Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (4 page)

Chapter 11

Taking My Lumps & Not Liking It

I was having second thoughts standing there, watching Hazel, Betty, Martha and Mona wave as they rose further up the mountain on the lifts, excited about skiing.

You figured right. Mona was a good skier too. Damn.

I finally turned around and gave Peter a feeble smile.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going higher,
yet,
” he said.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but then narrowed my eyes.

“Exactly where
are
we going?” I asked looking around.

“First I want to reteach you the basics, and then how to stop properly. Then, you see that area right over there?”

I looked at where he was pointing: an area with multiple bumpy-looking mounds of snow on a downward slope.

“First I’ll show you the proper way to push off, stop and several safety tips, then after lunch we’ll do a freestyle type of skiing on
that
area. Those uneven bumps are small moguls caused by other skiers pushing off, turning and stopping, then continuing on.”

“But I was hoping for a flat surface to start off with.”

Peter laughed. “That is for the small kinder ski class.”

I gave him a confused look. “The what?”

“Kinder, in German, means children.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry. My method will teach you how to make short turns and have strong pole placement.”

I was already white-knuckle gripping my poles. They looked more like lethal weapons than something that would save me. Of course in my hands one never knew.

Peter patted my shoulder. “We only have a few days.”

Wearing my bulky ski jacket and pants, scarf, padded gloves and knit hat, I gave a reluctant, “…Okay.”

“Many people think it is safer on a groomed course and skiing those moguls is unsafe. But once you learn and understand a few simple techniques, it is easy and safe. Today you will learn control, balance and technique.”

Technique? Me?
“But we’re high up and I’ve never…”

“I know,” said Peter. “I can see the fear written on your face. Relax. You won’t need fast reflexes with this.”

I frowned. “What
else
did Clay tell you about me?”

“He said you have an excellent sense of humor.”

A smile finally tugged at my mouth. “Depends.”

“On what?” Peter asked.

“I’m allergic to pain. I also have this height thing…”

He arched his brow. “And you want to ski the Alps?”

“Who said anything about
wanting
to? I have a point to prove to a small select group of people and you’re going to help me do it in four days, right?”

He nodded and smiled. “We will work on both, okay?”

“My life is in your hands, Peter. Lead the way…”

I could do this. No, I swear, I really mean it this time.

Chapter 12

A Pain In The Neck, Literally

We met up at our suite. I was incapable of changing out of my ski clothes for lunch downstairs. I was stiff and sore, but single-minded in seeing this through. Martha signed the receipt for room service and turned back to me.

“After France, I’ve got this exchange thing down pat. Besides it’s not my money so I gave him a generous tip.”

After four hours of ski lessons, I was aching all over.

“Serves Clay right for suggesting I practice skiing.”

Chairs were arranged around a linen-topped table on wheels, laden with soup, breads and fruit. The girls were kind enough to set it up right next to my bed. All I had to do was painfully swing my legs over and under it to eat.

Betty was concerned. “Don’t overdo it, Sam.”

Hazel patted my arm. “You’ll be a pro in no time.”

“Hey,” laughed Mona. “It could be worse.”

“I don’t see how?” I asked after popping some Advil.

“You could’ve broken something already,” she said.

“Ah, words of encouragement. Just what I needed.”

Martha grinned. “Someday you’ll be skilled like me.”

“At what? Clipping people as you race by?” said Mona.

“Hey, I gave him fair warning with a loud whistle.”

Betty shook her head. “Maybe he was hard of hearing.”

“Poor man looked to be in his late eighties,” said Hazel.

“Then he should’ve had a special vest on,” said Martha.

“You mean the kind with a bull’s-eye on it?” said Mona.

I began laughing. Their banter worked faster than pills.

“Feeling better, Sam?” asked Hazel.

“A little. Is this normal, all this pain I’m feeling?”

“Cramming all that skiing into four days is a bit much. I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Betty.

“Since when does Sam limit herself?” Mona asked.

“Obviously, not since she met you,” quipped Martha.

“Listen old lady. I know black belt,” warned Mona.

Martha eyed Mona. “Aren’t belts off-limits with you?”

“
Don’t
venture into my weight issues. I’m big and tall.”

After lunch and much laughter, I was feeling better. I checked the clock. “I’d better hit the trail for more torture.”

Betty and Hazel exchanged glances.

“We almost forgot to tell you, Sam.”

I paused in place. “What?”

“Hazel and I saw Peter and Nick exchange something.”

“Where?”

“In the lobby,” said Betty. “Think that’s unusual?”

“The locals must know everyone here,” said Mona.

“We tried to get closer to see and hear,” added Hazel.

“But new people checking in prevented us,” said Betty.

“I wouldn’t be concerned,” I said.

“No?” said Martha. “When should we be starting to?”

“
Always
question who, then the why,” warned Hazel.

Martha cracked, “Must’ve been a ski lesson schedule.”

“Very funny,” I said. “I still wouldn’t be concerned.”

Chapter 13

Ready, Set…Wait!

I leaned forward staring down that hill. Although Peter was right next to me, I felt queasy. I glanced at the tips of my skis hovering slightly over the edge just waiting for me to push them off on a run. This could be painful and
lethal.

I was aiming for calm and collected, but didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off. Uncertainty was rearing its ugly head. I tried to suppress it by giving myself a mental pep talk.

It can’t be that bad. Peter is here. Snow is soft, right?

Then I smiled at Peter. “Maybe this is too soon for me.”

All he said was “Give me those two.”

I stared at him, confused. “What two?”

He looked down at my hands. “Your two poles.”

I laughed at the thought. “You’re kidding, right?”

He held out his hand, waiting. “No, I am not.”

I stared down that hill. …
When hell freezes over.

He stood with his hand outstretched. He wasn’t kidding.

Neither was I. “I definitely should practice some more.”

“Samantha, we’re taking this first run without poles.”

Was he trying to kill me?

Now that was a novel thought. “Uh-uh,” I said.

His hand never wavered. He just smiled. “Trust me.”

I did and I didn’t. Reluctantly, I handed over my poles.

He immediately skied over to a sign and stuck them into some packed snow. Then he did the same with his. He then grabbed a long stick he had leaning against a post, then skied back right next to me. He held it sideways in front of both of us. “Grab onto the other end like I’m doing.”

It was like holding onto the safety bar of an amusement park ride with Peter right next to me. Unfortunately, the bar wasn’t attached…
to anything.

He smiled at me saying, “Remember all that I taught you this morning. You will do perfectly fine. Just trust your instincts about which way to lean and turn. I will help you and be right beside you the whole way. Are you ready?”

I stared down at all those moguls.
“
Nooo
…!”

I guess he didn’t hear me because he pushed us off.

“We’ll go slow so you can learn how it feels.”

I was so frightened, I was sorely tempted to just shut my eyes and wasn’t the least bit interested in what we were probably going to hit that would most likely strike me dead. But something made me keep them open.

“Relax, Samantha. Feel the terrain and go with it.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Before I realized it we were about a third of the way down the hill. I was still in the upright position, but now I was smiling instead of grimacing and gritting my teeth.

“What do you think, Sam?”

“This is great. I feel it! I feel it!”

“Good. Now let’s go a little faster.”

“Hey, wait a minute!
Nooo
…!”

I swear, I didn’t even have time for my life to flash by.

Chapter 14

Returning To The Crime Scene

When we finally reached the bottom I was so surprised I patted myself down to make sure all of me had made it. Then I looked back up the hill, amazed I was still alive.

“I can’t believe I…I mean,
we…
did that!”

“You have a natural talent and feel for the slope, Sam.”

Did I just hear what I thought I heard? Me? Talent?

“Why thank you, Peter. I did have my doubts, but…”

“Now, are you ready to go back up?”

Uh-uh. My writing deadlines were torture enough.

“…What do you mean, back up? Whatever for?”

“To go for a different run this time.”

I took a steady breath. “…Different run?”

“I thought you might like to see some Swiss chalets and ski through the forest to practice the skills you learned.”

“…I don’t know.”

“Trust me. Would I let you go if I thought you couldn’t handle it? Besides, I will be with you the whole way.”

I stared back toward the village.
I could go shopping…

“Do you want to become proficient?”

“…Well, yes and no.”

Peter laughed. “Didn’t you want to prove something?”

I smiled then. “I guess I could take more Advil later.”

Peter laughed again. “I’m positive you can do this.”

I had to suck it up, bite the bullet, and all the rest.

“You’re right. If you think I can do this, let’s go!”

“We will ride back up like we did before,” he said.

We arrived where I had waved goodbye to Martha and the others. Peter retrieved our poles and handed me mine.

I glanced around, relaxing. “Okay, where to?”

“We get on the next lift to go higher.”

I barely managed, “…We’re going higher up than this?”

“To see the magnificent views and glacier first,” Peter explained, “above the tree line then ski through the forest.”

I cast a wary eye at the lift, and then looked downward.

…Higher?

I heard children laughing and turned. They were eagerly climbing onto the lift.

…I did have insurance.

I squared my shoulders, skied over and jumped on, with Peter getting on beside me. “Let’s do this,” I said.

I came to get a job done and would do it.

I stared down as we ascended, watching people on the ground getting smaller …
and smaller
. I was grabbing the bull by the horns, not pussyfooting around, I was…

Oh my God! I was thinking in Martha’s clichés!

This was a mistake. I was an author, not a professional skier. I was supposed to kill my antagonists not myself!

“What is it, Sam?” Peter asked as I gripped his arm.

“Does this thing go in reverse?”

All he did was laugh all the rest of the way up.

Ski instructors sure have a strange sense of humor
.