Sea to Sky (9 page)

“How deep is the snow here?” she asked.

“Could be six, ten feet, maybe more.”

“How many tree wells between the top of that lift and the Village?”

“So you’d toss the gun into a tree well when no one was looking.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

She drained her glass and waited. He seemed lost in thought. Was he preoccupied with his other ‘friend’?

“I’m going to need a lift back to the Coast Peaks tomorrow,” she said.

“What time?”

“Some time before checkout time here, obviously. Right after breakfast maybe?”

“Right.” He spoke absently, as if his attention was somewhere in the darkness beyond the plate glass window. Her less-than-subtle hint that they spend the night together had either gone right over his head, or was being pointedly ignored.

When he said nothing further, she got to her feet. “I’m done. Good night.”

He looked a little taken aback, but didn’t say anything, didn’t reach for her hand, no protest of any kind.

“That’s right,” she said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. Why was he just sitting there, not speaking? “You and me? Just not gonna happen. I’m fine with that.”

He pushed his chair back.

“No. Sit down. Finish your beer. You’re paying for it.” She pulled a ten dollar bill out of her wallet and threw it on the table. Going dutch expressed just how she felt. She leaned toward him, her hand on his shoulder, knowing that he couldn’t help but notice the top of her breasts in the V of her shirt. “You must be tired after your busy day. I can find my own room.”

“Alora, hang on. I —”

But she waved him off. “Besides, I don’t have to worry about Mike any more…” She pulled her room key out of the back pocket of her jeans as she walked away, her hand sliding slowly up the curve of her butt. Let him see what he was missing. “…now do I?”

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    SIX

Hunter woke to an empty house. Tom had the day off, and had told Hunter that he was leaving early for Vancouver to run some errands, then pick up his wife at YVR. Hunter stood at the kitchen window while the coffee maker did its job. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the fallen snow already reflected the pale light of dawn to reveal the army of snow-draped fir trees surrounding Tom’s chalet. Smoke rose from a neighbor’s chimney. He poured himself a coffee before calling Elspeth Watson, his dispatcher. Even though it was 7:30 on a Sunday morning, he knew she would be at the office.

“Watson!”

“Mornin’, El.”

“Hunter! Can you come back to work yet? Did they catch the guy?” El seldom wasted time on pleasantries. Work was a game she loved to play, and Hunter was used to her single-minded devotion to it.

“I’ve lined up Sorenson to do the run for me. He’s meeting me at the White Spot in Squamish at eleven. But, tell me, did you get some photographs on your fax machine?”

“Yeah. Just came through. What the hell are they? I would have figured them for a wrong number but my name was on the cover page.” He could hear her flipping through papers.

“It’s a missing kid. His mother in Calgary thinks he might be in Vancouver, and I was hoping you could make a bunch of copies. I’ll need a couple, and if you’ve got anyone doing deliveries downtown…“

“I get it. Sure. I’ll hand a few out. Needle in a haystack, but I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“I’m going to call Sorry right now and get him to swing by the warehouse for the pictures on his way here.”

“If you can drive to Squamish, why not …”

“I can’t clear my name by sitting in the cab of my truck, for starters. And they don’t want me to leave the country yet, El.”

“You sure Sorenson can do the job without screwing up?”

Dan Sorenson and El had hit it off like hail on pavement. Hunter knew that Sorry often gave the impression that he was a big goof, but he wasn’t a stupid man. “Don’t worry, El. Redding isn’t far from where he used to live. He knows his way around northern California.”

“You don’t think there’s a chance you’ll solve the case and be freed up by tonight?”

Hunter laughed. “I’m flattered that you would even consider that possible.”

“You’re the man, Hunter! Call me later.” And she was gone.

Hunter sighed and redialed her number.

“Watson!”

“I need another favor, El.” He asked her to see what she could dig up on Blue Hills Industries, to see if she could connect with any of her fellow truck dispatchers or drivers to find out if there was something known about the company’s operations that could shed light on Mike’s possible enemies. Given Mike’s position as supply chain manager, what he did could very well be reflected on the company’s loading dock. Might as well find out all he could about the man.

“You bet,” said El. “I’m on it!”

Hunter smiled as he hung up the phone. El had tried to help out with his investigations in the past, sometimes doing more harm than good. He hoped this time would pay off.

Meredith Travis threw back the bed covers but made no move to get out of bed, reviewing the events of the past twenty-four hours in her mind. After the man who called himself Hunter Rayne had left her room last night, she had seriously considered walking out the door and driving away from Whistler. In her business, she couldn’t afford publicity, and the media was already all over what they had dubbed ‘The Chairlift Killer’. Rayne had connected her to Mike Irwin, but what reason would the police have to do so? He had threatened to inform the police, but would he?

Still undecided about whether to leave, she had known when she heard the confident knock on her door less than half an hour after Rayne left that it was too late. He had passed on her room number to the police. She hadn’t wanted to give the tall young cop any more information than she had given Rayne, but he insisted on seeing her official ID, and using a fake ID didn’t seem to be a good idea where the police and a homicide investigation were concerned. He advised her that he would need to verify her investigator’s license with the State of California and suggested it would be in her best interests not to leave Whistler, at least until he had done so. To reinforce his ‘cooperate or else’ stance, he pointed out that she was legally required to notify the Registrar of Security Services in British Columbia before coming here on a job. Now running away was no longer an option.

Her client had made it clear that she had better not allow his name to be connected with the murder of Mike Irwin. Her reputation depended on keeping her clients happy and her career depended on keeping her license. She couldn’t allow either herself or her client to become an object of suspicion. She considered her options for almost an hour after the cop had left her room, then cleared her mind with meditation before turning in for the night, confident that the answer would come to her in the morning.

Now she continued lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, until a new plan had started to take shape. She inhaled deeply, and let out her breath slowly with a big smile.

“I’m always up for a new challenge,” she said aloud, as her feet hit the floor.

Ten minutes later, Meredith was dressed in sweats and heading for the hotel’s workout room. Her focus may have shifted, but she was still on the job.

Hunter wished he still had the same access to information that he’d had as a detective. It could prove a challenge to find and interview Brent Carruthers, the man who might have had a motive to shut Mike Irwin up for good. Obviously the man had been in the bar that night, but Hunter hadn’t had any reason to notice him, although he did recall a dark-haired man sitting behind ‘Stella’, alone at a table with two wine glasses.

He found a space in an outdoor lot behind the Coast Peaks Hotel. He couldn’t help searching for Alora Magee as he crossed the hotel lobby to the reception desk. There were four parties in front of him, and only two clerks, so he stood behind an elderly couple and turned around to look for Alora again. He wondered if she had already checked back in.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about her departure from the lounge last night. Had she just been tired and showing the effects of stress, or had he really done something to make her totally lose interest in him? If so, was he relieved that she no longer represented a threat to the simplicity of his life, or did he care about her enough to pursue her, to prove to her and to himself that he was ready for and capable of a healthy relationship with a woman? He wondered if he could make things up to her by taking her out for dinner, or if he would be doing her a favor by staying away.

When it was his turn at the front desk, he leaned toward the clerk and spoke in a low voice. The clerk was a well-groomed woman with a businesslike demeanor, her dark hair pulled into a tidy bun. “I’m trying to locate a friend of a friend who’s in Whistler for that purchasing conference. Would you be able to tell me whether you have a Brent Carruthers registered? I know he’s in town, but my friend didn’t know which hotel he’d be at.”

The woman typed something into a computer keyboard. He was fascinated by how quickly she could type in spite of long fingernails; they shone with a burgundy polish that looked still wet. “Yes, he’s here,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t give out his room number, but I could take a message for him. Did you want to leave your cell phone number, perhaps?”

Hunter looked at his watch. It was still only a little before nine o’clock, and with any luck Carruthers would still be in his room. “Could you please call his room for me? I’d like to get this out of the way as soon as possible.”

After a quick call, the clerk informed Hunter that Carruthers was on his way down, so Hunter crossed the lobby to stand close to the elevators. One elevator opened and two middle aged men stepped out, paying no attention to Hunter as they passed him without interrupting their conversation. The doors of the next elevator opened to reveal a tall, tanned man with a youthful bearing. He could have been the man from the lounge. He looked directly at Hunter and raised his eyebrows.

Hunter stepped toward him. “Brent Carruthers?”

“That’d be me. How can I help you?”

Hunter extended his hand. “Hunter Rayne. I believe you may already have spoken to RCMP officers Blackwell or Pike about Mike Irwin.”

The man frowned and nodded as they shook hands. “Tragic,” he said. “Shocking.”

“I’m assisting with the investigation, and I wondered if you could spare me a few minutes of your time. I’m trying to find out as much as I can about Mike Irwin, and what might have lead to his death.”

“I don’t see how I can be of much help.”

“Coffee?”

“Sorry, I’m meeting someone. I don’t have much time.” Carruthers glanced over toward the restaurant.

“Could we just sit down for a moment? I’ll be brief.” Hunter knew he’d have a better chance if the man was off his feet, and his attention off the restaurant.

Carruthers hesitated, then allowed Hunter to usher him to one of a pair of chairs in the lobby. He perched on the edge of the chair, looking uncomfortable.

Hunter leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I understand Mike Irwin threatened you in the lounge here Friday night. What was that about?”

Carruthers rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Jesus Christ! It was about nothing. I was having a drink with a colleague, and that…” He inhaled deeply. “Irwin was joking around. Whoever said it was a threat was smoking something.” His eyes widened and he raised a forefinger. “You. You’re the guy who had the fight with Irwin.” He got to his feet. “What the hell are you trying to pull? If anyone had a reason to kill Irwin, my money would be on you.”

Hunter stood, too. “Hold on there, chief.”

“The hell I will.” Carruthers started to walk away, then turned to face Hunter. “If you want to ask me any more questions, do it through my lawyer.”

Hunter’s eyes followed the man into the restaurant. He wasn’t happy with himself. He hadn’t finessed that interview well at all. He was sure, however, that Carruthers was not only uncomfortable answering questions about Mike Irwin, he was also lying. Mike hadn’t been joking, and Carruthers had been angry about whatever he had said.

Hunter picked up a newspaper from one of the tables in the lobby, made his way to the restaurant and asked to be seated at a vacant table not far from where Carruthers had joined a young woman. She looked like a model — blonde, perfect skin, a cream-colored sweater that begged to be stroked — and Hunter knew she must be the ‘colleague’ Carruthers had referred to. Carruthers scowled at him as he approached. Hunter smiled and nodded, said a cheery “Good morning, Brent,” and seated himself with his back to the couple.

“Who’s that?” he heard the young woman ask.

He couldn’t make out Carruthers’ response, but the fact that Carruthers had lowered his voice, and that subsequently the young woman did, too, told Hunter enough for now. It might be that they had something to hide.

Hunter ordered coffee and toast, mentally calculating how much drinks and meals had already cost him since he’d arrived in Whistler. Another couple of days, and he’d be in overdraft. He unfolded the paper and scanned the front page. ‘Chairlift Murder Victim from California’ was continued on page two, but had little additional information beyond the discovery of the body.

“There you are,” said a woman’s voice. “Mind if I join you?”

Hunter looked up to see the watching woman approaching his table. “Stella?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s Meredith. Meredith Travis.” She smiled as she opened a menu. “I believe you and I have a common interest.”

Alora Magee moved forward a few ski lengths in the lineup to the Emerald quad chairlift. She adjusted her goggles with a gloved finger, ski pole dangling from her hand. The sun was out, but it was cold. She had begun to regret her conversation with Hunter the night before. It wasn’t often that she encountered a man she felt attracted to, and she’d enjoyed the excitement of getting to know him. Wasn’t the mystery and uncertainty the spice of a new relationship in the first place? Wasn’t it possible that his aloofness was a result of old fashioned values, and not an indication that he didn’t find her attractive? She remembered the kiss they’d shared, and felt a tingle down her spine. He had a power in him, an intensity. You could see it in his eyes, and she had felt it when he held her, however brief their embrace had been.

“You a single?” Again, louder. “Are you a single? Ma’am?”

Alora looked up to see the lift attendant motioning her forward.

“Room for a single here,” he said. “Hurry!”

The two foursomes of skiers in front of her made room for her to get by, and she was positioned in front of the chair just in time to be scooped up and lifted off the platform. She could feel the cold bench even through her ski pants as she wriggled over slightly to the right, enjoying the slight bounce and swing of the chair. Her pole clicked against her neighbor’s ski. “Sorry,” she said, looking over at the woman beside her.

The woman glanced at her, saying, “It’s okay,” then leaned closer, staring intently. She lifted up her goggles and said, “Do you know who I am?”