NINE

“You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” – Will Rogers

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I DRANK TOO MUCH ON Sunday night. I know that drinking wine isn’t the answer to my problems, but I gave it a try anyway. Seeing my mom so ill and my dad, he seemed so old, it was difficult. When had it all happened? When did they change? The wine I drank didn’t help my disposition, and I slept poorly that night and I was tired and grumpy as a result.

On Monday, I was busy reconciling accounts payable documents—one of my least favorite jobs—when I had an unexpected interruption. “Mandy Swift?” I turned my eyes away from my computer monitor and looked up. In front of me stood a tall, slim, attractive woman with auburn hair who was wearing a charcoal gray pantsuit and sensible shoes. She reminded me a bit of Agent Scully from ‘The X-Files.’ Although Agent Scully had a more pleasant disposition and a handsome partner. Sadly, this woman arrived unaccompanied.

“Yes?” I answered. I hadn’t even heard the woman walk into my office.

“I’m Agent Susanne Riley from the FBI. Your police captain, Jed Link, told me you were expecting me.”

“Right.” I removed my reading glasses and set them on my desk. I nodded towards the empty desk chair across from me, and the agent sat in it. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like to talk to you about Jonah ‘Crater’ McMurphy,” she explained. “I understand that you were the individual who discovered his body on Saturday morning.”

“That’s right. A couple of my staff realized that Mr. McMurphy wasn’t responding when they visited his suite, and they contacted me. When Mr. McMurphy didn’t respond after repeated attempts to rouse him in his suite, I used my passkey to enter the room. That’s when I discovered his body.”

Agent Riley nodded. “I understand that you had a few interactions with Mr. McMurphy during his stay.” I was a little surprised that the agent mentioned my exchanges with Mr. McMurphy. To my mind, our interactions were limited and of little consequence.

“Well, as the manager of the Chalet, I did speak to Mr. McMurphy.”

“What were your interactions with Crater McMurphy like?” How could I characterize my exchanges with Crater McMurphy? To be honest, our conversations were friendly with a touch of creepy—all of the creepy coming from him. I decided to keep my personal feelings about Crater to myself for the moment.

“The first time I met him was in Slopes, our onsite bar. He was at the bar having a drink, and Mr. McMurphy recognized me from my days as a professional snowboarder. We chatted for a few minutes and I told him not to hesitate to ask if he needed assistance with anything during his stay.”

Agent Riley’s eyebrows rose a bit as if what I said was somehow surprising. “Do you make the same offer to all of your male guests?”

Ignoring the subtext of the agent’s question I replied, “When I meet any of our guests, I make sure that they feel welcome and they know our staff is here to help them during their stay.”

“Right. And your other interactions with Mr. McMurphy, what were they like?”

“I ran into Mr. McMurphy on Friday morning just before nine. He was with three of his friends, and he was headed to our spa. I greeted them and offered the use of the Chalet’s pool to Mr. McMurphy’s friends. And you might as well know, I was aware that Mr. McMurphy had a bit of a reputation for causing trouble in the past, and I asked him if I needed to worry about his behavior during his stay here.”

Agent Riley cocked an eyebrow. “And what did he say?”

“Mr. McMurphy said he had no intention of causing trouble, and I believed him.”

“I understand that Mr. McMurphy told you he and his friends were camping that evening.”

“He did.”

“And that he invited you to join them,” the agent shifted her gaze and her mouth formed a tight line. I wondered how the agent knew about Crater’s invitation. Had one of his friends mentioned it? I never even took the invitation seriously. I knew Crater was a flirty guy who liked to cause a stir.

“He may have invited me, but I didn’t believe that the invitation was sincere. I think Mr. McMurphy was just playing around. He seemed like a bit of a flirt.”

Agent Riley crossed her legs and switched gears. “Besides you, Ms. Swift, who has access to the guest suites?”

“The guests, of course, have their own keys, and several of the staff have passkeys so they can enter the rooms to provide service.”

“For example?”

“Well, the housekeeping staff and the maintenance staff have passkeys.”

“Anyone else?”

“Well, as with any hotel, when a guest checks in, we always ask how many keys they would like for their room. Sometimes guests want an extra key to keep in a second wallet or bag, and sometimes they want an extra key for a family member.”

“Do you know how many keys were issued to Mr. McMurphy?”

“No, but that information will be in his file. It would be easy enough to check.”

“And if a guest were to ask for in-room services, would the staff member be able to enter the room on their own?”

“In-room services?” I asked. I wanted to understand what Agent Riley was asking before I answered her questions. It felt like the agent was trying to trip me up. In fact, our conversation felt more like an interrogation than an interview.

“For example, room service or perhaps a massage? Would either of those staff members have a room key?” The agent shifted her dark eyes and gave me an intimidating look as if she was waiting to catch me in a lie.

“Our room service staff is instructed to knock on the guest doors, and wait to be invited in the suite to deliver the food. Our massage therapists work out of our spa. There is no reason for them have a key to access a guest's room.” Suddenly, I wanted to know if Agent Riley thought Anne Marie had something to do with Crater McMurphy’s death. Had the FBI agent learned about Annie’s past run-in with the celebrity?

“So, you are saying the room service staff and the spa staff are not issued passkeys?”

“That’s correct,” I sat up straighter in my chair. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by Agent Riley.

“I understand that you encountered Mr. McMurphy again on Friday evening. Is that correct?”

Damn Jed. He must have told Agent Riley that I’d run into Crater at Rascal’s. “Yes. I was having a girl’s night out with two of my friends at nine Friday night. We were having drinks, and Mr. McMurphy approached us at a little after eleven, I think.”

“And what was your interaction like?”

“Well, he, Mr. McMurphy seemed to be in a good mood. He asked my friend and me if we wanted to dance. We turned him down.”

“He asked you and your friend, not friends? I thought you said you were at Rascal’s with two friends.”

“I was. I arrived with my friend Anne Marie, and we met our friend Vanessa at Rascal’s. Anne Marie left just before Mr. McMurphy arrived. She was not feeling well.”

“I see.”

“And Vanessa and I left our table to find Annie shortly after Mr. McMurphy spoke to us.”

“Did you find your friend?”

“We did. She had gone to the parking lot for some fresh air.”

“Then what happened?”

“Anne Marie and I decided to leave for the evening. As I said, she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Hmm.” The agent tapped her finger on my desk. “And your other friend, Vanessa? What happened with her?”

“Oh, she decided to stay a bit longer. I know she took an Uber home later that evening because she texted me when she arrived home.”

“And when was that?”

“Um, just after one in the morning, if I remember correctly.”

“Did Vanessa tell you how the rest of her evening went?”

“No. But as I said, it was after one, and I was already in bed. I didn’t think to ask her how her evening went.”

“It’s a bit unusual, though, isn’t it? Leaving a female friend alone at a bar?”

I felt my shoulders tense, “I asked Vanessa if she wanted to leave, but she said she liked the band that was playing that night, and she didn’t get a lot of opportunities to cut loose. She stayed. So, no, I wouldn’t say it was such an unusual thing to do.”

“And your other friend, Anne Marie? That name is familiar. She works here, doesn’t she?”

“She does. She works at the spa.”

“And you said she was feeling ill? You said you arrived at nine, and by eleven she was feeling ill. That was right around the time Mr. McMurphy arrived at Rascal’s, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. She left just before he arrived at our table.”

Agent Riley nodded. “And where did you go when you decided to leave Rascal’s?”

“Annie, Anne Marie, and I took an Uber home. The driver dropped Anne Marie off first, and then me.”

“And what did you do once you arrived home?”

“I got ready for bed. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and changed.”

“And when was this?”

“Around eleven-thirty, I guess. Maybe a bit later. Right after I arrived home. Rascal’s isn’t that far from where I live,” I explained. Was Agent Riley really interested in my whereabouts on Friday night?

“And you were still awake when your friend Vanessa texted you after one in the morning?”

“I was. I was having trouble sleeping.”

Agent Riley remained quiet for a moment. She kept her eyes glued to me as if she was waiting for me to add something to my account of what happened Friday night. I had nothing else to add. Then, she spoke.

“Right. And if I told you that Mr. McMurphy was not alone in his suite that night?”

I shrugged. I didn’t make a practice of checking on who our guests invited to their rooms. Also, from what Tony told me, it wouldn’t surprise me if Crater had a guest in his room. “If Mr. McMurphy invited someone into his suite, I would have no way of knowing that. We don’t keep tabs of what our guests do in their rooms, and I was tucked away in my own bed, Agent Riley.”

“I collected and reviewed the surveillance video footage from the Chalet. Mr. McMurphy returned to the Chalet at approximately twelve-thirty on Saturday morning.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Annie and I had left the nightclub an hour before. We couldn’t possibly be suspects, could we? Also, Tate said he didn’t get back to his tent until around two that morning. Tate had been lost in the woods for hours. I thought that meant there was no way Tate could be a suspect.

Agent Riley continued, “Mr. McMurphy entered the Chalet alone.” Her eyes grew sharper. “I believe that I read in your brochures that housekeeping does a complimentary turn-down service?”

“That’s right. Our housekeeping staff begins to turn down the bedding in our guest suites around six-thirty each evening. Usually, guests are out exploring or having dinner at that time, and they return to an inviting bed and a fancy piece of chocolate from Silver Chocolatiers on their pillow.” I could write a brochure about our services. I know them by heart.

“I imagine the housekeepers straighten the room while they're performing the service?” the agent asked.

“Yes, as long as the guest doesn’t object—presuming the guest is in the suite at the time. The staff person turns down the bed, drops off extra towels, and removes dirty ones, she empties the wastebaskets, and tidies the sitting room.”

“Right. What about the balcony? Do the housekeepers check the balconies during the visit?”

“Um, yeah, they are supposed to. They clean as necessary and they shut and lock the balcony doors before they leave. It’s a safety precaution, really,” I replied, remembering the open patio door in Crater’s room.

“And how long does it take for the housekeeping staff to finish their evening checks?”

“The Chalet only has ten guest suites, so the housekeeping staff usually finishes up by eight-thirty in the evening. Sometimes earlier.”

“As I said, I checked the surveillance footage from the Chalet. Mr. McMurphy returned at twelve-thirty. Ten minutes later, a woman, or at least I think it was a woman, entered the Chalet. Unfortunately, she was covered up pretty well. She was wearing a long coat with a hood and boots. I couldn’t get a good look at her face.”

“She was probably just a guest of the Chalet. We don’t lock the doors to the lobby at night. We have a full staff, and our guests come and go as they please,” I replied, a bit defensively.

“You see, this is what caught my eye.” Agent Riley handed me a photo. Frankly, it was surprising that the agent showed me anything related to the case. “This is the balcony of Mr. McMurphy’s suite. Can you see that?” Agent Riley pointed to a dark mark on the floor by the balcony’s railing. “If a housekeeper had entered the suite between six-thirty and eight-thirty, and cleaned, then that stain must have appeared after your staff left.”

The agent pointed at something in the photo. It was a small dark mark on the patio floor close to the railing. “That is a bloody shoe print—a boot print actually—it’s kind of a small and feminine, don’t you think? Ms. Swift, I think it is safe to say that Crater McMurphy had a guest in his room that night. Wouldn’t you agree? I wonder, where is she now?”

I had no answer for her.

“Also of note, there were a few stains on the railing. Lab tests confirm that the stains were blood—Crater McMurphy’s blood.”

I remained silent, but my mind was working.

Agent Riley stood, “Oh, funny thing. You know that surveillance video? I never saw the woman exit the Chalet. What do you make of that?”

I shrugged. It turned out that I didn’t need to respond because Agent Riley supplied me with her answer.

“I think that the killer was drenched in Jonah McMurphy’s blood, and she couldn’t risk being seen. I think the killer went onto the balcony and lowered herself down to the courtyard below.” I considered the agent’s theory. Crater’s suite was on the second floor. Someone could have climbed off the balcony and lowered herself to the ground if she was strong and knew what she was doing. I am fairly confident I could do it if I tried.

The agent reached into her pocket and extracted a business card. “If you think of anything that might be relevant, I’d appreciate a call.” She handed her card to me.

“I have a question,” I took the card and reviewed the information on it before I spoke again, “Why are you interested in Crater McMurphy’s death? Don’t the local police normally handled cases like this?”

“Cases like this?” Agent Riley frowned. I decided the agent didn’t like me to characterize her cases as ordinary.

“A single murder. Are you here to investigate because Crater McMurphy was a celebrity or is there something about his death that has you interested as a Federal investigator? Why is the FBI interested in Crater McMurphy’s death?”

“I’m not at liberty to say anything other than to tell you that the FBI does, at times, investigate homicides under special circumstances.”

“Special circumstances?” My eyebrows rose. What kind of special circumstances? The agent didn’t offer to clarify what special circumstances led her to investigate Crater McMurphy’s death.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Swift.” Agent Riley stepped out of my office as quietly and abruptly as she arrived.

I looked at my computer, and began my search: When does the FBI get involved in murder investigations?

An hour or so after Agent Riley left, I found the answer to my question, and I tried to get back to work. I was getting nowhere with my account reconciliations; I was too focused on the murder. My phone rang, and I answered it.

“Mandy, this is Janine at the police station,” the friendly dispatcher said.

“Hi Janine, is everything okay?” I asked. Janine is a family friend, but I rarely received calls from her while she was working at her job. I mostly saw her at town meetings and holiday parties. Given the hour, Janine was probably still at work. I wondered if she was calling me on some ‘official’ level.

Janine spoke to me in a whisper, “You didn’t hear this from me, but Jonah McMurphy’s wife strolled into the police station about an hour ago.”

“Wow,” I let out a deep, low breath. “But that makes sense, doesn’t it? She’s the bereaved widow. I’m sure she has a few questions.”

“More than a few, I assure you. But you would think the woman would be in here crying and asking for tissues. Instead, she is ranting and saying how she is going to sue everyone—that’s why I’m calling you—I’m pretty sure she plans to show up at the Chalet at some point. We sidetracked her as long as possible so that she could speak to Agent Riley. They’ve been speaking in Jed’s office for about thirty minutes.”

“Oh no, why would Crater’s wife want to come to the Chalet?”

“I think she wants to see where her husband died,” Janine whispered. “I ask you, is that not the most morbid thing you have ever heard? I mean, maybe if the man had died of a heart attack, but a violent death like that?” I could hear Janine tutting on the other end of the line.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Agent Riley or Jed will allow Mrs. McMurphy inside the suite. It’s a crime scene and it hasn’t been cleaned yet. It’s a pretty disturbing sight.”

“No, that’s the remarkable part, Mandy. Agent Riley asked for our full cooperation. Uh, I need to go. Expect to see them probably tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Janine.” Well, now I was flustered. Not only was I trying to make sure my friends were safe, but I also had to deal with a tough as nails FBI agent, and possibly an angry bereaved widow. I decided I needed some help. I needed someone with insight and knowledge about what to do about my predicament, but first I needed to make a call to warn a friend.

My call was to Vanessa. I worried that she might be Agent Riley’s next target, and for good reason. She was, presumably, the last of our GNO group to see Crater alive Friday night.

“Hey, Mandy,” Vanessa answered my call with an upbeat voice.

“Hey, Vanessa. Got a minute?” I wasn’t feeling upbeat at all.

“Sure. I’m just doing a search for a chandelier one of my clients thought she saw in one of about a dozen stores and she just has to have it. I’m getting nowhere. I could use a break. What’s up?”

“Where were you between twelve-thirty and one-thirty Friday night?”

Vanessa laughed. “Are you serious? Why?” My friend sounded a bit surprised by my question. I’ve only known Vanessa for about a year, and most of our interactions have been during our monthly girl’s night out get-togethers.

“Yes. You must have heard about Crater McMurphy by now?”

“You mean that he was a philanderer?”

“No, that he was killed,” I was incredulous. How was it possible that Vanessa didn’t know about Crater McMurphy’s death?

“What?” Vanessa asked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“He was killed at the Chalet early Saturday morning. Don’t you read the newspaper or watch TV?”

“No, I haven’t since, I don’t know, Friday. I’ve been busy.”

“What have you been doing? His murder is all over the news, Vanessa.”

“Wait. Are you asking me because you think I had something to do with it?” Vanessa screeched.

“No. I’m sorry. I just need to know that you have an alibi,” I stammered. “An FBI agent stopped by my office today asking all kinds of questions. She knows we were at Rascal’s Friday night. She knows we spoke to Crater.”

“You don’t honestly think I could kill someone, do you?” Vanessa persisted. “Anyway, why would I? I didn’t even know that man.”

“No. Of course, not. You stayed away from him on Friday night, right?” I assumed that Vanessa would heed my warning and keep her distance from Crater McMurphy after Annie and I left the club.

“Not exactly. After you left, I went back to our table, and Crater was there waiting for me.”

“Ugh. What happened?”

“Nothing really. We had a couple of drinks and we danced. It was no big deal.”

“I’m not so sure of that, Vanessa. People probably saw you together.”

“So what? Of course, they saw us. How could they miss us? I was dancing with Crater McMurphy.”

“I know you didn’t do anything, Vanessa, but it would be a good thing if you had an alibi. The FBI agent I mentioned? She is intense.”

“Well, I do have an alibi—kind of.” She didn’t sound very sure about that.

“You do?”

“Yes. Not that it’s any of your business, but the owner of Rascal’s, Chuck? He saw me out Friday night, and I invited him back to my place, okay? We ended up spending the entire weekend together.”

“Good. Then you do have an alibi.”

Vanessa hesitated before she answered me. “Well, that depends. I’m not sure if Chuck will collaborate on my story or not. We made sure to leave Rascal’s separately. He’s kind of going through a nasty divorce. He stands to lose a lot. Chuck won’t want his wife to find out about us. She might realize that it wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

“Oh, Vanessa...” I stopped myself before I could admonish her. I am not the morality police.

“I know...”

“Maybe you should give Chuck a call, just in case.”

“I will. And this FBI agent?”

“Agent Riley. She’s a tough cookie. She had me wondering if I killed Crater.”

“Okay. Thanks for the heads-up. I guess.”

“Sure.”

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AT AROUND 6 P.M., I let down my hair, literally, and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved blue t-shirt. I headed to the local country western tavern. I don’t eat at Delilah’s often because I usually get takeout from Slopes. I eat alone in my office more often than I want to admit. I happened to know that a lot of the local first responders dined at Delilah’s after their shifts. I was on the lookout for Jed Link. I knew that he dined at Delilah’s frequently and I needed to speak to him. I walked through the giant double doors of the establishment and stepped into another world. There was a giant bar in the place, a dance floor that was currently vacant, and even a little stage for live music. At the time though, the sounds of a popular crossover country band were coming from the restaurant’s sound system. I noted the cool lighting and the western décor of horseshoes and southwestern art hanging from the walls. I noticed one of those mechanical bulls in the corner. It didn’t take me long to find Jed. He was seated, hatless, at a small booth in a dark corner at the back of the restaurant. His short hair was mussed, and the top three buttons of his shirt were open. Jed’s laptop computer was sitting on the table in front of him. There was a half-eaten steak and French fry dinner pushed to the side of the table as if he was already finished eating. No wonder Jed stayed so slim. He probably wasn’t eating enough.

“Hey Jed,” I said as I lifted his cowboy-style police hat from the otherwise vacant seat across from him and placed the hat on my head. I slipped into the booth across from him. Jed didn’t look amused when he looked up and saw his hat perched on my head. I was smiling devilishly at him. He closed his laptop. Jed stared at me like he was adjusting his tired eyes after a long spell of looking at the computer screen. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath before he spoke to me.

“Mandy, what brings you here?” He finally said as he rested his elbows on the tabletop. Then he placed his cheek against his fisted hand. He looked distant and a bit dreamy. Was he trying to look dreamy? The sight of him was unnerving. Annoyingly, I began mentally rhyming again. Jed/Dread.

“I met your friend, Agent Riley today,” I began.

“Friend?” He shot me a wary look. We used to engage in playful banter all of the time when we were kids, but Jed didn’t look up to it at the moment. He looked tired, worried, feral, and maybe even a bit ravenous.

“Friend, associate, or whatever. Why is she here, Jed?” I pushed the hat further back on my head and crossed my arms over my chest assuming a pose that I hoped looked casual.

“I already told you, Mandy, Susanne is helping with the investigation of Jonah McMurphy’s death.”

“Susanne, is it? That’s very friendly. I bet she’s just your type too. She seems to be all business, and she likes to take control of things,” I smiled, uncrossed my arms, and pulled a French fry from his plate and ate it.

Despite the dim light in the restaurant, I could see that Jed’s cheeks pinkened. “It’s just a working relationship, Mandy. What do you want? You know I can’t give you information about an open case.”

“Jed, I looked into the reasons that the FBI gets involved in homicide cases, and do you know what I found? They only do it for very specific kinds of cases.”

“Mandy...” Jed started to argue and then I guess he thought better of it. He closed his mouth and stared at me with those cold gray-blue eyes.

I tapped my fingernails on the tabletop. Realizing that Jed wasn’t about to share anything with me, I tried a different approach. “I have a few thoughts on the matter. One is that Crater McMurphy was working for the government; I mean, we all know he used to be with some kind of special military unit, maybe he still had some kind of government connection. But then again, organized crime and drug trafficking sound like reasonable explanations too. Crater McMurphy traveled a lot; he used private planes. He was charming but I don’t think he was a nice guy. I can see how a man like Crater could be involved in the dark world of crime. I’m guessing either of those things could have gotten him killed.”

“Mandy, I’ll ask you to keep your voice down, please.” Jed looked around nervously as if he expected to catch someone eavesdropping on our conversation.

“Jed. Come on. Are my other guests in danger? Do I need to be worried about their safety? Is an angry member of a drug cartel or a sex-trafficking ring going to show up on our doorsteps?”

Jed cringed. “Look. I don’t know why Crater McMurphy was killed. Honestly, yesterday I got a call from someone higher than my pay grade and I was told to release the investigation to the Bureau. That’s what I know. I am as in the dark as you are.”

“And you’re okay with that?” I asked in surprise.

Jed shrugged. I could tell that he was not okay with it. In fact, I was willing to bet that if I opened his laptop computer, I would see evidence that Jed was secretly looking into Crater’s death while he was having his dinner.

“You know what they say, Mandy, right now I’m like a mushroom. I’m kept in the dark and all they feed me is a bunch of sh...” Jed stopped himself. He was upset. I didn’t blame him. Unless I was missing something, the investigation into Crater McMurphy’s death should fall in Jed’s jurisdiction. For some reason, the feds were keeping him from doing his job.

“I can tell you that I’m not entirely comfortable with things, Jed. Five guys went into the woods that night, and only four of them are still alive. And the one who died was found on my turf. Do you have any idea why Crater ended up back at the Chalet? He wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

“No. I don’t know, Mandy.” He ran his hands through his short thick hair, causing it to stand on end like bed head. I imagined that was how his hair looked when he got up every morning. Hmm.

“Agent Riley has the surveillance footage from the Chalet. She said that Crater returned to the Chalet at half-past midnight.”

“Good. It sounds like Agent Riley has everything under control. Hopefully, the FBI will make quick work of the case if they have so much information.” I thought I detected a note of annoyance in Jed’s response, but before I could analyze it, Jed looked up at me and continued speaking. “Mandy, I know you like Tate, hell, I like Tate, he’s a pleasant enough guy, but what do you really know about him?”

“Why?” Surely Jed didn’t think Tate was a viable suspect?

“Before I got bumped off the case, I did a background check on him.” My eyebrows must have betrayed my shock and anger at Jed’s revelation because he lifted his hand and said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t single Tate out or anything. I was looking into several of the Chalet employees as well as Crater’s buddies—the ones who were traveling with him. By the way, that breaking and entering charge when you were in college? We may need to talk about that someday.” Jed grinned at me, clearly pleased with his discovery about my one and only brush with the law.

I winced. The breaking and entering charge was dropped, but it wasn’t one of my prouder life moments. The B&E was the result of a misguided joke between me and my dormmates during my junior year of college—it was no big deal, really. We broke into a rival football team’s barn and tried to steal their mascot—a prized mountain goat—without success. We were caught before we could hook the lead rope to the goat’s harness. I guess I should be glad they didn’t try to get us on ‘kidnapping’ charges too (get it? ‘kid’ napping?) I decided to ignore Jed’s attempt at side-tracking me with my record, and I continued to ask him my questions. “And? What did you find out about Tate? You seem to be dying to give me reasons not to trust him.”

“That’s just it, Mandy, I didn’t find anything on Tate. There hasn’t been so much as a speeding ticket for Tate Svenson in the last decade.” Jed’s face looked concerned.

“So? Tate is a conscientious guy with a small child to think about. Maybe he doesn’t speed.” I feigned ignorance, after all, ignorance is bliss, right? I was pretty sure I knew where Jed was headed with this conversation, and I didn’t think I liked it.

“Okay, maybe. Maybe Tate Svenson is the cleanest guy around, but here’s the thing, the rest of those guys—Tony, Mike, Abe—Crater’s travel companions? Their backgrounds came out so clean, you could eat off their records. I mean there was nothing, Mandy. I can maybe see one guy out of those four having a squeaky-clean record, but all four of them? They should probably have trespassing citations for all the illegal base-jumping they’ve done, and yet, there is nothing. In fact, the only one of them who had any kind of background was Crater McMurphy. He had a couple of complaints against him a few years ago. Destruction of property and harassment were the biggies. Add to that their secret military background—something doesn’t smell right.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” I asked with exasperation. I wished Jed would just get to the point.

“Someone scrubbed those men’s records,” Jed nodded as if he was already convinced of this.

“Why would they do that? Who would do that?” I wondered if scrubbing records was even a real thing. I know I’ve seen it in movies and TV shows. Jed was convinced that it happened, and he is a cop, he should know.

“Those are both good the questions, Mandy.”

“What did Tate say? Did you get to interview him before Agent Riley took over?”

“I did. I spoke to all of those guys, and their stories were all pretty much the same except...” Jed stopped speaking.

“Except what?” I leveled my eyes at Jed’s and waited for an explanation.

“Tate’s story about the following morning was ... Dammit, Mandy! You’re doing it again. You’re asking me questions that I shouldn’t be answering.” Jed slammed his hands on the table in obvious frustration.

I leaned in, “I’m asking because I’m worried, Jed. Someone killed Crater McMurphy in the place where I work—my home away from home—and I have the distinct impression that a few of the people I care about are Agent Riley’s prime suspects.”

“A few people?” Jed shifted in his seat, “Tate, and who else?”

“Like you, Jed, I cannot discuss it. But I have a feeling that Agent Riley tried to catch me out today. She was trying to intimidate me into saying someone may have been with Crater the night that he was killed.”

“Of course, someone was with him, Mandy,” Jed lowered his voice to a growling whisper, “the man had his throat slit.”

I lowered my eyes; I didn’t want to say anything that would implicate Anne Marie or Vanessa. Agent Riley specifically asked whether a massage therapist had access to Crater’s suite. Anne Marie was a massage therapist and she had a past with Crater McMurphy. She also mentioned a boot print—a small one. “Crater wasn’t alone, Jed. Agent Riley implied that he had a guest Friday night.”

“Wait, you’re suggesting that Agent Riley is looking for a female perp?” Jed’s eyes grew large with understanding.

I nodded. “When she was checking Crater’s room, she found some evidence that he had a female companion in his room. She found a blood stain in the shape of a boot print. She implied that it came from a woman’s boot.”

Jed shook his head in surprise. “How did I miss that? And the guy was naked too. Why hadn’t I considered that the suspect might be a woman?” Jed shook his head again as if he was chastising himself. I decided it would be best if I didn’t remind Jed that he had spent as much time in Crater’s suite with his head between his knees as he spent actually looking for clues. This wasn’t the time to embarrass him—especially considering he was speaking openly to me about what he knew. “And he was gagged too,” Jed added. “What do you make of that?”

“If you’re thinking it was some kind of kinky sex thing gone wrong, Jed, I’m going to have to disagree with you. Sexy time shouldn’t lead to having your throat slit.” I felt my face flush as the words exited my mouth, and I noticed that Jed was blushing too.

“No, you’re probably right,” he shook his head. “So, she gagged him at some point—probably to keep him quiet—and she slit his throat. But it doesn’t track, Mandy. That guy was huge and strong. No offense to the fairer gender, but I can’t think of any women who could subdue a guy like Crater long enough to kill him. Hell, I can’t think of many men who could.”

Ignoring Jed’s ‘fairer gender’ remark, I continued, “Unless Crater was already subdued. Maybe he was asleep?”

Jed shook his head dismissively. “I think he would’ve awakened and fought if someone pressed a sharp object to his throat.” I watched Jed gulp, and I wondered if the memory of the crime scene was making him feel ill again. Poor guy. I was beginning to feel sorry for him. What was going on with him? How long had he been this way? Something was definitely wrong with my former best friend, and I didn’t think I could ask him what it was. We weren’t close anymore.

“Yes, you are probably right,” I observed. “He would have awakened if someone was trying to kill him in his sleep. Maybe he was more than just tired. Maybe Crater was drugged? Or tied down?”

Jed considered my suggestion. “I don’t know. I’d need to see toxicology reports to know if he was drugged. I didn’t see any ligature marks on him, but then again... I’d sure like to get another look at the crime scene or see the autopsy report.”

“But would you?” I couldn’t help myself. The poor guy does not do well with gore, and I caught myself egging him on again. I bit the inside of my cheek so I would stop harassing him. It was a hard habit to shake.

Jed ignored my impudent question. “I’m sure that Agent Riley has photos from the crime scene. I wonder if I could get her to share what she knows. She didn’t seem very willing to collaborate on the investigation initially, but she was pretty friendly with me today. We’ve been sharing my office space, and she brought donuts to the station today.”

My eyebrows rose. I began to wonder if Jed lied to me when he said his relationship with Agent Riley was merely a working relationship. Maybe the agent was Jed’s type after all. “Well, for what it’s worth, I didn’t notice a wedding band on Agent Riley’s finger. Maybe you could ask her out on a date, build her trust, and then she might share what she knows about the case with you.”

Jed leveled those gray-blue eyes at me. Those things should be illegal. “Are you suggesting that I bamboozle the woman into going out with me so I can get intel from her?”

I laughed at Jed’s simplistic response. Who uses the word bamboozle? I couldn’t help myself, I had to respond in jest. “Sure, Jed. ‘Bamboozle’ her, wine and dine her, sex her up, whatever,” I shrugged, then I smiled. I knew Jed wouldn’t do it. His morality compass was too strong to use a woman in that way. He’d likely ask Agent Riley to marry him before he would trick her into giving him her case notes. Jed/Wed.

“You don’t think I will! You don’t think I have the nerve to ask her out.” His mouth curled up on the right side in a playful half-smile. There he was! That was the Jed I remembered. The game was afoot.

I shrugged again and teased Jed some more. “Or maybe you aren’t Agent Riley’s type. Yeah, she will probably turn you down flat. Maybe I should get Officer Bates to ask her out instead. He’s still single, isn’t he?”

Jed grumbled something unintelligible before he said, “Not her type, huh? Do you want to make this interesting?” Jed grinned widely, challenging me. Then he leaned forward into my personal space.

“What do you have in mind?” I also sat forward in my seat so that our noses nearly touched, and I stretched my legs under the table too. I felt my knee collide with Jed’s, and neither of us moved.

“I’ll ask Agent Riley—Susanne—to go out with me. If she says ‘yes,’ you have to go out to dinner with me next week. Friday night works for me.” I swear Jed’s illegal eyes sparkled like the eyes of an animated character on TV. I could almost hear the ‘Ping!’ sound effect.

“You aren’t worried that Susanne will get jealous if you ask out both of us?”

“Not especially. As I said, I’m not interested in Susanne. I just want to get her to share her case notes with me.” Jed wasn’t interested in Agent Riley, and he wanted to go out to dinner with me? Color me surprised.

“Fine. Ask her out. What happens when I win?” I grinned at him, urging Jed on. He’s a good-looking guy. Agent Riley could definitely do worse than Jed Link, but there was still a chance that the FBI agent would turn him down.

Jed chuckled. “You mean if Agent Riley says no? That’s not likely to happen. I’m a charming guy when people let me be one.” He winked at me. Well now Jed was just blatantly flirting with me, and I was completely taken aback. He was kind of cute when he flirted. I bit my lower lip and tried to remain cool. What other words rhyme with Jed? Hmm.

“Fine, if Agent Riley turns you down, and she probably will turn you down, what do I win?” I winked back. Two could play this game.

“Same odds?” Jed offered. He licked his lower lip, and I felt heat rise to my face. What was happening to me? Clearly, I must be catching a virus. I should see a doctor. Additionally, it sounded very much like Jed wanted to take me out to dinner, maybe wine me and dine me and sex me up. And even more interesting, I was wondering how I could make Agent Riley say ‘yes’ to Jed so that I could lose our bet.

“Mandy?” I noticed that Jed was sitting back in his seat and he was waiting for my answer. How long had I been lost in my thoughts?

“No.” I sat back and shook my head. The cowboy hat bobbled a bit so I had to reach up and push it back again. “If I win our bet, you have to go to the movies with me.”

“Win-win,” Jed took a sip of his water and his gray-blue eyes sparkled again as he stared over his glass toward me. He leaned further back in his seat looking completely self-satisfied. That would not do.

“You didn’t let me finish, Jed. If I win, you’ll be attending a horror movie double feature with me. The South Street theater is showing ‘The Cabin in the Woods,’ and ‘Vacancy’ as a double. It will be a midnight showing and promises to be extra creepy. You might need to take a valium before the show starts. Let me know when you lose.”

Jed gulped at the prospect of losing our bet, but then he leaned forward, grinned, and said, “Fine.”

We shook on our agreement. Jed’s eyes were still sparkling, and my face was still warm. I should probably get a checkup and see what is wrong with me.

“By the way, I heard that Agent Riley plans to bring Crater McMurphy’s wife to the Chalet tomorrow to let her look at Crater’s suite. What’s that about?”

Jed grimaced just a bit, “I don’t know, Mandy. I was told the same thing, but I don’t know what Agent Riley is up to.”

“Then I suggest you should ask Agent Riley out soon—you know—just for information-gathering purposes.” I winked again. Then I rubbed my eye, pretending that there was something stuck there.

Jed shook his head at me in disbelief but he was smiling. I stood from my seat, and took the cowboy hat from my head, and placed it on Jed’s head, taking extra time to straighten it for him. I stepped back to admire my work.

“Oh, and I think we should agree to share our case information from now on,” I turned to go.

Jed grabbed my arm and spun me back towards him, his eyebrows lifted, “You’re investigating?”

I shrugged and stole another French fry from Jed’s plate before I headed out of the tavern. I felt Jed’s eyes on me as I walked away.