by Susan Harper
“Clint, those marks on his throat. The red on his forehead. This wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“We can’t really say for sure. He might have tripped and hit….” The words withered in the face of her laser stare. “I doubt it. I…I really can’t say for sure but…I doubt it.”
They looked at one another for a few seconds. Light yellow flames rose up from the artificial fireplace and the crackling of wood sounded from the flames. Jennifer sighed. She realized there was nothing to do except wait for the police.
The silence was interrupted by a tall, thin man, unshaven as yet, who rushed in.
“Bill, what are you doing with the door open? It’s still cold….” He stopped as if hit by a stun gun. Eyes widened. He stumbled but caught himself before he fell to the carpeted floor. “Oh, no! What happened?”
Jennifer shifted into her professional tone as manager. “We don’t know yet, sir. I assume you knew this man.”
He nodded weakly. “Yeah, Bill’s been a friend of mine for years.”
“I remember you from when you checked in yesterday, but I’m sorry I can’t remember your name.”
“Dale Ramsey.”
Ramsey had a thin, pale face that flashed even paler. There was a chair close to him and he collapsed in it. He had an aquiline nose and chin but curly brown hair. His hand went to his heart.
“Sorry you had to learn about your friend’s death this way, Mr. Ramsey,” Jennifer said. “I regret to say I’ve forgotten his name too.”
“Bill Hamilton.”
Jennifer turned back to Clint. “Do you think we should move the body? Put it on the rug and cover it with a blanket?”
Clint shook his head. “I think the police would prefer it stay right where it is, at least for now.”
Jennifer nodded. A steel gaze came in her eyes. She looked at Ramsey, who almost flinched. Then he shook slightly as if dealing with the aftermath of a panic attack.
“Mr. Ramsey, I am the owner of this Lodge and obviously I am very upset someone used it as a place for murder. So I trust you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions - just to aid the police, of course.”
Ramsey swallowed, or tried to. It looked like a rock had lodged in his throat. “Of course not. I…I do will anything I can to help,” he said.
“Six single individuals checked into my lodge last night. That’s a little unusual. I was commenting on that to Clint just last night. Now it turns out that you knew the deceased. Do you know the other four people who checked in?”
“Yes…I…yes.”
There was a pause and Jennifer noted the look of sadness in his eyes.
“I realize you are upset, Mr. Ramsey, so just relax and take your time.”
“We are all members of the Centennial Historical Society. All of us are history buffs,” he finally answered.
“Why did you all check in here?”
Ramsey shifted in his chair. “This may sound unbelievable.”
“Let’s try it and see,” Jennifer said.
“About a hundred and twenty-five years ago there was a Wells Fargo gold shipment in these parts. An outlaw gang headed by a man nicknamed The Falcon stole it. He got the name because he liked heights and the Rocky Mountains and had actually trained a falcon at one time. Rumor is, the gang got about a hundred thousand worth in gold, coins and bars. What’s known is the gang drifted apart and a few members got shot, but the gold was never found. We believe it’s buried very close by, up in the Rocky Mountain National Forest.”
Jennifer nodded. The entrance to the forest was less than five miles from Aspen Breeze. All drivers had to do was turn left when they left the lodge and they would hit the entrance in about ten minutes.
“The Rocky Mountain National Forest is a huge area, thousands of miles there of virtually unexplored wilderness. You better have a specific location or you’ll spend your lifetime looking and never find anything,” she said.
‘We have researched this gang for years. We think we know approximately where the gold was buried. It’s more than just recovering the gold. This would be a historical find of enormous significance. We were going up there today to try to find the site.”
“Maybe someone didn’t want to share,” Clint said.
Ramsey shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ve known these people for years. I don’t think anyone would kill Bill. Besides, whoever it was would have to kill all of us too if he wanted to keep the gold to himself. Bill was in the high tech field, lower management, but he also liked the wilderness. He knew this forest better than any of us. We were counting on him to help find the site of the gold. He had searched the forest a number of times during the past five years.
I came out with him a few times. He thought he knew where the outlaws had hid their stash. He shared his opinions with us, but he was the one with the most expertise. Eddie, Eddie Tercelli, one of our group, is the second most knowledgeable about the location. He was out a few times too with Bill searching. But it would be tough for him to find the place on his own.”
A blue light waved and flickered in the room. They heard a car door open and then slam shut. They looked up as the officer walked in. He wore a fine, crisp blue uniform with a bright silver badge. He had a slight paunch over his belt, but it didn’t make him look old or slow. The intense gray eyes under the rim of the black police cap took in everything. His revolver was clearly visible on his right hip.
“Chief Sandish,” Clint said, nodding.
Thanks for reading a sample of my first book, Murder in the Mountains. I really hope you liked it. It is available on Amazon at:
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