Snowmen are Murder - Part #7

Cozy Mystery

Recap: Paisley goes in search of the creepy snowman, climbing out of her hotel window—where she’d been banished by the Italian female Inspector! And she eavesdrops on the police, hearing some information that makes her bold enough to offer her help again. What could go wrong?

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 to Snowmen are Murder, start at Part #1.

Fit Girls: Snowmen are Murder - Part #7

“Shall we lock you in your room?”

The threat came from the female Inspector. She groaned as Paisley walked through the lodge’s front door. “Is it an American habit of appearing where you do not belong?”

“It’s probably just me. I apologize,” Paisley said, owning her singular ability to confound the authorities.

Agreement took the Inspector by surprise. “I assume we must listen and hope it is worth our time?” she asked, waving a hand for Paisley to speak. “Say your peace, and then you will return to your room and not bother me again.”

The other person present—Ziggy—smiled. He clearly didn’t follow all of the English. “Our lady stays with us,” he said, meaning the Inspector. “A great comfort, no?”

Paisley nodded, but her eyes went to where Pietro Ricci had fallen. All that remained was a stain on the carpet. It darkened the area.

“My people took the body to the coroner,” the Inspector explained.

Paisley realized that accounted for the noises she’d heard while eavesdropping on the police. They’d been locked out of the SUV with the body until the ambitious boss showed up with the key. Missed that while I was hiding, she reasoned. Must have put the body in the vehicle when Sergio arrived.

Since she felt like some sort of clock was ticking on her time in the lobby, Paisley refrained from asking why the coroner couldn’t come to the crime scene. “We got off wrong, and that’s my fault. I want to properly introduce myself, I’m Paisley Summerhill, and I’ve assisted in four criminal investigations in the States.”

The Inspector’s stern expression didn’t change.

“I’ve even worked with the U.S. Marshals,” Paisley said, feeling her experience deserved a little respect.

The Inspector held out her hand, allowing Paisley to shake it. “I am Elena Fontana,” she said, completing the introductions. “Do you work with American authorities in an official capacity?”

She knows I don’t. Nothing about me says I’m law enforcement. Paisley smiled and shook her head no. “Well, once, the Marshals pulled me into an investigation to flush out a fugitive.”

“Admirable, yet we need no such help. Thus, your purpose is to waste my time?” Inspector Fontana gave a little nod, not impressed.

Paisley didn’t know if she should continue, but she couldn’t back down. “I didn’t think anyone would tell you, but I know of two instances where snowmen were left outside guests’ bedroom windows. One was mine.”

Fontana squinted, thinking it through. “Snowmen?”

“That’s why I came around to the front of the lodge,” Paisley explained. “I was following a snowman.”

Elena shared a look with Ziggy. He didn’t understand either.

“Wasn’t Mr. Ricci damp?” Paisley pushed past the awkward moment.

“Si, his dinner jacket was heavy with moisture.” The Inspector acted like any kind of connection between snowmen and water had not been made, at least not to her liking. “You suggest Ricci also had one of these encounters with a snowman?”

Ziggy chuckled. “Scusi!” He apologized, quickly sobering.

He might understand more than he lets on, Paisley decided.

“A snowman did it?” Fontana asked, a smile tickling one corner of her mouth.

“A snowman might be part of it; yes, it’s possible,” Paisley said, surprised she had to defend herself. “It’s odd but shouldn’t be overlooked. No matter how absurd you find it, a melting snowman could explain where the water came from.”

“We do not yet know if it was water,” Fontana countered.

“Do you know it’s not?”

It was the Inspector’s turn to shake her head no.

“Then, however improbable,” Paisley said, paraphrasing Sherlock Holmes, one of her favorite literary detectives, “strange facts should not be dismissed.”

She wondered if the Inspector got the reference. If she did, no sign of recognition was given. Not earning any brownie points, Paisley decided.

Fontana sighed, possibly regretting her decision to indulge the American. “You’re suggesting a snowman attacked Pietro Ricci? But he was not stabbed with a carrot nose.”

Ziggy chuckled again, taking pleasure in the exchange. Maybe it all seemed good-natured to him. The undertone, however, was anything but cordial.

“I don’t know who stabbed him,” Paisley said, also losing interest in the conversation, even though the teasing was expected. “Sometimes facts come across as useless until new information puts them into perspective. I’ll leave that to you.”

Having enough of the skepticism, Paisley turned to leave.

“Wait!” the Inspector ordered.

Paisley turned back. Chin up. Eyes flaring.

“Grazie. Thank you,” Fontana said, seemingly meaning it, not that she had given any indication that the snowman intel would factor into her investigation.

Guess it’s up to me, Paisley thought. She nodded to the others, ready to head back to her room.

“Dinner, miss, is in works. We consider to bring it to all your rooms.” Ziggy offered the news as some sort of consolation.

Paisley wasn’t hungry. It would take her a couple of days to get on the Italian clock and be ready to eat at the correct times. However, she didn’t refuse, knowing Ellie would be ravenous.

“But no snow cones.” Ziggy wagged a finger at her, turning to the Inspector. They spoke rapidly in Italian.

Paisley figured they were talking about her. So be it, she decided. Let them make light of a crucial fact. Then something struck her, and she couldn’t leave without sharing it. “Oh, Inspector Fontana,” she said, “what did the note say in Mr. Ricci’s hand?”

Paisley held her breath, unsure if she’d get an answer, but she had to try. After all, how could she solve the mystery if she didn’t have all the facts? Not that the Inspector needed to know her purpose.

Fontana shrugged as if she saw right through Paisley’s intentions and didn’t care. After all, someone who believed in killer snowmen could hardly put two and two together or bother her investigation. The Inspector’s lips briefly pinched together until she made up her mind. She cleared her throat and answered: “Mostly nonsense, but the note was numbered.”

“What number?” Paisley asked, instantly thinking a serial killer might have a number in mind… for a hit list.

“Two thousand, twenty-six.”

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