The Body in the Snowdrift (11 page)

“I'm packing, and we're getting out of here right away! What if Tommy had seen it? I thought this was supposed to be a family resort!”

“The poor Staffords! Didn't they just lose his brother or someone over the weekend, and now this? It must be those young snowboarders. I blame the parents.”

“It certainly looks real, from what you can see through the door. We should pull this on Harry next summer. You know the way he feels about that precious pool of his!”

“Josh.” Simon was striding over to the phone as he spoke.

Faith went to the glass door and looked through. There wasn't much to see except what was apparently a blond wig, now streaked with red, floating on the surface of the grotesquely red water. It was a horrible prank—and an easy one to carry out, she thought. The extremely realistic party girl was available on countless Web sites in countless forms, but Faith didn't think the nearest stores—convenience, liquor, or “Made in Vermont” outlets that sold cheese, maple syrup, wooden bowls, things with cows on them, things with moose on them, and endless crafts—ran to this sort of item, although in a free-spirited state like this, she could be wrong. Faith peered more intently at the “body”—and it was quite a body, from what she could see. If she hadn't come with her own curly locks, a wig could have been glued in place. Blow her up, toss in a Baggie of fake blood—or some homemade concoction with food coloring—punctured for a slow ooze, and then throw the lady herself on top.

But when? It would have to have been after Josh opened up. A sign on the front entrance indicated that the facility was protected by an alarm system. He would have activated it when he closed up last night, then shut it off this morning when he came in. What time was that? She'd have to ask him. What made the most sense was that someone had hidden in the Sports Center and spent the night, slipping out once Josh had dealt with the alarm. There was a door from the pool to an outside deck that was used in the summer—Pine Slopes was a year-round resort, catering to hikers, leaf-peepers, and skiers alike. The deck was buried in mounds of snow. It would be a simple matter to check
if someone had been able to get out that way. Or the merry prankster could have been wearing sweats and blended right in with the crowd—blended in, then out.

Sally returned, pale and fighting back tears. She went straight to Simon's side.

“I'm so sorry. She—it…looked so real!”

“You did exactly the right thing, calling for help immediately. Anyone else would have made the same assumption, and I hope would have reacted the same way in such an emergency. Don't beat yourself up, luv.” Simon gave her a hug. “Why don't you take the morning off? When you get back this afternoon, it will all be gone.”

Josh was glowering.

“Why didn't you at least go a little closer? Anyone would have been able to see it wasn't a real body!”

“Josh, that's enough!” Simon said crisply, the Brit in his Aussie accent coming to the fore. “Sally is not to blame. Someone else is, and when I get my hands on him, he's going to be very, very sorry.”

“Or her,” said Fred, who had come in and was approaching the group. “I'm afraid this has my stepdaughter's name written all over it.”

“But Ophelia couldn't have,” Faith blurted out. “I saw her late last night. That is, I saw her outside near our condo. I'd gotten up to get a drink. A drink of orange juice.” It wasn't coming out right, any of it. “I mean, whoever did this had to have hidden in here overnight.”

“Not necessarily,” Josh said. “After I opened up, there were plenty of times when I was away from the front desk and wouldn't have seen anyone come in or out.”

“But they'd be so noticeable,” Faith said. “Carrying that…that thing around. It had to have been done at night.”

Simon was getting impatient. “We can figure out all the whys and what have yous later. Now, we need to clean up this mess and calm everybody down. How about a Hawaiian pool party or something, if not tonight, then tomorrow night? Get people back in the swim.” He grinned.

It was a good idea, Faith thought. But it might take a little more than a few mai tais to get her in there.

Josh had managed to stave off the sirens, but the police arrived to check out the situation, and Faith found herself superfluous. Plus, she remembered her husband. Tom had probably heard about this by now and assumed she'd be here, but he'd still be eager to climb into the chairlift.

As Faith left, the police were questioning Sally, and it looked as if she wouldn't have her morning off after all. Josh and Simon were standing on either side of her. Faith had the distinct impression that without the girl in between, the two men would be at each other's throats.

Faith tracked Tom down in the cafeteria. He and Robert were eating fries. They were laughing about something. Dick really did do a good thing, she thought. These two, in particular, seldom had a chance to spend any time together, let alone revert to the malt shop stage. Robert was drinking a Coke, and Faith half-expected to see some erupt from his nose. The paper cover from the straw was nowhere to be seen, and she was pretty sure it was on Tom's lap.

“Hey, it's about time!” Tom said. “I know, I know, you had to go down to the Sports Center to find out what's going on, but now it's time for some of my kind of fun. The sun's out and the slopes are calling us!”

“I'm sorry, but—”

Tom put up his hand. “Say no more. I'm a very understanding husband, right, bro?”

“You're the perfect husband—and Faith's the perfect wife. Now let's get out of here,” Robert said.

They were tossing out their trash when Scott came running up to them, wild-eyed and panting.

“You have
got
to talk to Fred Stafford. He thinks Ophelia put that dummy in the pool. She keeps telling him she had nothing to do with it, but he won't believe her! He is such an asshole.”

“Hold on, nephew,” Robert said, pulling him over toward an empty table. They all sat down. “First, what makes you so sure Ophelia didn't do it? She made it pretty clear the other night that she has no great love for the Staffords.”

“I know.” Scott looked miserable. “Sometimes she gets a little out of control, but she would never do anything like this. Plus, how could she? I mean, she would've had to have a key to the Sports Center and know how to disarm the alarm. Or maybe she just walked in there this morning with the doll,” he added bitterly.

“Look, we don't know who did it. It was a very stupid—no, make that very
harmful
—prank. Fred's upset. But his relationship with his stepdaughter is a family matter. We can't tell him what to do,” Tom said.

“I knew you'd say that!” Scott pushed his chair back
angrily. “If Phelie wanted to hurt this place, she wouldn't just put something in the pool.”

“Come ski with us. Put us all to shame,” Robert coaxed.

“That's a great idea,” Tom said. “Ben wants me to take up boarding. I can rent one and you and Uncle Robert can get me started.”

“Not today,” Scott said, his tone indicating that it wouldn't be any day.

Faith had been silent, wishing there was something she could do. Tom was right: They couldn't interfere in this. Craig was the only one who was close enough to Fred for it to be appropriate, and Faith was sure Craig would be even harder on Ophelia than her stepfather. It would be that convent with the ten-foot walls for sure.

Scott stood up and gave them what might have been a wave. His face was still flushed.

“Be with you in a minute,” Faith told the two men, and followed her nephew out of the cafeteria.

“Look, Scott, it's not that we don't understand—or care. For that matter, I don't think Ophelia did it, either. Unfortunately, this is the way some people get their kicks, and there's obviously a very sick individual staying here at the moment. But what I wanted to say to you is that I've already told Fred that I don't see how Ophelia could have been involved, and when I see him later, I'll mention it again.”

Scott's face brightened. “Thanks, Aunt Faith. Phelie needs all the help she can get.”

“And Scott, even if this hadn't come up this way, I'd intended to mention to you in private that I think you had better stick to your curfew.”

He looked surprised.

“I was having trouble sleeping last night—or rather, very early this morning.”

Her nephew looked embarrassed. “We weren't doing anything. I mean we weren't messing around, if that's what you—”

Faith interrupted him. This was getting to be more than a need-to-know situation. She just wanted him to watch out for himself. Ophelia definitely needed help, but Faith definitely didn't want Scott the Saint Bernard to be the one to rescue her. Why was it that a certain type of teen, including herself at that age, was a magnet for peers in need? In her case, it had been a Heathcliffe look-alike with a serious drinking problem. She'd thought she could save him. She'd thought wrong.

“We're here to have a fun week, and I know she's your friend, but spend time with the rest of the family, too. Someday you'll be glad you did. I know, I know, I sound like a preacher's wife. Funny thing.”

This brought a smile to his face and one to hers, as well. She
had
sounded like a preacher's wife. She'd better be careful.

Something bleeped deep within the folds of Scott's oversized boarder's pants, and he fished out a walkie-talkie. Faith had forgotten about Betsey's tracking devices.

“I'm outside the cafeteria talking to Aunt Faith…. No, I don't know where he is. Probably with Dad…. Yes, yes…. I said yes…. Sorry. Bye.”

“I have to go look for Andy. Andy wanted to check out the pool, so I'll see if he's there. Anyway, well…See you.”

Scott was getting better-looking each year, taller, broad-shouldered, his curly dark hair even thicker. A heartbreaker, you'd assume, but more likely his heart was on his sleeve. Oh, that she could keep Ben from all this!

As she walked back to the condo, she noticed that a resort employee was taping bright red notices on various locations. Faith looked at the one now prominently posted outside the deli. It was a severely edited version of the pool incident, with the standard request for information about the perp or perps. The bulk of the notice announced that tomorrow night would be Nordic Night at the Sports Center. Apparently, Simon had changed his mind about a Hawaiian night in favor of this theme. Josh must be livid—and maybe that's why Simon did it, Faith speculated. She read on. Besides all the glögg you could drink, there would be Little Viking swimming games in the pool, a Land of the Midnight Sun tennis tournament at the indoor courts, screenings of Xtreme X-Country videos, and a Norwegian Bachelor Farmer look-alike contest. The whole facility, including the sauna, would remain open until midnight. Outdoors, a horse-drawn sleigh would be available for rides through the woods, and headlamp snowshoe and ski tours would continue all evening. The last line read “Feast on Scandinavian fare at Le Sapin's special smorgasbord! Reservations suggested.” Faith frowned. It wasn't that the change would be difficult—Swedish meatballs, salmon with a mustard dill sauce—and she'd send someone out to pick up some other ingredients for more dishes, especially yellow split peas for a traditional soup. They had plenty of locally smoked
ham to dice up, the other essential ingredient. Desserts could be renamed, and Niki could fax the recipe for princess cake, although not everybody liked marzipan. She could replace that with another icing. No, it wasn't the task that annoyed her; it was not being asked. Unless they'd found a new chef, someone hailing from Oslo? She mulled this over as she made her way back—as well as the incredibly inappropriate choice of color for the notice: bright red. Just like the water in the pool.

 

It had been fun skiing with Tom and Robert, but she'd left them for a soak in the oversized tub in the master bedroom suite before heading over to the restaurant. She was glad they were in this unit, although the elder Fairchilds' was nice and considerably larger. The owners of this condo were obviously more hedonistic than Tom's family, who thought a five-minute shower was the first step on that downward path and a whirlpool like this one, the descent into the very maelstrom itself.

Now she was stretched out on the very comfy chaise lounge, a phone cradled in her hand. The window nearby overlooked a spectacular view of the valley and Mount Mansfield beyond.

“Dick loved the cake! Didn't want to cut into it at first, then of course he was happy he had, 'cause it was so yummy. I'm glad we took some pictures.”

On the other end, Niki said, “What's wrong? Is it that sister-in-law of yours? You've got that fake ‘These are a few of my favorite things' tone in your voice.”

It was very difficult to fool Niki. But where to start?

“Let's just say it's not the vacation I thought it would be.”

“But you thought it was going to be the vacation from Hades. Don't tell me it's worse than that!”

“Okay. Not worse, just different—and there have been some very nice parts. Saturday night was nice. The cake
was
perfect, and this isn't Julie Andrews speaking. But early that morning, I was cross-country skiing in the woods and I found a friend of the resort's owners dead from a heart attack, and—”

“Faith, not another body!”

“Natural causes, completely natural causes. He had a very serious heart condition and was some kind of walking time bomb.”

“Still, you poor thing. It must have been horrible. This is why I never get up early unless I have to. Come to think of it, you never get up early, either. Didn't you and Tom used to flip for Saturday mornings when the kids were babies?”

“I was awake, and it looked so beautiful out. All those pine trees, the snow, no one around. Nature beckoned.”