Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) (5 page)

Chapter 15

Over The Hills & Through The Woods

When we arrived at the top, Peter saw my reluctance and gave me a gentle shove. I quickly landed on my feet and wobbled to a stop a few feet from the lift. He slid in beside me. “See?”

I conceded the point by smiling. “I guess I’ll live.”

“Sam, look around. Isn’t this beautiful up here?”

I had to admit it was spectacular. I looked off in the distance at the glacier and other mountain ranges. “Yes!”

“You have the skills for this run. Plus, I’ll stay close.”

Who was I, the student, to second-guess him?
“Okay.”

“I will lead, but keep a constant visual on you.”

“Good. I wouldn’t know which way to go anyway.”

“Exactly. Plus I don’t want you veering off track.”

I had no interest in sightseeing the local hospital either
.

“This easy run I chose is gradual, but heavily forested. If we get separated for a bit, just follow the ski tracks. It’s popular with the locals because there aren’t many tourists. It’ll be safe to practice on. I know the way, so follow me.”

I smiled, encouraged by his words. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Peter nodded and took off. I followed right behind him observing his body language, while remembering all he’d taught me. I leaned into the turns and paralleled my skis to slow down, and pivoted to skirt all the trees laden with fresh snow. It was a gorgeous, brisk and sunny afternoon.

Every once in a while someone would either whistle or give a type of yodel to let me know they were skiing past me at a faster speed. I held steady as Peter instructed and was gaining confidence negotiating my turns and digging my poles in every once in a while for balance and speed.

Now I knew the exhilaration and thrill Martha and the others always talked about. Between the concentration, physical exertion, the thrill of the ride, and the stunning beauty of my surroundings, fear never entered the equation.

I caught my breath as a deer darted off to the left. A clump of snow cascaded off an evergreen branch to the ground on my right as I swooshed by. I felt like I was skiing through one of the numerous postcards I’d seen in the hotel shop. Growing ever more self-assured, I let the gap between us slowly lengthen.

Every once in a while I’d catch Peter turn and raise his pole slightly, waving it in the air. Knowing he was keeping an eye out for my progress, I relaxed. And the further we skied, the more confident I felt. Coming up on the right was a Swiss chalet surrounded by snow-covered evergreens and with stacked firewood and a corral. It took my breath away as I sped by. Then I turned away and skirted some trees…

What the…?
Peter was gone!

I followed the well-worn ski trail, rounding more trees, but he was nowhere in sight. I stopped. There was nothing but more trees. I looked down. Tracks veered off all over.

…Hey, wait a minute! Which ones were his?

Chapter 16

Getting My Bearings

Panting from exertion and uncertainty, I peered up. The sun was angled. It was getting late, but how late? Other than giving me the time, carrying a cell phone would’ve been useless so I had left it at the hotel. A lot of good it would have done anyway. With all these mountains, getting a signal was futile. I checked all around me on the forested ski trail. Not a sole. It was eerily quiet.

Where was Peter?

He must’ve realized I wasn’t behind him by now, right? Could Peter ski back uphill to get me? I stared at the trail as it sloped downward, feeling disoriented. I knew the village was down below, but how far, and which way? All the trees surrounding me now obscured any distant views.

I couldn’t stand there and wait any longer. I had to get moving and take my chances before the sun set. Skiing in the dark was not exactly a specialty of mine. Come to think of it, skiing in daylight wasn’t either. I adjusted my goggles, dug my poles in, and…
bam.
I was struck hard.

The wind knocked out of me, I collapsed to the ground.

I lay in the snow on my back, too stunned to move from the hit and the sudden pain, trying to catch my breath. After a minute, I finally opened my eyes expecting to see a skier standing over me, apologizing to see if I was all right.

But no one stood there.

I raised my head a little and glanced around. Zip. Then I slowly sat up. I still had my skis on, which were positioned awkwardly in the air. Somehow I managed to get them flat on the ground, grabbed my pole, and stood up, then bent to grab the other. Then I took stock of my surroundings and a much-needed calming deep breath.

I couldn’t believe someone would hit me and not stop to see if I was okay. Of course, I was in the middle of the trail. Perhaps with all the trees obscuring long distance views, the skier hadn’t seen me until the last minute.

But still, it didn’t excuse their actions. Would someone else come along? I hadn’t seen anyone for a while: which was a good and a bad thing. The good thing: I wouldn’t get another surprise hit. The bad thing: there would be no one to direct me back to town. I had to get out of there, after having visions of me wandering aimlessly and spending the night slowly freezing to death or, maybe in
just hours
.

Then my crazy mind kicked in. Did I have identification on me? I frantically searched and came up with my wallet. Good. At least if they found me in a frozen lump they could identify the body. I stood there visualizing that.

Uh-uh.
Not in my book. I’d ski downhill in the dark first, rather than freeze to death.
There’s no way…

Then an idea hit. That chalet I’d passed. I could go back there for help. I turned around. It wasn’t that far and the trail looked
almost
flat.

It’d be like cross-country skiing…

Chapter 17

What Was I Thinking?

I half skied, slid, limped and finally dragged myself to the clearing where the picturesque chalet stood.
Now
I felt like I was in the postcard from hell. I was panting heavily, making a mental note to
never,
and I mean
never,
go cross-country skiing. I was born to drive not ski. Scratch sports.

I was panting and dripping with perspiration: so much for freezing to death. I’d probably have a heart attack first. That would have been preferable at that point. I could barely stand. My thighs were screaming bloody murder.

If Clay suddenly appeared I would have committed one.

I tried to focus on my mission: ask for directions. I stuck my poles in the snow and unsnapped my skis, propped them against the fence of the chalet and tore off my scarf. Then I unlatched the gate and approached the front door.

I found a pull chain attached to a bell and rang it.

Nothing.

I started knocking on the door. Then I pounded.

Nothing
.

I stepped back from the door and surveyed the whole chalet. It was shuttered tight. No one was there. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Then I started walking the perimeter. It was the same everywhere: locked up tight. My eyes drifted over to a horse in an enclosed corral. He was leaning over the fence post and just staring at me.

Okay, I was desperate.

I walked over and called out, “Hey, fella.”

He sniffed my outstretched hand.

“Sorry, buddy. No snacks. Not for you or me. Here I am stuck in the middle of nowhere, tired, cold, and with no one to talk to.” I looked around. “It’s so damn quiet back here it gives me the creeps. Plus it’s going to get dark soon. If I could break into that house I would, but all the windows are closed and shuttered. I’m also getting hungry.”

I looked over at his feed bin in his covered shed. It was overflowing with oats
. Did a neighbor feed him?

My stomach growled. “If I was a horse I’d eat that.”

He looked me directly in the eye, snorted, turned around and walked over to his comfortable shed and his damn oats.

“…Hey, was it something I said?” I turned away and plodded back through the snow over to a shuttered window and pulled hard. It wouldn’t budge.

So sue me. I had to try.

I looked back to the horse. His ass was facing me as he munched on his oats. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was making a personal statement. Shrugging, I turned.

Skis, here I come.

I was headed toward the front of the chalet when I heard a voice from behind me. I turned back to see who it was.

“I wondered who those skis out front belonged to.”

An older man dressed for skiing approached me.

I grinned
. I was looking at my ski ticket out
.

Chapter 18

Talk About An Escort Service

He took off his sunglasses. “Can I help you, Miss?”

Was that a slight accent?

He was tall and elegant-looking with gray hair and mustache and perfectly attired: black jacket, gloves, pants and ski boots.

But where were his poles and skis?

“I seem to have gotten separated from my ski instructor, then remembered passing this chalet and hiked back to ask for directions. I wasn’t sure how to get back to the village.”

“If you had followed the main ski tracks,” he said, “you would have ended up at the edge of
Grindelwald
.”

“But the tracks started to veer in different directions and I had visions of ending up wandering after dark.”

He looked out to the woods, and then turned back.

“Yes. Unfamiliar territory can be intimidating.”

I stuck out my hand. “By the way, I’m Samantha.”

He nodded and shook my hand. “And I am Hans.”

Wait a minute! All the shutters were locked.

“Are you a neighbor?”

“…No.”

Then what was he doing here?

As though reading my thoughts, Hans said, “Your skis stood out since this house has been vacant for a long time.”

Then why was the horse here?
This didn’t wash.

“The trail is ideal: secluded and no tourists,” he said.

Yeah, especially behind this chalet,
I thought
.

My eyes darted about, taking in my surroundings. What was I thinking standing there in the middle of nowhere talking to him? I took another step. “I’d better get going.”

“Wait,” he said, latching onto my arm.

Surprised by his strength, my breath caught. He let go.

“Don’t wander too far. You might get hurt.”

I stepped back.
What kind of warning was that?

“When the ski tracks veer right, take them. You will end up skiing right into the village by the
pastry shop.”

That was across from my hotel. Did he know that too?

“I should escort you to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Uh-uh. Then my hotel would definitely be confirmed.

We both turned when someone called out my name.

Perfect!
“Peter must have hiked back and found me.”

Smiling, I quickly hustled toward the front, relieved to be seeing Peter for a safe escort back. But as I rounded the front of the chalet, I found it wasn’t Peter at all, but that handsome stud from the ski shop: Olaf.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“At lunch Peter bragged how skilled you were. I knew the trail he’d take and figured I would catch up to see for myself. I recognized your scarf hanging from the skis.”

“Oh, that red one. Your timing’s impeccable.” I turned half expecting to see Hans coming after me, but he hadn’t.

Olaf followed my gaze. “What? Is Peter back there?”

“No, just that man I was talking to.”

“What man?” Olaf asked, following me to the back.

But once there I saw only tracks in the snow. No Hans.

“I had lost Peter, then was hit quite hard…”

After I explained, Olaf said, “I’ll ski down with you.”

“But what about Peter?” I said, now upset.