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My usual table in the Bear Paw food court was taken, so I sat at another nearby with my sweet roll and coffee. There was no sign of the stranger, but, predictably, Willard came over to my table with a tray loaded with scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, a Danish, coffee, and orange juice. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” I said, hoping to hear Willard’s latest gossip before the stranger showed up.
“Is your sister skiing?” he asked as he spread jelly on his toast.
“Yes, she’s really taken to it. She keeps trying to get me to try it, but I’m not the athletic type. Just walking in those ski boots looks like a major challenge to me. I don’t know how I’d cope with the boots if they had skis attached to them.”
“It’s never been my thing, either. It’s mostly people from the big cities who come here for the skiing. You won’t find one in ten of the skiers to be local. Oh, the young people are getting involved, but in my age group, it isn’t popular. The sheriff’s an exception. He took to it when he was young, when they used to have a rope tow and only a couple of runs. Most of the locals who’re involved are in the Ski Patrol also.”
“David—he’s the son of Ivy at the Alpenhof—he seems to like it a lot. He’s doing really well at it. I understand they’re going to ask him to be part of the special event on the slopes tomorrow night.”
“What special event is that?”
Oh, dear. Perhaps I’d said too much. Yet I would have thought Willard and the other deputies would be the first to know what was going on if the sheriff knew about it and there was possible danger to Stefan. Was I going to create a problem if I told him? And how could I not tell him, now that I’d brought it up? Then I thought of a lame way around the situation. “Maybe it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
He finished chewing a mouthful of eggs. “There aren’t any surprises here in the valley for the staff at the sheriff’s office. We’re kept up on happenings all the time. Maybe the sheriff hasn’t gotten around to discussing it yet. Of course, yesterday was my day off, and I haven’t been in the office yet this morning.”
“That probably explains it.” I really felt the need to go ahead and tell him about it. “There’s supposed to be a special torchlight procession down the mountain with the ski instructors and Ski Patrol taking part. I’m looking forward to it, in spite of the cold. I’m going to the shop in a while to see if I can find some really warm socks.”
First chance I got, I’d tell Andrea about my conversation with Willard, and she could relay the information to the sheriff, let him know I’d told Willard what was going on. He was making headway on his Danish now and finishing his coffee. He hadn’t told me a thing; I’d been the one to give him the latest. “So what’s new with the investigations?”
“Not a lot, really. I think I mentioned to you that there’s a rumor going around that Franklin Stuart’s wife is having an affair from someone over at Parsons. Now folks are saying that’s nothing more than a rumor, started by an old gossip who lives near the Stuarts. I’m feeling bad now that I ever mentioned it to you and Miss Flynn.”
“It’s okay, Willard. We always like to be kept up on the latest information and to be informed when you find out it isn’t true. As for Mrs. Stuart, I’ve never met the woman, but from what Birdie Lancaster said about her, she’s a very nice person and not likely to be involved in an affair.” I said this to make conversation more than anything else, since I could see I wasn’t going to find out anything useful. Maybe it was Andrea he was trying to impress all those other times he gave out information so freely. Or maybe he was miffed because he had to find out from me about the special ski event.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the mysterious stranger come our way with a tray and take a seat a couple of tables away. It was the closest table available. Would the fact that I was sitting with a uniformed officer have an effect on my credibility when I told the stranger about the event?
Willard gathered up the debris from his breakfast and took it to the nearest trash bin. He came back by the table. “I hope to see you and your sister again before you leave.”
“We’ll be here till at least Monday. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again before then.” Running into Willard was no problem. All you had to do was go someplace where food was being served, and you’d be sure to see him. To give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe that’s his way of networking.
As I watched Willard leave, I noticed Eli Lynch, the crackpot Canaan Valley activist, passing out flyers near the door. Willard walked up to him, took him by the arm, and walked out with him. I could tell Willard was talking all the way out, but couldn’t hear him from where I sat. I wondered again if Mr. Lynch was more than just a harmless crackpot, but I had more important business than wondering about Eli Lynch.
Right away the stranger looked at me and gave a little wave. He was too far away, and there were people seated at the table between us, so talking wasn’t possible. If I got up and went to his table, I’d appear too eager to tell him about the torchlight event. I just waved back and smiled.
He immediately picked up his cup and started toward me. He grinned as he pulled out a chair at my table and sat down, “Been digging in any trash cans lately?”
I think my heart skipped a beat. At least that’s what it felt like. I was hoping he’d forgotten the trash can incident, and his remark was totally unexpected. I lost the momentum I had built up for starting the conversation. I could do nothing but stare at him for a few seconds. Then I managed a forced chuckle. “Oh, you’re talking about…yes, I found my bracelet. I’d put it in my purse. I guess I forgot I put it there.”
He had a rather insolent smirk on his face as he nodded. “I see.”
“By the way, my name’s Kathleen Williamson. My sister and I are here visiting my niece, Maggie. We’re from Pine Summit.” I held out my hand.
“I’m Alex Dubek.” He took my hand, and I gave him a nice, firm shake to show him I wasn’t going to be intimidated, no matter how many trash cans he found me looking in.
I was getting my confidence back now. “Do you live in the area, Mr. Dubek?”
“No, I’m just visiting.”
It was obvious that he wasn’t going to volunteer any information. Not that it mattered—if he were up to something, he wouldn’t tell me the truth anyway. “This is a good time to be visiting. I hope you’re staying through tomorrow evening. There’s a special event at the ski area.”
“Oh? What’s happening?”
“There’s to be a torchlight descent from the top. All the ski instructors and Ski Patrol members are taking part. It should be spectacular.” I decided that the best way to convince him I was just making conversation was to give him a lot of details. “They’re asking David to take part also. I don’t suppose you’ve met David. He’s the son of the couple who work at the Alpenhof. He’s only learned to ski, but he’s very good already.”
He was nodding as if he couldn’t care less, but I went on. “My sister Andrea took him under her wing. She’s good at that sort of thing. She’s a retired math teacher. Of course our niece Maggie will take part in the descent. She’s an instructor. She’ll lead the way.
“And Stefan, the owner of the Alpenhof. He’s an instructor and a member of the Ski Patrol. I think he must be an excellent skier. He’s to bring up the rear of the procession, in case anyone has a problem coming down. You really should try to attend.”
He was staring at me, not saying a word. I couldn’t tell whether he was still digesting the barrage of information I had fired at him or whether he was trying to think of the most diplomatic way to get away from a garrulous old lady. Finally he said, “Thank you for letting me know. I most certainly will be there.”
He drained his cup, and I got a whiff of chocolate. Is it possible that a man taking a break from skiing with a cozy cup of chocolate can be an evil person? I found it hard to believe. To me, hot chocolate equated with Christmas tree trimming, after-school cookies, and lon
g evenings reading in front of the fireplace.
“I noticed that you were talking to a man in uniform,” he said. “Have they made any headway in discovering who murdered the lady at your hotel?”
I couldn’t help noticing he didn’t ask about the murder of Franklin Stuart, the lift operator. “I asked him about that. Of course we’re interested, since we’re staying in the hotel where it happened. My sister and I found the body. The man I was talking to was Deputy Willard Hill. He recognized me because he interviewed me the night of the murder. He said they have nothing new on the case.”
“I certainly hope they find the murderer. This is a lovely area—not the type of place where one expects violence to occur.”
I wondered why he had a slight and mysterious smile on his face as he said this. Not the sort of smile I would associate with a hot chocolate drinker. “I hope so, too. We’re not accustomed to murder in the small towns of West Virginia. It’s a rather peaceful state altogether.”
“I must get back to skiing now. I’ve enjoyed our conversation, Ms. Williamson. And I’ll count on seeing you at the torchlight event, if not before.”
I nodded and smiled like the friendly but not-too-bright elderly woman I hoped he’d think I was. As he walked away, I couldn’t help noticing that he took his cup with him.
I started to the ski shop to buy myself some wool socks, and as I passed the windows along the side of the building, I could see Stefan just outside talking to a woman. Her back was turned toward me and she was wearing a stocking cap, so I couldn’t tell who she was. It couldn’t be Maggie—the colors of her ski outfit were all wrong.
Stefan looked angry, so of course I couldn’t help wondering what was going on. If only I could read lips! The woman turned and walked away, leaving him standing there. As she went by the window where I was standing, I saw that it was Eva Weiss. Reading lips probably wouldn’t have done me any good anyway; they were undoubtedly speaking in German.
She was coming in the door as I went to the shop for my socks. She didn’t see me, and I was just as glad she didn’t. However, when I came back to my table with my bag of wool socks, she was sitting nearby. She looked at me. “You’re Maggie’s aunt, aren’t you?” And without waiting for my answer, she picked up her cup and came over to my table.
“Yes, I’m Kathleen Williamson.”
She sat down without being asked, which I found quite rude. She took a long drink of coffee and didn’t say anything for a minute. Finally, “I wonder if you and your sister know as much as you should about Stefan.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I shrugged and didn’t say anything.
“He was having an affair with a married woman for a few years. I think you should know that, since your niece seems to be romantically involved with him.”
She certainly was sounding like the infamous woman scorned. How to answer? She and Stefan were obviously angry with each other for some reason, and she was trying to get even with him. At least this was an indication that Stefan’s story about his affair with Olga and being shot at in that Paris hotel probably was true. I had doubted it before, thinking he made it up to put the blame on someone else for Olga’s death. I was sitting there looking at her, and she hadn’t said another word. “I know,” I said.
“You know this, and you’d allow your niece to get involved with him?”
“Maggie’s an adult. And people have affairs all the time. It’s the twenty-first century, after all. Stefan’s one of the nicest young men I’ve met in a while.” I was beginning to sound as broadminded as Andrea.
She finished her coffee. “I’ve known him since school, and he’s not nearly as nice as you think he is.”
“I don’t care to hear any more. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll find another table.” I’ve always wanted to say that and never had the opportunity before. I stood up, gathered up my things and headed for another cup of hot chocolate. I found a seat as far from Eva Weiss as possible. Then I happened to think, if I’d played it a little cooler, I might have found out why they were so angry with each other.