Murder at Eagle Summit

“Up at the top of the lift, lying on the unloading ramp. It fell off the chair when Cameron jerked it.” He included Liz in his explanation. A patch of stark white skin surrounded his eyes like a mask on his deeply ta

“It’s back in my office.” Mr. Harrison’s expression became apprehensive. “Did Cameron say who it was?”

The teen shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

Tim unzipped the breast pocket of his ski suit and pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll call the sheriff.”

The resort owner started visibly, then gave a resigned nod. “Thank you, Brandon. Tell Mrs. Harrison we’ll need a couple of snowmobiles when the sheriff arrives.”

Brandon nodded and left, leaving Liz alone with Mr. Harrison…and Tim. He spoke into his phone in curt, clipped sentences. Mr. Harrison watched from his position on the other side of the counter, while Liz stood next to Tim, so close she could smell the subtle scent of his aftershave. He was still wearing the same brand he’d worn in college. She took a sideways step, putting a comfortable distance between her and her ex-fiancé.

Tim disco

“I—” Liz cleared her throat. “I might have seen something. Last night. Uh, I mean this morning. Early.” Unable to hold his gaze, she addressed Mr. Harrison as she described her late-night episode on the balcony.

“Let me get this straight,” Tim interrupted. “You saw a man walking up the slope in the middle of the night, and you didn’t think that was odd?”

“At first I thought he might be a local looking for loot dropped from skiers on the lift, you know?” She avoided looking at him, not wanting him to see that she was remembering how they’d done that a couple of times themselves, searching for lost treasures by the light of the moon.

“Locals don’t typically turn on the chairlifts.”

His cool, professional tone sent heat to Liz’s face. “When the lift started ru

“At one-thirty in the morning?”

“Some employees have to work late into the night, especially at the resorts with night skiing.” She hated that her voice sounded defensive.

“Eagle Summit doesn’t have night skiing,” Tim said.

“Well, how was I to know that?” she shot back. “I’ve been gone three years, you know.”

“I know.” His mouth clamped shut on the last word.

“Do you think the deceased is an employee?” Mr. Harrison seemed alarmed at the thought. “Surely not. It must be a snowboarder who snuck by the lift operator during the final sweep yesterday, trying to get in one last run. At least—” he paused to swallow hard “—that’s what I thought until I heard Miss Carmichael’s story.”

Tim nodded. “We’ll need to pull the daily logs and verify that the operators on duty yesterday recorded a good last chair, but if what Liz says is true, I’m guessing the end-of-day procedures will all check out.”

“Maybe it was somebody trying to do a little unauthorized night skiing,” Liz suggested. “Some of those extreme boarders are crazy, you know.”

Liz snapped her mouth shut. No need to remind Tim about the nature of snowboarders. He had been an extreme snowboarder and skier during college. He’d skied anything and everything that had even a thin layer of snow, inbounds if he had to, out of bounds preferably. He and his buddies had worked as part-time lift operators, not for the pay, but for the free lift passes.

Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut and resist the urge to remind Tim of the past? For some crazy reason Liz wanted to jab at him, to cut through that professional mask and get a glimpse of the Tim she knew so well.

Tim ignored the jab. From the corner of her eye she saw him watching her, but she refused to look at him. Instead, she focused her attention on Mr. Harrison.

The poor guy looked as if he might faint. He bent at the waist and planted his elbows on the counter to drop his forehead onto his hands. “This is terrible. Think of the publicity.”

Odd reaction, considering someone had died. “Publicity?” Liz asked.

The resort owner nodded without raising his head. “I know, I know. What a self-centered response, and completely mercenary. Some poor man froze to death right here on our property. I’m sorry for him and his family, I really am. But do you know what this is going to do to us?” He tilted his head to look up at her without straightening. “We’re barely making our payroll as it is. If word of a death at Eagle Summit gets out, who’s going to want to ski here? This could sink us.”

At the sound of rustling behind her, Liz turned in time to see Grandma stride through the door. The outrage on her face sent Liz backward ten years to the time she and Debbie were fifteen-year-olds caught joyriding around the neighborhood in Grandma’s new Buick. Thank goodness Grandma had another target in her sights at the moment. Though Liz felt sorry for Mr. Harrison.

Grandma planted herself inside the doorway and speared the resort owner with a searing gaze. “Young man, I’d like a word with you.”

The man straightened and managed to look like an aging delinquent in a suit and tie. “Yes, ma’am?”

“My granddaughter has decided to ignore my advice about moving the wedding to a more suitable location.” A single flare of her nostrils left no doubt as to her opinion on that matter. “So it appears the wedding party will be staying here after all, as arranged.”

Mr. Harrison let out a quiet sigh. “I appreciate that, Mrs. Carmichael.”

“I’m sure you do. However, I just attempted to check in and was told by the impertinent girl at the front desk that a room won’t be available until four o’clock.” She brought her wrist up before her face to glance at her watch in a deliberate gesture. “That is eight hours from now. Unacceptable, sir. Quite unacceptable.”

Mr. Harrison hurried around the counter. “A misunderstanding, madam. I assure you, your suite is ready, and I think you’ll be pleased with it. I’ve personally selected all the accommodations for the bridal party, the best the lodge has to offer. I’ll make sure the staff understands you and your guests are to receive VIP treatment.”

“Hmmph.” Grandma’s sniff indicated her willingness to be mollified, especially if she could enjoy VIP status. She caught Liz in her gaze. “When you’re finished here, Elizabeth, join Deborah and me in my suite. And don’t be too long.”

She followed Mr. Harrison out of the shop, leaving Liz and Tim alone. Five awkward seconds was all Liz could handle before she headed for the exit.

“Liz!”

She stopped, but did not turn. Silence stretched between them. Liz fought the urge to look at him, to see his expression. But she’d taken all of the cold glances she could handle from him this morning. She would not turn around and face another one.

Finally he spoke. “Don’t go far. The sheriff will be here in a minute. He’ll want to talk to you.” His voice was flat, impersonal.

The same voice he’d used three years ago, the day their engagement crumbled.

Throat tight, Liz gave a single nod and left the coffee shop.

SEVEN

Tim stood inside the front entrance, watching for the sheriff’s car. When the white Durango pulled beneath the awning, he stepped outside.

“Richards.” Sheriff Zach Daniels stood from the driver’s seat and folded muscled arms over his barrel chest. “What’s the situation?”

Tim straightened to his full height and still had to raise his chin slightly to look the six-four sheriff in the eye. “Everything’s quiet down here. Word hasn’t gotten out yet. The body’s up at the top of the lift.” He briefly outlined the information he’d learned from the teenager, the sheriff nodding as he listened. “The owner, Mr. Harrison, has arranged for a snowmobile to take you up.”