Читать книгу Murder on the Mountain - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 11

That evening at half past five o’clock when Paul herded everybody out of the house, the girls were wearing their sparkly costumes under their parkas. Their black hair was done up in curly ponytails, and their makeup was perfect thanks to makeup kits assembled by Julia and expert help from Abby Nelson. Abby was an FBI agent recently assigned to the Denver office so she could be near Mac Granger, a homicide detective, who was one of Paul’s oldest and best friends.

Earlier today, Paul had called Mac and asked if he and Abby would drive up to Redding for the performance that night. “It would mean a lot to Jennifer and Lily.”

“Count on us,” Mac said.

Though it wasn’t the same as having their mother attend, Paul knew the girls would be pleased to have a decent-sized cheering section in the audience.

Another good friend, Jess Isler, was also coming along. Jess had been staying with Paul while recuperating from a serious injury. Being with Jess—a ladies’man—usually meant there were several adoring females in the vicinity. Jess was on the Vail ski patrol and was so ridiculously handsome that he regularly dated the supermodels and movie stars who showed up on the slopes. Right now, however, Jess seemed to be spending a lot of one-on-one time with a nurse from the hospital who had promised to meet them at the rink.

Paul looked over the entourage. “We should take two cars.”

Jennifer batted her eyelashes. “Me and Lily want to ride with Abby.”

Teasing, Jess clutched his heart. “You don’t want to ride with me? I’m hurt.”

“We see you every day.” Jennifer had already linked her hand with Abby’s. “Mac and Abby drove all the way up here from Denver to watch us skate.”

“But we love you, Jessy-Messy,” Lily said happily. Her lipstick was already smeared. “You go with Daddy.”

“If I don’t see you before the show,” Jess said, “break a leg.”

Lily gasped. “Huh?”

“That means good luck,” Jess said. “It’s an expression. Break a leg means—”

“Everybody knows that,” Jennifer said. “Come on, Lily.”

When Paul got behind the wheel of the Explorer, he surreptitiously watched as Jess climbed into the passenger seat. Six weeks ago, Jess had been shot in the chest. For a while, Paul was as scared as hell, afraid his friend wasn’t going to make it. Though he wasn’t a particularly religious man, he’d prayed hard and long. Jess and Mac had grown up together; they were closer to him than brothers.

So far, Jess’s recovery seemed to be going well, but he wasn’t back to full strength, and he had a bad habit of overexerting himself. That habit was the main reason Paul had insisted that Jess stay with him in Redding even though he owned a condo in Vail. Though it was driving Jess crazy to know there was fresh snow and mountains to be skied, Paul kept him safely on the sidelines.

Jess slammed the car door and turned to Paul. He was pale but grinning. “Where did you get the lipstick?”

“I have my ways.” Paul quickly changed the subject. “You had therapy today. How are you doing?”

“The doc said I could try skiing next week, but I have to wear this girdle contraption to protect my busted ribs.” He cocked an eyebrow. “The lipstick?”

“A lady friend.”

“I knew it,” he crowed. “Who is she?”

“Forget it.” Paul pulled out of the drive and led the way so Mac could follow. “I’m not going to introduce you. Because she’d be all gaga over your skinny butt.”

“Don’t go there, Paul. I’m doing my best to convince Marcia that I’m not a hound dog.”

“Getting serious about her? Maybe thinking about marriage?”

“Whoa, buddy. Marcia and I haven’t even been, you know, intimate.”

Paul offered wry condolence. “Poor you. I guess it’s complicated to make love with broken ribs.”

“It’s been almost six weeks. That’s the longest time I’ve gone without since we were in high school.”

“A little abstinence is good for you,” Paul said. “If you decide to marry Marcia, it’s going to be a day of mourning for the other women of Eagle County.”

“You’re full of crap.”

“Not really.”

Paul was a realist. He’d never been popular with women. In spite of his size—or maybe because of it—he tended to be shy. Then, when he finally spoke, he’d blurt out something stupid. Around women, he was clumsy, always tripping over his own big feet.

All the way from grade school to high school graduation when he, Jess and Mac had been best pals, the girls had flocked around handsome Jess with his streaked blond hair and blue eyes. Mac’s relationships tended to be more monogamous and intense. And Paul was relegated to the role of the perpetual fifth wheel.

It was ironic that he’d been the first one to settle down into a marriage and have kids. And unfortunate that the marriage had fallen apart in spite of his best efforts to hold things together.

“Come on,” Jess said, “tell me who gave you the lipstick.”

“Her name is Julia Last, and she runs that resort where Mac stayed when he was in town.”

“Did you ask her out?”

“Dinner. Next week.” Paul figured he might as well take advantage of Jess’s vast dating expertise. “Where should I take her?”

“That depends. Tell me about her.”

“She’s strong.” That was the first word that came to mind when he thought of Julia. “The first time I saw her, she was chopping wood, handling an ax like a lumberjack. But that’s not to say she’s masculine. She’s got long curly brown hair that smells great. And the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. She’s tall. With an hourglass figure. Full, round hips and full, round…”

His voice trailed off as a picture of Julia took shape in his mind. Throughout this morning’s investigation with the sheriff, the coroner and the ambulance team that removed General Harrison Naylor’s body, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Though she’d obviously been tense, he admired her composure as she served up coffee and muffins all around.

Julia only relaxed after the forensics were done and the sheriff agreed with Paul’s conclusion that the general’s death was a suicide. The note he’d left behind stated his regrets for wrong decisions he’d made in the heat of battle.

“What does she like doing?” Jess asked.

“There are horses at the lodge.” He took a moment to imagine Julia on horseback with her hair flying loose around her shoulders. A very sexy image. “She likes football, but prefers hockey.”

“Just like you.”

“When I’m around her,” Paul said, “I want to tell her everything about me and the girls. Every little detail. At the same time, it’s nice to just be near her. She’s a woman who knows how to be quiet.”

“You’ve got it bad,” Jess said. “Here’s what you do on the first date. Order a catered picnic basket and pick up some decent wine. Then you charter a plane. I know I guy who flies for cheap. And then—”

“What? Charter a plane?”

“Think big. You want to impress the woman.”

“I don’t want her to think I’m abducting her,” Paul said.

“Women like a man who takes control and sweeps them off their feet.”

Paul’s instincts told him that Julia wouldn’t appreciate a lot of fuss. “I think a simple dinner is going to be enough.”

He pulled into the parking lot outside the ice-skating rink, met up with the others and escorted the girls into the backstage area. The new skating rink had been a huge success with lots of kids interested. Backstage, a couple of dozen skaters, ranging in age from five years old to high school, were doing stretch exercises and giggling wildly. There were few other men in this preparation area and Paul made a hasty retreat after wishing Jennifer and Lily good luck.

He returned to the bleachers surrounding the rink. From the way Mac and Abby were smirking, he guessed that Jess had blabbed to them about Julia. Swell.

GUILT HAD DRIVEN Julia from the safehouse. After sitting at the dinner table with the others who had known General Harrison Naylor and had offered respectful toasts to his memory, she had to leave. How could she have tampered with the crime scene? How could she, in good conscience, allow the world to believe this brave old Marine had committed suicide?

She needed to confess, and that need lead her to the ice-skating rink near Vail where she knew she would find Deputy Paul Hemmings. She hoped that he would understand, that he wouldn’t hate her for what she’d done. Inside the arena, she took a seat by herself on the bleachers and watched as these seemingly delicate skaters performed their athletic spins and leaps.

Checking out the audience, she immediately spotted Paul. Unfortunately, he was with Mac Granger and Abby Nelson—two people who knew about the safehouse. No way could Julia face them. It had been a mistake to come here.

As she rose from her seat, intending to slip away before she was noticed, Paul spotted her. He bolted from his seat and came toward her. She couldn’t run away, had to face him.

He took a seat on the bleachers beside her. His huge thigh brushed against hers. “I’m glad to see you, Julia.”

“Did you get the girl’s makeup put on straight?”

“Abby did it.” He pointed back toward the others who were all staring in their direction. “Abby Nelson. I think you know her. And Mac.”

“Yes.” Julia gave them a small wave. “They stayed with me. How are they doing?”

“Good. They’ve got a good relationship. I’ve never seen Mac so open.”

They sat quietly for a moment and watched the tiniest skaters go through a simple routine with only a couple of slip-ups. Julia’s anxiety ratcheted higher with each passing second. In spite of the cold from the ice, she was sweating. Her mouth was dry as cotton. Her feet were itching to run.

“Something wrong?” Paul asked.

She had to face up to what she’d done. “Could I talk to you in private for a minute?”

They climbed down from the bleachers and went toward the area where hot dogs and pretzels were being sold to benefit the Eagle County Skaters. From what Julia had heard, this newly built facility was a tremendous success—booked solid with figure-skating lessons, hockey teams and recreational time. She wished she could enjoy the evening, but the cheers from the audience only heightened her tension. She knew that once she spoke out, her words could never be reclaimed. The secrecy of the safe-house would be in Paul’s hands. “Can I trust you?”

“A hundred percent.”

“Even if I might tell you something that could cause conflict with your job?”

He gave her a friendly little pat on the shoulder. “I guess that depends. If you tell me you’ve got twenty dead bodies buried in your backyard, I’ll probably have to dig them up.”

She’d expected that response. Paul was a deputy, sworn to defend the law. And so was she. “It’s about the resort.”

“I’m listening.”

“My resort offers something more than lodging and meals.” She bit her lip. Now or never. Just tell him. “I’m running an FBI safehouse.”

“You’re an FBI agent?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t seem surprised in the least. Instead, his expression was visibly more relaxed. “That’s a relief.”

“You suspected something?”

“You’ve got surveillance cameras all over the damn place, and your employees wear shoulder holsters. Mac was real secretive about the resort when he was staying there.” He grinned, showing his dimples. “I was worried that you might be protecting a bad secret.”

“Twenty bodies buried in the backyard?”

“Something like that.”

“Nobody else can know about this.”

“Understood. A safehouse isn’t much good if everybody knows it’s there.” He took both her hands in his and gave a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Julia. Your secret is safe with me.”

Suddenly, his head jerked up. “That’s Jennifer’s music. Come on, we have to see her routine.”

As they hustled back to the rink, her emotions were in turmoil. She’d taken the first step toward the truth. Would Paul be equally sanguine with her confession about tampering with crime-scene evidence?

The music was “I Enjoy Being a Girl.” Four slender young skaters, dressed in pink-sequined leotards with short skirts, took the ice. Holding hands they skated in a figure eight.

“The one in front,” Paul said, “that’s my Jennifer.”

“I can tell.” Jennifer had her father’s black hair and dark eyes. And his dimples. “She looks like you.”

“God, I hope not.”

She glanced up at his profile. Every bit of his attention focused on the ice as he watched the skaters glide to the center. Each did a spin. Then a spread-eagle leap. After his Jennifer successfully completed her double axel, Paul gave a cheer and pumped his fist. “She did it. Damn, I’m glad. There’d be no living with the girl if she slipped up.”

He applauded enthusiastically as the routine completed and the skaters left the ice, then he turned to Julia. “That’s all for my kids until the grand finale. Can I buy you a hot dog?”

She nodded, wishing that she could relax and share the joy of this proud father. Though Paul was a deputy who carried a gun and dealt with crime, everything about him seemed wonderfully sane and normal—the very opposite of her daily routine.

At the safehouse, there was constant surveillance, the ever-present threat of danger. She was always looking over her shoulder. Especially now, with her suspicion that the general had been murdered.

She slathered mustard on a fat bratwurst and took a healthy bite, which she immediately regretted. Her throat was too tight to swallow. And her stomach twisted in a knot.

Forcing herself to gulp down the brat, Julia realized that she had to be really, truly upset if she was having trouble eating. Usually, she had a cast-iron stomach. “Paul, there’s something else.”

“Okay.” He led her to a round table, and gallantly held her chair while she sat.

Though there was no one nearby, she lowered her voice. “It’s about the general. I have reason to believe he was murdered.”

“Tell me why.”

She hesitated. Supposedly, confession was good for the soul. But she hated admitting what she’d done. Throughout her career with the FBI, she’d been an exemplary agent. No mistakes. No black marks on her record.

Quietly, Paul said, “All the evidence points to suicide. The door to the general’s bedroom was locked. Your surveillance tapes show that no one entered or exited. We checked the window, and it showed no sign of tampering. There were other fingerprints in the room, but none on the gun. No sign of a struggle. No blood spatters to indicate he was shot somewhere else, then laid out on the bed.”