eight

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” cried Mom. “It’s Bob’s creature. It’s gone on a killing spree!”

Etienne regarded Mom as if she had spinach growing out her ears. “What creature?”

“Bigfoot! Sasquatch! Bob got a picture of him.” She stabbed her finger at the window. “On that mountain. From our gondola.” She flicked through several screens before holding up Dad’s phone in front of Etienne’s face. “See this picture? See this shadow in the corner? It’s been verified by numerous international news sources. It’s Bigfoot. And it’s out there lurking in those woods someplace.”

Ping.

Etienne eased the phone from Mom’s hand and expanded the picture, growing very quiet as he studied the image. “I can’t say with any assurance what it is…other than it’s fuzzy.”

“Are we looking at the same picture?” Mom hovered over Etienne’s arm. “That camera has, like, a million pixels. How can you say the image is fuzzy? It’s clear as a bell.”

“The crea—the shadow—is fuzzy, Margaret.”

“But don’t you think the fuzziness makes it look kinda cuddly?” asked Dad.

Etienne handed the phone back to Mom. “The anomaly in Bob’s photo is a curiosity. It is not—I repeat, not—an explanation for what has happened to Delpha.”

“It is as far as I’m concerned,” argued Mom.

“Margaret.” Etienne’s tone was tempered, patient. “Until we receive feedback from the local authorities, we’d be wise not to speculate about what caused Delpha’s mishap. She might have stumbled down a ravine or suffered a medical emergency, or walked into a tree while texting on her phone.”

I clapped my hands over my mouth to muffle my gasp. Omigod. Hadn’t I just warned them that something like this could happen? Had Delpha, despite all her athletic training and expertise, been engaged in distracted walking when she died? Had she been texting while hiking?

But if that were the case, then…

My breathing slowed as I grasped the implications.

Then I could be complicit in her death because the person she’d been texting was probably…me.

“Or,” Mom reiterated, “she might have been attacked by Bigfoot. So when are we going to know what happened to her for sure? Because as long as that thing is out there, none of us are safe.”

I clutched Mom’s forearm. “You can’t repeat your theory to anyone. Please, Mom. You’ll cause a panic if you start spreading wild rumors. Etienne is right. You have to let the police do their work before you start presenting your own version of the facts.”

She arched her brows—a sure sign that she was digging in her heels. I sidled a desperate glance around the room, searching for a way to divert her attention, but no magazines needed arranging. No black socks needed color coding. Nuts.

“I won’t presume to tell you how to run your business, Emily, but don’t you think your guests have a right to know about the hazards they’re facing?”

“But Mom, think about our guests with high blood pressure, with heart trouble, with anxiety problems. How do you think they’ll react if they hear they’re being stalked by a flesh-eating creature who might be lurking a stone’s throw away from the resort?”

“How do those news folks know it’s flesh-eating?” asked Dad. “What if it’s a gluten-averse lacto-vegetarian? I’ve heard that’s a very popular dietary choice these days.”

The expression on Mom’s little moon face remained so implacable that I realized I was going to have to ratchet my argument up a notch, which meant zeroing in on the one thing that meant more to her than alphabetizing periodicals or color coding socks.

“What about Nana, Mom? You know she’s getting up there in age. Do you think she’s strong enough to cope with the stress of being stalked by a monster who may or may not be flesh-eating?”

In less than a heartbeat, Mom’s features collapsed like a tower of Jenga blocks. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Emily. Your grandmother—news like this could kill her. She’s so old and frail, a threat as terrifying as this could literally jolt her heart into an arrhythmia and cause it to stop beating.” She seized my forearm in a death grip. “You can’t tell her. You can’t breathe a word that it’s obvious Delpha was killed by the fuzzball that Bob accidentally photographed. We can’t tell her anything about your father’s photo. It would be far too frightening for her to process. Your grandmother’s very survival is at stake. Promise me, Emily.”

“I promise,” I said, wincing as I peeled her fingers off my arm.

“Good. Come on, Bob. We’re leaving. I have to rethink our itinerary.”

“What’s wrong with the one we have now?” he asked as he hurried to the door behind her.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Ping! Ping! Ping! went Dad’s phone.

“And would you please turn off that phone of yours? Maybe if you ignore their messages, those news services will get the hint and leave you alone.”

Slam!

Etienne gave me a questioning look. “Did you mean to do that? Your mother will never let your grandmother out of her sight now.”

“I know.” I cringed. “I think I just threw Nana under the bus. But I couldn’t let Mom connect a string of mythical dots between Dad’s photograph and Delpha and let her pass it off as fact. Can you imagine? Our guests would probably be so freaked out, they’d all want to go home. That’s called tour suicide.”

My phone chimed. I checked the name on the readout. “It’s Nana.” I scanned the message. “Great. Apparently, Bernice just sent a text blast to the gang with a link to the news articles about Dad’s creature.”

Etienne waited a beat. “And?”

“And, I quote, ‘Dang. How come your father was the only one what seen Bigfoot? Can we go back up that mountain tomorrow? If we don’t run into no fog, maybe I can get a selfie with him.’ ”

Etienne grinned. “Your mother was right to be concerned. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard your grandmother sound quite so terrified.”

I gave him the look. “This isn’t funny, Etienne. And you know the real kicker? I might be the one who caused Delpha’s death. Not freaking Bigfoot. Me.”

He grazed his fingers over my cheek, his eyes soft, his voice an undertone. “What are you saying?”

“You suggested it yourself. What if texting is to blame for Delpha’s death? The person she was texting was probably me. Remember? I sent her a message asking what she’d like to order for dinner. What if she took her eyes off the trail for a split second while she was texting back and…and…” I gulped down a mouthful of air. “There’s no way to whitewash it. I as good as killed her.”

I blinked away tears as Etienne folded me into his arms, cradling my head against his chest. “Do you suppose you could postpone accepting all the blame for this until we have more information? If she’d been crossing a busy city street, her texting might have precipitated her death, but hiking down a mountain trail is entirely different.”

“But you told Mom—”

“I know what I told your mother, Emily. What else could I have said to challenge the conclusion she’d jumped to? My only recourse was to pepper her with a litany of viable scenarios, none of which changed her mind, by the way.” He snuggled me closer and rested his chin on the top of my head. “That didn’t happen until you threw your grandmother under the bus.”

“Please don’t remind me. If Mom does something weird and ruins Nana’s holiday, it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.” I wriggled out of his embrace, yearning for some sign of reassurance. “So…you don’t think I played a part in Delpha’s death?”

“I don’t. And I say that not as your husband, but as a former police inspector. So will you try to erase the notion from your mind? Please?”

I nodded. “I’ll try. But—”

He held up his finger to put me on pause. “To that end, I’m going down to speak to the manager about the situation. Delpha is our guest as well as the hotel’s, so I’m going to encourage him to include us in all phases of the investigation. We need to keep her family apprised, so it’s rather essential that we’re not left out of the loop.” He flashed a tentative smile. “Would you mind if I leave you for a while?”

I shook my head. “I need to let everyone know what’s happened to Delpha. It’s not something I’m looking forward to, but it’s better they learn it from me than from someone else’s post on social media.”

“Would you prefer we tell them together?”

“I can handle it.” I heaved a discouraged sigh. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

I sent a text blast to everyone in the group except Mom, Dad, and Alison, asking them to come to my room as soon as possible so I could make an important announcement. I figured I’d tell Alison later in private to spare her the upheaval of what could be an extremely emotional group meeting.

They began to arrive almost immediately in groups of two, like the animals on Noah’s ark, only with better language skills. And despite the lateness of the hour, they didn’t seem tired. I guess relentless daylight tended to energize everyone. They made themselves at home in our room, sitting on the bed, the chairs, the window sill, and the desk, but the buzz in the room wasn’t about my unexpected announcement.

It was about Dad’s photo.

“I don’t see the resemblance to Bigfoot,” complained Margi as she stared at her display screen. “It looks like a fir tree to me.”

“Then how do you explain the arms?” prodded Helen Teig.

“What arms?” asked Osmond.

“You see those appendages attached to the thing’s body?” snapped Helen. “They’re called arms.”

Osmond squinted at the image on his phone. “They look like evergreen boughs to me.”

Nana’s eyes rounded to the size of bull’s eyes. “You s’pose it could be one of them hybrids?”

“You mean, something that harkens back to ancient mythology?” floated Tilly. “Like the half-human, half-horse centaur? Or the half-human, half-bird harpy? Or the half-human, half-fish merman?”

“You got anything that’s half man, half tree?” asked George.

“What are you people discussing?” interrupted Ennis. “What Bigfoot photo?”

In one sweeping motion they whisked their phones into the air and starting talking over each other like analysts on the ten-member panels on CNN, prompting me to let fly one of my signature whistles to quiet them.

Cringing. Hands clapping over ears. Cries of “Ow!” as phones inadvertently collided with ear cartilage.

I answered Ennis’s question myself. “My dad was shooting pictures of the scenery on our way up to the restaurant, and, according to some online news bureaus, he managed to capture a photo of what appears to be…uh…Bigfoot.”

“Or a random fir tree,” muttered Margi.

“Are you serious?” barked Ennis. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I only found out myself less than a half hour ago.”

“You’re not in our Golden Oldies group.” Bernice directed a pouty face at Ennis. “So you don’t get any of my up-to-the-minute breaking news items.”

“Well, could I be included in the future? Who’s got this photo cued up so I can see it?” he demanded, his hand outstretched in anticipation.

George slapped his phone into Ennis’s palm. “Bigfoot’s down here in the corner, partially disguised as a tree.”

“He is not disguised as a tree,” protested Helen. “If you enlarge the picture, you can clearly see his enormous head and long, hairy arms.”

“Dude,” snorted Dick Stolee as he elbowed Dick Teig, “his head looks even bigger than yours.”

“That’s not possible,” deadpanned Helen.

“How did a bunch of online news bureaus get hold of Bob’s photo in the first place?” questioned Ennis as he studied the image.

“It’s on account of the website what we found,” said Nana. “He uploaded all them photos what he took, and some eagle-eyed fella musta spotted the creature in the trees.”

“Creature, my foot,” hooted Bernice. “It’s fake news made to look like real news to create fake buzz on the Twittersphere.”

“It is not,” countered Helen. “You’re just jealous that your photo isn’t the one that’s in the limelight.”

Bernice skewered her with demon eyes. “My photos will get recognized, and they’ll make a bigger splash than Bob’s ape. And it won’t be any of this cheesy amateur fake garbage.”

“You don’t know that Bob’s photo is fake,” challenged Alice. “Those news bureaus are reputable organizations. They’re the ones who posted the photo of that candle in their famous montage of ordinary objects that resemble human faces.”

“What candle?” asked Grace.

“The one whose wax melted into the spitting image of Mr. Potato Head.”

Dick Teig snuffled with laughter. “Try not to take this too hard, Alice, but Mr. Potato Head isn’t human.”

“That’s right. What was I thinking?” She waved her hand as if to sweep away her mistake. “It was Mr. Peanut.”

“My favorite was the cornflake,” chimed Nana.

“Whose face could you possibly see on a cornflake?” asked Tilly.

“It was s’posed to be Elvis, but it looked a lot more like Robert Mitchum to me.”

“Does anyone have a magnifying glass?” Ennis called out. “I can’t make out enough definition to draw a conclusion about Bob’s photo, but I’m seeing nothing that would prevent me from speculating that this could actually be Bigfoot. And if it is, Bob’s accidental photo might open the portal to one of the most monumental discoveries of the twenty-first century.” He glanced around the room. “Where is Bob? Is he actually late?”

“Mom and Dad aren’t joining us. I’ve already shared my announcement with them. So…if we’re all here, I’d—”

“Delpha’s not here,” Goldie spoke up. “Aren’t you going to wait for her?”

I exhaled a slow, controlled breath. “Delpha’s the reason you’re all here, and I fear there’s no way I can soften the blow. She was apparently involved in a serious mishap on her hike down the mountain. I don’t have any details yet. Etienne is finding out what he can from the hotel management, but—”

“Is she in the hospital?” asked Goldie.

“No.” I shook my head. “No hospital. She…she didn’t survive the incident.”

Shocked silence.

“Are you telling us she’s dead?” Ennis intoned.

I nodded. “I’m afraid so. I’m so sorry. I don’t understand how it happened, but someone discovered a body on the mountain, and it appears to be Delpha’s.”

“Well, that’s a no-brainer,” wisecracked Bernice. “Bob’s ape killed her.”

Yup. Exactly what I feared would happen. Had I called that or what?

Helen glared at Bernice, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “Excuse me, but wasn’t it you who just made a huge point of telling us that Bob’s ape was fake news?”

“That was before the dead body showed up. It was the ape. Case closed.”

“You can’t just flip-flop like that,” argued Helen.

“Why not? Haven’t you noticed? It’s the hottest trend in Washington.”

“We’re not in Washington,” spat Helen.

Bernice offered an unapologetic smirk. “That’s the thing about trends. They spread.”

“As much as the academic in me would like to believe that Bigfoot is alive and well and roaming the mountain slope outside our window,” Ennis interjected, “I’m quite certain that even if the creature is out there, it’s a virtual impossibility that it would have caused Delpha’s death.”

“How do you know that?” asked Dick Stolee.

“Because given all the sightings of Bigfoot and creatures of its ilk, there has never once been a death reported in association with its appearance. The concerted opinion of scientists and others who’ve studied the literature is that despite the creature’s genetic markers that indicate a relationship to the polar bear family, this particular specimen isn’t carnivorous. It’s a herbivore.”

“So?” Bernice heckled. “Just because Delpha didn’t qualify to be an entree on the ape’s dinner menu doesn’t mean he didn’t kill her.”

Collective ewws. Tsking. Sniffling.

“That is the vilest statement I have ever heard coming out of the mouth of any human being,” sobbed Goldie.

Tilly pulled a face. “Actually, in comparison to some of the more despicable remarks she’s made over the years, that one was relatively tame.”

Alice nodded. “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, I’d give it a four.”

“Six for me,” said George.

“I’d rate it a solid five,” said Dick Teig.

“Show of hands as to whether Bernice has lost her edge,” Osmond called out. “Those voting yea, please raise your—”

“No voting!” I warned, stabbing my finger at him. I caught Goldie’s eye. “I apologize for Bernice’s insensitivity. She was raised by wolves.”

Bernice doubled down on her smirk. “Numbskulls.”

“This is all my fault,” whimpered Florence, stiffening visibly as Thor snaked a comforting arm around her shoulders. “If I hadn’t told her off for coming to my defense, she might not have ventured out on her own. She might still be alive.”

“Why are you taking the blame?” chided Thor with his usual bombast. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t tell her to go running down that mountain on her own. The woman had a big mouth. You heard what she said to me. She mouthed off and she paid the consequences. I mean, I’m sorry she’s dead, but it was her own fault.”

Goldie let out a gasp. “Excuse me, Thor, but did you just have the unmitigated gall to make Delpha’s death all about yourself?”

He raised his hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just saying, when people cross me, bad things happen.”

“To them or to you?” asked Alice.

“To them!”

“That is so not true,” confided Florence, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know why you say things like that, Thor. People just end up laughing at you. When did anything ever happen to someone who crossed you? Specifically. I want names and dates.”

“The hell you do. You don’t need to know squat. All you need to know is, it happens. Believe me, just like clockwork, it happens.”

Nana gave him a squinty look. “Sounds like one of them ancestral curses to me. You got any Scottish blood in you?”

“I’m one hundred percent Norwegian, pure and untainted, as far back as my ancestry extends.”

“No kiddin’? Well, you might wanna look into that on account of I’m thinkin’ that somewhere along the way, one of them relatives of yours mighta hopped a boat and gone rogue in Scotland.”

And that just about clinched it. I waved my hands in the air to get the group’s attention. “Can all of you please put your differences aside for the moment and try to refocus on the situation with Delpha? That is why you’re here.”

Downcast eyes. Silence. The appearance of contrition.

“So what happens next?” asked Ennis, his voice husky with emotion. “What…what do we do? Stay here? Go home? What?”

“This is so recent, we can’t make any immediate decisions, so what I’m asking all of you to do is to just sit tight until we have more information, and then we can decide what our next move should be. Probably tomorrow morning sometime.”

“Have you notified her family yet?” sniffled Goldie, her eye shadow leaving a trail of blue glitter across her face as she swiped tears from her eyes.

“I imagine we’re going to have to coordinate that with the local authorities, so that’s on hold for the moment.”

“Her sister will be devastated,” she choked out, her voice trembling. “Although she’s traveling in Mongolia at the moment, so I don’t know if you’ll be able to reach her. Remember how she didn’t want anything to do with the newspaper until Delpha sold it? And then she showed up with her hand open, wanting her share of the profits? The court case went on forever.”

Orphie perked up. “I got to hear all the gory details because, as you know, Al’s council meetings take place in the same building, so he used to pop into the courtroom and carry the latest scuttlebutt back home with him.”

“The whole affair turned incredibly nasty,” Goldie continued, “but I thought it was quite admirable that the sisters were able to mend their fences afterward. They really have quite a civil relationship now. At least, it appears to be civil.” Her gaze drifted to Thor. “I mean, you can never really tell about relationships, can you? A perfectly nice outer layer might be hiding an inner core that’s more rotten than month-old garbage.”

Thor narrowed his eyes. “Why did you look at me when you said that?”

Goldie grinned coyly. “Because you’re so handsome, Thor. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Alison’s not here,” Grover Kristiansen spoke up. “Have you told her yet? She deserves to know. She might have been with us for only a few hours, but I believe she’s already established a warm rapport with the entire group, so I bet she’ll be as devastated about Delpha’s death as the rest of us are. I’ll volunteer to tell her if you like. Save you the trouble.”

I couldn’t begin to imagine how thrilled Alison would be to become hostage to yet another of Grover’s mind-numbing monologues. “Thanks anyway, Grover, but I’m taking care of that.”

The sparkle fled his eyes at my refusal. “Okay, but let me know if you change your mind.”

Why was I getting the feeling that Grover might become a nuisance for our pretty local guide?

“So I guess that’s all I can tell you for now,” I confessed as the ladies dried their eyes and blew their noses. “Hopefully we’ll have more answers by tomorrow morning. So thank you all for coming on the spur of the moment like this. I just wish I’d had different news for you.”

“But what about Bigfoot?” insisted Helen Teig, slanting a look toward the window. “What if he’s really out there? What if he did have something to do with Delpha’s death?”

I inhaled a calming breath. “Meaning no disrespect to either my father’s photographic ability or Ennis’s academic beliefs, I’m going to file Bigfoot’s potential existence under ‘mythology’ and not give it another thought. And I recommend all of you do the same.”

Wary looks. Skeptical expressions.

“Please trust me on this. You have nothing to fear from Bigfoot.”

“Tell that to Delpha,” mocked Bernice.

“About that!” I added as they began boosting themselves to their feet. “Please don’t breathe a word about Delpha’s death until the authorities make an official statement to the public. The last thing the police need to deal with is a social media circus pushing the theory that Dad’s creature is responsible for Delpha’s death.”

“Too late,” crowed Bernice, brandishing her phone over her head. “Already done.”

I shot her a frustrated look. “You didn’t.”

She gave me a palms-up. “Hey, if you wanted to keep everything a secret, you should have said something sooner. Not my fault that your communications ability needs improvement.”

Hisses. Boos. Razzberries.

“Yeah, yeah,” taunted Bernice, dismissing the disapproval with a casual flip of her wrist. “Face it. You got scooped. You’re all seeing green that I’m the one who flooded the internet with breaking news before the rest of you had the sense to think about it.” She flashed a Cheshire cat grin as she waltzed out the door. “Better luck next time.”

The group moved toward the door in slow motion, as if uncertain of their footing, Delpha’s death definitely taking its toll. I intercepted Goldie as she rounded the bed.

“I apologize for not notifying you about Delpha first, Goldie, but as impersonal as a group meeting is, it seemed the best way to share the information.” I squeezed her arm. “I know what a blow this must be for you. I’m so sorry.”

She nodded as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Thank you, Emily. And I appreciate your wanting to notify me first…but”—she regarded me with curiosity—“why would you want to notify me first?”

“Well, because of your friendship. Delpha told me that the two of you had been best friends since kindergarten.”

“She did?”

“You bet. She said she was closer to you than she was to her own sister.”

Her curiosity turned to confusion. “Why would she say something like that? We enjoyed each other’s company in book club, and yes, we went through grade school together, but we’re not close. We never hung out together. Never had sleepovers. Never called each other on the phone. We were planning to enjoy a spa date together tomorrow, but that didn’t mean we were best friends. To be honest, our friendship was superficial at best. It’s so odd that she made a comment like that. I really don’t know what to make of it.”

Neither did I, but if Delpha had lied to me, it shone a whole new light on the venomous look she’d directed at Goldie, Grover, and Ennis.