Death of a Batty Genius (Stormy Day Mystery #3) (16 page)

She put her hand on his chest. “Not in front of my friends,” she squealed. “Have some decency.”

He winked at her, then got up from the chair and re-joined his sister.

I said to Jessica, “Anything you want to tell me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You guys, it was nothing. We were both really relaxed when we got out of the tanks, and we had one little kiss in the hallway. That’s it.”

Christopher and I exchanged a look. There’d been a lot of romance happening at the lodge overnight. What would tonight bring?

The three of us voted, and the result was unanimous. A second trip to the crepe buffet was in order.

I’d started with a sweet one, so I helped myself to one of the sugar-free savory crepes, loading it with scrambled eggs, chorizo sausage, plus some fried green tomatoes Marie insisted I try. The local ones weren’t in season yet, but hers had come from a greenhouse she was sampling as a new supplier.

“We’re here to test things for the lodge,” I said as I stacked my plate. Jessica repeated the same mantra.

Della came up to Marie and asked if there were any gluten-free crepes for Franco.

Marie snapped, “Why doesn’t he ask me himself? Why’s he hiding in his room?”

Della said, “I think Franco might be sick. He smelled funny, and he wouldn’t get out of bed. I told him he was stinking up the room, and he just grunted and told me to get lost. I only came to breakfast because I couldn’t get the patio door open for fresh air.”

“Sorry about that,” Marie said. “The door on the room at the end is defective. Butch should have told you when you checked in. Don’t worry, we’ll have it fixed before the grand opening, and I’ll have Butch check the ventilation.”

“Do you think I should bring a doggie bag to Franco?” Della asked.

“We’ll make him a nice one.” Marie grabbed a plate and whirled around the buffet, piling the plate with gluten-free options for Franco, and explaining the ingredients of each item as she went.

Della accepted the full plate and said to Marie, “You’re a nice lady. I mean that, for real. I want you to know, no matter what goes down, that I really respect you.”

“Thanks,” Marie said, looking equal parts confused and satisfied.

She was handing cutlery to Della when a thunderous sound cracked through the dining room.

We all silently looked around at each other. Then everyone started talking at once, asking what the noise had been. We gathered around Butch and Marie for answers.

“Was it a hunter?” Christopher asked. “I’m no outdoorsman, but that was a rifle, wasn’t it?”

I said to Marie, “It’s Monday today. What time is your construction crew getting here?”

She answered, “That wasn’t my crew. They’ve got the next few days off, so we can relax in peace.”

Christopher said, “We won’t be getting much peace if we’ve got rednecks shooting up the place.”

“The lodge is totally safe,” Butch said vehemently. “Let’s nip these rumors in the bud. The land is all marked off with big signs saying No Hunting.”

Marie turned to him, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses. “But that noise…”

“Don’t you worry, little darling. It’s not even big game season until the fall. That crack must have been the mountain letting off a little steam.”

“Steam?” Marie’s chin trembled. “You mean like a volcano?”

Half of the group gasped. Were we on an active volcano? People started talking evacuation plans.

Butch raised his arms and yelled for everyone to shut up. Once we were quiet, he said, “We’re not on a volcano. I don’t have the maps handy to give you all a geology lesson, but you have to trust me on this one.”

Dion said, “It might not have been a big game hunter, but could it have been someone shooting wild turkey?”

Butch rubbed his chin. “Shouldn’t be. Not enough grain seed for turkeys on this rocky terrain.”

“But it’s possible, right?” Dion asked.

Butch turned to Christopher. “Let’s say that thunderous crack was a hunter. How about you and I head outside and give some redneck the scare of a lifetime?”

Christopher looked at me with his eyebrows raised, as though he was asking me for my permission, or a good excuse.

“Have fun,” I said cheerfully. “Wear something bright so nobody mistakes you for a turkey.”

Chapter 17
 

After our third
helping of crepes, Marie finally cut us off.

Sounding like a mother, she said, “Get outside right now and enjoy this perfect weather. You’re here to test-run
all
the amenities. This morning, Butch has you scheduled for snowshoeing.”

There weren’t many takers. Christopher and Butch were still off in search of rifle-wielding hunters, Dion said he’d already promised to test the gym equipment, and Della had disappeared to her room with the plate of food for Franco. That left only Jessica, Benji, and me.

Benji tried to get out of it, pleading, “I’ve got my work with me, case studies about Psilocybe semilanceata, and other… boring chemistry stuff you wouldn’t care about.”

“I’m a chef,” Marie said. “We’re both chemistry geniuses, in our own ways. The difference is I get to chop things. Getting my hands and body moving is what keeps me sane. I know you’re going through a rough patch, but you’ve got to keep going. Get your skinny butt off that chair and go snowshoeing, right now.”

She clapped her hands and literally shooed him out of the dining room, along with Jessica and me.

I hadn’t been snowshoeing since a winter trip in high school, when we’d used huge snowshoes that looked like tennis rackets and smelled as if they were made of animal parts. By comparison, the sleek, modern snowshoes we found in the trekking hut beside the lodge resembled something you’d connect to your laptop. The gear was fashioned from lightweight aluminum and neoprene, sorted into different sizes calibrated for various body weights.

Jessica, who had been snowshoeing many times, explained, “Men and women have different thigh bones. See how Benji’s thigh comes straight down from his hip, whereas our thighs curve inward?”

“What?” He looked down at his leg, then at ours, then his, then ours. He had a very serious expression.

“This won’t be on the final exam,” Jessica joked as she socked him on the arm. Benji wasn’t expecting her tomboyish punch, and fell back onto some unpacked cardboard boxes.

Jessica helped Benji up and continued, “Because of that curving thigh bone, women have a narrower stride. That’s why the women’s snowshoes are shaped differently.”

“So, I shouldn’t wear these cool red ones?” I set down the red snowshoes I’d been planning to wear, from the men’s section, and chose yellow ones from the women’s section.

“Now you’re cooking with fire,” Jessica said.

Benji picked up the red snowshoes and studied them as though the components were a logic puzzle. The snowshoes had adjustable straps, so they fit a variety of footwear. While Benji stared at his, I used my hands on mine. Through trial and error, I figured out how to get the straps around my waterproof hiking boots. He was still examining the bindings after I was done and ready to go.

“Benji, lighten up,” I said. “Life isn’t a chemistry equation you can solve by thinking. Marie’s right. We could all stand to get out of our heads and live a little.”

“I’ll try,” he said, then he put on the snowshoes.

We all borrowed some hats and scarves from the trekking hut, then set off on our way up the mountain.

Once we made it past the muddy patches around the lodge, the modern snowshoes worked like a dream, floating us on top of the snow. We climbed toward the peak, on a path marked by orange arrows fastened to the majestic trees that stood tall on either side of the trail. Crisp mountain air invigorated us to casually race each other, competing to see who could stay in the lead.

I was puffing, but happy. After weeks of working on the computer or in my car, I loved stretching my legs in such a gorgeous winter wonderland.

We’d been trekking more or less straight up for thirty minutes when Benji staggered off to the side and hugged a tree.

Jessica, who had barely broken a sweat, teased him. “Is that all you’ve got? For someone with such a health nut business, I expected a little more competition.”

“I know,” he said between gasps. “I’m a total fraud. I don’t deserve to live.” He leaned forward and put his face in his hands.

Jessica grimaced at me and asked quietly, “Is he crying?”

“We broke him,” I said.

She went to his side and patted his back. “Don’t be sad. I’m sorry I offended you. I have a weird sense of humor and I’m always rough on guys. Honestly, it’s not great for my dating life.”

He wiped his cheeks and looked up at her. “But you’re so beautiful,” he said. “And the more you act so nice toward me, the worse I feel about poisoning you with the Rainforest Delight.”

“But you didn’t do that on purpose, did you?”

He was slow to answer. “The lawyers… they say… I shouldn’t admit to any wrongdoing until there’s evidence, but I don’t know if I can lie if I have to take the stand.”

Jessica glanced at me, then said, “You knew.” She took a step back. “You knew there was a problem, a fungus in the batch, and you didn’t issue the recall until people started getting sick.”

He didn’t answer.

She lunged forward and shoved him on the shoulders. “Admit it. You knew, and you didn’t do anything.” She shoved him again, harder.

He fell backward into the snow. He shot me a guilty look as he got up again and stumbled away, tripping over the snowshoes. He continued to run, downhill, back toward the lodge.

I went to Jessica and put my hand on her shoulder. I could feel that she was shaking.

“Are you okay?”

“Give me a minute.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

After a moment, I said, “What happened to letting things go?”

She gave me a bewildered smile. “Maybe you and your thirst for justice are rubbing off on me. Did you see that? I really went after him!”

“Should we go catch him? I’ll hold him while you shove snowballs down his pants.”

“Let’s give him some time to think about what he’s done.”

“Sure,” I said.

She bit her upper lip and stared at the trail leading back down for a moment, then suddenly pushed me—not hard enough to knock me down, but enough to upset my balance.

Laughing, she called back over her shoulder as she bounded up the trail, “Last one to the top is a rotten egg!”