Murder on Ice

by B. T. Lord

  She slowly stood up and raised her eyes until they met Jace’s. She looked into his gaze that sparked with resentment. Who was this man? She thought she’d known him in all his moods. She’d shared her bed, her body for almost a year. Yet he stood before her now, a complete stranger.

  He must be thinking the same of her.

  She waited a moment before opening her mouth to answer his question.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was close to midnight when Cammie finally pulled into Eli’s driveway and parked behind his Navigator. She turned the Explorer off and wearily leaned her head back against the seat. She closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. God, she was exhausted. It wasn’t the accident that had sapped her energy. It was pulling apart, then mediating between the two men as they argued over who had run what stop sign. She’d finally calmed the situation down, and to her relief, the men decided not to press charges against each other. By the looks of the dents, she knew Jace could easily repair the damage. Now all that remained was to retrieve the threatening notes, go to Zee’s, pick up Jace and pretend everything was hunky dory.

  A no-brainer.

  If only, Cammie thought as she looked through the windshield at the small white ranch house surrounded by piles of plowed snow. For a moment her troubling thoughts faded as long ago memories took their place.

  She’d once considered this small house a second home. It seemed another lifetime that she’d let herself in the back door as if she were just another family member arriving after a day of school and hockey practice. Mrs. Kelley would be in the kitchen, finishing up a batch of her mouthwatering chocolate chip cookies, its aroma deliciously coating the house. The ranch had been full of life then, its secrets carefully ignored and unacknowledged beneath the forced picture of a happy family.

  Just as in her own home.

  Maybe that was what had really drawn Cammie and Eli together all those years ago. It wasn’t the shared love of hockey. Or because he was handsome and she was cute. It was the necessity of leading a double life. Of pretending that their families were the embodiment of the well-adjusted television sitcom household where problems could be talked about and solved in a half hour. It was exhausting keeping up the pretense. The only time they could relax and be honest was with each other.

  Or so Cammie once believed.

  She’d driven past the house a thousand times, but never really looked at it. She knew it would only bring up unhappy memories that no longer had a place in her life. However, sitting in the Explorer, she now studied the structure, noticing the peeling paint and the crooked shutters with gaping holes where the slats had fallen out.

  Poking through the layer of snow, she could see the uneven shrub branches, begging to be neatly trimmed. There was a lingering sadness, as if the house realized its best days were long gone, its memories disappearing forever as its inhabitants fell away.

  Cammie shook her head furiously to dislodge the increasingly morose thoughts. There was work to do. The quicker she got it done, the quicker she could deal with what awaited her back at Zee’s.

  She reached into her back seat and grabbed a pair of latex gloves from a box she kept on the seat, her camera and her small fingerprinting kit, shoving them into the deep recesses of her parka’s pockets. Although she considered it a long shot, it wouldn’t hurt to send the notes down to the Crime Lab in Augusta for finger print analysis.

  She took a deep breath to gear herself mentally for whatever lay behind Eli’s door and stepped out of her Explorer. Instantly, she felt a tickling down the back of her neck, sending her into an involuntary shiver. Eli’s was one of the last houses on this particular stretch of road, cut off from its nearby neighbors by a grove of pine trees. She could not shake the uneasiness snaking through her insides. Was it the fear she’d heard in Eli’s voice that warned her she was about to encounter something she didn’t want to encounter? Or was it Jace’s warning that she was being played for a fool? Whatever it was, she squared her shoulders and started down a shoveled walkway when she paused. From habit, she’d scanned the driveway and noticed several tire treads in haphazard patterns. As if many cars and trucks had driven up, turned, then backed out onto the main road.

  Glancing down at the walkway, she saw what looked like dozens of boot and shoe prints leading all around the house. She frowned. Removing her camera from her pocket, she took numerous pictures of both driveway and walkway. She then followed the prints around the back where the slider was located. As long as she could remember, everyone entered the Kelley house through the back slider. And, as was typical in most small towns, it was always unlocked.

  As she turned the corner, her purpose in following the footprints was forgotten as she saw what looked like a dark bundle on the tiny back deck. The deck light was dim and she drew closer to see what it was. Bending down, she instantly recoiled. It was the carcass of a mangled animal, though it was so battered, she couldn’t tell what it was. Once again she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Up until that point, she’d wondered about the seriousness of the threats. But seeing the remains of this animal caused her to go on high alert. She looked out over the darkened yard, seeing nothing but the outline of the tool shed that lay several feet from the door. With so many footprints in the yard, it would be impossible to discern which belonged to the person who’d left the nasty little gift.

  Despite her uneasiness, the sight of the ramshackle toolshed caused a memory to flash in her mind’s eye of a night fifteen years before. To an incident that happened in front of that shed. To the night her innocence withered and died. A night with recriminating words and furious temper which ended when she picked up a shovel and swung it at Eli, putting the scar that still remained over his eyebrow.

  She shook her head and the memory evaporated. In its place was worry. If this animal was mangled beyond recognition, what condition was Eli in? She quickly took a picture of the carcass. Then she withdrew her gun.

  Carefully stepping over the carcass, she quietly let herself into the kitchen. The first thing that struck her was how hot it was. She sniffed the air to see if any odor of blood or worse hit her.

  All that greeted her was the sugary smell of an air freshener plugged into a wall socket. She scanned the room, surprised at how little the kitchen had changed since she’d last been here. The throw rugs were worn and faded, their corners torn and unraveled. The cabinets were the old white metal contraptions that were in style in the 1950s and the edges of the linoleum countertop were peeling. The stove and refrigerator looked to be at least twenty-five years old, smeared with the stains and dents of countless families who had inhabited this place since Mrs. Kelley’s death ten years ago.

  Mrs. Kelley would be turning over in her grave if she could see how neglected her home had become. She’d always been a meticulous housekeeper. That was one of the reasons Cammie loved coming over here. As her own mother sank into the depression that would eventually kill her, she let everything go. The first on the list was the housekeeping.

  Starting towards the corridor that would take her to the bedrooms, she heard footsteps approaching. Cammie aimed her gun. “This is Sheriff Farnsworth. Identify yourself!” she called out.

  “Jesus Christ!” Eli bellowed when he rounded the corner and saw the gun pointed at him. He took a step back and clutched his chest. “Are you crazy? You just about gave me a heart attack.”

  “Are you alone?” Cammie asked tersely.

  “Of course I’m alone. Has Twin Ponds changed so much that you enter someone’s house with a gun aimed and ready to shoot?”

  Cammie holstered her gun. For the first time she noticed what Eli was wearing. He’d changed out of his jeans and sweater and was wearing an obviously expensive gray suit over a crisply starched silver colored shirt and deep purple tie. Jace’s warning came roaring back at her. She shook it off.

  “Did you see what’s out on your back porch?”

  Eli shook his head. “Don’t tell me it’s another note.”
/>   She beckoned and pointed to the bloody mess. Eli took one look and blanched.

  “Oh my God.”

  “I take it that wasn’t there when you got home.”

  “Hell no.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear. “Whoever is doing this was here while I was in the house.”

  Before she could stop herself, she reached out and patted his sleeve. “At least they didn’t come inside.”

  “Thanks for the consolation.”

  Hoping to distract him from his growing anxiety, she pointed at his suit. “You off on a hot date with Carolyn?”

  Eli’s mood instantly changed. “The woman’s a slut,” he retorted contemptuously. “Come on into the living room. I’ve got the box there.”

  Astonished by his reaction, she nevertheless followed him down the corridor. Entering the living room, she was once again catapulted back to a time when the unique aroma of burnt wood and gardenia air freshener was as familiar to her as the smells of her own home.

  The carpet was the mousy brown she remembered. On the mantel piece above the wood burning stove were pictures of Eli growing up. In an instant she knew he had deliberately placed them there, especially when she saw a silver frame that contained a photograph of Eli and herself standing side by side, dressed in their hockey uniforms. They had their hockey sticks raised in the air and were both grinning at the camera, their faces full of youthful joy and happiness. It was a night she would never forget. Their first championship, followed by the first time they made love. Their faces said it all. Right now we can take on the world and win.

  Next to the frame was a tall, silver trophy with the figure of a hockey player taking a slapshot. She didn’t need to read the small brass plaque to know what it said.

  Most Outstanding Player

  Eli Kelley

  1992-1993 Season

  Seeing it together with the photograph hit her unexpectedly hard. Eli had won it their last season playing together on the Night Hawks. The season he’d been recruited by the NHL scout. The season he’d shown that dark facet of his personality that he’d kept carefully hidden. She always believed she deserved the trophy more than he did. She’d been the best right wing the Night Hawks ever had. And that last season she’d been at her peak.

  Once again she felt the unrelenting crush of emotional pain.

  Five minutes, Cammie. Just five minutes. Then you can get out of here and put those memories back behind closed doors where they belong.

  She turned her back to the mantel.

  “I noticed a lot of tire marks and footprints around your house,” she said in an effort to gather herself under control.

  “Ever since I got back, people have been pestering me for autographs and photos with their kids.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  He shrugged. “Part of the lifestyle.”

  “You do know one of those people could have left these notes.”

  “That’s why you’re here. If anyone can figure out who’s doing it, you can.” He saw her look and smiled. “I went online and read your bio. Two Medals of Honor. Not bad, sweetheart. Not bad at all.” He reached behind the lamp that sat on the nearest end table and produced a shoe box. “The notes are all in there.”

  As he handed her the box, she caught sight of his right hand. The knuckles were bruised and swollen.

  “What happened to your hand?” she asked suspiciously.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “This have anything to do with the notes?”

  “Not if you consider accidentally slamming the door on my hand suspicious behavior.”

  She lifted her eyes and bore into his. She knew he was lying, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to say anything more. She had no choice but to drop it. For now.

  Cammie took the box and hesitantly sat down on the couch. At one time the cushions had been a vibrant rust color. Now it was faded to a dirty brown. The old childhood taunt of catching cooties rang out in her ears and it took all her effort not to jump up off the couch and look at the notes standing up.

  “Were you getting any kind of threatening notes before you arrived in Twin Ponds?”

  Eli sat down next to her. Too close for her taste. She instantly scooted over.

  “No. I started finding those the day after I arrived.”

  “Did they show up any particular time of day?”

  “Well, obviously when I wasn’t home.”

  “And they were always shoved in the back door?”

  “Yes. Except for the last one. As I told you earlier, I found that one on the kitchen counter.”

  “Whoever it is must have been watching you and saw that you used the back door to enter and exit your house. If they’d placed the notes in the front door, you may never have noticed them.”

  “It’s unnerving to think someone’s been spying on me. Or placing dead animals on my doorstep when I’m taking a shower.”

  “How long would you be gone when you left the house?”

  Eli tilted his head. “Depended. Sometimes I was gone an hour. Sometimes I was gone all day. You saw the prints outside yourself. When it got too crazy, I’d take off. If I was being watched, he or she had plenty of time to put the notes on the back door.”

  “Since your arrival back in Twin Ponds, have you pissed off anybody?”

  “Besides you and Junior, you mean?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of any cuckolded husbands who might want your head on a platter.”

  “I’ve only been back four days. Cut me some slack.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Has anybody else handled these notes besides you?”

  “Just me and the weirdo sending them as far as I know.”

  Cammie dug into her pocket and withdrew the latex gloves. As she snapped them on, Eli let out a low whistle. “Whoa. Kinky.”

  “Yup. All crime scene investigators get their rocks off wearing these.”

  Eli shifted his weight towards her and she once again scooted over only to find herself jammed up tight against the arm of the couch. To forestall any further attempts at coziness, she quickly placed the box between them.

  Lifting the top, she found the five notes neatly stacked one top of one another. She unfolded the first. It was an eight by ten lined piece of paper that had obviously been ripped out of a school composition notebook. The words were cut from newspapers, yet despite the differing heights to some of the letters, the writer had taken great care to line each one up evenly before gluing them to the page. For an instant she was reminded of Eli’s meticulous lining up of the sugar packets at Zee’s. Once again Jace’s warning that this was a set-up rang in her ears. With mounting suspicion, she read the notes. The first was a simple greeting welcoming Eli back to Twin Ponds. The second congratulated him on his NHL career. The third however took on a more menacing tone.

  Have you come back to the scene of your crime?

  The fourth read: No deed ever goes unpunished.

  The fifth sent shivers down her spine. Payback time is here. Better late than never. Get ready to say hello to Hell.

  “Well? What do you think?” Eli asked as he watched Cammie replace the notes, close the box and slowly peel off the latex gloves.

  Cammie didn’t know what to think. It was entirely possible that Eli had created the notes himself in order to lure her out here and get her attention. The animal carcass was the icing on the cake to convince her he was in danger. She turned to him and carefully watched his face as she spoke.

  “My first guess is that whoever wrote these was around when the scout came to see you play.”

  He snorted. “That’s half the town.”

  “It’s someone who knew what you did that night.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  She waited. And watched for any perceptible hint of recognition. That one moment when he realized he’d been discovered. That she’d figured out he was behind all of this. What she saw instead of relief. But relief at what?

  “Let’s have some coff
ee.”

  He abruptly stood up and left the room, leaving Cammie alone. Now that she had the notes, she should leave. God knows, she wanted to get out of there before Rod Serling and the theme from the Twilight Zone made an appearance. She’d gotten what she came for. And there was still Jace to deal with. That is, if he was still at Zee’s.

  Shoving the box under her arm, she got up and walked down the corridor into the kitchen.

  She found Eli fiddling with the coffee machine.

  “Don’t bother, Eli. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. I’ll do a check of the perimeter, take a few more pictures, get your fingerprints for elimination purposes, then I’ve really got to go. If you want, I’ll call the Timberwolf Lodge and book you a room for the night. I’ll get the animal taken care of in the morning.”

  She started towards the door when his next words made her screech to a halt. “It was Coach who told you, wasn’t it?” She whirled around and stared at him in disbelief. “Had to be,” he continued. “He was the only one who knew the whole story.” He chuckled as he unconsciously traced a line over the scar above his eyebrow. “I knew you had a temper, but I’d never seen it in all its glory until the night you took that shovel to me. I was actually terrified that you knew everything. But as time went on, I realized you only had bits and pieces.” He shrugged. “I should have known the old man would break. He never could keep a secret.”

  Cammie was appalled. Despite her resolve to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible, anger threatened to choke her. The years of trying to get past what he’d done came crashing down around her. Especially in light of his cavalier attitude. “You have no idea what you did, do you?” she whispered.

  “Actually I’ve got a pretty good idea. For the past few days, I’ve been talking to people. They told me about Coach. About you.” He slowly approached her. “I’m so sorry, Cammie.”