COZY MYSTERY: Trail Mix Murder: A Cozy Mystery in the Mountains (Book 2) (6 page)

Dinner at Amanda’s that night was a warm, cozy affair and a much-needed interlude to the violence of the previous few days. Karen had joined them too, and for once, Victoria was happy that someone else was taking care of the cooking. She offered to help, but Amanda strictly told her to stay out of the kitchen.

“Believe me, I’m going to give you a load of work soon enough as maid of honor,” Amanda said. “For now, you just sit on that table there and have a few good sips of wine.”

Steve was pouring nuts and pretzels into a bowl, and he passed it on to Karen. “We made some hummus and a cheese-onion dip.” He said. “I can whip up a nice coriander dip I learned in India too.”

“When did you go to India?” Karen asked, interested.

“Oh, a long time ago,” Steve said. “In another life.”

“Was that a joke or do you believe in reincarnation?” Karen said.

“That was a joke but I do believe in reincarnation,” Steve said. “I mean, I think I’ve been reincarnated several times in this life itself. There was me as a child, carefree and lazy. There was me as a high-school teen, rebellious and always trying to look cool. There was me in med school, obsessed with working hard to save lives, and equally obsessed with always being number one. Now there’s me as an artist, and me as a father, the realest incarnation of me.”

“That’s beautiful,” Karen smiled.

Steve shrugged. “When Ida was born, I felt reborn myself.” He said. “If you’d told me before then that it was possible to love someone the way I loved that little girl, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Ida’s a lucky little girl,” Amanda said, smiling. “Not everyone gets a father like you, Steve.”

“I’m a lucky man.” Steve countered. “I got two women now that I love more than my own life.” He gave Amanda a one-armed hug and kissed her on the neck. She squealed and wriggled away.

“Oh come on you two lovebirds.” Karen made a face. “The rest of us will become diabetic if you act so sugary sweet.”

“Speaking of sugar, I’ve got this brilliant mango based dessert,” Steve said. “It’s layered mangoes with brown sugar and mozzarella. It doesn’t sound like much but I tell you, it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had in my life. You’re going to want to add it to your menu as soon as you taste it, Karen.”

“The café’s Victoria’s business now,” Karen smiled. “But I won’t mind a taste anyway.”

“Where are the girls?” Victoria asked. “I don’t hear any noise from them.”

“I loaned them my headphones so they wouldn’t play their music at full volume,” Steve said. “They’re probably watching a movie or something.”

The doorbell rang, and Victoria raced to get it before Steve or Karen could move. “Are we expecting more people?” She called.

“Oh, that must be our other guests,” Steve called back.

Victoria opened the door, and a smiling Corporal Jager stood on the doorstep, with a nervous looking Constable Keeney right beside him.

“Ah, Victoria.” Corporal Jager smiled. “We meet again. How are you?”

“What are you doing here?” Victoria asked.

“I’ve noticed you always counter a question with a question.” Corporal Jager said. “Was that part of your training as a journalist?”

“Well, you just answered my question with a question.” Victoria pointed out.

“You know, I’d invite them in before interrogating them,” Steve called out, from behind Victoria.

Blushing, Victoria moved aside, letting Randolf and George in. It felt funny to see Randolf outside of the uniform he always wore. He was dressed in chinos and a simple oxford button-down shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders and powerful body. George, surprisingly, was dressed in a batman T-shirt with ripped jeans and looked ten years younger because of it. If she didn’t know better, she would have guessed he was in a band or ran a comic book store.

When they were all sitting across the table, Steve raised a glass and toasted them. “To a brilliant happy future with many more dinners like this.” He said.

“Salud!” Everyone cried, and took a sip.

Dinner was delicious. Amanda had made a simple goat’s cheese pasta with spinach and mushrooms tossed in it. She’d also roasted chicken legs marinated in balsamic vinegar, and made a simple side salad of walnuts, iceberg lettuce, and cucumber.

“Humble, but good food,” Amanda said.

“Humble? This is delicious.” George said. “Amanda, you should have started a restaurant, not an art gallery.”

“Fantastic,” Randolf said. “This chicken is so tender.”

“It is, isn’t it? Delicious. Our mother used to make something like this when we were children.” Karen said. “What was the marinade, Vic?”

“Oh, it was red chilies, honey, garlic, ginger and a tiny bit of vinegar,” Victoria said. “You won’t remember this, Amanda, but you had some too on my thirteenth birthday.”

“I will never forget any aspect of that amazing birthday,” Amanda said. “So yes, I remember the chicken. We had our first sleepover that night, didn’t we? I also remember a certain mischief monger keeping me up until three am at night telling me ghost stories about scarecrows.”

Randolf laughed. “Did it scare you silly?”

“Scare me? I think I’ve grown white hair ever since that incident.” Amanda laughed. “Anyway, at 3:00 a.m., when she’s concluded this ridiculously scary story about a straw man with orange lips and yellow eyes, she dares me to take a loop through the fields, alone. I was terrified and told her I wouldn’t do it. So she did it instead.”

“Why!” Randolf exclaimed. “That sounds terrifying. I probably wouldn’t do it even now, to be honest, especially if I’d just heard a ghost story.”

“Oh… I’d made up the story, but once I had, I wondered if it could be true. I was scared, but in the end, the curiosity won out.” Victoria laughed.

“Curiosity.” Randolf nodded. “That should be your middle name.”

“Middle name? It should be her actual name.” Karen laughed. “She was always so curious. I had a diary in seventh grade, and I had a little padlock with numbers to keep it locked up. The little spy somehow figured out my combination and read my diary! I was outraged.”

“It was absolutely criminal of me,” Victoria said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry, Karen, even all these years later.”

“Oh, but I got you back.” Karen laughed. “I was the one who figured out how to pour cement into your locker later that year!”

There was a roar of laughter around the table.

“Randolf, tell us about you,” Amanda said. “Growing up, were you as bratty as our sweet little Victoria?”

“Oh, I should think not,” Randolf said. “I was more energetic. I used to like things being orderly, actually. I still do. So I loved running races on the track, everyone was equal, everything was neatly organized and then, you just ran. As fast as you could. It made no difference if your father drove a Ferrari or a Ford. You ran, and if you were fast, you came first. It was thrilling for me to achieve something that didn’t have my father’s name tied to it.”

“You were a provincial champion too, weren’t you?” Victoria asked. “I remember you with a medal, and the cheerleaders all swooning.”

Randolf laughed. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So you deny dating the hottest girl in school, Mindy Lakemeyer?” Karen elbowed him. “I heard you stole her right from her football player boyfriend one Friday night and that he beat you up good the next day.”

Randolf rubbed the side of his nose. “Well, I’ll just say that I was lucky he didn’t beat me harder and that I don’t go around stealing girlfriends anymore.”

“But why did you end up in the RCMP anyway?” Steve asked. “Isn’t that normally… well, for someone from your family, shouldn’t you have gone into business?”

“I’d seen too much of business to ever want to go into it,” Randolf said. “From sixteen to twenty, I worked part-time in our family business in some form or the other. I discovered that I hated it. Any business where you take money from someone requires that you be extra nice to them. The richer they are the nicer you have to be. This doesn't change anything no matter how much money you make. I decided it wasn’t for me. Besides, I’d seen two stock market crashes happen and I knew how quickly the money can dry out. It seemed too risky.”

“Business seemed risky so you became a policeman?” Victoria asked, incredulously.

“Funny as it sounds, yes,” Randolf said. “I decided that a) a policeman never has to bow down to anyone. B) a policeman has a guaranteed income and a job that will exist as long as the government does. Also, there was C) I loved the idea of making the world a better place by catching bad guys.”

“Ah, an idealist.” Amanda sighed. “Those are the best kind of men.”

“You should know,” Randolf said. “You’re marrying one of them. I don’t know too many artists who despise fame and fortune the way Steve does. It’s almost like he’s taken an oath not to be caught on Page 3.”

“I find it disgusting when artists do that,” Steve said. “Your commitment must be to your art and your family. Everything else is a distraction to be eliminated. When you eliminate the superfluous, you arrive at the truth.”

Randolf caught Victoria’s eye, and for a moment, both of them smiled at each other. Steve had repeated Victoria’s dialogue right back to her.

“But speaking of family,” Amanda said. “When are you planning to find yourself a nice girl and settle down, Randolf?”

“Ohhh.” Randolf put his hands up and mimicked fear. “Please, no more, Amanda, I’ll confess to anything as long as you don’t ask these questions.”

“Confess to us who you like then,” Amanda said, giving Steve a wink.

“Me? Like?” Randolf shook his head. “I’m a little too busy at my job this moment.”

Helping him change the topic, Victoria asked. “Speaking of the job, did the fascinating case of the red-coated spy give you any new clues yet?”

“We got the results back from forensics,” George said. “The cause of death was being pushed off the mountainside, but I suppose anyone could have guessed that.”

“So it was being pushed and not jumping off?” Victoria asked.

George bit his lip, and looked at the Corporal, as if for permission. Randolf sighed. “We aren’t supposed to be telling you this yet.” He said.

“But do tell. I promise it won’t go beyond this table,” Amanda said.

“Well, it’ll be out in a few days anyway. We think that the verdict is going to be suicide.” Randolf said. “In cases like this, it’s hard to prove anything, you see.”

“We have a very smart murderer,” Victoria said, thoughtfully.

“Murderer? Personally, I’m a simple man. If the coroner says suicide, I’m not going to go around making conspiracy theories.” Steve laughed, as he helped himself to another round of pasta.

“Come on, Steve, you have to admit that it’s a fascinating case,” Amanda said.

She was interrupted by the abrupt buzz of Randolf's  phone. Excusing himself, he answered the call.

They watched his face change from relaxed and happy to alert and on edge within seconds.

George.” He barked. “We need to go. Now.” Grabbing his coat, he jammed on his shoes, even as George pushed back his chair and ran after him.

“What is it!” Amanda exclaimed. “Is everything alright?”

“Far from it,” Randolf said, looking grim. “We’ve just got a call from Declan Moran.”

“Has something happened to LeeLee?” Victoria gasped.

“Something’s happened alright.” He said. “She’s dead.”

The town of Larch Springs reeled from the news that her body had been found. She had been strangled in her own room.

Declan was sobbing when Corporal Jager first arrived on the scene. He was rocking himself and weeping like a child. “She’s dead! She’s dead!”

With great difficulty, Corporal Jager had managed to get the details out of him. LeeLee Brunt had begun feeling unwell shortly after lunch that day. She’d insisted on retiring to her room, and instructed Declan not to let anyone disturb her. Declan had agreed and decided to go out with a few friends for some beer. He’d lost track of time and stayed out until ten o’clock. When he returned home, he was surprised that LeeLee had still not gotten out of bed so he went to check on her.

“When I, when I got inside, she was d-d-dead.” Declan wept. “She was, oh my LeeLee was in the prime of her life!”

But it wasn’t just Larch Springs which was affected by LeeLee’s death. Overnight, the two mysterious murders attracted the attention of both national and international media. LeeLee had been a celebrity on the Italian and French fashion scenes. In no time, the grass outside her mansion had reporter’s vans parked everywhere. Well-dressed women holding microphones, their voices, speaking in multiple languages, compressed together to form a non-stop buzz.

For the next three days, Spring Hopes Café was packed with tourists and locals alike. Victoria had her hands full trying to serve the customers, and had to hire Byron and three of his friends as temporary servers and busboys.

“Did you hear about it?” people would whisper.

“Terrible crime.” Victoria overheard, at least, twenty times a day.

“Declan was a mess when the mounties came to see him.”

A mess he might have been but Declan soon hired a lawyer to protect himself from what he felt were very unfair questions by the police.

The lawyers were the Turner Twins. Identical twin brothers who had inherited their father’s practice. Both lived next to each other, five minutes from their office and could often be seen walking in perfect sync together, impeccably dressed. Today, they both wore identical gray herringbone suits, only differentiated by their ties. One wore red, the other black. Although they deliberately dressed alike within their office, outside it, they were almost opposite in their personality. Bill, who was the younger by a few minutes, preferred to spend his time socializing, holding large parties and organizing cycling meetups. Thomas, who was taller by a fraction, was a complete introvert who spent his free time holed up at home, either playing with his toddler daughter or watching movies in his basement home theater. They had, a year ago, represented Karen when she’d been the surprising recipient of a rather large inheritance. Rumors about LeeLee’s will ran amok through the town.

“Our client has already made his statement to the RCMP.” The Turner Twins would say if asked questions by the reporters. “He has no more comments to make at this time. We ask that you please respect him in his time of grief.”

It was a sensational story. Two murders less than a week apart. Everyone was now convinced that the woman in red could not possibly have committed suicide.

Could she?

Victoria was waiting tables, liberally pouring coffee during the breakfast lunch, when a discussion between a few townies lured her in.

“Read the latest on the case?” Steve Boonsbury asked. “Amanda’s quite upset that LeeLee died. I feel bad that she passed away, but personally, I’m more worried about whether Declan will pay me for my work at her party. Callous of me, I know, but there it is.”

“Haven’t had the time to read,” Victoria said, her smile lame. “I’ve been up since four am and sleeping at one each night because of the constant rush.”

“Oh poor you.” Dr. Molly Stewart chimed in. “I suppose that has to be hard. But it’ll all be worth it when your next paycheck arrives.”

“That’s what I tell myself,” Victoria smiled. “Besides, I know the rush will die off soon. It’s already beginning to fade.”

“We’re worried about the town’s reputation, though.” Adam Denner said. Denner owned one of the shops on Main Street, and the recession of the last few years had left him constantly worried about going under.

“Oh, Denner.” Molly chided. “Surely this is not the time.”

“It is, though,” Adam said. “A town that attracts murders isn’t a very good way to be known. We’ll lose all our tourists and goodness knows it’s hard enough to compete with the fancy spas coming up these days. No one wants a quaint town anymore. LeeLee was one of our biggest supporters and as a celebrity who loved to live here, she attracted others. Now she’s gone.”

“A place like Larch Hot Springs will always survive,” Victoria reassured him. “It’s in our nature. It’s in our blood. Don’t worry, Adam. For now, let’s focus on supporting Declan any way we can.”

“Oh that Declan.” Adam snorted. “I don’t like him one bit. Crocodile tears.”

“You don’t think his grief was genuine?” Victoria asked, surprised.

“I don’t think anything about that man is genuine,” Adam said. “What do we know about him, really? Nothing beyond the fact that he was her personal assistant. He could have a criminal record, he could be a secret serial killer and we’d have no clue.”

“He’s always seemed decent enough to me.” Dr. Molly said. “Well, sure, I wasn’t the biggest fan of him trying to seduce an old lady because of her money. But he was always respectful to me, and LeeLee’s personality was such that she was always a match for him.”

“Decent! Hah!” Adam scoffed. “Why I heard the first thing he did when she died was to go around the house pocketing anything that he could.”

“Adam!” Steve Boonsbury protested. “That’s a really mean thing to say. I don’t like the man myself, but...”

“Maybe it is, but I’ll tell you what, Steve, I went over to LeeLee’s today to offer my condolences.” Dr. Molly said. “Well, as soon as I entered her bedroom, where Declan was sobbing, what do I find? That painting she had, a horrible one with a twisted kind of dog and eyes all over by some Italian artist, was gone. A nice blank space on the wall was the only thing that told it was missing.”

“I don’t care much for artist types.” Adam shrugged. “Modern art, in particular, leaves me baffled.”

“I think this painting was by Wilmagelda Massini.” Dr. Molly said. “I only know because LeeLee told me all about it when I had gone over once to check on a fever she had. Apparently quite a rare painting too.”

“So… worth some money then?” Adam said, an eyebrow raised.

“Look, you’re both ridiculous.” Steve protested. “Declan was set to marry her in three months. He wouldn’t go about stealing paintings! If anything, it proves that he hasn’t done it.”

“But are we sure anybody has?” Victoria asked. “I don’t think the coroner has given his verdict on whether it was murder or suicide yet.”

The three gave her pitying looks. “When you get to my age, you know in your gut when it’s a murder,” Adam said. “As soon as Boyd died last year, I knew he was gone- and that somebody who hated him had killed him.”

“Oh, Adam! You have to stop believing in all this supernatural sixth sense stuff.” Dr. Molly said.

“Well, it’s all fine for you to say,” Adam said. “But I always had a bit of psychic sense. Everyone on my mom’s side of the family did. Victoria, you might have inherited some since your ma and I were distant cousins.”

“Was that twice removed or thrice removed?” Victoria laughed. “No, I don’t believe in supernatural psychic senses, but I think…” she paused. “I think that there’s a part of the human brain, the subconscious mind, which processes things and recognizes patterns far faster than the rational, conscious mind does. I think that’s why, when we get a gut feeling, it’s best to trust it.”

“You believe all hunches are just pattern recognition?” Dr. Molly asked.

“The world runs on patterns, doesn’t it?” Victoria said. “Humans are creatures of pattern. We’re never truly quite original.”

“Now that’s a very cynical thing to say!” Steve smiled. “I always thought you were the optimistic kind Victoria, believing in the human spirit and originality.”

“Well, if you want me to prove my point, think of stories.”

“Stories?” Steve asked.

“Yes, stories. We’ve advanced so much in terms of technology in the last five thousand years. Yet if I tell you a story that is five-thousand years old, it might still resonate with you because some human themes are everlasting. Greed, Love, Hate, Jealousy…” Victoria said. “I always felt that if you only understood the stories of all the people involved in the case, sooner or later the murderer’s motive would be clear to you.”

“Unfortunately or fortunately, the motive isn’t all we need,” Steve said. “We humans need proof before we go around calling someone a murderer!”

“Well, Declan has a pretty solid motive to murder LeeLee, doesn’t he?” Adam asked. “He was set to inherit her money.”

“Was he?” Victoria asked. “After all, the two had only been dating for a year or two, and they weren’t married yet. I’m not so sure he was going to inherit much until after he married her. No, Adam, I think I side with Steve in saying that perhaps it wasn’t Declan after all.”

“Hey, I’m not saying he’s innocent.” Steve protested. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t go around painting him a murderer before the police even confirm there’s been a murder.”

“I agree.” Dr. Molly said. “But I tell you what I saw. That painting of LeeLee’s was definitely missing.”