered fragments of my life? To do that, I need a better understanding of where things went wrong. Initially, I felt vulnerable, but not for long. Knowledge was the game-changer. I remember the impact of betrayal, after discovering your deception, the way you used your lies and my apprehension to manipulate me. Why? For what reason? I’m exhausted from my naiveté and making excuses for your odd behavior, and I’m physically numbed by our last verbal encounter and your confusing remarks. What strange bedfellows we ultimately became, me with my ignorance and you with your secretive duplicity. It takes my breath away.