“Murder at the Lone Peak”
Cozy Mystery
A Lone Peak Hotel Mystery
Volume One
Kendall Scott
© 2019
Kendall Scott
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18. Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.
Edition v1.00 (2019.06.10)
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Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Christine S., Kari Wellborn and those would want to remain anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter One
There just weren’t enough hours in the day! Who in their right mind divided the day into twenty-four hours anyway? Twenty-six would maybe be enough. Twenty-eight would be perfect! Even thirty…. but twenty-four? Talk about making things difficult!
This was a concern and a constant point of annoyance that Constance Aberfield could not shake as she stampeded her way down Modest-View Street like a herd of wild buffalo that had just been released into the wild. Almost every day she thought on this, and almost every day she decided that were she ever given the chance, she would happily extend the hours of the day without question. If Constance were to ever meet God Almighty, and if he were to offer her but a single wish, she would not hesitate in asking for an extra hour or two each day. Maybe three, just to be safe.
But as her chances of meeting God anytime soon were slim, she chose not to dwell too long on this problem. Dwelling on a problem one could not fix never solved anything. Rather she picked up her pace, put her head down and prepared herself for what was sure to be a very hectic, and headache inducing day.
The first day of Spring was exactly seven days away. What this meant for the humble little mountain town of Modest Peak, Colorado, was that in seven days, when the snows officially melted, and the birds sung their first song of the new season, that Modest Elementary School would hold their annual Spring Fair.
The Fair was a truly marvelous day if there ever was one, and one of Constance’s top ten days of the years. To list the other nine days right now would be cumbersome and altogether pointless. It was a day where the entire town of Modest Peak came together as one to celebrate not just the change in season, but the town in general and what a truly majestic little village it was.
There were the usual carnival rides, and side-show games that any fair was wont to have – from pie eating contests, to the ring toss, and right on through to face painting and hammer throwing—and a few extra little touches added by Constance and the Town Council. These were nothing flash of course, but they were designed to induce a little town spirit and camaraderie and remind the people that they were truly blessed to live in such a perfect town as Modest Peak.
The real show stopper this year, and Constance’s own personal suggestion, was the “Best in Town” series. This was a five-part show-piece where a panel of judges were brought together to judge the best of everything in town; from food, to fashion, to entertainment.
Five categories, five winners and a whole lot of fun. Constance got giddy just thinking about it.
It was this Fair, and its slowly encroaching start date, that had Constance in such a flurry this morning. As an elected member of the Town Council, the head of the Neighborhood Watch, and an honorary member of both the Rotary Club and Junior Girl Scouts, Constance had more to do in the next seven days then most could fit into a lifetime.
Constance wasn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore either; not by a long way. At the not-so-tender age of fifty-four, she was already on the other side of youth and starting to catch glimpses of old age staring her in the face.
But having said that, she also prided herself on looking to be on the better side of fifty-rather than the other. Her hair was short cut, and a dark burgundy-red in color. Her skin was fair, as was common in these parts, but devoid of wrinkles or any blemishes that other women her age had. And her features, from her almond shaped eyes to her long nose, short chin, made her look more elegant than aged… or at least she thought so.
And most importantly, Constance never ever, ever let age defy her. At fifty-four she had the energy of a twenty-year old. In fact, just the thought of being tired only spurred her on further, adding a zest to her step as she hurried down the street.
Her morning began at sunrise, which was also the same time that the local supermarket—Lone Aisle Supermarket—opened its doors. There was only one supermarket in the town of Modest Peak, which not only made things convenient, but it also meant that Constance just so happened to be on rather good terms with its owner, Mr. Trunch.
“Constance Aberfield,” Mr. Trunch barked in his trademark gruff and burly, manner. He was a nice enough man once you got to know him, but until that day arrived, most saw him as a little rough around the edges. This wasn’t helped by his lazy eye and the sneer he constantly wore under his thick beard.
“Mr. Trunch!” Constance beamed as the doors to Lone Aisle Supermarket opened for her. “I was hoping you’d be on this morning.”
“You know I am,” Mr. Trunch responded shortly. “I always open.”
“And that’s why I’m here,” she continued in her pleasant manner as she followed Mr. Trunch into the store. “I don’t know what’s more pleasant, the sunrise this morning or the pleasure of your company?”
Although he walked in front of her, Constance could sense the way the Mr. Trunch rolled his eyes at her comment. But no matter as Constance always believed it was nice to be nice, and that a friendly smile and a handshake went a lot further than a grimace or a glare.
With the pleasantries completed, Constance then proceeded to hand over the list of items that would be needed for the Fair, to be donated by Lone Aisle Supermarket, later in the week. If Mr. Trunch had any objection to this list, he didn’t indicate or say so – he did owe Constance a favor after all for she had let his elderly mother stay at her hotel early last year, free of charge. Before th
e two had so much as crossed the entire length of the supermarket, Constance’s first chore was completed.
With that task done and dusted, Constance kicked herself back into gear and continued her way down Modest View Street, bouncing from store to store as she gave, and was granted, her list of demands.
Modest Peak was a simple little town if there ever was one. Built beneath the peak of a rather modest in size mountain range, it was comprised of a single “Main Street” that ran perpendicular to the range. From this street spewed a handful of lesser streets that housed most of the town’s tenants. And with only 5,325 people living in town, an idea might be had as to how many of these streets there were.
This layout, although unconventional and little rustic in nature, was also terribly convenient for someone like Constance. It meant that on a day like this one, where she had to visit nearly every store in town, from the bakery to the local library, she could literally start at one end of the street and walk to the other, knowing full well that every single stop she had to make was on the way.
It took Constance the entire morning, and an hour past lunch, before she had finished the list of chores which she had set out to do that morning. From Lone Aisle Supermarket, she made haste to the Lonely Reader Bookstore. From there she hurried to the Modest Bakery and from that particularly sweet stop, she moved on the double to the Fire Station. She crisscrossed, she backtracked, she hopped, she skipped, and she even jumped her way down Modest-View, until, she reached its end, ticked her final stop off the list and was allowed a momentary sigh of relief. Her morning was done.
As this was Constance Aberfield, and not just your average town stalker, having her morning tasks completed in no way meant that she was finished for the day. Oh, no! You see, apart from her dalliances with the Town Council, the Neighborhood Watch, the Rotary Club and the Junior Girl Scouts, Constance also owned the only hotel in town.
This hotel was called The Lone Peak Hotel, and for Constance Aberfield, this was where the fun really begun.
The Lone Peak Hotel was located smack-dab at the very start of Modest-View Street – or the very end of Modest-View Street, depending on how one saw it, but as this is Constance’s story, then the very start of the street and in that, the town just makes more sense – and as such, it was the very first thing that anyone driving through town saw.
Most disputed the exact age of Modest Peak, with some placing it at over two hundred years old, and some saying up to three hundred. What isn’t disputed by a single soul however, is that The Lone Peak Hotel was the first building built in town and is therefore not only the oldest building in town, but is also the heart, and in Constance’s humble opinion, the soul of Modest Peak.
It was Constance’s father’s four times removed who built the hotel – originally a saloon – and since then its ownership has been passed down through the Aberfield lineage like a gold pocket watch. Constance has run and managed the hotel for the better part of two decades and she had every intent on running and managing it for the next two decades too.
A two-story building, from the outside it looked like the type of hotel one would find in a Victorian Era fairy-tale. Pure white, timber walls, a flat grey tiled roof, and open pane windows adorning the front palisades were but some of the features. The exterior was adorned by a lavish, somewhat audacious garden, the right side featured a large parking lot, and the entrance was marked by a very large, steel gateway – always open.
The inside, although modern by choice, was purposefully aged in design. An open foyer – covered in plush, burgundy carpeting – greeted any guest entering via the front door. The furniture that filled this foyer was the same from the day the hotel first opened – restored and updated, of course. Hanging from the roof was a grandiose crystal chandelier, that dazzled and awed any lucky enough to see it. And a Gone with the Wind styled staircase tied the entire room together as it leads to the upper balcony where the guest’s rooms were located.
From the foyer one could make their way out the back where a restaurant that served the best spaghetti bolognese in the state was located, or they could turn right and relax in the reading room – one that featured its own modest library filled primarily with thrillers and mystery novels, as Constance loved a good mystery novel.
All in all, The Lone Peak Hotel was a shining light in the town of Modest Peak. Never too full and never too empty, it kept Constance busy without being flat out, and it was just one of the many nice things that guests had to say about the town after they left.
***
It was just after 2pm when Constance found herself arriving back at the hotel. Although the morning had been warm and pleasant, she could see a storm coming on the horizon and was glad to be back in the confines of what she called ‘home.’
As Constance strode into the foyer of her hotel, the first thing she noticed was a middle-aged male sitting on one of the couches by reception. He wore an old tweed suit, a very worn pair of shoes, had an even shabbier briefcase propped up by his legs, and held a book in his hand that he was currently engrossed in. As she passed him, he spared her a glance before returning to said book.
Curious, Constance continued across the foyer and made for reception where she was delighted to see her receptionist, Sydney Brooks, standing and waiting.
The reason she was delighted by the sight of Sydney had nothing to do with Constance’s yearning to see the woman. It was more to do with the fact that Sydney was what one might call more colorful than careful. At the age of forty, she sported vivid pink hair – a color that changed weekly – a pair of glasses that had no glass in them and a constantly cheerful yet achingly dull expression. She was friendly, genuine, kind and caring. But she was also about as reliable as a house made from hay in a storm.
“Sydney,” Constance began carefully as she approached the bench. “How are things?”
“Oh, hey!” Sydney beamed in her usual, joyous manner. “Constance, I was wondering when you’d be back! We’ve been just so busy here!”
“Really?” Constance frowned, turning back to note the lone, shabby gentleman in the foyer. Except for him, the hotel was a ghost-town. “Any new check-in’s this morning?”
“Not a one.” Her eyes blinked furiously.
“So, it’s still just the Australian back-packer and that lovely husband and wife pairing from north Minnesota?” she pressed, feeling slightly confused as she did.
“That’s all so far!”
There was a brief pause as Constance leaned to her left as a means to reveal the shabby gentleman sitting and waiting. Sydney, smiling pleasantly, seemed to look right at him before looking back to Constance. Nothing.
Constance refrained from rolling her eyes… but with some serious difficulty. “Can I ask then who that gentlemen in the foyer is? Has he not checked in?”
“Who?” Sydney asked with full sincerity. She then leaned around Constance, her eyes falling on the shabby gentlemen reading his book. “How long has he been there for?”
Constance stared at her receptionist blankly, not sure whether she should laugh or cry. “I don’t know,” she finally said, emphasizing each word clearly and directly. “Do you think that maybe you should check him in?”
“Well, obviously!” Sydney said as if nothing were the matter. She then leaned around Constance and yelled out to the shabby gentleman. “Sir! Sir!” The man looked up from his book, apparently caught by surprise. “Are you looking to check in?”
“For over an hour,” the man responded gruffly. It was said more to himself, but loud enough so that all could hear.
Eyes wide in disbelief, Constance took one more look at Sydney, shook her head to herself and made haste from reception before she did or said something she might regret. She loved Sydney, she really did, but sometimes that woman made it hard. It was just lucky that The Lone Peak was the only hotel in town… and within over two hundred miles in either direction. If it weren’t, then she might really be in trouble.
But now that she was bac
k, and had that little issue sorted, Constance suddenly remembered just how much she had to do. As such, she kicked herself into gear as she made her way across the foyer and toward the staircase. It was just as Constance was making her way up the staircase that the front door suddenly blew wide open, crashing into the wall as it did.
“Oh, my!” Constance jumped from the shock as she hurried down the stairs and slammed the door closed. This in itself was an effort as the storm had literally just come in, sending a strong gust of wind blowing down from the mountains, through the Modest-View Street and seemingly straight into The Lone Peak.
But she got the door closed in the end. And once it was, she clapped her hands together, nodded her head once in confirmation and made her way back up the stairs.
She was halfway up the stairs this time when the door blew open for a second time, this one resulting in an even louder crash as the door slammed into the wall. Constance near fell down the stairs in fright, and even more so when she turned around to see that it wasn’t the wind that had blown the door open this time, but a lone man.
He wore a bright yellow raincoat with the hood still pulled up to obscure his face; he was sopping wet and dripping water all over Constance’s nice clean carpet; and most peculiarly, he appeared to have frozen on the spot the moment he entered the establishment.
“Hello?” Constance called down to the man, who still stood frozen in the doorway. “Hello? May we help you?”
The wind continued to blow through the open doorway, banging the door against the wall as it did. And the rain, having started up now, blew in from behind the man in the yellow raincoat, sprinkling the entry way in its mist. And still, for reasons unknown, he stood frozen, staring dead ahead.
“Hello? Welcome to The Lone Peak Hotel,” Constance tried again. “Can I help you...” she trailed off as she spoke. For some reason she got the sense that there was something very wrong about this solo traveler. Something very wrong indeed.
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