Murder at the Lone Peak

by Kendall Scott

  "I'm afraid that at the moment we're not allowed to..." she begun in a robotic fashion. The last time she had had to turn someone away was the previous evening, shortly before her big solve. In that instance she directed them three hundred miles down the road to the next hotel. Needless to say, they were not happy.

  But luckily, she caught herself mid-speech, before she sent a family of perfectly good guests packing. "Oh, I'm sorry," she shook her head and giggled. "My head is not with it today. Yes, we have rooms."

  "Amazing!" the man exclaimed in clear relief. He was a tall, round man with a red neck, red cheeks and red eyes. It almost looked as if he had been crying. When Constance caught sight of his children later, she decided that he most likely had been. "We've been on the road for hours," he explained. "If you ever decide to take four-year old triplet boys and an eight-year old girl on a cross-country trip, don't."

  From there the guests kept on coming. At first Constance was caught by surprise over this surge of guests, all staying several days. With it being the advent of Spring, travelers were common, but the amount was what shocked her. But it didn't take long to realize that it was the Spring Fair that brought them to town. She had been so lost in her head and past events that she had nearly forgotten.

  Within two days of The Lone Peak's doors being open again, the place was full. It was because of this that Constance was forced to do some reshuffling as far duties were concerned. The first major move was to take Sydney off the front desk. She had already expressed an interest in being a waitress and as the restaurant was constantly full and in need of one, she was hired... or rather moved.

  "And what if they refuse to pay?" Sydney had asked on her first morning of her new job. Constance was showing her around the restaurant and kitchen, giving her a proper introduction.

  "They won't," Constance said quickly. She was going to ignore the question entirely but thought better of it.

  "But if they do?" Sydney pressed. "Do I tackle them? Do I pick them up and throw them outside – Oh! Can I get a pot of hot water from the kitchen and —”?

  "If they do refuse to pay, come and get me," Constance grimaced. Already she was regretting her decision to put Sydney in the restaurant. The only reason she didn't change her mind then and there, was that she simply had no other choice.

  Eleanor remained as the cleaner, but she had to also act as the receptionist for the morning and afternoon shifts. This seemed harmless enough until Constance caught her flirting with one of the guests trying to check in – while his wife was right beside him!

  "You must work out?" Eleanor was saying to the married man. He was short for a man, and a little thick in the arms and chest, although this almost certainly wasn't from lifting weights. Not that it mattered, as he clearly loved the compliment.

  "I don't, honestly," he chuckled as he tensed his arm.

  "Oh, stop it! You do to!" Eleanor giggled, slapping at his chest.

  Standing right behind the man, glaring at both he and Eleanor was a very unimpressed wife. It was just lucky that Constance caught this little 'show' before it got out of hand. The couple ended up only staying the one night and argued so intensely on that night that Constance considered sleeping in the Winnebago, still parked outside.

  But again, Constance was forced to leave Eleanor where she was and despite giving her a stern talking to – the woman just didn't seem to understand what it was exactly that she had done wrong – she was sure it was going to happen again.

  If it were any other time in the year, then Constance may have considered hiring some help, or taking on a few extra roles herself, but she was far too busy for that. With the Fair fast approaching, and tasks that still needed to be done, she was like a woman with a rocket strapped to her back.

  It was the morning after her dinner with Sheriff Nevil when she kicked herself back into gear. The first thing she had to do was hurry on down to the elementary school and demand that they get their butts into gear and decorate the gosh darn stages already. Mrs. Norbet was still sick, and Constance had to all but promise the casual teacher that it was OK to take the students out of class to do what they had promised they would.

  From there she had to run across town to The Lone Aisle Supermarket, where Mr. Trunch needed a good talking to. It had been seven days since she had last seen him, and three days since he was supposed to deliver the goods promised. Naturally his tardiness would just not do.

  "I don't see why it's me that has to pony up the goods," he grumbled when Constance announced herself at his office door. She had walked right on by his staff, not caring that they demand she stop.

  "It's for the good of the town," Constance said patiently. "I explained this already and then you gave me your word."

  "The good of the town maybe, but not the good of Trunch," Mr. Trunch said, arms crossed, face scrunched up into a scowl. "You have any idea how much I'm losing because of this?"

  "And I explained to you that you'll make it all back and more," Constance continued to explain. She was losing her patience and had to work to keep it in check. "The Fair stalls will act as a promotion for your supermarket. You'll see in the next week —”

  "I don't care about the next week," he snapped. "I care about today."

  "Look!" Constance drew herself up and towered over Mr. Trunch like he was a child. Her patience was gone, her temper had risen, and he cowered in his chair as if worried she would bring the roof down on him. "The entire town is helping out in some way! You gave your word and I expect you to stick to it! If you don't, so help me you do not want to know what I am capable of! Now, do we have a deal!"

  "Ye... yes..." He stuttered, unable to look Constance in the eyes.

  "Good," she said pleasantly, shrinking back to her usual size. "I have a truck parked round the back, if you'd direct some of your staff to help load it, that would be greatly appreciated."

  And that was just a microcosm of her day as a whole. The hours between sunrise and sunset were spent darting between her hotel and the Fair, making sure that both were in working order.

  Oh, and all of this wasn't to even mention the fact that Sheriff Nevil appeared to have come to the conclusion that the date the two had shared was a raging success. This self-inscribed belief was first made clear the morning following their dinner when he stopped by the hotel to ask her out.

  "You're kidding?" she asked in surprise. She didn't mean for it to come off in such a rude fashion, but she really was that shocked.

  "Of course not," he said, trying to hide how taken aback he was with a chuckle and a shake of the head. "I had a good time, I know you did. So why not?"

  "Roger, and don't take this personally..."

  Although she let him down easy, she soon found herself wishing that she had told him to take it personally. The day after that, and then the day after that, he asked her out again. Constance soon found that her day was spent either at the hotel, at the Fair, or ducking behind stalls as a means to avoid Sheriff Nevil. It was exhausting.

  Where she was once looking forward to the Fair like a twelve-year-old looked forward to Christmas, come the eve of the Fair, Constance was looking forward to the day it was done with. Odd perhaps, but with everything that had happened to her in the previous ten days, she just couldn’t get behind the Fair like she ought. What seemed to be such an important event had lost all meaning.

  It was thus on the eve of the Fair, as Constance made her way back to the hotel that she found herself finally able to embody a sense of calm she had not felt in days. It had been a marathon of sorts – or better yet, a sprint turned into a marathon – but the Fair was up and ready to go. Come twenty-four hours and it would all be done and dusted, and life might begin to resume some sort of normality.

  In truth, she was looking forward to it again. The only thing she had to worry about anymore was the 'Best in Town' competition, but as her hotel was a shoe in to win that, then worrying wasn’t something she did a lot of.

  So busy had Constance been over the past
three days that she had barely even had a chance to think about the murder of Mr. Christie and Mr. Tibbs. Where she thought it would haunt her for weeks, if not months, she was surprised to find its unsatisfying conclusion fading into distant memory. Indeed, the only time that she really pondered the case in those three days were the brief moments that she scurried to and from the hotel, and this was only because the Winnebago was still parked in the lot.

  Every time she walked past the Winnebago – still taped off, of course – she felt an odd prickle break out over the back of her neck. She tried to subdue it, tried to ignore it, but it just would not go away. It was her sixth sense, her alarm bell trying to convince her to not give up.

  She told herself that she was wrong and that the murder was wrapped up nice and neat. Sure, the Flanders were flat out denying their involvement, but as they had been carted off to Denver to await trial, she was unable to question them. And sure, not everything made perfect sense, but Sheriff Nevil assured her that come time it would. And sure, she knew that the Mr. Christie, Mr. Tibbs connection was too big of a coincidence to not mean something but... but... but... well she didn't know what.

  As such, she pulled her stare from the Winnebago as she walked on past. The Denver police would be carting it off in a few days and when that happened she could put the whole thing behind her once and for all. Everything was finally back to normal at The Lone Peak Hotel and that was the way she liked it.

  Besides, with the Spring Fair on the next day and a hotel full of guests – not to mention two of the most incompetent staffers of all time – Constance had far too much on her plate to think about solved murder cases. So, she didn't. Rather she walked into her hotel, closed the door behind her and prepared herself for what was to come.... not what had already happened.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The screams and shouts were coming from every direction, yet Constance did not hear them. The mass of people was pushing and shoving, trying desperately to get closer and closer, yet Constance did not notice them. The sun shone down on her and the people in the crowd with a tenacity unheard of for that time of year, yet Constance did not feel it. She was just too damn nervous.

  Constance couldn't remember a more intense moment in her life. Her palms were literally drenched in sweat. Her brow was of the same line of thinking, damp and very quickly moving on toward being soaked. Her stomach was turning too, like a system of cogs and pulleys had taken over and were rearranging her insides. It was during moments like that one that she wished she weren't single, that was so she might have someone to lean on and keep her standing. That was just how fierce the situation was.

  OK, so maybe all of that was a slight exaggeration in Constance's head. Yes, the moment was wrought with tension, and yes, she was feeling just slightly ill as she glanced at the large clock positioned atop the center stage. It was counting down the time; having stared at one hour, but now showing less than five minutes to go. But as well as all of that, it was also a fun, wild time that was filled with screaming, shouting and laughter – some of it being Constance's.

  It was the 'Best in Town' contest and as there was only five minutes left until the time was up, things were starting to get very heated.

  There were five different chefs competing in the contest. They were in their five separate kitchens, positioned at the base of the center stage, trying their best to ignore the screams and shouts of the hundred or so onlookers scattered out in front. Or at least Constance assumed they were trying to ignore the screams and shouts. It was very loud, so to do so would have been almost impossible.

  "I heard that his beef bourguignon is the best in the state," Eleanor shouted into Constance's ear. She had to shout, such was the hysteria of the moment.

  "Maybe," Constance shouted back, keeping her eyes on Gustavo the whole time. He was working fervently, looking like a man in his element. "But it's French food. Who the heck likes French food?"

  "Sheriff Nevil," Eleanor responded cheekily.

  Constance pulled her eyes from the chef in order to glare at Eleanor. But it was only for a moment. There was only four minutes left and she didn't want to miss a second.

  Although there were five chefs competing in the contest, everyone knew that it was really between just two of them. There was of course, Alberto Gustavo of The Lone Peak and his spaghetti bolognese. Most agreed that he was sure to win which was a sentiment shared by Constance. Right from the get go he was calm, in control and acting like he had already won.

  The other contender was known as Pierre Le Fon, of A Modest Affair. His dish was a beef bourguignon which had been described to Constance as both succulent and richer than a billionaire with three mistresses. Everyone she heard speaking of it agreed that it was divine and some even suggested it might take out the top prize. When the day had started, Constance knew Gustavo was going to win. Now, with three minutes left, she wasn’t so sure.

  Funny enough, Sheriff Nevil had ordered the exact dish the other night when the two had gone to dinner at A Modest Affair. At the time he had marveled at its taste and offered Constance a sample. She had not been aware that it would be in direct competition with Alberto Gustavo's pasta and thus turned the taste down – really, she just didn't want to encourage the flirtatious Sheriff any more than she already had by agreeing to go out with him in the first place. But as she watched the French chef shuffle about his make-shift kitchen, a cocky smile on his pointed face, she found herself wishing that she had tried it. Doing so might have given her some indication as to what she was up again.

  "One minute to go!" Sydney squealed, jumping up and down next to Constance and clapping her hands together.

  Constance curled her hand into a fist and bit into it as she watched Gustavo plate up his meal. Her eyes glanced across to Pierre, doing the same thing.

  "Thirty seconds!"

  Pierre looked a little too confident, Constance thought. Where he wore a smirk that made him appear greasy, his thin mustache added to this and went a long way in making him look like the villain of the competition. That would make Gustavo the hero, and the hero always won… right?

  The entire crowed started counting down in unison. "Five, four, three, two..."

  Constance bit into the back of her hand with such force she thought she might have drawn blood.

  "One!"

  The five chefs automatically stepped back from their plates. As they did, Gustavo caught Constance' in the crowd and offered her a wink. This single gesture did much to calm her down. She hadn't even realized how much she had wanted to win until the contest started. But now if her hotel didn't win... well she would be more than upset.

  "Oh my!" Sheriff Nevil shouted as he ran out and onto the stage just above where the five chefs stood. He had a microphone in hand and his voice boomed across the Fair. "That was intense! Now, as per the rules, the chefs are to step away from their plates of food. We have impartial ‘carriers’ that will collect the plates and bring them to our judges!"

  As he spoke, he indicated a table set up right behind where he stood. Sitting at this simple table were three people that Constance knew very well. One was Mrs. Stone, the owner of the bakery. Another was Mr. Peters, the Principle of the local elementary school. And the final one was the famous Martin Von Beak, a food critic all the way from Denver. They were the three judges. They would sample the food, give each dish a score and the dish with the highest score at the end won. Simple and fair.

  Constance was practically shaking as she watched the “carriers” scoop up the plates and carry them up on the stage.

  "I'm bored," Sydney moaned suddenly. "Constance, let's go on the bumper cars again!" She tugged on Constance's sleeve.

  "What, no!" Constance snapped, pulling her arm free. "Why don't you get Stanley to take you?"

  "You know he didn't come today," Sydney pouted. "He was busy with work!"

  Constance rolled her eyes. Of course, her husband – whom she was still yet to ever meet – hadn't made it. Constance already knew this
of course, as she had spent the entire day with both Sydney and Eleanor – the Lone Peak Sleuths, as she referred to them when they were together.

  It had been a fun day too, made all the more so by how smooth everything had gone. Indeed, there wasn't a single miscalculation or error as far as Constance was concerned. The people came in droves, Sheriff Nevil was too busy to try and corner her and ask for another date, and even Eustace was more humble than usual. When he first bumped in Constance, he thanked her and later in the day he bought her a stick of cotton candy.

  Yes, everything had gone perfectly and for that, Constance was grateful.

  It was only when the 'Best in Town' competitions began that Constance began to feel the pinch of nerves. All through the first five contests she was able to keep these nerves at bay and enjoy herself. From the baking contest, right on through to the “strong man” extravaganza, she was cheering and shouting with the best of them.

  It wasn’t until the cook-off began that she did a one-eighty turn-around and lost herself in nerves. Once it begun... well as far as she was concerned, the rest of the day hadn't even happened. She wouldn't have cared if she'd missed the whole thing. She wanted that first prize.

  The only thing that had kept her stable during the one-hour cook-off was the calm demeanor of Gustavo. Right from the get-go he was the picture of calm professionalism. If one was to stumble upon the contest mid-way and see him in action, they would have assumed that he'd already won.

  Even as the judges sampled the food, and wrote down their scores, he looked perfectly at ease. Constance was watching him rather than the judges. He stood with the other four chefs, to the side of the stage, with his hands crossed in front of him and a smirk on his face. Where some looked nervous, and some excited, he looked calm and even a little arrogant. In his head he had already won.

  It was after several minutes of ‘judging – that felt like hours to Constance – that the judges had sampled the dishes, written down their scores, tallied them up and were ready to announce the winner.