Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (11 page)

Chapter 38

Hey Wait!

I had to wait for Hans to leave before making a move.

…Hold on! Who are these two?

Two skiers swerved to a stop right in front of Hans. It was as though they were waiting in the wings for Peter to take off. One took their knit hat off, but not their sunglasses: an older woman with a prominent gray streak running through her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair.

The other skier, whose voice was masculine, removed nothing. Both were smaller in stature than Hans. I strained to hear their conversation. Then the wind abruptly changed and their words drifted toward the evergreens and me.

“…Arguing isn’t getting us anywhere,” said the woman.

Her ski partner nodded. “She’s right. Plus that kind of money is ridiculous. No one has that amount lying around.”

I didn’t think they were arguing the price of ski lessons.

Hans laughed. “Did you think this was about money?”

“Well, isn’t it?” said the woman, getting upset.

The man with her laughed in Hans’ direction. “No my dear, this is all about him getting even, isn’t it?”

Hans scowled in anger. “Don’t play word games with me. You have no idea how I could destroy you both.”

This time the woman laughed. “And you have no idea how we could destroy you in turn.”

Hans raised his hand, but then lowered it.

“Don’t even think about it,” her partner said angrily.

The woman moved in closer to Hans. “This game you are playing of cat and mouse could cost you dearly. I would think twice before it’s too late.”

With that said, the two skied off, leaving Hans standing there, looking clearly upset. He cursed then skied away taking a different trail than theirs.

I tried to make sense of what was said, but couldn’t.

It would have helped to hear their whole conversation.

I waited five more minutes, and then skied back to my hotel. I didn’t want to meet up with any of them, especially, Hans, who wouldn’t think of me favorably, especially after that incident in my hotel’s rear garden.

Hans knew me. Did they? Hans’ prominent black eye was exposed when he removed his goggles to talk to Peter. And he kept them off. None of the three mentioned it once.

Then they probably knew how he got it: from me.

I glanced all around. The coast was clear, so I took off. This was proving more involved than I expected. Plus, my trust factor was tanking fast on Peter. I should be careful around him.

I had to speak with Clay. Was he being upfront about Peter? There must be more. Was Clay picking and choosing what he told me? If so, why? Was it for my protection? Telling Clay what I just saw and heard would be up for grabs depending on what he told me. For now I’d take the high road and wouldn’t judge Clay’s reasoning. I’d hear him out first then maybe threaten to leave, and after he apologized profusely for leaving me out of the loop…

I just loved that apology part. Like I said, we’ll see…

Chapter 39

Deciphering An Enigma

I was about to call Clay when first one, then the rest of my crew filed through the door. I set the phone back down. I would call him later.

Silence reigned: a rare event with my bunch.

Mona, the last one in, closed the door behind her. “This Herr Kraus is a tough nut to crack,” she announced.

“Were you able to find anything out?” Martha asked.

“I can’t believe the favors I called in from my
sources
.”

“Same here, but on our cleaning duo,” said Martha.

Hazel was looking everywhere but at me, so was Betty. I wondered why, but then turned back to Martha when she cleared her throat loudly to get my attention.

“So what did you find out?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “…Well, I didn’t actually talk to them.”

Martha always spoke in circles. “…And why not?”

“That manager, Herr Miller said their names are Maria and Carlo: husband and wife, who speak only Italian.”

I didn’t get it. “So then why are you still smiling?”

“I made a point of getting their full names then did some
private
networking on my own and guess what?”

“I’m not even trying,” I said. “Get anything specific?”

Martha gave me another grin. “Oh, nothing much, just Carlo’s grandparents’ significant job during WWII.”

I leaned in closer. “Now you’re talking. Doing what?”

“They were the cleaning staff at an embassy.”

“I swear I don’t know how you find stuff out.” I said.

Martha merely smiled. “Don’t ask because I won’t tell.”

“You belong in hackers anonymous,” said Betty.

Martha waved her off. “At my age? It’s hopeless.”

Interested, Mona asked, “Exactly where did they work?”

“Surprise, Surprise. At the Russian embassy.”

“I bet they were spies!” said an excited Betty.

Martha nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

I agreed. “If you found out, maybe others did too.”

“Maybe, but then guess what? Their trail dead-ended.”

Mona grudgingly nodded in approval. “They say you’re never to old to hack. You, dear lady, are living proof.”

Martha preened. “I’ve expanded my, uh …networks.”

“My trail dead-ended on Herr Kraus too,” said Mona. “I did get a confirmation that Kraus was trained by the US and fluent in Russian, but that was it. Oh, and he’s an author of some obscure old Swiss travel books. There was nothing after that. Zip. Zero.”

“That corroborates so far what Clay told me and what I found out on my own,” I added.

“Could that couple’s link be plausible?” Betty asked.

“Possible,” mused Martha. “Both appear to be the right age to be heirs of WWII spies.”

“But,” said Betty, “they’ve worked here for some time. Why would they wait that long to go after Kraus?”

Martha leaned in. “Maybe being sleeper spies runs in Carlo’s family and he was called back to active duty. Being married, his wife, Maria must have known all about it.”

“But why back to active duty?” I asked.

“Kraus wasn’t a threat then, but is now,” added Mona.

“Hmm ...”
At this point, I wasn’t discounting anything.

I then told the others about what I had seen at the chalet with Peter, Hans and that strange couple confronting him.

Martha laughed. “They must be running a special on spies and suspects around here.”

“Looks suspicious to say the least,” said Mona.

“Maybe we’re looking for something that’s not really there,” I countered. “I might be reading too much into what I actually saw and heard out there.”

“I say we keep going on this,” said Martha.

Mona nodded. “I agree. Let’s keep looking into it.”

I nodded too. Then I turned to Hazel and Betty. “What about you two? You’ve been too quiet.”

They both glanced my way then toward the others, who shrugged, eye-rolled and nodded for Hazel to speak. I wasn’t exactly getting good vibes from their reactions.

What did they all know?

Hazel quickly nudged Betty, who finally said, “…Well, uh, we spotted a young woman leaving Clay’s apartment.”

My mouth fell open.

…He’s a dead man.

Chapter 40

Under Whose Covers?

I wasn’t one to lean toward jealousy, but this sure felt like it as my face flushed. Who was she? There had to be a logical reason for that woman being in Clay’s room, right?

Betty patted my arm. “Easy does it, Sam.”

“He better have a good excuse or else good insurance.”

Mona laughed. “Revenge is good. I personally find it extremely cathartic.”

“Show restraint,” said Betty, shaking her head at Mona.

“You need to look at the big picture,” added Hazel.

“I am, and it seems to be changing by the minute!”

Martha stepped in. “No sense getting riled up yet.”

“And why not?” I asked the other revenge queen.

“You need more proof. Walking out of someone’s room is not solid evidence. It’s merely circumstantial.”

I couldn’t believe she’d said that to me. “Since when does circumstantial come into play when it concerns Clay?”

Martha thought about that for a second. “…Since we’re in a foreign country, that’s why.”

That stopped me.

“What does
that
have to do with
this
?”

I always had difficulty following Martha’s logic. I felt the whole conversation had been gaining momentum until she threw in her two cents. Now I wasn’t so sure.

Betty stepped in. “I think you need to rethink this, Sam.”

I turned to her. “Rethink what?”

“Pardon my interruption,” said Hazel.

I then focused on her. “What?” I asked gritting my teeth.

“You are going about this all wrong,” she said.

Martha turned to Hazel. “And how is that?”

“Now I’m completely lost,” said a confused Mona.

I looked at her. “Welcome to the club.”

Mona raised a brow to me. “What club?”

“The what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about, club,” I said.

“We’re dealing with spies,” said Martha, “You have two choices. One: spy on Clay. Two: confront him point blank.”

“I’m leaning toward the direct approach,” I said angrily.

“On the other hand,” countered Mona, “surveillance might reveal something interesting, if you get my drift.”

I did, but was leery of what that drift might be.

“Why not let Betty and I do a stakeout,” offered Hazel.

“No,” I said. “Keep an eye on Peter. I’ll focus on Clay to find out who this mystery lady is. Martha, you keep tabs on that duo. Mona, find Kraus. He’s got to be somewhere.”

I needed a Hail Mary pass. Bases were loaded…

I needed a winner or me and my book were toast.

What Clay deserved was a swift kick.

What I deserved was an explanation.

What my readers deserved was a great ending
.

What we’d all end up with was anybody’s guess.

Chapter 41

This Was Not My Forte

Spying was not my forte, especially spying on someone I was personally involved with. In this case, I was more upset about what I might find out. Was Clay involved with another woman, or was she merely a spy? Of course, I could be way off-base and it was nothing more than a get-together of friends between the two.

But I didn’t think so.

The more I thought about it, nothing was unintentional about Clay and everything connected to him was usually preplanned. This job was up close and personal for him since it involved his family’s history. He was directly zoned in on setting the record straight. So in a way I kind of understood his line-of-sight regarding this case.

I had to set aside my personal feelings and deal strictly with the facts. Forget the romance angle. Was she an agent or a descendent of one? Or both? Did Clay initiate contact or was it visa-versa: her arriving unexpectedly threatening Clay’s guarded target: Herr Kraus?
Possible.
…But twice?

Knowing Clay and his calculated strategies, it seemed likely that he was working the angles. Deep down I felt he was truthful when he confided at the bar about his family and why he was there: to protect Kraus and his book and to expose the assassin.

I paused at my laptop. But what if there was more than one killer? Plausible? I gave it some thought…maybe, but not likely. I’ve learned to never completely rule out abstract considerations. That kind of thinking was an approach of mine that helped me put everything into perspective.

Unfortunately, this time nothing was falling neatly into place. There were way too many coincidences, convenient meetings, confrontations and questions to put anything to rest yet. The one figure I was after was the one in the center of it all: Herr Kraus. Where was this elusive figure?

He seemed to be all-knowing and mythical at this point. Having never met the individual, I was at a loss as to how to read my instincts or what they were telling me. Those instincts hadn’t failed me yet, but still…

I backed up my info onto my flash drive, then shut down my laptop and stored it securely in my room safe. That way, if someone got to it, I still had all the information as backup. I didn’t think anyone might take it, but after the
Spanx
incident I wasn’t taking any chances. I felt violated enough. I didn’t need my thoughts violated too.

I took one last look back at our room, memorizing the simple placement of everything. I had told the others to do the same. If someone was messing with me, I didn’t want to be caught off guard again. I locked the door and left the hotel to spy on my favorite gumshoe, Clay. I took my iPhone for snapshots, determined to find out…

Who was that woman?