Chocolate Hearts and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  “What’s your real name, Paisley?” I’d almost lost her, but maybe I could bring her back.

  “It doesn’t matter, now,” she snapped. “I never mattered, not even to Liz, not after that last birthday.” She stumbled to a halt, voice cracking. “How was I supposed to know? No one told me. I made the cake just for him and it was supposed to be special. He was supposed to like me.”

  The cake. “You almost killed Mason.”

  She nodded. “And Elizabeth died because of it.”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty One

  I took a half step forward, Petunia grunting in protest but sliding sideways and following me as I eased toward the girl who seemed suddenly locked in the past, her head down, the gun pointing at the ground again. My dog had made zero effort to run to the girl and greet her, clinging to me as if she understood here was someone she needed to avoid at all costs. And whether Petunia stayed with me to protect me—there was precedence, after all—or for protection, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t care. Having her there was equal parts guilt over not making sure she was safe ages ago and gratitude not to be alone, even if it was one chubby pug on my side against crazy.

  A closer examination of the rifle rang some bells as I moved closer. The lodge’s logo was etched in the side, the butt a metal plate with holes in it what I needed to make the connection. Not a regular gun but a biathlon rifle. Great, Olivia’s badgering to have a team here gave the murderer a weapon to steal. Not like she wouldn’t have dug up a gun somewhere, I guess. And if she picked one, at least it was a small caliber. Still, a .22 would kill me with the right aim and regardless of its original intended use.

  “Tell me your name,” I said, as softly and kindly as I could, hoping to encourage her to talk and yet not shake free of her dazed stillness. “I really want to know.”

  She sniffed, a large drop of moisture falling from her chin and catching the illumination of the emergency light, turning it into a bright red spot before it hit the concrete floor. “Jenny. Jenny Markham.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jenny,” I said. My gaze examined the gun again quickly, unable to stop myself from thinking about the obvious threat. How many bullets did it hold? Did she have to reload between shots? I couldn’t remember, desperate mind trying to make a plan. Deadly, especially for Petunia, but maybe I could take a hit somewhere unimportant if I needed to.

  Wait, was I honestly considering letting her shoot me? Weaponless and without backup or anyone knowing where I was, yeah. Kind of out of other options.

  “I knew you were on to me,” Jenny said, voice lowering though the sadness had gone, the flat line sound returning. “The contact lens, right?”

  “I didn’t make the connection,” I said. “Not until a few minutes ago. But I did wonder why anyone would wear brown lenses. Everyone I’ve met who uses color contacts picks a brighter tone.”

  She shrugged. “My eyes are blue,” she said. “And I used to be a brunette. But you know that already.”

  “You were the girl in the photos.” I nodded to her.

  “One of them.” Her lips tightened as if she wished she hadn’t admitted that, then twisted into a snarl. “The one you called the lurker.” The gun came up again, pointing directly at me, anger now showing on her face. I’d come close enough I could make out her pale eyes. She’d shed the fake contacts. With her hair in shadow dressed in the bulky parka she was definitely more the girl from the photos than the Paisley I’d come to know behind the desk. “The girl no one noticed.”

  “Elizabeth noticed you,” I said. “She was your friend.”

  “She wasn’t.” Jenny surprised me with that, wiping at her nose quickly with one hand before grasping the rifle firmly again. Damn it, too slow. But tackling a young woman with a loaded gun wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to consider, especially now that I could see the magazine holding who knew how many shots. She didn’t have to reload. Peggy’s gun held multiple rounds, too but she had already been on the ground when I disarmed her thanks to Petunia. But despite Dad’s training in handling weapons, I didn’t see a way around taking a bullet at this point.

  Well, damn it.

  “You tried to kill me,” I said, putting as much hurt in my voice as I could, matching hers.

  Jenny flinched, looked away again. “You were on to me,” she said. “Or you would have been. I just needed you out of the way.” She seemed confused, a bit disoriented by the change of topic.

  “Did you know I’d die out there, Jenny?” This girl was nuts.

  She shook her head, met my gaze again, hers twisted in guilt. “Did I? I don’t know. Yes, maybe. Yes.” She was trembling now, shaking all over, the gun vibrating in her hands. And while her unsteadiness was a good thing, her finger on the trigger wasn’t the optimal position for Petunia and I staying alive and unharmed. Jenny stilled suddenly, like a switch flipping inside her brain and I knew then I was right. She’d lost her mind and there wasn’t anything I could do to talk her down.

  Petunia and I were so screwed.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The faint wail in her voice made my ears ache. I shivered steadily now, hugging myself, knowing the cold was going to make escape impossible. I couldn’t go out into the storm in this condition, not and carry Petunia and make it back to the lodge. Though, if I could get around Jenny, I might be able to reach the staff door under the lift or even the corridor to the lobby.

  I just had to get past the crazy girl with the rifle.

  “The storm,” I said, brain slowing as the cold took its toll but still with me enough to make that connection. “You didn’t plan on the weather.”

  “Everything was perfect,” she snarled, stomping one booted foot. “And then the damned storm came out of nowhere. But it was too late, I had my perfect plan in motion and no one suspected me. No one.” She glared then. “Except you.”

  I had a horrible feeling about the rest of her story, knew encouraging her to talk was the only thing keeping me alive. And though I figured it was a 50/50 between disabling her already broken mind and feeding her anger enough to trigger my death, I prodded her anyway.

  “Elizabeth,” I said. “Jenny, do you know what happened to her?” I hesitated when she froze and stared at me like she didn’t see me. It was a fight to keep my teeth from chattering when I spoke again. “Why did you kill Mason? Because he killed her?”

  “No,” she whispered, barely audible over the whistling wind outside and my own shivering. “Because he picked her over me.”

  I swallowed and stayed quiet, waiting for her to finish. She couldn’t help herself now, it was clear on her face, how it twisted, her gaze locked into the distant past as she relived what happened in her mind. While I again began to ease sideways toward her.

  “She was my best friend. Liz and me, from the moment we met at college. I never had a best friend.” Jenny smiled faintly, one hand releasing the rifle to touch the air in front of her like she saw Elizabeth before her. I had to force myself to keep moving slowly, still sliding around her left side, away from the hand supporting the gun and toward the generator. There was a metal hose draped over it, the open end stuffed into the workings of the machine. One glance at the wall gave me the source of that hose, a shutoff valve and an explosive sign pretty clear in their meaning. What was she planning? It couldn’t be good. “We had so much in common and we both loved him. Both of us. Equally. And that was okay.” She nodded, her smile tight now, then collapsing as tears trickled down her face. “Until I made him that cake.” She choked on a sob. “And he blamed Elizabeth. I never told her. I couldn’t.” Her head shake made me freeze a moment, fearful she’d jerk herself out of her reverie but she was lost in the past and I was close, so close. “I thought we’d be best friends forever. I comforted her, I was there for her when he was so cruel. My fault.” She lowered her head. “My fault he thought she tried to kill him.”

  I stopped my advance, Petunia huffing softly as she leaned into me for warmth or support or whatever mot
ivated her doggy brain. Damn it, just two more steps and I could get my hands on the rifle. Two more.

  Jenny looked up, snapped back to reality. And those few feet were suddenly far too close for comfort.

  “If that bitch Ava hadn’t saved Mason, none of this would have happened.” Jenny shrugged. “I wish I’d had time to kill her, too, but she’ll just have to suffer with everyone else.”

  Wait, what? “What are you talking about?”

  “The generators,” she said. “I rigged them with the gas lines.” She gestured at her feet, the hose I’d noticed. “This place is state of the art.” She sounded proud of that. “Solar panels, geothermal heating systems. But most of it isn’t up and running yet so they’re using natural gas.” She giggled then, a little girl in a broken young woman’s mind. “Did you know gas and electricity make for an impressive combination? Once I turn this one on and get things pumping, the others should blow in minutes.”

  Wait, what? “What others?” Stupid and slow, Fee.

  “The main genset of course,” Jenny said. “The whole thing’s rigged to go up in a glorious fashion. I’ll be up the mountain by then. I’m sure it will be a beautiful show.” She smiled then, wide and so creepy I flinched. “Daddy was a mechanic and his little girl learned lots.” Her fingers tightened on the rifle stock. “Including how to shoot to kill.”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Two

  “Wait, please.” I held up both hands, trembling from the cold and fear. “The rest of the story, Jenny. What happened to Elizabeth? What happened to your best friend?”

  I needed her to fall back into that state of distance, because it wasn’t just me at risk anymore. Panic spiked inside me, my heart pounding. While the generator explosion might not reach inside the main lodge, all the staff was confined to their section. And from what Bill showed me, the generators sat literally on the other side of their quarters. It was highly likely at least some of them would die. And if a fire broke out, the whole lodge could be affected. I had to disarm her. Now.

  But Jenny wasn’t falling for my tactics again, whether due to her renewed focus or my loss of compassion thanks to my terror. Instead, she jerked the gun in my direction and smiled with a cruel twist to her mouth. “We were supposed to be friends forever. She promised. And that we’d always love him equally. But she changed that. She lied.”

  “Mason asked her to go skiing.” I let that hang in the frosty air.

  Jenny flinched. “She invited me to Aspen.” She sounded like that had been a dream, something she’d never get to do otherwise. “I thought we were going to spend the whole week together. But then he broke our code. He divided the sisterhood.” Jenny’s jaw jumped, blue eyes snapping fury. “And she let him, the traitor. She tossed me to the side and destroyed our trust and went skiing with him that day instead of doing what she swore she’d do.”

  “She betrayed you and broke your heart.” I nodded, hugging myself again to try to conserve some heat. While tensing and preparing for the worst. Because as soon as I gathered the courage, I was going to leap at her and likely get shot and there was nothing else I could do about it. There was zero doubt in my mind, gazing into her hard and pitiless eyes, that she was going to shoot me regardless. I might as well go out trying to be a hero.

  “I followed them up the mountain,” she said. “Watched him leave her there. They all did. They abandoned her at the top of that black diamond. She cried, did you know that? She just stood there and cried and I watched her from the woods and I hated her for crying over them.”

  “What happened, Jenny?” I didn’t mean to sound so compassionate but maybe it was the cold, the weakness, the weariness. But I suddenly saw her there, watching her only friend weep over people who didn’t give a crap about her, while the one person who did care turned from twisted, damaged love to utter hate.

  Whatever the cause of my authentic empathy, it reached her, if only for a moment. Jenny stilled, lips working before she spoke. “I was on snowshoes,” she said. “I couldn’t ski. But it didn’t matter. Made it easier to sneak up behind her while she cried. The run was supposed to be closed so there was no one around. So quiet. And snowing just a little. Peaceful except for her blubbering.” Jenny exhaled deeply like the story was just too heavy for her to carry anymore. “I hit her over the head with a rock. And dragged her into the woods before rolling her over a cliff where no one would ever find her.” Jenny paused, tilted her head, face stilling from that hard fury to utter calm. “She bounced on the bottom, twice. But she never made a sound.”

  I couldn’t speak, not for a long time. Didn’t matter. Jenny went on without me.

  “I tried, after that, you know.” She stared down at her hands on the rifle, a faint smile on her lips. “I totally remade myself.” That tiny expression turned to a beaming smile. “Lost weight, changed my clothes, tried to fit in. Because that was what he wanted. Wasn’t it what he wanted?”

  I nodded, still tongue tied by her admission of her casual and horrific murder of Elizabeth Adler.

  “None of it mattered,” Jenny said, crying again though her face twisted in rage. “Not even a little. Because he was all about Ava from then on. Ava, Ava, Ava.” Her knuckles whitened on the rifle, her teeth audibly grinding while my own clattered in my head.

  “But you didn’t kill her,” I said.

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Not directly. Because she doesn’t matter, not anymore. She didn’t make me kill my best friend.” Blue eyes snapped with insanity. “Mason did. That worthless trash got between us. It was his fault and he paid for it.” She seemed flustered then, hesitant. “And now I have nothing.”

  “You have so much, Jenny,” I said. “Please, don’t do this. Just turn yourself in. I know they’ll understand. They’ll see what you went through, I’m sure of it.”

  Her jaw jutted at me, grief flashing to blank emptiness. “You’re just afraid because I’m going to shoot you.”

  Petunia muttered something, grumbling as she shivered against me. I glanced down at her and felt for the third time in less than a year that I was going to die. And no Moose barreling out of the snow to save me, no Petunia to take Peggy out at the knees. Just the cold and the rifle and the crazy girl with zero crap to give.

  “The peanut oil,” I gasped, desperate to keep her talking if only to stay alive a few more minutes. “You stole it from the kitchen?”

  She seemed bored at last, rolling her eyes. “Easy,” she said. “Why Chef had it anyway, knowing Mason was allergic. Whatever. I had some with me regardless. But it gave me a great opportunity to deflect suspicion.”

  “Onto Ethan,” I said.

  “He’s just as pathetic as Elizabeth was,” Jenny snapped. “Fawning over that Ava even though she didn’t love him. I saw it, I saw everything. How they all treated each other, how Mason manipulated them against one another. I’m surprised Noah didn’t find a way to betray Ethan before now. He owed his soul to Mason, was always at Ava to leave his brother for his master. Sickening, all of them.”

  “You hid the oil in the men’s washroom on purpose,” I said. “Placed the out of order sign.”

  “I had him touch it earlier,” she said. “Asked him to hold it. He had no idea what it was.”

  “So his finger prints are on it.” I nodded, sighed. “You really would have gotten away with it.”

  Jenny grinned her crazy ass grin. “I still will,” she said. “Because the only person who knows the truth is about to eat a bullet.”

  “You erased the security footage,” I said, a bit hasty, fear driving words out of my mouth. “You know, you’re a great actor, Jenny. Oscar worthy performance in there. All of it. Truly masterful.”

  She curtsied a little, even giggled. Did nothing to make me feel better about my odds.

  “I had you fooled, but I knew better. Those sheriffs were off on the wrong ideas from the start. But I saw the smart in you, Fiona. I figured you’d be onto me eventually. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to do this. That
you’d die in the snow. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”

  “You were at the desk when the cake was served,” I said.

  “Oh, please,” she laughed. “Everyone was in the dining room, Donna with Chef and with Nancy gone home because of her stupid baby I had the run of the place. There’s a back entry to the kitchen. I just found the slice with the candle on the table and used the oil on it. Two seconds flat.”

  “And the vial under Simone’s chair?” I was at the end of my questions. This was it. I was going to die shortly after she answered. Maybe we both knew it because the already tense atmosphere tightened further and Jenny’s aim stilled to a pinpoint.

  “Placed there long before dinner was served,” Jenny said. “Thanks for the chance to get all of that off my chest. It’s been cathartic.” There was nothing to say to that. “Goodbye, Miss Fleming.”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Three

  I tensed to leap, knowing this was the end, terrified for Petunia, for the lodge, for myself. Drew a breath in slow motion while everything seemed to still and fall silent, my heartbeat thudding from one da-dum to the next before stopping as time stood as frozen as the mountain.

  Petunia’s bark broke the instant, shattered Jenny’s focus, my terror. I fell to my knees and hugged her, the gun swinging toward her, the crazy girl’s expression twisting and I knew then my pug would go first if I didn’t act.

  Even as the door across from her opened and four people walked in so casually from the staff quarters, arguing above the storm’s echoing wind, they clearly had no idea what they’d just interrupted.

  I don’t know what prompted them to come, didn’t care at the moment. I was just ridiculously happy to see them and then horrified they were now at risk, too. Had I still been on my feet I would have risked throwing myself at Jenny, but I’d lost my position, hugging the pug I’d come to love and staring up at the crazy girl while she backed away from me, her weapon now leveled at Simone, Ava, Noah and Ethan who froze as they finally realized they were in danger.