Coming Unclued (31 page)

“They’re not going to Muskoka.”

Four hours later, after getting stuck in horrible traffic, Rose was sound asleep and we were on the outskirts of Muskoka, a beautiful vacation area on a couple of lakes that is known for its stunning scenery and its million dollar cottages.

“I think we should just corner them,” I said. “Give them the impression we know exactly what happened and then watch the look on their faces.”

Julie seemed impressed with this plan. So impressed she was speechless.

“I’m sorry,” said Julie, who’d been grousing for the last hour that she’d had no intention when she left home this morning on driving four hours out of town and what was wrong with Douglas and Sophie that they didn’t even stop for a bathroom break. “Please forgive my ignorance here, but do we really know how they did it? If they did it.”

“They did it.”

“Okay,” and then ominously, “You have three days. Three days until you promise to turn yourself in. And keep your head down.”

“I won’t need that long,” I said.

“Where are they going?” grumbled Julie.

“Just stay with them. This is good. The police up here won’t be looking for me so we can relax a little.”

“Do not relax!”

“Not relax exactly, just breathe a little easier. How’s Rose? Give her a poke. Is she breathing?” After my experience with Hilda, the sleeping elderly made me nervous.

Julie glanced over at Rose. “She’s breathing. Rose!” She gave her a little nudge. “Rose —we’re in Muskoka.”

Rose gave a little snort and a shake and was immediately awake. “Muskoka? What are we doing here?”

“Following Douglas and Sophie — remember?”

“Of course I remember. I’m the sharpest tack in this car. I didn’t realize we were going to follow them to the ends of the earth. I’ve got bridge tonight.”

“Val insisted we stay with them. She’s convinced she can persuade Sophie and Clyde to admit their guilt, turn themselves in and then we’ll head back to Toronto in time for a late dinner.”

“Your sarcasm is wasted on me,” I said.

“For crying out loud, what is with these people? Are they ever going to stop driving?” asked Julie. “No back roads I hope. I don’t have snow tires.”

We followed them for a few more minutes until finally we saw the left blinker flashing. Maintaining a cautious distance, we turned and travelled down a long driveway and pulled up beside a mid-size, faux-Swiss hotel.

“Nice,” said Julie. “Maria Von Trappe would enjoy this place.”

We watched from across the parking lot as Douglas and Sophie climbed out of the car. They seemed to be having some kind of argument, but eventually Douglas stomped back to the trunk, hauled out the luggage and hastened to catch up with Sophie who was marching up the path to the hotel.

We stared after them, contemplating our options. Or, to be more precise, I contemplated my options while Julie lay back against the headrest with her eyes shut and Rose filed her nails with an emery board she’d found in the glove compartment.

“Julie, you need to go in and see if they have any rooms,” I said. “We have to stay on them.”

“How about you run in and ambush them?” suggested Julie, without opening her eyes, “and I’ll wait out here ‘till you’re done.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Rose. “Keep you on track.”

I thought about it some more. Sophie might not recognize me. Certainly she’d never noticed me any time she had dropped by the office. Douglas would be more difficult to fool. “We should check in somewhere else, close by.”

Julie didn’t respond.

What if I simply confronted them? Told them what I knew, which was nothing, but I could embellish, and hoped that the shock would cause them to slip up and confess. It could happen. I’d run out of options. If Douglas or Sophie hadn’t killed him, who did? There was nobody left. Except me.

“What if I did kill him?” I asked. “Has anybody thought about that?”

“Constantly,” said Rose. “Hard to figure how anybody but you really had the opportunity.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Julie. “That hasn’t crossed my mind for days now.”

“Liar,” said Rose. She turned around to look at me. “But you’re a nice girl and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t do something like that, no matter how drunk you were.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” said Julie. She seemed re-invigorated by my loss of faith and was now wide awake and ready to attack the situation at hand. “I’m going to call Andrew and tell him we’re staying over. I won’t say exactly where, in case they’re tracing him. Or us. And then, somehow, we’re going to corner those two and figure this all out. Okay?” She turned and gave me a bright smile.

“Okay,” I said, with a little sniff. “If you think we can. I really appreciate what you two are doing for me. I could always just call the police and tell them where to pick me up. I do know that’s the rational thing to do.”

“Oh stop your sniveling,” said Rose. “If you were going to turn yourself in you should have done it a long time ago and saved us all this trouble. We’re here now so let’s get on with it.”

“I’ll go in and see if they have any rooms,” said Julie. “You lay low Val.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Rose. “I need to use the facilities.”

Julie held up her phone. “I’ll call you when we get this figured,” she said to me. “Assuming they have any rooms, we’ll settle in, get a bite to eat from room service and plan our attack.”

I looked down at my phone. “My phone’s dead.”

“I’ll come back for you then,” said Julie, climbing out of the car.

“Sure.” I waved them off, and stared out the window at the darkening sky, trying to focus on the task at hand. I tried to imagine Douglas as a cold blooded murderer. Did he have it in him? Could his passion for Sophie have driven him to it?

My back was aching from being cramped up in the car for hours, so I decided to go for a short walk to stretch my legs and clear my head. There wasn’t a lot of activity outside and in the fading light of a December afternoon I doubted even the most avid newshound would recognize me. There was a lot of snow in Muskoka, a lot more than in Toronto. Even in my depressed and anxious state I was struck by the beauty of the surroundings.

It was very cold, but I kept my hood up and hiked around to the back of the Inn to take a look at the frozen lake.

A hearty bonfire was crackling and a few guests were standing around it, sipping from steaming mugs. A sleigh, with huge black horses hitched to it was tied to a fence post, the horses snorting, itching to get moving. “Cup of mulled wine Miss?” called the cheerful voice of a man who was tending the fire. I glanced around to confirm he was talking to me.

Nice. What a nice place. Why not a cup of mulled wine? It was getting dark and with my orange hair and hood no one would recognize me. It would be just the thing to get me in the right mood for some rigorous sleuthing.

I joined the group around the fire and the man, who was wearing a red toque with cheery green antlers, handed me a mug. I thanked him and took a sip. Delicious. Warm and spicy and comforting. I stood as close to the fire as I could get, sipping my drink as I watched the flames dance and the sparks fly.

“Care for a fill up?” asked the lovely man minding the fire.

I passed him my mug, feeling the most relaxed I’d felt in days. Another glass of mulled wine by the fire and then I’d figure out all this stuff.

“Isn’t this nice?” the woman standing beside me asked. “I wish I’d thought of escaping up here for Christmas years ago.”

“It’s lovely,” I said. “Very festive.”

“Do you know what time the caroling starts?” she asked.

“No, sorry, I don’t. I just got here.”

“You’re going to love it.”

“I already do,” I said.

“I’m Sarah,” she said. “Sarah Abbott.”

“Julie,” I responded. “Julie English.”

In the background I could hear
Good King Wenceslas
and turning I saw four carolers, decked out in Victorian garb and carrying electric candles, strolling toward us. The carolers assembled around the fire and a few people joined in with the singing. Ah what the hell? “
On the feast of Stephen. Where the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even…”
It felt good to sing, to be merry, to pretend everything was normal.

My delightful reverie was rudely interrupted. “What are you doing?” Julie hissed, elbowing me in the side with a fervor that was completely unwarranted.

“I’m singing. Blending in,” I hissed back at her.

The amiable antler man handed Julie a cup of mulled wine and kindly refilled my cup.

“How many of those have you had?” asked Julie in a harsh voice, a snarl really. Andrew really was a saint. How did he put up with this?

“Two,” I said, looking down at my mug. “Twoish.” I took a drink. Hmmm. So warm and smooth and spicy and delicious. “Sally,” I said. “Sally, this is my friend Julie.”

Sally looked over at me. “Sarah.”

“That’s right, Sarah. Julie, this is Sarah.”

“You’re both named Julie?” asked Sarah.

“Nice to meet you,” said Julie in a standoffish voice. Quite cold and aloof actually. Didn’t she want to meet new people?

“
It’s Christmas time in the city,”
I belted out. “
Ring a ling
.” I pretended to ring a bell. “Isn’t this fun?” I said to Julie. “I’m so glad we came up here. It’s just what I needed.”

Julie grabbed at my mug of wine, spilling it over my boot. Diane’s boot actually.

“Look what you did — honestly Julie.” I held my empty mug out to Antler Man and wiggled it around so he could see my predicament.

“We’ve got a room,” said Julie in that steely voice of hers. “Let’s go back there. We have things to talk about.”

“Sleigh ride!” a man’s loud voice called out. “We’re loading up the sleigh. Anyone interested, climb aboard.”

“A sleigh ride,” I exclaimed. “I’ve never been on a sleigh ride. Julie, let’s go.”

“How about we go to our room?” It took her about thirty seconds to spit the sentence out because she took so long between each word.

I imitated her new, irritating talking style. “Because … I … want… to … go… on … a… sleigh…ride.”

“Do you even remember why we’re here?”

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

I spun around and headed toward the sleigh, stopping by my dear friend, Antler Man for a refill for the road.

“Sorry ma’am,” he said. “No drinking on the sleigh. House rules.”

“What house is that?” I asked. “Not my house. In my house we insist that everyone drink on the sleigh. It’s mandatory.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” said Julie. “You can get a drink there.”

“What? You think I need to drink to enjoy a sleigh ride?”

“No, but this is exactly why everyone hates you when you drink.”

Hates me? Julie was a harsh woman.

A light snow had started to fall. “
Dashing through the snow,
” I sang. “C’mon everybody.
Dashing through the snow
.”

Nobody joined in. It wasn’t the liveliest crowd, but as my Nana always said, “You’ve got to make your own fun.” She was an inspirational woman, a fount of all wisdom, and I wished I’d listened to her more when I had the opportunity. What else had she said? “Don’t put the cart before the horse.” That was a good one, and quite apropos.

I attempted to climb into the sleigh, but it was very high. Impossibly high. I got halfway on, my hands grabbing the seat bottom, trying to hoist myself up, when, for some reason I slipped and landed on my back in the snow. “Are you all right ma’am?” asked the driver, rushing over to me. “There’s steps right there. You’re supposed to use the steps to get into the sleigh.”

Very poorly organized, this sleigh ride. A person could seriously injure themselves. “I’m fine,” I said, in a dignified voice. I didn’t want my suffering to ruin the experience for everyone else. The driver, a very kind gentleman, thrust out his hand to help me up, but I ignored him. It was quite nice, lying back, watching the snow come down. “Ma’am? Do you want me to go get help?”

“Get up,” hissed Julie, in that voice of hers.

“I’m just having a rest,” I said. I loved this place. It was so peaceful. Maybe I would just lie in the snow for a while and enjoy a moment of serenity. The serenity lasted about five seconds before I felt a sharp pain in my side. Julie had kicked me. Kicked me. What was wrong with her? “What’s wrong with you?”

“Get up, or that’s just the beginning.”

I rolled over on my side and struggled to my feet. “You kicked me. Are you crazy?”

I looked over at the sleigh where my new friend Sarah was sitting with a blanket over her knees, staring at us. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my new friends.”

I weaved over to the sleigh — the snow was really quite slippery — climbed up the stairs that someone had conveniently placed there, and sat on the bench across from Sarah.

“All aboard,” said the driver.

“All aboard,” I called down to Julie, who was standing beside the sleigh with her arms crossed and an ornery look on her face. Another thing my Nana often said was, “don’t let your face freeze like that.” If Julie’s face froze with that look on it, she’d be terrorizing young children in the street.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice called. “Do you have room for two more?”

I knew that voice. Why did I know that voice?

“Hop in,” said the driver. “You’re just in time.”

“Fantastic,” said the man. “Divine.”

“Divine?” Oh my God, it was Douglas, sounding like he’d just popped out of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. Douglas and Sophie, and they’d just climbed in beside me.

I pulled my hood close around my face and surreptitiously peeked down to see what Julie was doing. Julie was climbing aboard. She might be a horrible grouch, a relentless nag who had no qualms about kicking someone when she was down, but she wasn’t going to leave me to fend for myself with Douglas and Sophie.

I squiggled over on the bench and hunched down inside my coat, my head turned as far away from Douglas and Sophie as I could manage without actually dislocating my neck. That nice, warm, tingling feeling I had acquired from the mulled wine had evaporated. What was left was mild queasiness crossed with abject panic.