The moment I stepped into the hushed sanctuary of the resort’s library, a sense of covert excitement replaced the usual tranquility that came with rows upon rows of leather-bound wisdom. I spotted Lucas tucked away in a shadowed nook between two towering bookcases, his eyes lighting up as they met mine. Once again, we had our very own secluded corner of intrigue, and the air between us buzzed with anticipation.
“Find anything good to read?” I joked, my voice just above a whisper, as I sauntered over to him.
“Only if you’re interested in the case notes,” Lucas replied, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
“Ah, my favorite genre,” I chuckled, easing into the plush armchair opposite him.
Lucas wasted no time, delving into his worn leather satchel with purpose. He produced a small notebook—dog-eared and brimming with scribbles—and a pen that looked like it had seen better days. Much like mine, his notebook was his constant companion, almost as much a part of him as his disarming smile and the perpetual five o’clock shadow that gave him that rugged edge.
“Prepare to be amazed by my latest findings,” he said, the pen poised above the paper, ready to revisit the web of clues he’d been untangling.
“Amazed is my middle name,” I said, leaning back with feigned nonchalance. In truth, I was itching to hear what morsels of information Lucas had unearthed. Though, knowing him, he had likely dug up a feast.
“I thought it was Marie,” he said, and I was tickled that he remembered.
I leaned forward, elbows on knees and my curiosity piqued as I watched Lucas flip through his notebook. My tea shop instincts kicked in—I was used to deciphering blends of herbs for their hidden notes, and now it was time to unravel a far more dangerous concoction of clues.
“Okay, spill the leaves—what’s the brew?” I asked, my voice lowering to match the hush of the library around us.
Lucas’s gaze flickered up from the pages, his eyes narrowing with a detective’s discernment. “First, the forensics came back on Stefan’s blood and matched earlier tests—your tea definitely did not kill him.”
Relief flooded me.
“And?”
“Dominik Bauer,” he began, “an envious local guide, and he has been lurking around our suspect list like a shadow. But something doesn’t seem right.”
“Go on,” I urged, my interest steeping thicker with each word. “Though envy hasn’t panned out yet. Niklaus could have been motivated by envy, but that was a bust. He did mention that Stefan and Bauer were close. So did that mean friendly?”
He tapped the pen against his chin thoughtfully. “No. From what I found, the man has held grudges longer than I’ve been chasing criminals, but waiting until now to strike? It’s puzzling.”
“Maybe Bauer likes his revenge aged, like a fine wine?” I offered, half-jesting but secretly pleased with my metaphorical wit.
“Perhaps.” Lucas smirked briefly before his expression turned serious again. “But I’m not buying it. A murder isn’t a vintage to be savored.” He paused, peering at me as if trying to gauge my reaction. “Bauer’s motive as envy seems almost too…convenient. And timing is everything—why now? There’s a deeper detail here we’re missing.”
“Could be,” I conceded, rubbing my temples.
A spark of recollection ignited behind my eyes, casting a sudden glow over the shadowy enigma we’d been wrestling with. “Lucas,” I said, a surge of adrenaline lending vibrance to my voice, “it just hit me—the endorsements!”
“Endorsements?” Lucas echoed, his pen poised midair as if he could capture the epiphany on paper.
“Renata,” I elaborated, feeling the pieces flutter into place like leaves in a brisk autumn breeze. Then I realized that I had confronted her without Lucas—and without telling him.
Oops.
He looked at me, eyes narrowed. I rushed on.
“You noted in her profile that she and Stefan were about to come into sponsorship money. Big bucks in branding, Lucas. Big enough to kill for?”
Good save.
“Are you suggesting…” He leaned closer, his own anticipation mirroring mine.
“Exactly!” I practically bounced in my seat, forgetting the hallowed quiet of our library corner. “Stefan’s image was worth a fortune, and dead men don’t do photoshoots. If someone wanted to keep their investment climbing, keeping him alive would be paramount.”
“Unless,” Lucas interjected, that detective’s glint sharpening in his gaze, “someone else stood to gain more from his permanent retirement. A rival, perhaps? Someone cut from the endorsement deals who knew they could ascend once Stefan…descended.”
“Metaphorically and literally,” I added with a wry twist of my lips. “Now, who does that sound like?”
“Someone with motive and mountain expertise,” he mused, nodding slowly as if testing the truth of it. “Who could snap up those sponsorships. Dominik Bauer.”
The name hung between us, heavy with implication. I nodded, feeling the weight of certainty settle in my chest.
“Of course,” he said, the word escaping like steam from a pressure valve. “It’s Bauer. Dominik Bauer has both the motive—those endorsements that could’ve been his—and the opportunity. All the guides know the Blanc, the places one could sneak around to, say, poison someone’s food or drink? And here’s the interesting thing—Bauer’s boots appear to match the prints on Stefan’s balcony, but I wanted more evidence before confronting him. Footprints on the balcony by themselves could be easily explained away.”
I nodded, feeling the room’s temperature drop a few degrees with the certainty of his words.
“Lucas, what’s our next move?” I asked, my fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the mahogany table that had become our unofficial command center.
He snapped the notebook shut with a sense of finality that seemed to echo off the rows of leather-bound books surrounding us. “We can’t waste any time,” Lucas said, his voice a low growl of urgency. “If we’re right about him, he won’t stick around once he senses the net closing in. We need to confront him, Penny, and we need to do it now.”
“Confront him? Just like that?” The words tumbled from my lips before I could lace them with my usual sarcasm.
“Exactly like that,” he affirmed. “We have enough to bring him to justice, but if he gets wind that we’re onto him, who knows where he’ll vanish off to—into the mountains, across borders… We don’t have the luxury of time on our side. Or waiting for backup.”
“But where is he?” I asked.
Lucas tapped the case file. “West wing—where the regular people stay.”
Rising from our seats, Lucas and I moved as if we’d rehearsed it a hundred times over. His tall frame straightened first, a fluid motion that pulled me up alongside him, my own posture mirroring his. We gathered our belongings—his worn leather notebook that had seen more secrets than a confessional, and my floral tote bag, its contents less incriminating but no less essential.
“Got everything?” Lucas asked, his eyes scanning the table for any overlooked clues that might have been buried under the avalanche of library ephemera.
“Everything but a clear conscience if we don’t hurry,” I replied, slipping my bag over my shoulder. With a quick glance around the secluded corner we’d claimed as our own, I confirmed we were leaving no trace of our conspiracy behind.
The air outside the library was charged, the opulent hallways of the resort now corridors of purpose. Our footsteps tapped a brisk rhythm on the marble floors, echoing lightly off gilded walls adorned with paintings of Swiss landscapes. Guests lounged in plush armchairs, oblivious to the urgency that propelled us forward. The faint scent of mulled wine drifted from a nearby open lounge, mingling with the crisp mountain air that snuck in whenever the main doors opened.
“Remember, act natural,” I whispered, though my heart raced faster than a rabbit in a fox den.
“Natural is my middle name,” Lucas quipped without missing a step, though I could tell by the set of his jaw he was anything but relaxed.
“It’s not Marie?” I joked back—but my voice wavered.
We passed by the concierge desk, where Hanna gave us a nod that seemed to say, “Enjoy your evening stroll,” unaware that our destination was far more sinister than a moonlit path. Each step took us closer to a confrontation that promised to be as pleasant as sipping lemon verbena tea… laced with nettles. As the distance closed between us and the truth, my mind whirred with what-ifs and maybes.
We rounded the final corner, the plush carpet muffling our hurried steps. The gold number on Bauer’s door gleamed under the warm glow of the sconce above, as if it were spotlighting our destiny. Lucas caught my eye, his gaze steady with resolve. I gave a subtle nod, feeling the weight of the moment press down on us like a heavy tea cozy designed for a pot far too grand.
“Okay,” Lucas whispered, leaning close enough for me to catch the faint scent of peppermint on his breath—a natural stress reliever, how fitting. “You’re sure you want to do this? You’re technically cleared, so you can leave the country. Confronting a murderer isn’t exactly in the tea shop job description.”
I snorted softly. “Neither is playing detective beside an Interpol agent, but here we are.” I checked the hallway—still clear. “We stick to the plan. I’ll lead with questions about Stefan’s endorsements. You watch his reactions, look for the slip-up.”
“Right.” He nodded. “And if things go south?”
He’s the detective and he’s asking me for advice? But maybe he’s curious to hear my thoughts. “Then we improvise.”
“Alright,” Lucas said, his voice firmer now. “Remember, no heroics. We need him to confess, but safety comes first. If I give the signal—if I say distraction—it means something smells off, and we back off, keep him cornered, and wait for backup.”
“Understood.” I straightened my spine, brushed a non-existent wrinkle from my sleeve, and prepared to knock.
We exchanged one last determined glance, our silent agreement hanging in the air like the delicate aroma of a perfectly brewed Darjeeling. Then, with a knock that seemed to echo louder than intended, I rapped thrice on the wood, signaling the end of speculation and the beginning of revelation.
The door creaked open, a sliver of light casting an ominous glow on the plush burgundy carpet. I held my breath, half-expecting Dominik Bauer to leap out with a mountaineer’s axe or some other cliché weapon from a Swiss-themed game of Clue.