| |
“If the past is not resolved, future relationships will suffer. Let your heart heal, before you open the door to another.” – Leon Brown
––––––––
I DIDN’T RUSH MY ABLUTIONS on Sunday morning, which also happened to be Independence Day. I wasn’t in a hurry to get out of bed. I had a rare Sunday off, and I wasn’t meeting Tate and Skye until noon. I had time to linger in bed, and rest. The problem was, I couldn’t rest. I kept thinking about Crater McMurphy’s corpse in the Chalet. What happened to him? Why did he come back to his suite at the Chalet, and why was he killed?
My mind churned over everything I knew about Crater McMurphy. I knew he was in some sort of special forces unit. I knew that he was a celebrity. I knew that he a bad reputation, and I knew that both Tate Svenson and Anne Marie had a past with him. Anne Marie was upfront with me about her previous interactions with the thrill-seeking celebrity, but Tate merely told me that he had unfinished business with the man. I wondered what the unfinished business could be. Surely, Tate hadn’t killed Crater? No, of course, he didn’t, I told myself. Tate wasn’t even near the Chalet when Crater McMurphy died. Then there was Vanessa. She seemed a bit interested in Crater when we ran into him at Rascal’s. She stayed behind at the nightclub when Anne Marie and I left. She hadn’t gotten home until after one. But if I was honest with myself, I could not imagine any of my friends killing Crater McMurphy or killing anyone, for that matter.
Unable to clear my head or sleep, I finally jumped out of bed at around 7:00 a.m. I started my coffee maker before I headed to my bathroom for a shower. I watched the weather report the previous evening, and I knew that it was going to be unseasonably warm that day with a chance of late afternoon showers. I decided to shave my legs and wear shorts and a t-shirt for my day of skateboarding with Skye and Tate.
When I emerged from the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day, I poured myself a cup of coffee and retrieved my newspaper from the front steps of my townhome. The headline of the newspaper quickly caught my attention.
TV Superstar Crater McMurphy Found Dead in a Colorado Resort. A photo of Crater McMurphy mugging at the camera accompanied the article. There was a photo of the Chalet too.
I quickly skimmed the article and gasped at what I read. Not only was the Chalet at Silver Powder named in the article, but the reporter said, and I quote, ‘While no suspects have been apprehended in the mysterious death of Mr. McMurphy, the police are investigating several leads. The FBI has been brought in to assist in the investigation.’
This was definitely not the kind of publicity I had hoped for the Chalet. I reached for my cellphone intent on calling my bosses at corporate, but before I could dial, the phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and sighed. Jed Link was phoning me. I let out a loud groan.
“Hello?” I answered the call.
“Mandy, it’s Jed.”
“I am aware, I have caller ID.”
“Right. Have you seen the paper?” Jed asked.
“I just read the front page, Jed. Several leads? Really? Is that true?”
Jed cleared his throat, “Yes, Mandy, we do have several leads, and now that the FBI is involved, I imagine we’ll be able to close the case quickly. Then things can return to normal at the Chalet.”
“I don’t think things will ever be normal at the Chalet again, Jed. How can we recover from something so horrible? News of Crater McMurphy’s death is likely to be in every newspaper and gossip rag in the country. Did you know that Crater McMurphy had worldwide popularity? His murder could affect the resort for years to come.”
Jed didn’t answer my questions, instead, he said, “Look, I just wanted to give you a heads up. Agent Susanne Riley of the FBI will be leading the investigation. She plans to begin questioning the staff of the Chalet today.”
I sighed. “Okay, but if she’s looking for me, I have the day off. I can be reached on my cellphone. I will be back in my office on Monday.”
“Aw, Sunday off, and a holiday too, huh? Any plans?” Jed’s voice changed from serious to friendly. I wondered what game he was playing with me. Jed rarely speaks with me, and when he does, he doesn’t act particularly friendly.
“Actually, yes. I’m meeting Tate Svenson and his daughter Skye in town this afternoon,” I replied as I refilled my coffee mug.
“Tate from the Chalet bar?” Jed asked.
“Yes,” I replied. How many guys named ‘Tate Svenson’ did Jed think I knew?
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” No, I think it is a great idea.
Wait, was Jed judging me? Or questioning my judgment? How dare he judge me? It was bad enough that Jed hijacked our friendship because of a misunderstanding that happened in high school. How dare he judge my date with Tate? Not that my plans with Tate were a date. No, it wasn’t a date, dates don’t include children, right?
“Why wouldn’t meeting Tate and Skye be a good idea, Jed?” I asked in a disinterested voice. I took a sip of my coffee and waited for Jed to concoct a ridiculous answer.
“Well for one, you are technically Tate’s boss, and for two, Tate is one of the top suspects in the murder of Crater McMurphy,” Jed replied, “that’s off the record, by the way.”
Jed had a point about my working relationship with Tate, but how could he believe Tate was a murderer? “You have to be kidding me,” I replied, “Why would Tate be one of the top suspects?”
“Well, Tate was with Crater McMurphy on the night that he was killed,” Jed explained. “It’s called ‘opportunity,’ Mandy.”
“By your logic, there were three other guys with just as much opportunity as Tate,” I replied remembering the redhead, the man-bun, and the bald man.
“Trust me, the FBI is looking into them as well. And another thing, when Tate re-appeared from the group camping trip that Crater McMurphy supposedly planned, he was covered in dirt and scratches. Several witnesses can attest to that. Those could be defensive wounds, Mandy.”
I remembered that Tate had appeared at the Chalet the previous afternoon a bit dirty and scratched up. Tate had confirmed that he acquired the scratches and had gotten so dirty from being dumped in the woods to fend for himself. I would bet that the other three guys would have looked about the same if anyone had seen them emerge from the woods on Saturday.
I snorted loudly. “Those wounds are not proof of anything, Jed.” He was reaching for straws. “Tate just got scratched up in the woods. That could happen to anyone.”
“As I said, we’re still investigating, but I would be careful around Tate. The man was in some kind of secret military group.” Now it was a ‘secret’ military group. That’s how rumors get started, ladies and gents, however...
“Jed, Tate is bringing his eight-year-old daughter with him today. I am going to help her learn how to ride her skateboard. Does that sound like the kind of thing that will put me in the line of danger? No, it doesn’t,” I answered my own rhetorical question. Also, was Jed jealous? He certainly sounded jealous. If he was jealous, he didn’t have a right to be. Jed and I weren’t even friends.
“Just be careful,” Jed warned. “You don’t want to get all caught up in this. I don’t think you want to be known as the girlfriend of a murder suspect. Trust me.”
“I’m already ‘all caught up in it,’ Jed. I work for the Chalet. Furthermore, Tate and I are only friends,” I replied—then I remembered who I was speaking to—at one time Jed had been only a friend. I began to feel uneasy. I needed to end the conversation before I said anything that I would regret. “Look, I have to go. I need to call corporate to see how I am supposed to proceed with everything at the Chalet. Do you have any idea how long it will be before Crater McMurphy’s suite is released back to us?”
“Probably tomorrow. But then you’ll definitely need to hire a professional cleaner,” said Jed, “we don’t handle the clean-up.” I remembered how sick Jed had gotten on Saturday when he saw Crater’s blood, and I could not resist antagonizing my former pal. He deserved it, didn’t he?
“Did you have to go back and look at the crime scene with the FBI agent? Did she watch you turn green? You didn’t faint, did you? Did you throw up?”
“That isn’t funny, Mandy,” Jed huffed.
“Seriously, why did you become a cop, Jed? How have you hidden your squeamishness all of these years? How do you get your work done? Inquiring minds want to know.”
I heard Jed exhale. “I’m seeing a therapist about it. Thanks for asking. Interestingly enough, she thinks you are part of the problem.” Ouch!
“Me? What do I have to do with your hemophobia?” I asked in an incredulous voice. I mean, I’ve heard of deflecting blame before, but this was ridiculous. I had nothing to do with Jed’s problem. We’ve barely spoken in ten years.
“Never mind,” said Jed, irritably. “Just remember Agent Riley will probably reach out to you soon.”
“That reminds me. Why is the FBI even involved in the case?” Didn’t the FBI only get involved in serial murders? Why were they investigating Crater McMurphy’s death?
“I can’t go into that, Mandy. Listen, I need to go.”
“I do too. I still have to call corporate,” I replied. Then I had an idea, “But if you want to go into the city later to see the fireworks, I was considering going tonight. We could ride together.” I don’t know why I invited Jed, but I did, so stop asking me, okay?
Jed groaned loudly enough for me to hear it over the phone, “No thanks, fireworks really aren’t my thing.”
Of course, they weren’t. Joy probably wasn’t Jed’s thing either. Or puppies or kittens. Perhaps I should just forget about ever trying to heal my friendship with Jed. Friendship shouldn’t be this hard.
I made sure to disconnect the call before Jed could irritate me more. Jed really gets my goat. I mean, he really gets my goat.
I checked the time and realized that I still had several hours before I was meeting Tate and Skye for lunch. I decided to wait to call corporate and head into town to do a little investigating of my own. I mean, I needed to figure out the best way to handle what could be a publicity nightmare for the Chalet at Silver Powder. If people began to think of the Chalet at the place where a grisly murder took place, it could mean the end for the business. Too many people relied on the Chalet for their livelihood, and I knew I couldn’t let them down.
I grabbed my skateboard from my hall closet, checked the wheels to make sure they were in good shape, and then I grabbed my gear. Helmet, check. Elbow pads, check. Knee pads, check. I couldn’t find my wrist guards so I went without them. I threw my backpack over my shoulders and left my home.
My townhome is on the outskirts of Silver Powder Village, and despite the holiday, the car traffic was pretty light because the whole village is fairly walkable. I headed into town on my board. It didn’t take me long to feel comfortable riding it again. I liked how the air passed through my long hair as I made my way into the village.
I enjoy skateboarding in the off-season, but I never seem to have enough time to do it. Between running the Chalet, and spending free time with my friends, skateboarding often takes a backseat to other pursuits. Skateboarding was one of my favorite summertime hobbies when I was a teenager, and it helped keep me in shape for snowboarding too. I took a moderate pace on the marked bike lane into town and slowed once I reached the center of the village. I popped off my board grabbing it by the toe-end, and I wandered into The Little Red Diner. I was certain, based on the description that Crater McMurphy had given me on Friday, that this was the ‘kitschy’ little diner where he and his friends had breakfast on Friday.
I walked through the door and was greeted by Lola, one of the long-time waitstaff at the diner. Heavenly scents of warm bread, bacon, and fresh coffee enveloped me.
“Hey Mandy, out boarding today?” Lola asked.
“Yep, a rare Sunday off.” I headed to the breakfast counter and had a seat. The diner wasn’t very busy yet, but I instantly noticed the three hulking men that I knew were Crater McMurphy’s friends. They were sitting across the room from me. I grabbed a menu, but I didn’t need one, I knew what I wanted. The menu served as a shield so I could observe the three men without them noticing me.
“What can I get you?” Henry smiled at me from behind the counter. Henry was the owner of the diner as well as Lola’s father.
“Hi, Henry. Orange juice, please, and French toast with a side of bacon.”
“Hash browns or country potatoes today?”
“Surprise me,” I replied. Everything on the menu is good.
“Sounds good, Mandy.” Henry looked into my eyes, and I could tell I wasn’t fooling anyone with my menu barrier. “You aren’t interested in one of those guys, are you?” He nodded towards Crater’s three friends. Henry is a married, older, family man and a good guy. His smile faded when he asked me the question. I wondered if Henry didn’t like the men.
“No, not interested, just curious. Have you seen them before?”
“Sure, they’ve been in here a couple of times. The first time it was with the man who was killed.”
“Have they caused any trouble while they were here?”
“Those knuckle heads?” Henry laughed. He’s a big guy, like six-foot-six inches and a wall of muscle, and I know that Henry doesn’t take any crap from anyone. “Nah, they order food, flirt with the waitstaff, and leave a big tip.”
“And Crater McMurphy?”
“Yeah, he was with them the first time. Why so many questions, Mandy? You aren’t looking into that murder, are you?” Henry chuckled suggesting that the idea of me investigating the murder was preposterous. I decided not to take offense.
I shook my head. “I’m just wondering why Mr. McMurphy was found dead in the Chalet with his throat slashed. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. He was supposed to be with those three men. Some people told me that Crater wasn’t a very nice guy.”
“Well, Mr. McMurphy didn’t cause any trouble here, Mandy, and you know how I feel about trouble.”
“I know.” Henry didn’t tolerate troublemakers. In fact, he had a reputation for being a pretty tough guy—but I knew he was essentially a Teddy Bear. Before he opened the diner, Henry had served ten years in prison for a murder he didn’t commit. He was exonerated several years ago when DNA evidence proved that he hadn’t committed the crime. He restarted his entire life, married, had kids, ran a thriving business. Henry is a good man, but being in prison hardened him against troublemakers.
I didn’t have to wait long for Henry to bring me my food. He gave me a newspaper in exchange for my menu. He thought it would look less suspicious. I ate my French toast and bacon and periodically looked up from a newspaper to watch the three guys. They seemed pretty content for men who had just lost a friend—especially considering they were all potential murder suspects. I was speculating if there was a way that I could strike up a conversation with them when the one with the man bun caught my eye. He smiled at me from across the room. When I returned his smile, man bun stood from his seat and proceeded to walk over to me.
“Hey Mandy,” man bun said as he boldly slid into the chair next to me.
I dropped my newspaper and looked at him. He was tall, dark, fit. He had a few scrapes on his arms, but he didn’t seem as banged up as Tate looked on Saturday.
“My name’s Tony. We all heard what happened at the Chalet the other night, and I have to say, we’re all in shock.”
“Is that so?”
Tony nodded. He looked sincere.
“Are you staying in town for the investigation?”
“Yes. We were asked to stick around,” he shrugged, “it’s the least we can do.”
“What do you think happened? I mean, why do you think Mr. McMurphy was killed?”
Tony shook his head. “I don’t know. Friday night, Jonah dropped us off in the woods. We were all supposed to participate in one of his survival challenges. We’ve been doing them for years. Jonah would plot out a course, and then drop us off with limited supplies. We were supposed to find our way to a hidden camp, and the last man back was the loser.”
“What did Crater do during the challenge? If he set the whole thing up, I assume he wasn’t a player too.”
Tony laughed and scratched the stubble on his chin. “Jonah would hang around and throw monkey wrenches in our way. You know, try to trip us up. We all have a lot of survival skills so he would make the challenges extra difficult. Sometimes he would even wear night-vision goggles and watch everything unfold. Then if we were doing too well, he’d add more challenges.” Man, what a freak!
“What kinds of things would he do?”
Tony thought about my question for a second. “Oh, one time he gave us each rope and left us in the bottom of a canyon, only the ropes were all partially slit.”
“Well that just sounds dangerous,” I scoffed. That didn’t sound like fun to me at all. It sounded more like a game of survival of the fitness where Crater was like an evil puppet master who held all of the strings. Did Crater want to put his friends’ lives in danger?
“Jonah was big on making sure people always checked their equipment. If you didn’t check it, you could get hurt.”
“Did anyone ever get hurt?”
“Nothing too major, although, there was one time when we were all on a cycling trip. Jonah messed with Tate’s bike. Tate had a good spill and the wheel of his bike was bent and he got a bit banged up. It took Tate a full day to get back to camp. He had to carry the bike. By the time Tate got back to our campsite, Jonah was already gone. That was the last trip that Tate went on—until Friday night.”
“That’s awful,” I said. No wonder Tate said that he and Crater had unfinished business. I imagine I would be angry too if someone sabotaged my mode of transportation and left me alone to cope—injured. “How long ago was that?”
“Hmm, maybe eight or nine years ago? We were all on leave at the time. I remember that Tate’s girlfriend, Shannon, was angry about what happened. She had been in town waiting for Tate to return, and she really freaked because Tate didn’t show up and he hadn’t called her to say he was okay. She didn’t like Tate going on adventures and leaving her behind. She was a mess.”
“I think I would be upset too if my husband went missing for a day with no explanation,” I replied, unintentionally defending Shannon.
“No, I mean, she was a mess. I don’t know what Tate saw in that woman. Yeah, she’s pretty, but Shannon never trusted Tate. She always insisted on tagging along on our adventures and booking a room at a nearby hotel to keep an eye on him. She never trusted Tate to do the right thing. Is there any wonder they split up?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t one to judge their relationship. I’d never been in a relationship longer than a year, and that was at college. My life had always been too hectic to accommodate a long-term relationship. At least that’s what I told myself.
“How about the rest of you? Are you all married?”
Tony laughed. “I almost bit the bullet—once—but no. Mike and Abe...” Tony lowered his voice, “Mike and Abe are a couple, and Jonah, he is married.” Tony’s face suddenly looked serious like he just remembered he left the stove on. He rubbed his forehead, “Man—Rebecca—Jonah’s wife. I hope the authorities contacted her. I think she was out on a trip herself. I wonder if she knows what happened. Man, maybe one of us should reach out to her.”
“I’m sure the police will find a way to notify her soon.” I paused for a moment, and said, “I take it that the rest of your group wasn’t fans of Shannon either.”
“No, not really. Shannon is a difficult person to like. We all tried, we did, but Shannon is difficult. I remember that night when Tate didn’t return from our bike trip, Shannon refused to calm down. Jonah eventually got her to drink some Scotch and go to her room to lie down while we tried to locate Tate.”
“Wow. It sounds like she had quite an attachment to him.”
Tony shrugged. “Yeah, she was a bit like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction except no one’s bunny got boiled.” He laughed until he noticed that I wasn’t laughing with him. I shook my head. I didn’t know what to make of Tony and his friends. Tony seemed weirdly irreverent considering he lost a friend just the day before.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Tony. I am sorry for your loss.” I stood from my seat and placed some money on the counter to pay for my breakfast. “I have to get going. Oh, but one last thing. Why do you think Crater took off that night?”
Tony grinned. “Jonah did things like that. Sometimes we’d get back to camp and he would be there, other times he wouldn’t. The guy liked to keep us guessing.”
“But when you woke in the morning, and Crater wasn’t there, you all looked for him, didn’t you?” I remembered what Tate told me on Saturday. He made it to the camp last—around 2 a.m.—and when they all woke later that morning, Crater was gone. The four men searched for Crater without success, and Tate left when he realized he needed to meet his daughter at the Chalet.
“I guess we looked around for a bit. Mostly, we just needed to find our gear. Jonah took our phones, keys, wallets, and he hid them in camp. That was part of the game. Finding everything took a while. Once we had our things, we cleared the campsite and left.”
“So, you believed that Crater was okay; that he just took off as he did sometimes?”
Tony shrugged. “Sure. None of this was abnormal behavior for Jonah.”
I nodded, paid my bill, grabbed my things, and left the diner. I wondered how long the group actually spent looking for Crater. From Tate’s account of things, I assumed they looked from early morning until the early afternoon, but from Tony’s account, it sounded like they did a quick search, found their confiscated possessions, and left the campsite. Had Tate lied to me?