Forever Mine: A Fun and Flirty Romantic Mystery (Amber Reed Mystery Book 3)

by Zanna Mackenzie

  “Right. So we have a plan then. You’ll tackle Micky. I’ll take on Fran and then we’ll sort Tom. First, can we go and get something to eat though? I’m starving.”

  The sun is shining and the fierce northerly wind has dropped so we find our fellow guests out on the deck at the rear of the chalet, sipping coffee and eating chocolate-covered croissants.

  Yum. I have a thing for custard slices. They are my cake of choice when I’m at home and yes, I confess, I have even been known to eat one for breakfast on occasion but right now a chocolate croissant will do just fine.

  A table is full of a wide range of cooked food options all tucked up nice and warm in those catering trays which heat the food. There are eggs of all descriptions, plus waffles, hash browns, sausages - pork and veggie versions - as well as tomatoes and baked beans. I grab a plate and choose a couple of hash browns and some scrambled eggs.

  I notice Charlie goes straight for the chocolate croissants and then heads for the table where Micky Adamson is sitting. Micky’s eyes are hidden behind designer sunglasses, suggesting he too might be suffering with a headache. Only I have the feeling his is quite probably alcohol induced rather than from spending hours poring over paperwork and a spot of sleep deprivation, as is the case for me. Looks like Charlie is switching into investigation mode before his first coffee of the day.

  I follow him over and settle at Micky’s table, where Ty’s mum and dad are also sitting.

  “Morning,” Charlie says cheerily. Mr and Mrs Dawson respond with an equally warm greeting but Micky just grunts.

  “No Pammie this morning?” I ask, trying to sound casual. Pammie is Micky’s glamourous other half.

  Micky looks at me as though I’m mad. “Pammie rarely gets out of bed before noon. She needs her beauty sleep.”

  From what I’ve seen and heard about Pammie most of her beauty has come via skilled plastic surgeons and beauticians, and has nothing whatsoever to do with getting a full eight hours sleep every night.

  “Any plans for today, Micky?” Charlie asks, leaning back in his chair.

  “Thought I might grab myself a lounger and go to sleep in the sun for a bit now the weather feels more like May than bloody December.”

  Our Micky is a happy little soul isn’t he?

  “I heard some of the guys were thinking of getting a guide and going glacier skiing. Thought I might give it a go. We can’t tempt you to join us then?” Charlie asks.

  “There’s a local guy that Amelia knows who does ski and mountain guide stuff, you might want to get his number and give him a call,” Howard Dawson suggests.

  “Thanks, Mr Dawson. His name’s not Tom Williamson is it?” Charlie asks. “Only I seem to recall Amelia and Ty mentioning that name before.”

  “Yes, it is and please, call me Howard,” the man replies. He looks to be in his early sixties and has a full head of silvery blond hair, the kind of slim body which suggests he might be a regular at his local tennis club, and a kind face.

  Charlie takes a sip of his coffee and I pinch the remaining croissant from his plate as he turns his attention back to Mr Grumpy. “So we can’t tempt you to join us then, Micky?”

  Micky pulls off his sunglasses and rubs at his eyes. “Yeah, sure, OK, why not? May as well do something useful rather than waste the day.”

  “Great, I’ll speak to Amelia about this guy’s details,” Charlie says, getting to his feet and heading off in the direction of the buffet table which is also where Amelia is now standing.

  The stress of not just the stalker stuff but having Ty shot is making her look even more pale and tired. I wonder what time she returned from the hospital last night. I certainly never heard her get in at the chalet. The place is so large you could easily not know if someone was home or not but Amelia’s room is on the top floor and right above ours so I figure I’d have heard her while we were busy with the computer checks and stuff.

  Moments later Amelia walks away, into the chalet and Charlie stays where he is to make a call. Presumably to Tom Williamson to check if he’s available to be their glacier skiing guide.

  He walks back and forth in front of the buffet table as he speaks on the phone. Then he grabs another croissant and returns to our table. “We’re on,” he says to Micky. “Tom says he’ll meet us all here in an hour.”

  Micky nods and gets to his feet. “See you in the foyer later then.”

  I eye up Charlie’s plate and he deftly scoops up the croissant before I can get to it, the flaky buttery pastry crumbling in his fingers. Spoilsport.

  “So you won’t be joining our little skiing party then?” Charlie asks me as he gets changed into his ski gear up in our room.

  “I can’t ski,” I explain, lounging on a purple velvet chaise longue as I read through our suspect list for the zillionth time. “I have instructions to engage one of my fellow guests in conversation instead remember? I’m supposed to befriend Fran.”

  Leaning down he pecks me on the cheek. “They weren’t instructions, Amber. I only asked if you could work your conversational magic on Fran. I didn’t issue instructions. Well I’m off. See you later.”

  I stand on our room’s veranda and watch Charlie and Micky, joined now by creepy Grant and even Spencer, as they chat with their guide, who has just turned up.

  Tom Williamson looks exactly how you’d expect a handyman-cum-ski-and-mountain- guide to look. He’s athletic, tall, and is sporting a black and silver ski suit which shows off his muscle-bound thighs. After all of the introductions are complete he ushers his party into the fancy minivan he arrived in and they whiz off down the road towards the mountain and the ski lifts.

  The last time Tom Williamson took a group of people off into the great outdoors from this chalet, somebody ended up getting shot.

  I hope nothing like that is going to happen today.

  A gust of wind makes me shiver and I step back inside to spend ten minutes preparing conversational openers and ways to subtly get information out of Fran for when I go in search of her later this morning.

  I hope I’m suitably prepared for my task and eventually find Fran in the lounge curled up on a sofa and reading a book.

  Book. Perfect. A fantastic topic to start a conversation on.

  “Reading anything good?” I ask.

  Fran jumps, drops the book and turns to see who has disturbed her quiet reading time.

  “It’s getting interesting,” she replies, picking the book up again. I notice it’s a Poirot murder mystery. “I got it from the library here in the chalet. It’s just through the door off the dining room if you’re in search of something to read.”

  I take a seat opposite her. “Thanks, I’ll go and check it out later on.”

  She nods and returns to her book.

  Still reluctant to talk then huh?

  “So do you have any plans for today?” I ask. “Other than reading of course.”

  “There’s a fancy spa in the resort in one of the big hotels. Amelia has signed all of her guests in to be able to use the facilities of the spa as much as they like at no charge this week. I thought I’d head over there and maybe have a facial or a massage. The way my life’s been lately I could use some pampering.”

  My nosey radar kicks in at her words. So what, I wonder, has been going on in her life to get her so stressed? “That sounds good. Do you mind if I join you?”

  The reluctance is clear in her eyes.

  “Only I don’t know anybody here except Charlie, and he’s gone off on a boy’s day out glacier skiing. I could use some company. I’d really appreciate it,” I gush.

  “OK. Meet me in the foyer in thirty minutes?”

  I nod enthusiastically.

  Back in our bedroom I grab a swimsuit. I’m not a frequent spa visitor but if it’s as posh as Fran says then they’ll provide towels and slippers and everything your heart could desire so I’m thinking my swimsuit is the only thing I need to take with me.

  There’s still fifteen minutes until I have to meet Fran.
Should I head down to the foyer early just in case she tries to ditch me and go off on her own? She didn’t seem keen to have me accompany her. No, that would seem a bit creepy probably. I’ll go and see if I can find Amelia instead for a little catch up on how Ty is doing.

  Amelia is in the kitchen chatting to Greg and his wife Bethan. I knock on the already open door. “Hi! Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering how Ty’s recuperation was going?”

  “Come in,” Amelia beckons. Is it my imagination or does she look a little bit better now? Less frail and there’s a hint of colour in her cheeks I think. “I was just sorting out dinner menu stuff.”

  “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?” Bethan asks.

  I shake my head. “Thanks anyway.”

  Amelia turns back to Greg. “So that’s all OK then?”

  “Of course. We’ll go and do a grocery shop this morning and get those things in you mentioned,” he replies.

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Amelia slips an arm through one of mine. “Amber, shall we go out onto the deck and I’ll update you on Ty’s progress?”

  We lean against the wooden railing which surrounds the chalet’s deck. The view is stunning. Sunlight makes the snow on the tops of the mountain seem brighter and whiter. I see the cable car ski lifts sedately making their way up and down the cable between the base station and the mountain’s glacier ski area. I wonder where Charlie and the gang are. Have they reached the glacier yet? Will they return safely this afternoon? A shiver creeps up my spine at the thought of Charlie and the others being in danger.

  “So how is Ty?” I ask, remembering why I’m here. I glance at my watch. Just under ten minutes until I’m due to meet Fran.

  “He’s doing better, thank you for asking.” She dabs at her eyes with the sleeve of her top. “Sorry. It’s just that I’m so stressed about everything that’s going on. I was so hoping this week would provide a much needed chance to switch off and rest. And a chance for Ty and I to have some quality time together where I’m not distracted by my work all the time and having to learn lines.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, if that was your original intention, then how come you invited all these other people along as well?”

  A faint smile flickers on her lips. “It’s kind of a tradition I suppose. Every year, when a break in my work allows, I usually invite Fran and Spencer along for a holiday. Back when Fran and I were at drama school we always used to go off to auditions in various cities together. Those trips have kind of stuck with us as we’ve grown up. Now we have our partners with us as well and I began to feel guilty for not inviting other friends and family along. I bumped into Micky a few weeks back and we got on so well I just blurted out an invite and he amazed me by saying yes. Then Ty thought it might help get his family onside about our relationship, which we really need to do, so we invited them along too.”

  She sighs and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. I let the silence hang between us just like I was taught to in support officer training. Most people apparently can’t stand awkward silences and will say anything to fill them. Which is often when, with their guard down, they might end up revealing something, saying things they shouldn’t have said.

  “Things got out of hand, it happens,” she continues, staring out at the view.

  Clearing her throat she adds, “Let’s talk about something else shall we? I understand you know Ennis and Siobhan don’t you? I like Ennis. He was fun to work with the one time we were on the same project. We hit it off straight away. Not quite so keen on Siobhan though.”

  “She grows on you. Give her time.” I know Charlie is supposed to be working the case as far as finding out more about Micky but I can’t resist seeing if I can help things along a tad via a chat with our host. “Amelia, can I ask you something about Micky? Charlie and I found out he can be a bit volatile and had some drunk and disorderly cautions. Did you know about them?”

  She turns away, staring out across the resort. “He was never like that when we were together. His dad was an alcoholic and Micky always swore he’d never end up like him. I guess the pressure of the industry combined with his inherited tendency towards seeking solace in booze, eventually got to him.”

  “I gather Micky’s career isn’t going so well?” I prompt.

  “No. It isn’t. I don’t think his choice of girlfriend helps matters drink-wise either. Pammie is a clinger-on. She’s an out and out party girl. They met at some do and as soon as he said he was an actor she was hanging off his arm and has been ever since.”

  “Even though he’s not famous?”

  “Yes. I think she has hopes one day he will be famous. He has money too, which helps as far as she’s concerned. Family money.” She turns back to me. “He’s a good actor but in this business it’s as much about luck as it is talent.”

  I nod and rest a hand briefly on her shoulder. “I’d better get going. I invited myself along to a spa day with Fran and I’m supposed to be meeting her in the foyer in a minute. You don’t fancy joining us do you? If you’re not going back to the hospital just yet, it might do you good to go to the spa. Besides I’m sure you don’t want to be hanging around the chalet at a loose end.”

  I can see she’s thinking about it. “I honestly think it will do you good and Fran might be more relaxed and talkative with you around as well.”

  “OK. I’ll meet you in the foyer. I just need to grab a bikini from my room.” She stops as she reaches the doorway into the chalet. “Oh, I’ve got that list of ex-boyfriends up in my suite as well. Do you want to come and fetch it?”

  I follow her up the stairs to the penthouse suite of the chalet. If I thought my and Charlie’s room was impressive, this space is palatial. I stand and gawp as Amelia disappears into the walk-in wardrobe. “The list is on the desk in the sitting area around the corner.”

  It has a sitting area? I wander around a partial wall and see a whole other area divided from the bedroom. There are two sofas, a coffee table, a wall-mounted flat screen TV which wouldn’t look out of place in a cinema, and, off to one side, a desk and chair with a laptop and printer.

  I pick up the list and peruse the names. All ten of them. It looks as though Amelia has been pretty busy on the dating front. I recognise a few names as well known (and very handsome) actors. Another one is, if I remember rightly, a director. Micky is, of course, on the list too. I don’t think we’re looking at any potential stalkers on this list, but I’ll get them all checked out anyway, no stone left unturned and all that.

  “Ready?” Amelia asks as she pops her head around the dividing wall.

  “Ready,” I reply as I tuck the list in my bag and follow Amelia back down the stairs.

  I’m relaxing on a lounger covered in pristine white towels, dressed in a robe with some exotic-smelling goo on my face. The Eastern European sounding therapist told me it would make my skin glow with health.

  Here’s hoping.

  Fran is on the bed to my left and Amelia on the one to my right. The water of the indoor swimming pool laps gently at the edges making a soothing sound.

  Am I supposed to not speak while I’m wearing this mask? Tentatively I try to open my mouth a little. Mmm. The mask has set pretty firm now. Perhaps the question is more, can I actually physically speak while wearing this mask?

  I decide to go with the safe option and keep my mouth shut until the mask can come off. My questions for Fran can wait a little while longer.

  An hour later the masks have been removed and Fran and I are sitting having pedicures. Amelia is in one of the treatment rooms having something called a hot stone massage. This is the perfect chance to have a little chat then.

  “This place is fantastic,” I say. “But do you find it all a bit intimidating as well, or is it just me?”

  Fran puts the magazine she was flicking through down and nods. “Yes, I suppose so.” She lowers her voice and leans closer. Did I just catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath? Surely not. It’s a bit early in the day for t
hat. “I mean, look at everyone. They’re all so perfect they don’t need to be in a spa getting yet more treatments.”

  “Lifestyles of the rich and famous huh?” I say with a conspiratorial wink.

  “Sadly not a lifestyle I’m acquainted with, other than via Amelia. Spencer would hate it in here, all this healthy living stuff. He’s recently started smoking again. He gave up two years ago, for the second time, but he never manages to stay off them permanently.”

  “So why did he start again?”

  She shrugs. “Stress. I mean, in this day and age we’re all constantly stressed out aren’t we? While we’ve been staying at the chalet he’s taken to nipping off outside for a quick cigarette here and there. Of course the chalet is a strictly no smoking zone and he’s feeling really self-conscious about being a smoker again.”

  “I’ve begged him to stop,” she continues, contemplating the edge of the belt on her robe. “But I’ve come to the conclusion I’m wasting my breath.”

  “I can imagine. Anyway, let’s talk about something more cheerful shall we? It’s nice how you and Amelia have remained friends after all these years though especially as you…” I pause, choosing my next words carefully, “move in very different circles.”

  Fran lets out a peal of laughter. It surprises me and makes a few of our fellow spa guests turn in our direction. Somehow I get the feeling Fran doesn’t do much laughing.

  “That has to be the understatement of the year,” she says.

  “Look, just tell me to mind my own business if you want to. I’ve always been nosey and I promise I won’t take offence if you do tell me to butt out, but are you OK? You seem a bit quiet and upset. I’ve been told I’m a good listener if you want to talk. Sometimes it helps, you know, telling someone stuff who isn’t a friend.”

  A faint smile flickers on Fran’s face. I hold my breath. Is she going to tell me to mind my own business or is she going to open up to me?