ends of my fingers.”
Mark held out his hand to demonstrate.
“I’m beginning not to like this story,” I said.
“Wait, it gets better. I was finally smart enough to start back down the mountain. Except that the snow, which was now coming down hard, had obliterated my tracks, and visibility was so poor that it was impossible to spot any trail markers. At one point I slipped and tumbled down a slope. I got banged up and scratched, but it also knocked some sense into me. By the time I climbed back up I had admitted to myself that I was lost.”
“Hang on to that thought while I get the rest of your dinner,” I said, wishing that this were a television show I could turn off. Mark could have died, although he obviously hadn’t, but I still wasn’t sure I could stand to hear any more. However, I returned with his dinner, wanting him to get on with the story so that he could get to safety. From then on, the story and the food competed with each other for his attention.
“On top of everything else, it was starting to get dark,” Mark continued. “I knew the smartest thing to do was to spend the night right where I was rather than to go crashing around, get hopelessly lost and perhaps hurt myself.”
“But weren’t you cold?”
“The water in my canteen froze. But snow, after all, is water, so I didn’t have any trouble getting water to drink because I just melted snow in my mouth. I also made myself a snow fort for a shelter. I didn’t have thermal underwear, although I had been smart enough to take gloves and a wool hat, as well as my winter jacket. I also put on two pairs of socks. But, to answer your question, yes, I froze. I didn’t really sleep, but spent the night trying to maintain feeling in my arms and legs and eating the few bites of food that were left from my lunch.”
“You poor thing,” I said, the mother instinct in me rising to the surface. “How did you find your way out?”
“When it started to get light I knew I had to move before my hypothermia completely immobilized me, even though at that point the thought of moving was almost too much to bear. In fact, I was starting to feel comfortable, probably because I was almost numb. I was drifting off into another world. I even asked myself whether it was worth the effort to save myself because of what I was facing here.”
I held my breath. I definitely didn’t want to hear this.
“But I forced myself to come out of my cocoon-the snow had pretty much covered me and, in fact, gave me some protection from the cold-and found that the storm had passed and the sun was coming out. After a few minutes of careful searching I spotted a trail marker and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“I know you’re glossing over a lot, but even though you’re sitting here I’m relieved to hear that you got out safely. When did you manage to get something to eat?”
“I returned to my car, started it, and turned the heat on full blast, until I stopped shivering and my body started functioning well enough to drive. Then I drove until I found a cafe. I went in and ate enough food to feed a good-sized elephant. I’m sure my waitress had never seen anybody eat so much. In fact, she made a few remarks about my eating.”
“And then you drove back here?”
“Yes.”
“You could have called me from the cafe.”
“I could have…but at that point I still sounded pretty awful and that would have worried you more, possibly, than you were worried already. And nothing against you, but in my weakened state I just wasn’t ready to reenter the hassles of civilization.”
“When you came through the door you appeared to be in a good mood.”
“By the time I got here I had solved all my problems. I was ready to get on with my life. And then…”
“I know,” I said, softly, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Did you tell Detective Johnson the same story you told me?”
“Yes, but of course I have no witnesses, so as an alibi it sucks.”
“How about the waitress at the cafe?”
“Shirley? Yes, I did read her nametag. And I did give her name to the detective, as well as the location of the cafe, although I can’t remember its name. Do you know what he said?”
“What?”
“Even if she verifies my story, that still doesn’t give me an alibi for last night.”
“Did Detective Johnson tell you about a message from Elise?”
“Message from Elise? No, he didn’t tell me much of anything. He just kept firing questions at me. I know the basic story, that she was apparently stabbed last night in her bed, but that’s about all.”
“I won’t go into detail because what you need more than anything else right now is some sleep, but I have a little good news for you. I talked to Elise yesterday, and last night she left me a message saying she was going to drop the harassment charge against you.”
Mark showed surprise, then some relief. After thinking for a bit he said, “But since I didn’t know about that it doesn’t invalidate my motive for killing her.”
Chapter 12
“Whew,” breathed Wesley. “No wonder you and Tess missed the Bridge Club on Wednesday and you missed Chess Club yesterday. I knew it had to be something serious, but I didn’t figure on anything like this.”
Wesley and I were the only residents of Silver Acres who were members of both the Bridge Club and the Chess Club. I had just finished telling him about Elise Hoffman and Mark, while Tess sat poised with her pad and pencil, in case I said anything significant that we hadn’t noted before.
“I’d like you both to help me clear Mark,” I said. “You were a big help when I was working on Gerald’s murder, but of course this is more personal because I hope that Mark will be a legal member of the family someday. But that won’t happen if he ends up in jail.”
“Where is Mark now?” Wesley asked.
“He went to the college as usual this morning. He teaches two classes on Friday. Since he hadn’t heard anything different, he assumed he was still on the payroll.”
“When was he last there?”
“Tuesday. He took Wednesday off, as I said, and because he got lost he never made it yesterday.”
“Mark wasn’t mentioned in the article about the investigation in this morning’s paper,” Tess said, glancing at the Raleigh News and Observer.
“Probably because the sexual harassment charge hasn’t been made public,” I said. “The college has done a good job of protecting Elise, if not Mark. And the police apparently haven’t mentioned it to the press yet. But if he gets arrested, it will certainly come to light.”
“It does say that, judging from the state of the body, the murder weapon was probably a sharp knife, maybe a carving knife. ‘There were approximately a dozen stab wounds in the chest area,’” Tess read.
“It sounds like a crime of passion,” Wesley said. “Especially since she was naked.”
“Which definitely rules out Mark,” I said.
“In your eyes,” Tess said. “The front window of the apartment was broken. That’s how the killer got in. No fingerprints were found, except those of Elise and her roommate. And no weapon has been found.”
“Is there a local newspaper published in Bethany?” Wesley asked. “If so, we should subscribe to it. It might give more details about the case than the Raleigh paper.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Tess…”
“I’m writing it down.”
“That’s a good idea, Wesley, especially since I don’t think we’ll get much information out of Detective Johnson. And I’m not sure we can depend on him to make a thorough investigation. He seems to have his mind set on proving that Mark did it. So…let’s get organized. First we need a list of suspects.”
“Unfortunately, Mark is at the top of the list,” Tess said, “since we can’t prove he didn’t do it.”
“Next would be Elise’s father, Eric Hoffman,” I said.
Tess wrote his name down and said, “Motive?”
