Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (12 page)

Chapter 42

The Other Woman

I was freezing, clocking in on the end of an hour when Clay’s door,
the one Betty and Hazel told me how to find,
opened up. A striking blonde, like the one they’d described to me, walked out. I won’t get into detail about her curves and perfectly placed features. It would hurt too much. Let’s just say I was dealing with Miss Switzerland.

Who was she?
As a side-note
, I wanted to rip her eyes out, but you know how demure and ladylike I am in real life. But in this mystery, I suddenly had gratifying visions of placing a huge wart on the end her nose just for spite.

Those thoughts came totally unexpectedly. I tried to tamp them down, but jealousy surfaced faster than I thought was humanly possible.

…I know, I know, no man is worth that waste of good emotions, but you weren’t the recipient of all those great undercover moments we had in the past.

I mentally slapped myself. I must keep my decorum.

Oh, the hell with that…

I marched right up to Clay’s door located at the back of the hotel and pounded,
hard
. Even though his private apartment had a doorbell, the emotional and direct physical contact against wood felt real good: all those hormones screaming with vengeance. How dare he cavort with such a beautiful woman! I was about to drive my point home once again with more pounding when the door swung open.

Clay looked relieved. “Just who I wanted to see.”

I stood there, wordless. Now what kind of angle was he pushing with that greeting? Was he trying to catch me off-guard to recoup somewhat from being confronted by my sudden appearance at his door?

“Greetings from behind that bush,” I said pointing to it.

He got my message.
“…Oh, so you saw her leave.”

I pushed by him. “Yes, I did. What, no brunettes?”

He shut the door, chuckling. “I specialize in blondes.”

I whipped around.
Was he playing me?
“Explain.”

“She’s Herr Kraus’s granddaughter and was concerned about her grandfather’s well-being.”

I gave him a doubtful look.

Clay laughed. “She’s happily married with two small toddlers safely tucked away behind security. She snuck out to check with me. She’s worried sick over her grandfather.”

Clay smiled when he saw my shoulders slump in relief, then he wrapped his arms around me and brushed his lips against mine, whispering, “You’re the only blonde for me.”

I could barely breathe. “…Talk is cheap.”

He came in for one of his killer kisses. When we finally came up for air, he looked me in the eye. “Proof enough?”

Still weak-kneed, I held steadfast. “…I’m still not sure.”

A repeat performance was given. I loved it and he knew it, smiling confidently when our lips finally parted.

Then I whispered, “…Now tell me who she
really
is.”

Chapter 43

Who?

“…And add how she ended up in your room
twice.”

“She showed up the first time saying she knew about Kraus, his book and why I was here.”

“Did she sound legitimate? Is she trying to cash in on all the rumors flying around about this book of Kraus’?”

“Well, she
claimed
she was the granddaughter of a spy who worked with Herr Kraus during WWII. Her grandfather was Vichy French. Herr Kraus would know exactly who he was because they worked closely together during the war. She said to tell Kraus his name was Claude, who Kraus knew all too well.”

“Did she have any proof about all these claims of hers?”

“No, none that she could show me. Then she begged me to tell Kraus to keep her family’s name out of it. Claude killed no one. She said her grandfather had nothing to do with my grandfather’s death and Kraus knows that.”

“Did you believer her?”

“The only one who could answer that was Kraus. So I told him exactly what she said. He laughed and dismissed her claims completely. I relayed back to her his response when she showed up this second time.”

“Is Kraus playing some kind of game with the truth?”

“If he is, it’s bewildering why. The list keeps growing.”

To include my name too. Time to put my foot down.

“I’m being placed at risk. My mutilated
Spanx
was most likely a warning shot for you to take your eye off who you should be guarding. I think I deserve to meet Kraus. I want to ask some questions. I won’t accept this mythical man behind a curtain: a puppet master pulling the strings.”

Clay agreed. “You’re right. I’ll set something up.”

I crossed my arms. “Now, let’s discuss Peter.”

“…What about him?”

“No stalling this time, Clay. I’m not buying it.”

“I knew my charisma could only buy me so much time.”

“Maybe we’ll work on that at the end of this book.”

“I’d like that,” he said, tipping up my chin for a kiss.

But I drew away. “Have you considered the original assassin might still be alive? Tell me what you know.”

“Peter got wind of the rumors about Kraus’ book and also found out why I’m here. His grandfather was a spy as well. It’s a small village, gossip spreads: the book, my presence… Anyway, Peter insisted on helping me protect Kraus until the person who threatened Kraus was
outed
. He was also concerned Kraus might make false accusations about
his
grandfather killing
my
grandfather and father, which would ruin his own family name.”

“I take it you confirmed Peter’s story and background?”

“Yes. Peter’s grandfather was already arrested by the Americans for spying for Germany at the time of my grandfather’s death. He couldn’t have killed him.”

I then told Clay what Martha found on the Italian duo
.

“So there’s one more heir of another spy.”

And I was still figuring out the elderly Hans/Peter link.

“Clay, have you checked Kraus’ background?”

He nodded. “I tried when all this first started, but all information about him dead-ended after 1945.”

“When Mona checked out Kraus it was the same thing. And according to the publication dates, his old travel books on Switzerland predated 1945.”

“Peter and I’ve been closely guarding Kraus in shifts. Now we’re waiting to see who will make the next move.”

I smiled. “…Can I suggest a possible next move?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Blondie?”

“As gumshoes go, you’re pretty savvy on the uptake.”

Oh, the fringe benefits of all this spying and sleuthing…

Chapter 44

Back To Sleuthing

I’d just walked through the rear door of the lobby from Clay’s apartment when Herr Miller, the hotel manager stopped me, his eyes barely meeting mine.

“Ms. Jamison, may I have a word with you in private?”

What could I say but,
“…Sure, of course.”

“Please follow me to my office. I wish to be discreet.”

He walked briskly through the lobby at a much faster clip than me. I had a difficult time keeping pace: forget catching a side-glance to get a read on him.

What was the big rush?

By the time I rounded his door, he was already behind his desk, gesturing for me to have a seat. I waited for him to start talking. I knew if you waited patiently and stayed silent long enough, people became uncomfortable, feeling a need to fill in the gap and start talking. He did.

“An unfortunate incident that took place on our hotel grounds was brought to my attention by someone.”

Now, be honest, what were the odds someone saw me?

I managed a smile as he sat there waiting for a response, but my voice had somehow gone AWOL. Someone must have witnessed my rock-throwing event. Or Hans, my victim, had complained. Well, so much for me keeping a low profile. I took the play-it-dumb route.

“…Are you referring to anything in particular?”

“Our hotel is known for decorum and discretion because our guests expect it. And even though this is stressed on our premises, unfortunately your incident didn’t fall into either category. Of course, I am not referring to your trashcan episode that was awkward at best. …But this one?”

I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair, feeling like a kid being sent to the principal’s office for misbehaving. How could I possibly explain throwing rocks at a man I hardly knew, but at the same time still felt threatened by? Even I wouldn’t buy that lame excuse. Was Hans a hotel guest and the
‘someone’
who had complained? I refused to ask.

So I sat there and said nothing.

“I’m sure you know this latest episode I’m referring to.”

Elaborating would have compounded it, so I nodded.

“Then let’s put this last and
final
event behind us.”

I started to get up, but then sat back down.

“Is there something else, Ms. Jamison?”

Considering my
episode
, Miller reacted pleasantly and in an efficient manner: a loyal employee. I figured I had nothing to lose by asking one question.

I nodded then smiled. “Well, now that you mention it.”

“Yes, Ms. Jamison?

“Who occupies the suite across the hall from my suite?”

His firm but friendly tone changed to one of displeasure.

“I’m afraid we don’t give guests’ names: hotel policy.”

Reluctantly, I stood up. “I understand.”

I’d just have to find out myself.

Chapter 45

Laptop Notations

Nothing noteworthy occurred during my last ski lesson. Peter was his usual self: a methodical, ski instructor, taking me through various exercises and practice runs. It was a waste of my energy to be so psyched up, being on the alert for him to shove, trip or have me do something dangerous.

I was beginning to think I was mistaken about Peter when I spotted him talking with Hans in front of that chalet. Their conversation had disturbed me. But now he was acting nothing less than harmless and cordial toward me. A few times he even warned me about the hazards of skiing improperly and how best to ski safely.

Had I misinterpreted his words to Hans that day?

There was one thing that kept nagging me. Peter never took me back to the ski trail where that chalet was, the one with the horse. Was he avoiding it on purpose? Was I reading too much into this? Could he really be trusted?

After jumping off the ski lift for our third run of the day, I suggested, “Why don’t we ski that one trail again.”

“What trail?”

“Remember that first time I lost sight of you?”

“How could I forget that one? What about it?”

“Why don’t we go that way again?”

“There are other trails that are just as scenic.”

I checked my watch. “It’s getting late and since we’re heading back toward the village, that run virtually leaves me right across from my hotel. We might even see that elderly man I met, who then disappeared into thin air.”

“If you insist.” Then he paused. “…What older man?”

“That older gentleman, Hans, the one I described to you that I met behind that chalet the day Olaf joined us?”

“What about him?”

“I believe you know him.”

“…I think you’re mistaken.”

We weren’t that far from where that chalet’s trail veered off into the deep woods.
I had to stir things up, so I lied.

“My friends skied that run on my suggestion. They saw you talking to him in front of that chalet as they skied by.”

His pause was too long. “…Oh, yes, now I remember. I spoke to an older man who stopped there. I knew the owner of that closed chalet was away and was curious why someone was there. At first I thought it might be the same man you described. It wasn’t. He had a different name.”

Was he lying, playing both sides or telling the truth?

Peter just stood there. None of this made any sense. Playing it safe, I kept it light until I could figure this out.

“Don’t mind me. I see everything as one big mystery.”

“One should never jump to conclusions,” he said. “What we think we see isn’t necessarily what we actually see.”

“The savvy ski instructor’s advice is duly noted.”

Peter smiled “The author would be wise to take it.”

…Was that a warning?