Snowed Inn

by Heather Horrocks

  I looked at her and saw genuine interest in her eyes. “Just wondering about the dynamics in your group.”

  She laughed. “We’re a bunch of weirdoes, that’s for sure.”

  “I don’t mean that. I just mean, well,” I pointed. “Take Garrett. He seems to be the friend of every lady here.”

  Bonnie nodded. “Garrett’s a sweetie. We all vie for his attention, but in a positive way. He seems to like women.”

  “I didn’t get much of a chance to see how Mr. Calabria fit in with the group.”

  “Gregorio was big into mind games. He liked to play us against each other.”

  “But there don’t seem to be any hard feelings.”

  “Sure there are. Look at BJ and Martha. And the rest of us were jealous of BJ because of the time, attention and money Gregorio gave her career.”

  I watched Garrett move closer to Alexis and help her roll a big head and lift it up on the other two balls of snow to complete the snowman. A cheer went up from the women.

  “I’m going to go back over and vie for Garrett’s attention.” Grinning, Bonnie jumped up and rejoined the others.

  In only a few moments, Liz took Bonnie’s place beside me. My sister’s face was glowing with exertion and cold, but she was unusually quiet.

  I sighed and asked the question standing between us. “Why aren’t you wearing your ring, Liz?”

  “I’m filing for divorce.” Just like that.

  “What?”

  “You heard me correctly.” Liz tried to sound as though she didn’t care, but I could tell she did. “He’s been having affairs ever since we got married. I just didn’t find out about it until a few months ago. He promised he’d change, but he hasn’t. I don’t think he can.”

  “How do you know he hasn’t changed?”

  “He’s gotten a young girl pregnant.”

  “Men!” Alexis’s voice sounded indignant behind us.

  We turned and found Alexis, Bonnie, and BJ there.

  Bonnie said, “Sorry, we came to ask if we could have some of that delicious hot chocolate, and we couldn’t help overhearing. I’m sorry, Liz. Men can be such jerks, it’s incredible. That’s why I write romances. My heroes treat women the way I’d like to be treated.”

  Liz smiled faintly. “Hear, hear.”

  My husband was faithful and true, so I didn’t think it wise for me to join in. I felt so jealous of Liz after Robert died and she still had Gene. And now her loss was nearly as great as mine. Both of us lost husbands, although perhaps the way I lost Robert was kinder. At least, I had loving, good memories of him. Liz didn’t even have those.

  “But I’ll have money,” Liz said, as if she read my mind.

  Alexis snorted. “Make sure of it. Get a good attorney.”

  Liz smiled for the first time all day. “I am a good attorney. I’ve already retained the best divorce attorney in the mountain west. I have every intention of getting what I want.”

  BJ sighed. “This weekend has really made me rethink relationships, and money, and all my priorities.”

  “Amen to that,” said Liz.

  “Have you decided what to do?” I asked.

  BJ shook her head. “I’ve missed Cece. I’ve even missed Kevin. He might be going to jail, but I’ve been thinking I could get Cece and take care of her.”

  Alexis, trim in her bright blue snowsuit, asked, “But what will you do for money?”

  “I’m wondering if having a lot of money really matters.”

  Bonnie said, “It might not be everything, but it can sure pave the way to smoother things.”

  “I’ve got the money from my book still coming in. I know you all think it’s no good, but it’ll pay the bills for a while. And I’ll have another out with Avon in two months. I’ll be okay.”

  I studied BJ. Did she really not know she was in Calabria’s will? Did she really not know she would soon be a millionaire three times over? From what Paul said, BJ wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again.

  Bonnie said, “You’ll do just fine. And your books will begin bringing in more and more royalties. You’ll be fine.”

  Well, at least someone recanted from the earlier stance that BJ’s book stunk.

  Liz rejoined the conversation. “BJ’s right. Money didn’t make my marriage any better. If anything, my husband’s family taught him he could have anything he wants. Unfortunately, what he wanted was other women.”

  “Oh, Liz, I’m sorry.” I could hardly believe it.

  “Don’t be,” Liz said. “I’ll get through it.”

  “Does he want you back?” Alexis asked.

  Liz sighed again. “He says he does. But I can’t stay with a man who got another woman pregnant, because I can’t have a baby. How can I stand it when Gene has a child with her?”

  “How do you know about the pregnancy?” I asked.

  “My nosy, old neighbor, Ruth Gotschaub, told me. She saw them in my house together. She said the girl is showing and very young.”

  “Maybe there’s a good reason.”

  Liz frowned. “There is. Gene’s cheating on me.”

  Bonnie nodded. “Sweetie, you’ve made the right decision.”

  Alexis and BJ agreed.

  The whole thing made me sad again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In a darkly sad mood, I left Scotland Yard to fix the Stephen’s hot cocoa, Orange Creme. After hearing Liz’s news, I needed some chocolate, even if she didn’t seem to.

  Entering the house through the back door, I sniffed the air appreciatively. A hint of garlic. Chicken. And something I couldn’t identify, but it made my mouth water.

  David stood at the stove, only needing the funny little chef’s hat on his head to complete the illusion. He wielded a wooden spoon in one hand, a spice jar in the other, and had a lopsided grin on his face. I had to admit it. He looked cute.

  I could tell Zach had been here, because a row of six goblets lined the counter. I had to smile. He just couldn’t resist drinking his cherry Kool-Aid in goblets.

  David pointed to the goblets. “May I?”

  “Sure.” I picked up two, one for him and one for me.

  He raised his and we clinked goblets. “To my cooking here.”

  I smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”

  He lifted the glass to his lips, sipped— and nearly choked, trying to get to the sink to spit it out. “What in the heck is that?”

  Surprised, I said, “Cherry Kool-Aid?”

  David started to laugh. “Cherry Kool-Aid, huh?”

  “It’s my son’s favorite.”

  “And it does have quite a bouquet.” David lifted his glass again. “Now I know what I’m getting, I can enjoy cherry Kool-Aid.” This time when he sipped, it was with a smile. “I was expecting wine, given the goblet.”

  I nodded. “Here in Utah, you’ll get whine, not wine.”

  “Huh?”

  “As in, do you know a Mormon woman’s favorite whine?”

  David lifted an eyebrow.

  I grinned at him. “But I don’t want to wear pantihose.”

  “Ah,” David said, a faint smile on his lips. “Whine.”

  “As in, would you like some cheese with your whine?”

  “So no wine?”

  “Are you kidding? My ancestors— even those who distilled and sold whiskey to the miners— would roll over in their graves. And, well…” I stopped, not ready to share Robert’s death with him yet. “What are you cooking?”

  “Award-winning Chicken Cacciatore. And more so-so rolls.”

  “Why are you really helping me?”

  “Just to do a good deed. Build up some good karma.”

  “Were you a boy scout or something?”

  “Eagle Scout. I’ve been on my share of winter camps.”

  “I appreciate your help. Thank you.”

  “I just hope you can afford me. After all, I am a Paris-trained chef of the finest caliber.”

  “My guests have already commented on th
e exquisite smells emanating from this room. May I tell them when we can eat?”

  “It will all come together in thirty minutes. I suggest they be seated and ready by then.”

  I saluted. “Yes, Mr. Chef Boyardee.”

  “That’s Sir Chef Boyardee to you.”

  I laughed, thankful he could bring me out of my dark mood after Liz’s news. “All right, Sir Chef. I’ll inform the drooling hordes they have to wait thirty more minutes.”

  “Twenty nine.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Can I ask you something? As a newspaperman, aren’t you supposed to do anything for a story? Sell your soul or something? Maybe even cook meals?”

  “I sold my own grandmother once.”

  “You can do that?” I sighed and opened the large pantry door to grab the tray of our specialty packaged cookies someone put back too high up. Large shelves lined one side of the small room. “Can you help me reach this?”

  He easily retrieved the tray. After that, I’m not sure how things happened. One moment I was grabbing two packages of cookies, the next, I heard Grandma calling out, “Victoria!” and I grabbed the pantry door and pulled it shut, knocking us off balance, and leaving us in the dark.

  I fell against David, and pushed off instantly, but in that brief instant I touched him, I smelled the warm, musky man smell of him and felt the strong rumblings of his repressed laughter. A heady combination. He whispered conspiratorially. “Your grandmother, by any chance?”

  “Shh. She’ll hear you and want to know what we’re doing in the closet.”

  “And what exactly are we doing in the closet?” He sounded amused.

  I muffled a laugh. “I don’t know, exactly.”

  “Victoria?” My grandmother’s voice sounded loud enough she must have been right outside the closet. “Where are you, girl?”

  I nearly lost it then. The laughter bubbled up and I tried desperately not to let it loose. It was nervous laughter, laughter releasing all the combined tensions that were gathering inside me: the murder, the police investigation, my lost ring, my grandmother courting Dr. Ray, Liz leaving Gene.

  “Victoria?” Her voice moved away from the closet.

  I started to laugh, and David joined in. “Your brother warned me he had a wacky family, but I didn’t know just how wacky until this very moment.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hiding you in a closet.” I could barely talk, I was laughing so hard.

  “I find it difficult to believe, as well.”

  “She’s been looking for a boy toy. I figured you weren’t safe. Have you ever met my grandmother?”

  “I don’t…” He choked off the words with another laugh.

  “What?” I could barely get the word out.

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to get a chance to meet her.”

  I leaned against the wall and held my sides and laughed.

  David and I both jumped when the pantry door opened. Liz looked startled to find us there. She shook her head, saying, “I can’t believe how people will stuff any old thing in this closet,” as she reached in, pulled out the broom, and shut the door.

  We came out laughing, and in what seemed like only moments, the timer went off and it was time to serve one of the most delicious meals I’d ever eaten.

  David most certainly proved he was a chef. And that he could be a friend and had a sense of humor. And he showed me that I could laugh with a man, something I doubted would ever happen again after Robert died.

  I only hoped he was honorable enough to keep his promise to me of waiting to write another story about the investigation.

  * * *

  Lunch was a huge success. And it was followed by the kind of thing that can only make a meal better— other than me not helping prepare it, that is— Kevin being lifted into the big Snowcat by the officers. Paul was escorting him down and then planned to head home to check on Jennifer. The murderer was leaving the building— the mountain. I hoped.

  Zach put his arm around my waist. “Is he the killer, Mom?”

  Liz caught my eye and frowned.

  I hated to have my son exposed to this whole thing. “Yes, squirt. I think so. And Uncle Paul thinks so, too.”

  “I’m glad he’s leaving.” He was quiet for a long moment. “Mom, if you hear something that could be important and someone tells you not to say anything about it, are you supposed to not say anything? Cuz you told me to tell you.”

  I glanced down at his little seven-year-old freckled face, and a sense of unease came over me. I took his hand and walked him into the library, letting Liz follow us in. I shut the door, and took him gently by the arms. “You should always tell your mother. Especially if someone tells you not to say anything about it.”

  “Well, the dude in black, you know who I mean?” When I nodded, he said, “He told that dead guy that he better stop stealing money. And he better stop hurting that lady.”

  I suspected Zach’s overactive imagination had just taken hold. “You heard this?”

  “Geez, Mom, I have ears, you know.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “I was out shooting bears in the woods—”

  He was exaggerating because he was scared. I could feel it. I pulled him into my arms. Now was the time to completely trust everything my frightened child said. “Tell me about it.”

  Didn’t I have someone with Zach every moment? No, that was after the murder. Before, I was too caught up in making sure everything ran smoothly.

  “I wanted to play in the snow, and I heard that guy yelling at the dead guy. Except he wasn’t dead yet. He said he’d make sure the other guy would never steal anybody’s money again.”

  “My gosh,” I said. Which was worse, that my son was traipsing outside while a murderer was loose? Or the news Garrett threatened Calabria? I wasn’t too surprised about the threat; after all, they nearly fought at the Inn. But I was surprised that he would threaten my son. Speaking of bears, I was going to show Garrett what a mother bear could do to protect her cub.

  “What did he say to you, baby? Try to remember.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “The man-in-black dude told the dead guy he better not ever hurt her again.”

  “Who?”

  “I dunno. Jill. Or Julie. Or something like that.”

  That little name difference could be very important. “Who is she?”

  “I dunno,” Zach repeated. “But that’s what he said, Mom. I was going to tell Uncle Paul, except the man in black saw me and told me not to tell anybody.”

  “Did he say he’d hurt you?”

  “No, Mom. But he was kinda scary.”

  Liz hissed, “We’ll sue the SOB.”

  I couldn’t believe how angry I was that Garrett scared Zach. That he threatened Calabria again and lied about it. Maybe he did tell Paul, but Paul never mentioned it to me. I was certainly going to tell Paul, first chance I got.

  I felt a sense of unease. One of the two guests who provided alibis for each other had threatened the victim. My brother definitely needed to know.

  “If anyone ever tells you not to tell me, you be sure to come straight to me and tell me. And I want you to stay away from the dude in black, Zach. Do you understand?”

  He nodded his head and silently, I promised Robert that I would protect our child from any harm.

  * * *

  With Zach’s hand in mine, we walked back inside. Garrett loped up the stairs, and Zach tightened his grip on my hand.

  I was ticked off all over again.

  Lonny came up and told me they were ready to leave. I pulled him close. “Lonny, would you take Zach with you to your place for a few days? Please?”

  He smiled warmly. “Sure. Come on, Zach. We’ll go play with my brother’s new puppy.”

  Zach’s eyes lit up. “Cool.”

  It took only a few minutes to pack a bag for him, and I watched them drive off on my snowmobile. I knew I was overreacting, but I felt great relief at having Zach gone, and safe. I
knew I could trust Lonny to watch over my baby.

  Liz pulled on my arm. “Follow me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I followed her up the stairs. On the second floor, why was I not surprised to find Martha leaving Garrett’s room? I truly was amazed. The woman was a sexual barracuda.

  The barracuda waved and smiled happily. “Hi, Mistress of the Mansion. I’ve decided to stay another night or two.” She winked. “Especially if that heavenly hunk is still cooking.”

  I said, “Keep your hands off the hunk.”

  Liz laughed and Martha, obviously amused, raised her hands, and repeated, “Hands off the hunk. Gotcha.”

  Despite myself, I liked the old barracuda.

  Garrett stepped into the doorway of his room and joined the conversation. “Hi, Vicki, Liz. Martha and I are going skiing later. I hear it’s great and it’s a short snowmobile ride from here to the slopes.” He glanced at me. “Isn’t that right?”

  I suppressed my anger and tried to respond normally. “You are just a few minutes away from the greatest snow on earth. Even our license plates say so. Snow Haven.”

  Liz said, “We have some of your books and were wondering if both of you would autograph them for us.”

  They were more than willing to do so. Martha said she’d be down shortly, and Garrett followed us. I resisted the urge to push him down the stairs.

  In the office, as he pulled out a pen, Liz said, “I understand you know Jill. I’m wondering how she is.” Count on Liz to jump right in.

  “There are lots of Jills. Can you be more specific?”

  Liz smiled. “The Jill who was being taken advantage of by Mr. Calabria, of course. The one worth making a threat over.”

  Garrett shrugged easily. “If Gregorio was still alive, the two of you would have made a threat by now. Even the Pope would have, if he’d been around the man long enough. More specific, please.”

  “Apparently, Calabria was hurting Jill. And you knew about it. And wanted it to stop. Or it could have been Julie.”

  Something flickered across his face— anger? Irritation? Guilt? — then hid behind his cool eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”