CHAPTER 12
Cogliere in castagna.
The murderer might have exhibited patience, but the weather was a different story.
The heavy snowstorm was now an all-out blizzard, which meant the scenery looked like something out of The Sound of Music had the movie taken place during the winter, but it also meant that the inhabitants of Icicle Lodge were officially cut off from the rest of civilization.
Snowdrifts were being built almost in fast motion, the pine trees on the grounds that were skyscraper tall now had clumps of snow on their branches so high they looked like little white hills, and the air seemed to be breathing snowflakes. The ice in the rink was completely covered by several layers of snow, and some crescent moons were already starting to appear on the window panes. It was every vintage Currier and Ives Christmas card come to life, and it would have been joyously received if only there wasn’t a homicide investigation underway.
“How am I supposed to find a murder weapon with all this snow?” Vinny shouted.
“We already checked the grounds and came up empty,” Jinx replied.
“Which is why we need to check them again!” Vinny shouted yet again.
The front doors burst open and along with Freddy and Sloan came a mini-cyclone of snow, howling wind, and frigid air. The two men pushed against the strong wind to close the door behind them and then began to shake off the snow that clung to their hats, parkas, and boots. They created such a mess that it looked like the blizzard was creeping indoors.
“Folks!” Freddy yelled. “We got ourselves a blizzard!”
“Really, kiddo?” Charlie yelled sarcastically. “We hadn’t noticed.”
Charlie was sitting by himself in a corner of the main room drinking whiskey from a wineglass. As he had told Jinx when she asked why he wasn’t using a tumbler, he said that he wasn’t a choosy drunk. She quieted the investigative reporter within her and decided not to pursue the subject, but let the man be with his drink. She assumed he was drowning his sorrows now that his celebrity crush and paycheck were dead.
“We checked the shed with the Zamboni again and there doesn’t seem to be a tool out of place nor do any of them have blood on them,” Sloan informed the group.
“Don’t you think the killer would’ve wiped his weapon clean of any blood before putting it back from wherever he found it?” Stephanie asked.
“He might have,” Vinny replied. “Or she might have as well. I think it’s important that until we know who the murderer is we keep it gender neutral.”
“That’s very progressive of you, Vinny,” Jinx said.
“I’ve had my sensitivity training,” he replied. “Now listen up, we’ve done as much as we can outside, it’s time that we check inside for a weapon. First place I want to look is the kitchen so we’ll need to shut it down for at least an hour.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
Everyone heard the exclamation, but no one knew whose voice it belonged to. Jinx looked around the room and tried to figure out who was contradicting Vinny. She, Freddy, and Sloan were standing near the front door, Charlie was sitting in the main room, Patrick was at another table trying to compose an e-mail to send out to the guests advising them that the grand reopening was being postponed without revealing why, and Stephanie was sitting next to the fireplace by Vinny. The voice wasn’t female so that excluded Alberta, Helen, and Joyce, who last Jinx knew were all in Alberta’s room, or Cathy, who was in her office. So that left only Father Sal or Max. Knowing Father Sal retired already blaming his early departure on a headache that left only one possibility.
“Max!” Jinx cried. “Don’t you want us to find the weapon that killed Pamela?”
The only response was the sound of knives and forks being thrown onto a metal platter. When Max entered the main room from the kitchen, he looked as angry as he sounded.
“Of course I do, you stupid girl!” Max bellowed. “But I don’t want my kitchen disrupted.”
“I get it, Max, but we don’t have any other choice,” Vinny said calmly hoping to ease the tension that was starting to swallow the lodge whole. His tactic didn’t work.
“How would you like strange people invading your office and touching everything you own?” Max asked.
“If it meant finding a clue to solve a murder, I’d be all for it,” Vinny answered.
Max stomped his foot like a child and thrashed his fists in the air. “I don’t care! I won’t allow it!”
No one saw Patrick stand up until he was in the center of the room standing directly in front of Max. Both men were roughly the same size and build so neither would be intimidated by the physicality of the other, but Patrick outranked Max. In the pecking order, the owner’s second-in-command definitely trumped the cook.
“We don’t have a choice, Max,” Patrick affirmed. “If we want to get to the bottom of who killed Pam, this is what we have to do.”
Breathing deeply, it looked like Max might scream or throw a punch at Patrick. Luckily it wasn’t the latter or else the main room might have turned into a boxing ring. “You might not have a choice, but I do!”
“No you don’t, Max,” Patrick replied. “None of us have a choice with Vinny around. He’s a cop, remember, the chief of police, he’s in charge and he’s got a job to do. So don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be and let him search the kitchen. Okay?”
Nodding stoically, Max replied, “Fine.”
* * *
Upstairs there was a different kind of commotion going on, this one of the feline variety.
“Lola! Don’t you dare run away from me!”
Alberta watched as Lola scampered down the hallway and took a right at full speed as if she had lived at Icicle Lodge her entire life.
“Lola! Torna qui!”
“Even if that cat could hear you, she’s not going to listen to you,” Helen said. “Let her roam around and have fun.”
“With a killer on the loose? Don’t be such a stunod!”
“I keep forgetting that the person who killed Pamela might be right under this roof,” Joyce said.
“Why do you think I put the chair in front of our door?” Helen asked.
“I just thought it was one of your crazy quirks,” Joyce replied.
“For a smart woman, Joyce, you can be clueless sometimes.”
“Will you two knock it off and help me find Lola before she becomes victim number two.”
“Berta, nobody’s going to touch your cat, trust me,” Helen said. “She has a worse disposition than Joyce. Now come on, if we’re going to find her, let’s go.”
Helen walked briskly down the hallway, turning right in the direction Lola was last seen. In a matter of seconds they saw a door to one of the guest rooms ajar.
“I think that’s Stephanie’s room,” Alberta said.
“Maybe she’s paying the kid a visit,” Helen suggested.
When they entered the room they saw that Lola wasn’t paying Stephanie a visit, but she was quite interested in the contents of her duffel bag. Lola was pawing at the inside of the bag and was sniffing one item in particular with such fervor it was as if it was her favorite toy mouse stuffed with catnip. Alberta picked Lola up, much to Lola’s displeasure, and found the source of her cat’s curiosity.
“Stephanie uses the same hair dye that I do.”
Alberta held up a bottle of Clairol’s Shade 2 Blue Black as proof.
“Isn’t she a bit young to dye her hair?” Joyce asked. “I mean, she’s only twenty-five or so.”
“Could be a new fad all the kids are into,” Helen suggested. “It’s a lot less permanent than piercing random body parts.”
Alberta tossed the bottle back into Stephanie’s bag and proceeded to leave the room with Helen and Joyce in tow. She kissed the side of Lola’s head and scolded her at the same time. “You’re a bad girl, signorina.”
“She’s not the only one,” Joyce said.
Alberta and Helen looked up and saw Cathy leaving Father Sal and Vinny’s room. Joyce closed the door so only a sliver of the hallway could be seen, and they all waited to speak until Cathy rounded the corner and they heard her walking down the stairs. When they were sure they wouldn’t be overheard, Alberta finally said what she was sure was on all their minds.
“Per l’amor di Dio! Cathy’s having an affair with Father Sal!”
“Berta, I don’t think Sal would do that,” Joyce gasped. “I mean, he’s a priest.”
“He’s also a man,” Alberta reminded.
“Sal DeSoto is many, many things, but an adulterer?” Helen said, “Never.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Alberta said.
She marched right up to Father Sal’s door with Helen and Joyce scurrying behind her and knocked loudly three times. It took less than three seconds for the door to open.
“Are you ready to tell me everything?”
“No,” Helen replied. “But you better be.”
The women barged into Sal’s room despite his flustered refusal to see anyone due to his splitting headache and backed him into a corner until he plopped into the red, beige, and black club chair in the corner of his room, the same as the one that was in Helen and Joyce’s room.
“Now, spill the beans, Sal,” Helen demanded. “What was Cathy doing in your room?”
“C-Cathy who?” the priest stuttered.
“Kathy Selden from Singin’ in the Rain!”
“I love that movie!” Father Sal squealed. “Let’s see if they have the DVD downstairs.”
“There’ll be no movie watching for you until you fess up! Cogliere in castagna! You were caught red-handed,” Helen declared. “Now tell us, what was Cathy doing in here?”
As usual it took very little time for Sal to crack. It wasn’t that he was a bad priest who disrespected clergy-practitioner confidentiality, he just knew that when Helen wanted to know something it was futile to try to fight her because he’d always lose.
“She’s been coming to me for some counseling and confession,” Father Sal confessed.
“She confessed to killing Pamela?” Alberta gasped, squeezing Lola tighter.
“I didn’t say that she confessed to killing anyone!” Sal exclaimed. “She came here to talk about . . . things.”
“What things?” all three women asked at the same time.
“There’s a man in her life who is causing her trouble,” Sal explained. “She’s deeply concerned and afraid that he’s done something terrible.”
“Like kill Pamela?” Alberta asked.
“Boy, Berta, you’ve really developed a one-track mind,” Sal commented.
“So who’s this man?” Joyce questioned.
When Father Sal paused, Alberta knew that he knew who the man was, but when he spoke she knew that he was going to keep that secret to himself.
“May I remind you that while some of you . . . and by ‘you’ I mean Helen . . . might not think I’m worthy of wearing my collar, I am still a priest and I take my confidences seriously so I am not going to tell you the name of the man who is causing unnecessary drama in Cathy’s life, just like I’m not going to tell you that she also talked quite a bit about Alberta.”
“Me? Why was she talking to you about me?”
“Oh, Anna Maria Alberghetti in a taxi, honey!” Sal shrieked. “That’s a secret so forget I said anything. Now get out of here. You women drive me absolutely bonkers.”
Just before the door slammed in their faces, Helen replied, “The feeling is mutual!”
* * *
The next morning Alberta woke up before sunrise because her mind was racing with thoughts of who the mystery man in Cathy’s life could be—Patrick, Max, Charlie—or someone else who was unknown to her. She also didn’t understand why Cathy was confiding in Father Sal. They hardly knew each other and Cathy didn’t appear to be an overly religious person, although the moment she had that thought she knew it was silly since a person doesn’t have to look religious to be religious.
Alberta dressed quickly in the dark so she wouldn’t wake up Jinx and quietly went downstairs to the main room and made herself a cup of coffee. Sitting by the window, she was happy to see that the snow had lessened from last night, but she was surprised to see something even more unexpected outside.
About twenty minutes later, Alberta was on her second cup of coffee when Patrick entered the room.
“Hi, I didn’t think anyone would be up yet,” he said, pouring some coffee for himself.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep,” Alberta replied.
“I wanted to get the Zamboni out and clear all the snow off the ice,” Patrick explained. “It might snow again, but it’s not good to let the snow settle in onto the ice like that.”
“You were doing more than that, I see you’ve got the bug.”
“I’m not sick,” Patrick protested. “I got my flu shot, did you?”
“No, I know I should, but I hate needles.”
“Don’t be a fool, Alberta, it can ruin your career.”
“What career? I’m retired.”
“Your life then,” Patrick clarified. “As you get older the flu can be dangerous.”
“Yeah, I know, but I wasn’t talking about that, I meant the skating bug,” Alberta said. “I saw you out there before you started the Zamboni, you’re really good.”
Patrick’s face went as pale as the landscape outside and his left eye started to twitch. Alberta didn’t know what to say, but she feared that Patrick was going to have a panic attack.
“You can’t say anything about that,” he finally said. “Cathy . . . she doesn’t like her employees to be using the rink and it’s supposed to be closed because of, you know, what happened to Pamela. I was just letting off some steam. Please don’t say anything.”
Alberta wasn’t convinced by Patrick’s performance as Nervous Nellie, but she thought it best to play along. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Patrick exhaled slowly and said, “Thank you, I really appreciate that.”
As he was walking back to the front office, Alberta wanted to see if he would share another secret. “Did you see Charlie the morning Pamela was found dead?”
“No, like I told everyone, I didn’t see Charlie or anyone outside that morning.”
* * *
Huddled around a table in the dining room an hour later, Alberta whispered to Jinx, Helen, and Joyce. “This place should change its name to Secret Lodge because it’s got more secrets clinging to its walls than icicles.”
“Stop talking in riddles, Berta,” Helen said. “I haven’t had my morning coffee yet so it’s hard for me to concentrate.”
“This morning I saw Patrick skating like a whiz on the rink. He even did a few jumps, and when I complimented him he begged me not to say anything to Cathy or else he’d get in trouble.”
“For ice skating?” Joyce asked. “Cathy’s tough, but she’s no prison warden.”
“Maybe not, but she’s got her own secrets too,” Alberta said.
“Gram, I can’t believe she was meeting Father Sal on the sly! Aunt Joyce filled me in on everything.”
“And then there’s Stephanie,” Alberta added. “There’s something off with her and with that Charlie too. He’s hiding something, I know it.”
“Or he’s just some crazy superfan,” Joyce suggested.
“We might not know all their secrets, but we do know what the common denominator among all of them is,” Helen said.
“We do?” Alberta asked.
“Of course we do, Berta!” Helen cried and then added in a whisper, “It’s Pamela Gregory.”
“You’re pretty sharp for someone who hasn’t finished her morning coffee yet, Aunt Helen.”
“I just need a few sips to get my motor running, Jinxie.”
“Well, our next step is clear,” Jinx announced. “It’s time we visited Winter Wonderland.”
“I’m not going outside,” Alberta protested. “There’s about ten inches of snow out there.”
“I’m not talking about an outdoor adventure, Gram, I’m talking about the Winter Wonderland suite,” Jinx replied. “It’s high time we broke into Pamela’s room.”