Steve looked up. He tucked some papers under the desk calendar before saying, “Yes. There’s no way they’ll be here before noon tomorrow, and that’s still contingent on the storm. They’ll know more in the morning. They ran Patrick through their system, I guess, and said he should determine what’s best to do with the body until they arrive.”
“Patrick is taking care of it. We need to close off that room, however.”
“Why?”
“Health reasons.”
He didn’t seem to find Lucy’s answer odd. That she was becoming a better liar didn’t please her.
“Who has keys?” she asked.
“The guests would have two. There’s an extra here. I have a master key for every room.”
“May I have it?”
“I won’t go in.”
“I know, but Patrick wants to control the keys.”
Steve now looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”
“I’m just doing what my brother asked. I’m not a cop.”
He pulled the key from his ring and handed it to her. He then reached over into one of the boxes and handed her an extra key. “I don’t have the other two.”
“We have Vanessa’s, and Patrick will get Trevor’s.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“Anytime a healthy person dies, it’s never a mistake to be extra cautious. But I’m certain the coroner will clear everything up as soon as the body gets examined.” She then asked, “What other things have been going on around here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Upstairs you said-”
“Oh.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “I was just feeling sorry for myself.”
“This has been a hard year for you. When did your father die?”
“Last March. Nearly a year ago, but I still miss him so much.” His voice cracked and he looked away. He took another pull on his orange juice.
“I know. I’m so sorry. Beth told me there had been some mechanical problems, with the generator, then the bear in the root cellar-”
“Grace thinks I left the door unlatched, but I didn’t. I’ve secured that root cellar every night since I was eight.”
“How long have you been feeling dizzy?”
“That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Maybe, but I’m worried about you.”
“Why should you care? You don’t even know me.”
True, and Lucy didn’t have an answer. She was sticking her nose into other people’s business. “I have some medical training, and the dizziness and fatigue and imbalance could be a sign of something serious.”
“Look, I spent three days in the damn hospital in Jackson right before Christmas. They said my blood pressure was a little low, but not dangerously so, and they ran their battery of tests. Everything came back normal ’cept for borderline anemia. So I’m on an iron supplement. Grace shouldn’t be talking to everybody about my problems. It’s all under control.”
“You fell off a cliff today, Steve.”
“I just slipped.”
“For a kid who grew up in these mountains, I think you’d know better.”
“I can’t spend any more time in a hospital. Grace can’t run this place alone, and without at least some guests, we won’t survive the year. I don’t want us to sell the lodge. I can’t disappoint my dad like that. I didn’t think we’d ever be in this position. Dad always had an emergency fund, but-”
“But what?”
“It’s gone. Grace said he didn’t want to tell me that the lodge had been running in the red for the last few years, and he was using his savings to keep it afloat.” Steve put his head back down. “I can’t lose my home. It’ll be like losing Dad all over again.”
Looking for Patrick, instead Lucy found Heather Larson in the dining room. The vacationer from the Silicon Valley was loading food on a plate, but no one else was eating.
“I thought I’d bring Trevor something to eat, though I doubt he’ll touch it,” she said. “Still, he’ll need something to soak up all the scotch he’s drinking.”
Lucy winced. He’d be difficult to interview if he was falling down drunk.
“Did she kill herself?” Heather asked, just like everyone else had.
“We don’t know.”
“It’s so awful, either way, but I hope it was natural. For Trevor. He’s such a nice guy.”
Lucy had thought so, too, until his wife ended up murdered. “They both seemed nice, though Vanessa was quiet.”
“She was a bit weird. I never thought she’d kill herself though.”
“Weird? How?”
Heather shrugged. “Maybe I should say she was interested in strange things. Like this morning. Alan and I were up early to take a walk. She was standing by the barn taking pictures through the window.”
Lucy remembered some dark images on Vanessa’s camera, but she had assumed the camera had just gone off in her purse or something. She’d have to look more carefully at the detail.
“And then when I told her Alan and I were going to town, she asked me to mail something for her.”
“And why is that strange?”
“It was a postcard with a short message. ‘You are right. We win.’ ”
That was odd. “Who did she mail it to?”
Heather shrugged. “It went to Phoenix, but I didn’t pay attention to the name. I showed it to Alan, though. Maybe he remembers.”
A gust of wind burst through the house, and a door slammed shut. Lucy ran to the foyer, and saw Patrick and the other two men covered with snow, their faces red. “That was miserable,” Alan said. Lucy didn’t know if he was talking about the weather or moving Vanessa’s dead body to the root cellar by the side of the house.
“Is it locked?” Lucy asked.
“No bears will get into that place,” Patrick assured her and showed her the key to the padlock. He pocketed it, then took off his jacket and hung it on a rack near the door.
“Alan,” Heather said, “do you remember that postcard Vanessa asked us to mail?”
“Of course.”
“Who did she mail it to?”
“Nelson Russell.”
Heather said, “There you go,” she said to Lucy. “Why do you want to know?”
Lucy shrugged. “Just curious.” She glanced at Patrick, nonverbally telling him she’d clue him in later. “Patrick, Trevor is drinking heavily. You might want to talk to him now.”
“I’m bringing him this food-” Heather began.
Lucy took the plate. “I’ll take it for you.”
“I am frozen solid,” Alan said to his wife. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Lucy followed Patrick into the library. Kyle joined them. Angie sat with Trevor, holding his hand while he sobbed. The room reeked of scotch. Angie looked to be at her wit’s end.
Lucy said to Kyle, “We’ll relieve Angie. She needs a break. You two should get some food and relax. It’s going to be a long night.”
“Good idea,” Kyle said, escorting his wife from the room.
Patrick shut and locked the door. He sat down across from Trevor. “I’m sorry for your loss, Trevor.”
“Two years. We waited two years to get married. Two wasted years.”
“I know this is difficult. But-”
