Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (3 page)

Chapter 7

Decent Into Hell

The creaking, tiny, European elevator descended slowly.

Hazel’s eyes anxiously darted about the cramped space. Irritated, Martha finally said to her, “What’s up with you?”

“It’s just such a tiny space,” she mumbled.

I saw beads of sweat appear on her and remembered that she suffered from claustrophobia. “Hey, don’t worry.”

Betty nudged me. “I don’t think she’ll freak out.”

Martha frowned. “What’s this …
you …don’t …think?
”

The elevator paused dramatically, screeched, but then rumbled on.

Hazel placed a hand against one wall. “Oh, my!”

I checked my watch. It was only four floors.
Come on!

Betty nervously played with her pendant. “Hmm…”

Now Martha turned to her. “
What
, is with you two?”

“I wouldn’t want an all-out panic attack,” said Betty, eyeing her friend with concern.

Martha then cast a wary eye on Hazel, who looked ill.

I tried to distract Hazel, but suddenly there was a shift in momentum.

We’d stopped.

I turned to the panel of buttons. None were lit. “Damn.”

“What floor are we at?” asked Martha, alarmed.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Martha shoved me aside. “What do you mean you…?”

Vice-gripping Martha’s arm, Hazel asked, “What?”

“We can’t tell what floor we’re on. No buttons are lit.”

Hazel pulled at the metal cage gate.

It wouldn’t budge.

Then she closed her eyes. “One, two, three, four…”

Betty patted Hazel’s arm. “Now, easy does it, Hazel.”

“…Why is she counting?” I asked uneasily.

Betty gave a weak smile. “She’s trying not to scream.”

Martha slapped her own head. “That’s all we need.”

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

I gripped Hazel by the shoulders. “Hazel! Look at me!”

She opened her eyes. “I think I’m in a meltdown.”

“Martha’s going to call on the elevator phone,” I said.

“No I’m not,” Martha replied matter-of-factly.

I whipped around to her, now annoyed. “And why not?”

“Because there isn’t one,” she said.

I heard an intake of breath. But this time it was Betty’s.

“Oh, Lord!” cried Hazel.

“This isn’t the time for prayer, Hazel,” said Betty.

“This is the time for a mechanic,” countered Martha.

“Of which I am not,” I said, feeling the walls close in.

“Hold on,” said Martha looking upward.

We all looked up too. There was an access hatch.

“Hazel get on your hands and knees,” ordered Martha.

“Whatever for?” Hazel asked. “Are you crazy?”

Martha pointed up. “I need a stepstool! The ceiling…”

“Over my dead body!” said Hazel indignantly.

“Don’t tempt me, you fruitcake!” retorted Martha.

I tried for calmness. “I…”

But then the lights went out.

Then I heard a loud banging. “What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s me!” shouted Martha. “Help! Get us out! Help!”

In no time at all we had formed a quartet
.

“Help…!”

Chapter 8

In The Nick Of Time

Suddenly we heard a voice from up above. “Ladies?”

“Oh, my God!” said Hazel. “Is that who I think it is?”

Betty grabbed me. “I’ve heard crazy stories like this.”

“There’s a snag,” said Martha. “We were going
down
.”

Like an idiot I smelled for smoke. “Hey, look up!”

A white light was now blinding all of us.

“Oh, no!” said a frantic Hazel. “I see a white light!”

We all tried to back up, but couldn’t. We were already pressed up against all four sides of the small elevator.

Again we heard, “Ladies?”

“Yes,” said Hazel, shakily.

“
I’ma
here to
helpa
you,” the voice said.

Shocked, Hazel gasped, “…
He
…has an accent?”

Martha turned to me somewhat perplexed. “The Bible never mentioned
he
was from Italy. When did this Italian thing come into play?”

“I smell a rat,” said Betty becoming suspicious.

“And I smell garlic,” I said sniffing.

Martha shielded her eyes. “Who the hell
are
you?”

“
I’ma
Nick, from hotel maintenance.”

In seconds he jumped in between the four of us. It was a tight fit, but if you ignored the garlic breath and this pun,
it was a gift from heaven
. After introductions were politely made, he told us the lights would turn on shortly. They did.

Nick maneuvered a few wires from inside the wall box.

“There,
thatta
should do it!”

When the elevator started to move again, Hazel, slightly embarrassed by her behavior, breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. “Look girls, about how I reacted…”

I touched her arm. “Hazel, forget it. We understand.”

By this time the lobby appeared before us as the door opened. Nick stepped back allowing us to step out before him. A small crowd had gathered and ringed the doors. Apparently our screams had drawn some attention. Seeing we were okay and smiling, they quickly dispersed.

A pale-looking man remained standing there. He was around five foot six: my height, dark wavy hair, wearing a black suit. Nick nodded to him and discreetly backed away.

The man bent forward in a slight bow. “I’m Herr Miller, the manager. On behalf of the hotel, and the owner, Herr Kraus, we wish to apologize for any inconvenience you may have experienced. I wish to escort you to our very best table for this evening’s dinner, which will be compliments of the hotel. Is that satisfactory, ladies?”

We nodded, glanced at each other, grinned, and then gracefully followed Herr Miller as he led the way.

“I wonder if that elevator breaks a lot,” whispered Betty.

Martha laughed. “This could be lucrative for Clay.”

“I’m taking the stairs next time,” said Hazel still shaken.

Martha sized plump Hazel up and down and smiled.

“They
are
wider…”

Chapter 9

Getting Acclimated, Getting Reacquainted

Several waiters rushed around us the minute we reached our table. Our chairs were swept back with a flourish. Then our linen napkins were retrieved, shaken out, and ever so gently placed in our laps.

“Oh, my!” said a flustered Hazel. “This is lovely.”

“Why, thank you,” said Betty acknowledging her waiter.

Eyeing
her
waiter, Martha said, “Sure beats fast-food.”

I looked about. The tall elegant windows were framed by pale yellow drapes that puddled to the floor, while flickering candles and baby’s-breath sat on the white linen tablecloths. It was a spacious, yet intimate dining room.

We were told the table next to the dance floor was now ours for our entire hotel stay. A small band would be playing, but they weren’t out yet, only their instruments. I noted many guests were already seated and sipping wine.

Herr Miller reappeared at tableside, looked up, snapped his fingers, and then turned back to us smiling.

“It would give Herr Kraus great pleasure if you ladies would accept one of our best bottles of champagne.”

In seconds a waiter arrived with an ice-filled wine stand, while another popped the cork on a large bottle and poured.

As Herr Miller backed away from the table I proposed a toast. “Remember, always expect the unexpected.”

Betty gave me a strange look. “Why that toast?”

“It’s our reminder to be open to surprises,” said Hazel.

Martha paused mid-sip. “Here comes one right now.”

We all turned in the direction Martha was gaping at and gave a collective gasp as surprise number two, dressed in a navy blue dress, approached from across the dance floor.

Betty recovered first. “I thought we left
her
in Boca.”

I hugged our surprise: Mona, my old college friend.

“This certainly is unexpected,” Hazel greeted, smiling.

The ever-suspicious Martha said, “Hey, this hotel is completely booked. Where are
you
going to sleep, Missy?”

Mona winked at Martha. “Why your suite, of course. They’re already setting up a portable bed in there now.”

As the waiters discreetly set out another place setting, Martha said sarcastically, “How exciting. A slumber party.”

I considered Mona’s surprise reappearance that was sprung upon us cold turkey. My unpredictable college buddy, who disappeared and reappeared unexpectedly, either wreaking havoc or begging for my help, had me curious and suspicious.

Why now? Why here?

I leaned in. “What’s the deal this time?”

Everyone focused on Mona, waiting.

“I didn’t want to miss out on all the fun,” she said.

I eyed her, waiting.

She began fidgeting. “…Well,
he
felt I should be here.”

“Who’s he?” I asked, but knew it had to be Clay. I was irritated, almost said something I might regret, but backed off from that. “…I don’t need a babysitter,” I finally said.

“She’s already got three now,” quipped Martha.

Martha then honed in on her favorite target: tall, dark-haired, ample Mona, and smirked. “Ever hear of
Spanx
?”

Chapter 10

A Little Libation, Then Lullaby

Dinner went fairly smoothly, with the exception of the predictable and baiting comments thrown back and forth between Martha and Mona. And as the wine flowed, their virulent verbosity kicked in overtime to our amusement.

In other words, they took no prisoners.

“You know, Martha, being so old, I bet your ski poles could double as walking canes…”

“I just love your dress, Mona, but all that fabric they had to use must have cost a pretty penny…”

You get the idea.

Those two considered conversation a competitive sport for antagonistic rhetoric aimed specifically at each other. I had to admit, they kept it interesting. And as long they didn’t physically
duke it out
, as Martha liked to say, it made me forget about the unfortunate events of the day.

Later that night I still wasn’t buying exactly why Mona was there. As usual, she was rather vague, explaining she always wanted to see the Swiss Alps. Clay had apparently called her with the same invite, once again, telling her, “all expenses paid,” so she jumped at the chance like we did.

But what was really in it for her?

Mona always had a soft spot for trouble and lucrative ventures and
this one,
she’d said felt like it had
‘potential.’
Of course not knowing that
‘potential’
and why any of us were there was, according to Mona, merely a small snag as far as she was concerned. So the three of us, now settled in our own beds, were trying to figure out what was going on.

Hazel and Betty had retired to their room that adjoined ours. I left a dim light on, but their door was long ago shut because of all our chatter. They said they needed their rest.

“The way I see it,” continued Martha, “It’s a win-win.”

“How so?” I asked.

“We get to ski for several days and it’s all paid for.”

I nodded. “And I get free ski lessons from Peter.”

“Who’s Peter?” asked Mona.

“Not the one who she was hoping he was,” said Martha.

Mona turned toward Martha. “You know, as usual that almost made sense, but you lost me after the word
not.
”

So I started out at the beginning explaining everything, including the ugly
Spanx
episode, the moving doorknob, Olaf and Peter, the elevator incident, and ended with hearing a door open and close as I walked to the elevator.

“You never said anything about any door,” said Martha.

“It was probably nothing,” I said, downplaying it.

Mona raised her head and stared at the two of us.

“And all this happened within a few hours of arriving?”

“Give or take an hour,” said Martha casually, like it was par for the course for us.

…Come to think of it, it was.