Snowmen are Murder - Part #6

Cozy Mystery

Recap: Paisley's & Ellie’s job at the Italian ski resort is off to a bad start. Their host, Pietro Ricci, was murdered and they’ve been confined to their hotel room. What’s a girl to do? Sit patiently and wait to be released? Well… I think we know that won’t happen with the Fit Girls.

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.

Fit Girls: Snowmen are Murder - Part #6

“How rude!”

Paisley crossed arms over her chest, none too pleased that she and Ellie had been escorted back to their rooms. No respect. No thanks. No chance to read the note clutched in Pietro Ricci’s hand.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Ellie said, plopping onto her bed, “but it’s worth repeating: no one wants your help solving this mystery.”

Paisley had never let anything stop her curious mind and certainly wouldn’t start when facing a juicy puzzle. She went to the window and opened the heavy curtains.

“No, don’t!” Ellie exclaimed, not wanting to spark another discussion about the creepy snowman, but she was too late. Or Paisley was too fast.

With the curtains open, nothing would have stopped the snowman from peeking inside, except he was gone. For a moment, neither spoke. Ellie sat up on the bed. Paisley turned from the window, then looked back out. She waved her hand at the view—the unobstructed mountain range—no snowman blocked the panorama. The disappearance hit as hard as the appearance.

“Where’d he go?” Ellie asked.

Paisley got right up to the window pane, scanning the ground. Despite the sun setting, she had enough light to see the ground and didn’t spot one footprint. However, she did notice something strange: a long drag mark in the snow. It appeared to be the width of the snowman’s base.

“I don’t know if we should be impressed or disturbed.” Paisley shook her head.

“Or… freaked out and bailing on this gig.” Ellie wasn’t joking. “The snowman didn’t bug me when he was here, but now that he’s gone… it seems like an omen. If we’ve learned anything, bad things get worse. So, when are we going to heed the warnings and takeoff before someone dies? Oh, wait, too late.” Ellie flopped back onto the bed, dejected.

“When do we ever give up?” Paisley asked, frowning at the window.

“Now. Now would be a good time.” Ellie glanced over at her suitcase. “I’m not even unpacked. We could make a quick departure.”

“You never unpack.”

Ellie knew it was true. “And now I look brilliant.”

Paisley wasn’t really listening. She was used to a bit of complaining. Instead, she wanted to explore, considering the drag marks an invitation. If someone wants to play, she thought, let’s play.

“Why are you still looking out that dang window?” Ellie sighed, realizing that asking questions she didn’t want the answers to was becoming a bad habit.

“Someone’s going to a lot of trouble to make it look like a snowman is moving around the hotel, all by himself, like some sort of possessed snow monster. It could be a prank or something worse.” Paisley knew it had to stop and was the woman to do it. Ellie, too, even though she was resisting.

Making up her mind to take action, Paisley opened the window.

A rush of cold air swept into the room.

“What the—” Ellie shrieked, quickly sitting up. Her head jerked toward the sudden chill just in time to see Paisley climb through the window. She jumped up and ran over.

Paisley checked out the firmness of the ground, finding it well-packed. Her shoes crunched into the terrain, leaving only faint footprints. The sound, while pleasing, made her wonder how hard it would be to hide any human tracks.

“Get back inside!” Ellie shouted. “You’ll freeze!”

The chill finally cut through Paisley’s heated temper. “Oh yeah,” she said, looking down at her sweater. She didn’t want to admit it wouldn’t hold off the cold. “A coat and gloves would be good. Can you get them for me?”

Ellie shook her head. “No!”

“I’ll just come back in and get them myself.” Paisley took a step toward the window.

“Ok, Miss Bossy Boots,” Ellie said. “I’ll get your coat, but I won’t like it.” She went to the closet, returning with a coat, gloves, and knit hat with a white pom-pom on top.

It only took a minute for Paisley to put them on. The sudden warmth made her fingers feel less likely to fall off. She wasn’t used to the cold, having lived too long in warmer climates.

“Whatever crazy idea you have,” Ellie said, “I’m not keeping this window open. If you leave now, you’re only getting back in through the door.”

“You could just leave the window unlocked,” Paisley stated.

“No!” Ellie cut her off. “If I’m stuck in this room, I’m taking a nap, and that can’t happen with my eyes open watching the window. It will be locked.”

Paisley made a face. “How can you nap?”

“I’m jet-lagged, and you are, too,” Ellie insisted. “Jet-lagged people make bad decisions.”

Paisley didn’t feel tired at all. “Sweet dreams.” She turned on her heel and followed the drag marks in the snow, not stopping when she heard the window close behind her.

She won’t stay mad, Paisley told herself, hoping she was right.

The drag marks went the length of the lodge. Paisley guessed it was over a hundred feet. Not that she had any experience measuring such a large expanse. However, she attended several football games, and it looked about half the length of a football field.

Whatever the distance, she decided, it’s a long way to push a snowman without it toppling over. The fact made her wonder if Frosty was a fake. It might have only looked like it was made of snow.

Deep in thought, the sound of a window opening made Paisley flinch. She turned and spotted a sash moving up. A man’s head poked out, turning one way and then the other before he spotted her. His lips formed a circle—shocked—but then he laughed.

“I thought I heard someone,” the Brit said, his accent giving him away. Dark curly hair and heavy eyebrows sent a woodsman impression like he’d be out chopping down a tree come morning.

“Sorry I disturbed you,” Paisley said, taking a few steps back in his direction. She didn’t want to shout and disturb any other guests.

“No trouble, my dear.” His jolly mood was infectious. “I’m Archie Cantwell, and while I’d rather be skiing, I’m told there’s no night skiing, ever, and possibly none of the usual kind tomorrow. Finding you outside my window is a lovely diversion from the encroaching boredom. If, rather cold.” He wore a green sweater, but it wouldn’t keep him warm for long. Not with the window open. “What are you doing out here, of all places?”

Paisley knew she couldn’t tell him the truth, but a lie would sound like a lie. “I couldn’t stay inside a minute longer. Climbing out the window was the only alternative.”

Since Archie didn’t object to the absurdity of her actions, Paisley instantly liked him.

“Do be careful, though,” he warned. “This whole area along the building is for the missiles that fall off the roof. You’re walking in the danger zone.”

Paisley looked up and noticed several icicles hanging from the roof’s eaves. They looked like vicious projectiles aimed at her head. Given the speed of plummeting three stories, they could do some damage. Checking the ground for something other than snowman tracks, she could see several icy impact spots. However, the snowman’s track smoothed out the middle of the path. The whole stretch along the building should have been filled with snow, but it had been shoveled. Paisley made a mental note to find out when that removal happened.

“You’re probably safe now that the sun has set,” Archie said. He cocked an eye upward, wary. “The staff keep the grounds tidy, but I get the feeling they haven’t had a big storm yet. We’re still early in the season. Doesn’t bod well for the snow quality.”

Paisley nodded. “Then why did you come? Isn’t there better snow somewhere?”

“Couldn’t ignore the invitation,” Archie admitted, bobbing his head up and down.

“Free ski holiday?” Paisley asked.

Archie smiled. “I’m a sucker for free.”

“A lot of that is going around.”

“Well,” Archie said, blowing on his fingertips. “Enjoy your walk. You’re so American.”

“Thank you? I’ll be going in soon,” Paisley promised.

Archie winked. “Right. Of course. Nothing to see here.” He ducked back inside his room and closed the window.

Paisley hurried along the danger zone path, wondering how many guests had their trip comped. It didn’t take her long to reach the end of the building. Coming around the side, she discovered a parking lot. Two of the police officers waited by a car. She quickly ducked back behind the building, out of sight.

“Why does Sergio have the keys?” the female officer asked in English. She’d been the one photographing the crime scene. Her voice carried across the harsh winter surface.

“Control freak,” said a male voice, also in English.

Paisley guessed it belonged to the police officer who had wrangled the guests. It sounded like his deep baritone. She assumed Sergio was the third, aloof officer. The Chief.

He’s probably still hanging near the Inspector, Paisley thought. Some sort of hero worship going on there. She wondered if they were speaking in English since Sergio only seemed to know Italian. Almost like speaking in code, Paisley realized.

“He thinks she’ll allow him on the case,” the female officer scoffed at the notion. “She let him see the note.”

The male officer made a rude sound. “I saw the note when I bagged it.”

“What did it say?” the female officer asked.

Yeah, Paisley thought, what did it say?

“Some stupid threat about snowmen,” the male responded.

“Ssh!” The warning hiss silenced both officers as the sound of boots trudging through the snow grew louder, heading into the parking lot. A spurt of Italian was followed by car doors opening, grunts, feet sliding around on the slick lot, and then car doors slamming shut. An engine started, headlights turned on, and the vehicle drove away.

Standing again, Paisley knew she’d only heard a bit of information about the mysterious note, and part of something could be very misleading. It could also be leveraged to find out more.

“I’ve got to tell the Inspector about our snowman now, right?” Paisley asked, having no problem talking to herself. She usually found it helpful when she was about to do something stupid—and she was about to do something with the potential to wickedly backfire.

Paisley headed around to the front of the resort. Her goal: corner the Inspector and offer some advice. Sure, she was indulging her inner Karen, but anything could be justified when it came to murder.

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