CHAPTER 17
L’ultima Cena.
No matter how far you travel, no matter how old you get, you are never far from your family.
That’s what Alberta was thinking as she watched Cathy and Patrick continue to argue with each other, their hands opening and closing, their arms punching and swooshing the air, their faces contorting into expressions that they both had seen millions of times before. She imagined the words they were saying to each other were words they had repeated on countless previous occasions so they could finish their sentences.
It appeared as if Cathy and Patrick were quite upset, but Alberta couldn’t tell if they were disgruntled about something miniscule or life changing. She almost laughed out loud as she watched them because she was reminded of how she and Helen must look to people. They might be bickering about the simplest of things, like how much salt to add to pasta sauce or which cousin forgot to attend someone’s funeral, but to an uninformed viewer it might look like they were a few seconds away from causing bodily harm. Cathy and Patrick could be having a typical fight or it could be cataclysmic.
Alberta knew from experience, however, that siblings had a way of reconciling. In all the fights she’d had with Helen and her brother, Anthony, none of them caused irreparable damage. Because siblings are inseparable. And Cathy just proved that.
“Did you hear what Cathy just said?” Sloan asked the second she and Patrick stormed back into the lodge.
Alberta opened her mouth to reply, but Joyce beat her to it.
“Yes! And I assume you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”
“I have a feeling I am,” Sloan said excitedly. “What about you, Alberta? Are you thinking what we’re thinking?”
Again Alberta opened her mouth, but someone else’s voice spoke before hers.
“What about me?” Helen asked. “Doesn’t anyone care if I’m thinking what the rest of you are thinking?”
“Of course we do, Helen,” Sloan said. “What are you thinking?”
Scowling, Helen replied, “I don’t know, what are you all thinking?”
“Basta!” Alberta cried. “Cathy just gave us the clue we were looking for.”
“Sorry, with the wind howling and my bad ear I’m lucky I can hear myself think,” Helen remarked. “Let alone hear a clue.”
“You have a bad ear, Helen?” Sloan asked.
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
Alberta and Joyce answered Sloan’s question at the same time, but Alberta said it was the left and Joyce said it was the right.
“I told you,” Helen started. “No one pays attention to me.”
“Dio mio!” Alberta sighed. “Cathy called Patrick ‘boyo’ and then stormed back into the house. That’s another piece to the puzzle.”
Alberta, Joyce, and Sloan continued to chatter excitedly about the clue they were just given and how it solidified the theory that Cathy and Patrick were siblings. After about a minute of frenzied discussion, one by one they realized Helen was still silent and was staring at them wearing a highly perturbed expression. Alberta didn’t know why her sister would be mad at them until she realized her sister felt left out because she had no idea what ‘boyo’ meant.
“It’s short for their company,” Alberta divulged. “Boyodell.”
Helen’s expression turned from dismissive to derisive. “How do you know that?”
“Because the name of the company that owns the lodge is called Boyodell, Inc., and Cathy just called Patrick boyo,” Alberta said.
“So where’s the dell in Boyodell, Inc., come from?” Helen asked.
“That we don’t know,” Sloan admitted.
“Maybe Dell is their last name,” Joyce suggested.
“Only one way to find out.”
* * *
Alberta led them back to the business center of the lodge, and when they entered they saw Charlie was sitting behind one of the computers. They immediately slowed down their pace to a languid stroll so it didn’t look like they were on an important mission.
“What brings you four in here?” Charlie asked.
“What’s it to you?” Helen replied.
“Helen, don’t be so rude,” Alberta chastised. “Sorry, Charlie.”
When she replayed those two words back in her mind, Alberta started to laugh and then, realizing she was the one who was now being even ruder, she tried to cough to hide her laugh, which only made her laugh harder.
“Don’t worry, everyone thinks it’s hilarious,” Charlie said. “Especially my wife, I mean soon-to-be ex-wife. She’d say it to me every day when I would try to give her a kiss. She’d say, ‘Sorry, Charlie,’ and crack up laughing. I really miss the sound of her laughter.”
After his disclosure all thoughts of laughter were sucked out of the room. Alberta felt bad for Charlie and wanted to offer words of encouragement and compassion, but seeing his doe-eyed expression, she didn’t think any words would help him. He was lost in the past, which was where Alberta needed to be as well. Not her past, but Cathy and Patrick’s.
As nonchalantly as possible Alberta sat behind one of the computers as Sloan, Joyce, and Helen stood around her. Even though Charlie didn’t seem to be paying attention to what Alberta was doing, the group—without discussing it—decided it would be best to distract Charlie so he didn’t ask Alberta what she was doing.
“I can’t believe it’s still snowing out there,” Sloan said to Charlie.
“My wife, I mean soon-to-be ex-wife, told me a storm was brewing,” Charlie replied. “I thought she meant our divorce proceedings, but she was talking about the weather.”
“Is she a weather girl on the news?” Joyce asked.
“No, she’s just a doomsayer,” Charlie clarified. “Always thinking the worst of every situation. But I don’t think she would’ve guessed how things have turned out here. I mean we really are stranded up here with a dead body in the freezer. Doesn’t that give you the willies?”
“In my former line of duty you acquire a different perspective where death is concerned,” Helen said.
“I mean no disrespect when I say this, Helen,” Charlie started. “But unless you’re a medical examiner or perhaps God himself, knowing there’s a dead body in a walk-in storage unit where they keep the rest of the meat is the definition of how to give somebody the willies.”
“I have to agree with you on that one, Charlie,” Sloan said. “The more I try to push it out of my mind, the more I see Pamela’s frostbitten face.”
“Also too, her bloodied wrists,” Joyce added. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over seeing that.”
“That’s the other thing,” Charlie said. “Not only is there a dead body hibernating on the premises, there’s also the dead body’s killer.”
“Dammit!” When Alberta shouted they all thought she was responding to Charlie’s comment and had forgotten that they had come to the business center with a purpose, to find out Patrick’s last name.
“Berta, what’s wrong?” Sloan asked.
“I can’t find it.”
“Find what?” Charlie inquired. “I’m almost as good with a computer as I am with a camera.”
Alberta turned right to look at Joyce and Helen and then to the left to look at Sloan, trying to silently gauge their opinion on whether she should speak freely in front of Charlie. She thought Sloan’s and Joyce’s eyes were saying yes, while Helen’s were saying no, so she chose the safe route and went with the majority.
“I’m trying to find out if Patrick’s last name is Dell and the only thing that pops up is O’Dell, which is close, but doesn’t fit as neatly if the name is a combination of the words boyo and Dell,” Alberta explained. “You see, we’re pretty certain Cathy and Patrick are siblings and they own Icicle Lodge together under the name Boyodell, Inc. We overheard Cathy call Patrick “boyo,” which is why I thought Patrick’s last name was Dell, but I guess it’s close enough, which means that Cathy and Patrick’s last name is O’Dell.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Charlie shouted.
“I know Alberta can ramble,” Helen said. “But really, is that a good reason to use the Lord’s name in vain?”
Ignoring Helen, Charlie continued, “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before! Cathy and Patrick are more than brother and sister, they’re a brother and sister ice-skating team!”
“A what?”
The announcement was so startling that even Helen joined in the group shriek.
“That can’t be,” Alberta scoffed.
“It is!” Charlie continued. “They’re a former ice-skating pairs team.”
“Are you sure?” Sloan asked. “That would’ve been a long time ago.”
“I’m positive,” Charlie argued. “In the back of my mind I always knew there was something familiar about them, like I always knew even while on my honeymoon—don’t ever go to Venice in the rainy season, by the way—that my wife would want to leave me someday, but I thought it was just that I was overexcited about seeing Pamela.”
“I think you’re overimagining things as well,” Helen said.
“I have to agree with my sister,” Alberta said. “I’ve seen Patrick and he can skate very well, but I don’t think he’s an Olympic-caliber skater.”
Charlie didn’t respond but banged on the computer keyboard frantically until he found what he was looking for. “If you don’t believe me, take a look at this.”
The group gathered around Charlie and peered over his shoulder to gawk at what was on his computer screen. When they saw it they felt they had each walked through some kind of time warp. On the screen was a decades-old photograph of Cathy and Patrick O’Dell when they were teenagers and they were either on their way to a costume party dressed up as figure skaters or that’s exactly what they were.
Cathy’s forehead was covered in bangs and her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a teal ribbon, the same color as her eye shadow. Her skating outfit was the same color, only several shades brighter, with a deep pink skirt that fell in the briefest of ripples and only covered the tippy top of her thighs. The bodice was embellished with silver and pink rhinestones in the shape of an inverted triangle that began around her neck and plunged into a point at her belly button.
Standing next to Cathy with his right arm around her waist and his left hand holding hers was Patrick. His outfit was the same color combination, but only the collar and cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt and his belt were pink, the rest of his form-fitting jumpsuit was teal.
The caption underneath the photo read, “Cathy and Patrick O’Dell, United States Pairs Team bronze medalists on their way to represent their country in Zurich, Switzerland, at the Olympics.”
“Zurich!” Alberta cried. “That’s the Olympics Pamela was in.”
“So, Cathy, Patrick, and Pamela must have all known each other,” Sloan surmised.
“Is there any other information about them online, Charlie?” Alberta asked. “Did they win a medal too?”
“According to Wikipedia, they came in dead last.”
“Last!” Alberta gasped. “Madon, that’s heartbreaking. To travel all that way and come in last with the whole world watching.”
“According to this they withdrew from the Olympics after the short program,” Charlie said.
“Withdrew?” Helen cried. “Why in the world would anyone withdraw from the Olympics?”
“Maybe they sustained an injury?” Sloan suggested.
“I can’t remember,” Charlie confessed. “But it had to be incredibly serious for them to withdraw at the biggest moment in their professional lives.”
Each of them grew silent trying to imagine what could have happened to make a young and presumably ambitious figure-skating pair travel halfway around the world to compete in the Olympics and then give it up halfway through. None of them could come up with a viable scenario that would explain such a drastic decision. Then again, none of them were elite skaters so how could they know?
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Charlie announced. “I’m going to see if Max has whipped up anything for dinner.”
As he was exiting the room he nearly collided with Jinx and Freddy, who were entering.
“Sorry, Charlie,” Jinx said and immediately started laughing. Unlike Alberta, she didn’t try to cover her laughter with a coughing fit.
“Your grandmother beat you to it, kid,” Charlie said before bounding down the hall in search of something to eat.
“What did he mean by that?” Jinx asked.
“I laughed at the same joke before.”
“Does anyone else find that guy creepy?” Freddy questioned the group.
“Creepy as in a creep?” Helen asked. “Or creepy as in a murderer?”
Freddy pondered and then replied, “I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps we should put it up to a group vote.”
“Before we do that, why don’t we share the photo I found with everyone?” Jinx proposed.
“What photo, lovey?” Alberta asked.
Jinx reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it, smoothed it out, and placed it on the table between two computers.
“I printed this out earlier,” Jinx said. “It’s similar to the photo that we found pinned up in Cathy’s office, but with a few more people. It’s Pamela’s coach, Dimitri, sitting around a dinner table on the cruise right before he died.”
Alberta picked up the photo to get a better look and let out a low whistle. “L’ultima Cena.”
“You could be right about that, Berta,” Joyce said.
“Sorry, the last . . . what?” Jinx asked.
“The Last Supper,” Helen translated.
Sitting next to Dimitri was a beautiful dark-haired woman dripping in fine jewelry, and standing nearby was a blond-haired man sporting a full beard, in a shirt and tie, holding some kind of white cloth in his hand. A few of the people had their backs to the camera so their faces couldn’t be seen including one woman with luminous blonde hair and a tattoo of some kind of symbol on her left shoulder. The design couldn’t be made out because her hair was in the way, but it looked like Poseidon’s trident.
“This is quite possibly the last photo ever taken of Dimitri, other than, you know, the photos of him in the morgue,” Jinx said. “He died at some point after this picture was taken and before the ship returned to dock.”
“Do you know what this means?” Alberta asked.
“I am never going on a cruise?” Helen remarked.
“It means that Cathy and Patrick probably knew Dimitri as well.”
“How do you figure that, Gram?”
Alberta quickly relayed the information they just uncovered to Jinx and Freddy so they were all now up to speed. “So if Cathy and Patrick were in the Olympics with Pamela, and Dimitri was Pamela’s coach at the Olympics, they had to know him,” Alberta explained.
“He’s Dee!” Joyce blurted out.
“Who’s Dee?” Sloan asked.
“The person Cathy and Pamela were arguing about,” Joyce explained. “We overheard them saying something like ‘Keep Dee out of this’ and ‘Dee was always in this,’ stuff like that. Dee is short for Dimitri.”
“Then they definitely knew each other,” Alberta agreed.
“Maybe Dimitri was Cathy and Patrick’s coach too,” Sloan suggested.
“Would a singles skater and a pairs team have the same coach?” Freddy asked. “Don’t figure-skating coaches specialize in one particular discipline?”
Everyone looked at Freddy as if he was speaking in hieroglyphics.
“You’re like one extreme or the other, Freddy,” Jinx remarked. “You either call everyone ‘dude’ or you’re really smart.”
“I like to keep everybody guessing.”
“Well, I’m tired of guessing,” Alberta said. “Cathy and Patrick have been lying this entire time. They’re siblings, business partners, and former competitive figure skaters. They’ve known Pamela and Dimitri almost their entire lives and now both of them have died under mysterious circumstances. It was no coincidence that Cathy asked Pamela to come here and be the celebrity guest performer for the grand reopening of the lodge.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Gram?”
“O Dio mio!” Helen cried. “Not that again! Just say what you’re thinking.”
“Do you think Cathy lured Pamela here to kill her?” Jinx asked.
Once again the room grew silent, this time because they were each contemplating if Jinx’s suggestion was possible. Could Cathy have hated Pamela so much that she would have invited her to perform at her lodge for the sole purpose of murdering her? Anything was possible, but why? Why would Cathy do such a thing?
“What’s her motive?” Joyce asked. “Why would Cathy or Patrick want Pamela dead?”
“Jealousy?” Sloan said.
“Revenge?” Freddy added.
“Boredom?” Helen said.
“Helen, be serious,” Alberta sighed.
“I am! There’s nothing online about Cathy’s post-Olympics life so her day-to-day existence was nothing compared to the celebrity status Pamela attained,” Helen rationalized. “Didn’t you say she did a lot of tours and even some TV specials?”
“Yes, she did,” Jinx confirmed.
“So maybe after a lifetime of being bored and seeing Pamela get all the notoriety that Cathy thought she should have had, she decided to shake things up a bit and kill her former rival,” Helen theorized.
“That’s interesting, Helen,” Joyce began. “But it really is a bit of a stretch.”
“I don’t know about that,” Alberta said.
“You think Aunt Helen might be right?”
“I think the combination of being jealous, wanting revenge, and living a boring life could be deadly,” Alberta explained. “And remember what Pamela said herself.”
“What was that, Gram?”
“That figure skating is a cutthroat sport and little girls would kill to be in the top spot,” Alberta said.
“You think one little girl killed because she never got to the top and Pamela did?” Sloan asked.
Alberta took a deep breath and answered, “If that’s what happened, that little girl is Cathy.”