Snowmen are Murder - Part #4

Cozy Mystery

Recap: Everything should be perfect, but the girls’ gig in the Italian alps has some red flags, especially when they find a snowman staged outside their window. Gotta wonder what kind of welcoming committee he represents—friend or foe?

This is the 5th book in the cozy mystery series, which means four other mysteries with Paisley & Ellie are out! You can find them on Amazon. They are fun, fast short reads. I write them under my pen name, Ann Audree. You can read about the series ON MY WEBSITE.

If you’re new Snowmen are Murder, start at Part #1.

Snowmen are Murder - Part #4

“Oh, we’re in trouble.”

Ellie said from the top of the lobby’s sweeping staircase. She was dressed for the welcome party in a stylish après-ski outfit—tight fleece leggings paired with an oversized sweater that could pass for a dress. Its diamond pattern was knitted in bright blue yarn that sparkled. It added a bit of cheer to her appearance, an emotion she certainly wasn’t feeling. “We should have taken the elevator. This is too exposed. I’d rather sneak into the back of the room.”

As Ellie scanned the party filling up the lobby, she suddenly didn’t want to join the fun. Usually, she thrived in such settings. She was the talkative one, after all; however, a big lump of uneasiness knotted her stomach.

Not that anything appeared out of the ordinary. The resort guests mingled in their finest winter wear, also dressed down for the ski slopes. Soft instrumental jazz played from hidden speakers, a roaring fire blazed from the hearth, making several couples gather around it, and a waiter offered tempting appetizers.

Paisley squeezed Ellie’s hand. “You look fantastic. Focus on talking up our classes. You’re good at that.”

They slowly descended the main stairs. The vantage point gave them a good view of the guests gathered for cocktails. Ten in total, standing around in groups of two. They weren’t mingling or acting all that friendly, at least not toward each other. “If the guests aren’t chatting with other guests, how will they treat us?” Ellie wondered.

Paisley wasn’t seeing the same thing, but that was to be expected. She wasn’t looking for new friends or even concerned about making a good first impression. She scanned the crowd for someone who would put a snowman outside their window. Such a random thing to do, she thought, it has to hold a deeper meaning.

As she checked out the men and women gathered below, Paisley hoped to spot someone noticing their arrival. A flicker of recognition, perhaps, or a smirk. Although, she had to admit to herself that any kind of returning-to-the-scene-of-the-crime reaction was a long shot.

“Let’s act like we were invited,” Paisley said, holding her head up high. “Because we were.”

“We’re still the help.” Ellie’s insecurities flared up. Not that she had many, but the whole setup reminded her of a collegiate mixer. The last one of those she attended was a disaster, a Communications Department debacle to welcome everyone to campus. It had failed. “I know it’s more a me thing than our current situation, but why does it feel like I’m back in college?”

Paisley shot her friend a quick look. “This reminds you of college? What’s triggering that?”

With a nod, Ellie agreed her friend had picked the right word. She felt the trigger like a stab in the heart. “Don’t think now… is the time… to unpack that memory.”

College was a touchy subject for Ellie, so Paisley hadn’t pushed too hard during their travels. She knew things had gone wrong the last semester of Ellie’s freshman year. Still, she thought it was primarily due to eating habits and everyday college stress. Obviously, more had been at play.

Paisley worried she hadn’t been a good friend. Maybe their adventures had masked some real problems. She should have tried harder to find out. Taking in the room again, it struck her why the lobby brought back bruised feelings.

“It’s the colors,” Paisley said. “I didn’t notice it when we entered, and you probably didn’t have time to register it, either. Ziggy was a good distraction, but you must see it now.”

“You’re talking about what I don’t want to talk about,” Ellie whispered, feeling lightheaded.

Paisley paused only a second. Silence wasn’t healthy. She nodded at the room as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “The low whispers of the guests, the clink of glasses as everyone visits the bar, and the colors—your old university colors. It’s a time machine.”

Taking a deep breath, Ellie heard and saw the similarities. “You’re annoying, but you’re right.” She finally released the air in her lungs, breathing normally again and feeling better.

“But you’re not back there,” Paisley said in the softest, gentlest voice. “You’re here. It’s behind you. If you want it to be. Whatever went wrong was just a moment in time. I’m guessing you’ve been thinking about going back to school, right? Maybe that’s the real trigger.”

Ellie looked guilty. “It has been on my mind, but I love traveling with you!”

“Me, too,” Paisley assured her, “but you shouldn’t let life just push you in different directions. You need to decide if leaving school is what you really want to do.”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Ellie admitted. “If I went back to school, it wouldn’t be because I didn’t want to travel with you.”

Paisley gave Ellie’s shoulder a quick hug. “I know. I want you to do what’s right for you. And… I want us to eventually talk about what happened during your last semester.”

Ellie sighed, relaxing more. “It was awkward, but not really about me. Just a needless hassle.” She took in the colors of the lobby—navy blues and maroon. “It is my school colors. Weird.”

Shrugging it off as a coincidence, Paisley spotted Ziggy in the crowd. “Let’s start with him.”

“Start what?”

Surprised, Paisley worried Ellie’s triggers might be more significant than she imagined. After all, reading minds seemed to be Ellie’s superpower. “The snowman…”

“Oh! Right!” Ellie blinked. “That’s weird, too. One more, and we’ll have a trifecta of the bizarre. Not that we want that!” She grimaced.

Checking out several of the guests, Paisley picked up signs of uneasiness. Ellie wasn’t the only one having a hard time with the setting. It felt like the guests were waiting for something. Could they be waiting for answers? Paisley wondered, like us?

While she didn’t expect everyone to know each other, she knew from experience that most people traveling in wealthy circles knew of each other—names, business connections… social blunders. Gossip was practically a sport. They shouldn’t have any qualms about striking up a conversation. Since all the pairings were keeping to themselves, it made her wonder about their backgrounds. They didn’t appear to fit the expected resort clientele.

Ziggy came forward, holding out champagne flutes. Along with a female server, whose name tag read Luna, they made it their mission to give everyone a glass. “Dinner soon,” Ziggy promised, “cheers to a lovely day first.”

They took the glasses. Everyone held one, yet no one was drinking. “What are we waiting for?” Paisley asked. “Does someone need to make a toast?”

“Oh, yes, someone.” Ziggy gave her a reassuring wink and returned to the bar as he spotted another couple needing champagne.

“Don’t say it,” Ellie hissed.

“Either I get to say how odd he’s acting, or we go talk to one of the guests.” Paisley gingerly held her flute, looking for a safe place to set it out of the way.

“Sure, pick a friendly one,” Ellie said, not spotting one welcoming glance. “Soooo many choices.”

Paisley nodded at a couple standing around the only high table. Its small, round surface had a big candle and enough room to ditch the champagne. “Follow my lead.”

“Right through the gates of hell,” Ellie muttered.

“It’s hardly gotten that bad,” Paisley frowned.

“Give it time.”

The comment made Paisley take a wrong step, but she quickly recovered and joined the couple at the table. Ellie dutifully followed, taking a chug of her drink. She didn’t need a toast.

The couple recoiled toward each other, their personal space invaded. The woman was a bit taller than her husband, the height accentuated by a messy bun on top of her head. The husband smiled at her, doting, comforting. They both relaxed a bit, although the wife’s eyebrows rose, silently questioning the interruption.

Paisley set down her drink. “Is it just me, or are they pushing the champagne?”

The couple blinked in unison.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like it once a year—usually with orange juice—but brandy would be better on a night like this.” Paisley glanced up at the highest part of the windows. The sun had dipped, yet it was still light enough to see clouds heavy with moisture. “It’s gonna snow.”

The couple dutifully took in the billowing clouds outside. They hummed to each other, sounding very much like they agreed with the assessment.

“Are you skiers?” Ellie asked, joining them. “We’re definitely taking a group out tomorrow. You should come. That is if Black Diamonds don’t scare you.”

Ellie set her glass down, now empty, and picked up the one Paisley had discarded.

“I doubt you’d be here if a steep slope scared you.” Paisley let her eyes slant at Ellie’s second glass of champagne. Not that she approved or disapproved. She’d just never seen her friend drink so much.

“Oh, sorry,” Ellie spat out at the couple. “Do you understand English? We just kinda assumed.”

“Yes, most Americans do,” the husband said. His French accent held no reproach, only humor. “Allow me to start the introductions. Eduard Glemont and my beloved wife, Janine.”

Ellie was instantly charmed. She did like a good accent. “Your English is better than mine.”

Janine politely chuckled. “He has to practice all the time with me.” Her accent had a New England cultured tone, plus a little mid-west twang. Not as far south as Texas, but nearby. “Oklahoma,” she admitted, “but with years in New York.”

“I love that city,” Paisley said, surprised to find a fellow countrywoman amongst the guests. “Broadway. Did you see the revival of Oklahoma a few years back? They cooked cornbread during the show.”

Janine bobbed her head. “It was a remarkable production.”

“What brings you here?” Paisley asked, feeling it wasn’t that pointed of a question, although Ellie made a face to indicate she was pushing it. Something between an eye roll and an inaudible raspberry.

“We don’t really know,” Eduard revealed. He looked to his wife, who suddenly found her champagne flute a work of art. She stared at it. A spousal signal, perhaps, to say no more.

Ellie set Paisley’s glass back on the table. Empty. “Sorry to leave you with so much stemware.” She shrugged. “We really are taking out a group tomorrow if you ski.”

Once again, Eduard was no help. “We don’t.”

“Do you make snowmen?” Paisley innocently asked.

Janine gasped. “Why would you ask such a question?” She looked at her husband, surprised.

Paisley pointed to the nearest window. Light flurries patted against the panes. “Lots of the white stuff for snowmen. Is that not a thing in Italy? Building a snowman?”

The couple were clearly flustered. They moved closer if that were possible. Another inch, one of them would need to be in the other’s arms. It’s a protective stance, Paisley realized. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. Someone left us a snowman, so just wondering if it was a local custom.”

Janine gripped her husband’s arm. “They got one, too!”

“It was the most unusual thing,” Eduard admitted, lowering his voice. “We had one, as well… a snowman left outside our bedroom window.”

Janine couldn’t help looking over her shoulder, but no one was near the foursome. All the other guests remained in their own two-person groups. No one even glanced their way. “I never knew a snowman could be so eerie. Those stone eyes. Black. Awful. And its head was tilted to the side, just so.” She let her head dip awkwardly to the left.

“It must mean something,” Eduard said.

“Did you ask anyone about it?” Ellie wanted to know.

They shook their heads, no. “It seemed rude,” Janine professed. “We were invited to come. Such a wonderful gift. We could never afford such a grand trip on teaching salaries.”

“You’re teachers?” Ellie put a finger on her cheek. “I gotta say, you do look familiar.” She directed the statement toward Janine.

Before the woman could answer, however, Luna clapped his hands and walked through the lobby, calling for everyone’s attention. “Please, if you will,” she raised her voice yet kept the tone welcoming. “Our host has arrived… Pietro Ricci.”

She pointed up toward the top of the stone staircase. Dutifully, all gathered turned. Pietro stood, squinting down at them. He wore a satin dinner jacket with plaid slacks and a deep purple cravat tied expertly at his neck—yet it looked all wrong. The coat was dripping wet.

Pietro’s mouth opened, hand reaching out. He took one step down, but his knee crumbled under him as it neared the lower tread. Like a rag doll, he pitched forward, falling flat on his face and awkwardly sliding down the stairs.

The dead fall took all the air out of the room as the body reached the bottom of the stairway. Shocked silence. No one dared move, as all could clearly see a knife sticking out of their host’s back.

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