Murder in Vail (8 page)

Chapter Twenty

Two hours later, Sally jolted awake. What had woken her?

She peered across the huge master suite toward the bay window. Snow continued to pelt it, along with swirling twigs and leaves. She could hear the groans of bending boughs as wind whipped through the trees. A branch had probably crashed onto the window, she figured.

Thunder cracked and lightning lit up the room. She pulled the covers up to her neck, clutching the sheets. She lay still as a statue, paralyzed by the storm. Even with her entire family in the house, Sally felt afraid. The storm made the house feel so unnatural, so eerie.

Lying in bed, dreading the next bolt of lightning, Sally’s mind went immediately to the disaster of a dinner.
I wish I hadn’t lost my temper,
she thought regretfully.
I wanted to break the news gently about the donation, not scream it at them.
She remembered the shock and hurt in their faces and felt guilty. She needed to find some way of making peace, of calming everyone down.

Another crack of lightning pierced the winter night, this one very close, and illuminated the room. Suddenly, she thought she saw the doorknob begin to turn. Then it stopped. Then it started again. Probably one of the kids, she decided, but the way it started, stopped, and then started again disturbed her.

“Is someone there?” she called out. The doorknob stopped turning, and she thought she heard footsteps scurrying away.

She reached over to the lamp on the nightstand and flicked on the light. They still had power—that was a positive. Quickly crossing the room to the closet, she slipped on her robe and grabbed a flashlight from a bureau drawer.

Slowly opening the bedroom door, Sally peeked out into the hall. She didn’t see anyone. Pulling her robe tightly around her, she tiptoed down the hall toward the staircase. As she stood at the top of the stairs, her heart skipped a beat when she saw a dark figure scurrying down the last few steps of the stairs to the foyer. She thought about the poachers and wondered if one of them might have broken into the house. Grabbing hold of the rail, Sally slowly followed the shadowy figure toward the kitchen.

When she passed the hall closet, she reached in and grabbed the baseball bat she kept there for protection. Though everyone told her she was crazy not to have a weapon in the house, especially living alone on top of a mountain, she hated guns and refused to have one in her home.

When she reached the kitchen, she peeked around the corner of the stove and saw that the room was illuminated by the refrigerator light. The refrigerator door remained opened, but the figure moved over to the butcher block island.

Sally flicked on her flashlight and heard a squeal when the narrow beam fell on a loaf of bread on the island.

“Rachel!” Sally exclaimed. “You scared me half to death.”

Sally watched her daughter-in-law grab the bread from the roast beef sandwich she was making and start backing away. A tomato fell on the floor. “Rachel, wait. You must be starving. Finish making your sandwich.”

Rachel watched her suspiciously and seemed to be debating whether she should make a run for it. Instead she said, “I’m fine. Please just go back to bed and leave me alone.”

Rachel looked like such a little waif standing there with her mascara running, her tangled hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wearing a pink nightshirt that was much too big for her, making her little arms and legs look even tinier. Sally suddenly felt sorry for the girl and guilty for not being a better hostess.

“Listen, Rachel. I’ve been thinking about it,” Sally began. “I’d like for you to take my bedroom while you’re here. I have a huge balcony and also an enclosed porch where you can smoke if the weather is too bad during the storm to go outside.”

Rachel eyed her cautiously. She didn’t seem to believe that Sally was telling her the truth. “You’d give up your master suite with the canopy bed and the Jacuzzi? For me?” she asked skeptically.

Sally nodded. “That way, everybody will be happy. You’ll have a place where you can smoke, and Lance can have his room back. You know how finicky he is about his things. He isn’t going to let it go, Rachel. He’ll be pounding on your door all day tomorrow.  I just want some peace and quiet. Please take me up on my offer.”

Rachel’s eyes started to light up, but she hesitated. “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

“No trick. Girl Scout’s honor.” Sally smiled, holding up three fingers. “In fact, let’s go ahead and switch rooms right now while everyone else is asleep. That way, Lance can have his room back first thing tomorrow, and we can avoid arguments. I just want to have a peaceful Christmas, and this is the only way I can think of to solve the bedroom problem.”

The muscles in Rachel’s face moved into the closest semblance of a smile that Sally had seen since she arrived. “Ok. I’ll do it.”

Rachel finished making her sandwich, and Sally poured her a glass of orange juice. Rachel carried them with her, following Sally upstairs.

“Shhh,” Sally whispered, placing her forefinger to her lips. “We don’t want to wake anybody up. Let’s get your stuff and get you moved into my room.”

To be sure Rachel didn’t change her mind and lock herself back in, Sally stayed in the room while she quickly repacked the few items she had taken out of her suitcase. Sally picked up the suitcase and carried it down the long hall to the other side of the staircase to the master bedroom.

Rachel set the sandwich and orange juice on the end table and bounced a couple of times when she sat down on Sally’s bed. “I’ve always wanted to sleep in one of these,” she said, looking up at the laced canopy hanging over the king-size bed. “This is so much nicer than Lance’s weird room. Thank you, Sally.”

“My pleasure, Rachel,” Sally said, as she walked into the bathroom to get some toiletries. “I just wish I’d thought of it sooner.”

When Sally came back into the room, Rachel was holding a photograph from Sally’s bureau of her in a bathing suit during a synchronized swimming meet when she was twenty.

“Is this you?” Rachel asked.

Sally smiled at the old photograph. “It sure is. You probably wouldn’t believe it now.”

“You were beautiful,” Rachel said, touching the glass of the framed picture. “And so fit and suntanned.”

“I lived in the pool back then.”

Rachel looked up at her. “Stephen told me you were a champion.”

“Yes, well, my team won the world championship. We represented the United States all over the world in competition.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cool. You must miss it, huh?”

“I do. But it was such a long time ago. Now, it’s just a nice memory. I still like to swim though. I swim every day.”

Rachel set the photograph back down on the dresser. “Where did you learn how to do it?” she asked.

“When I was growing up in San Diego, my mother put me in swimming lessons. I also took dance classes—ballet—and liked it a lot. So, when my swim club offered lessons in water ballet, I wanted to sign up because it seemed like a combination of both. I was only seven years old. Once I started, I never stopped.”

“It’s nice your mother put you in those lessons. I never had any classes like that. My mom was always too busy working to take me to any lessons.”

Rachel roamed around the large master suite, looking at the paintings on the walls of scenes of Colorado nature. She stopped at an easel Sally had set up near the bay window. A photograph of a waterfall flowing down into a mountain stream was clipped to the easel. The painting of the waterfall scene was half finished.

“You’re painting this?” Rachel asked her, surprised. “It’s really good.”

Sally smiled and walked over to stand next to Rachel in front of the easel.

“Thank you. I took the photo on a drive up to Leadville a couple of summers ago. I’ve been meaning to paint it ever since. I finally made the time.”

Rachel glanced at the other paintings around the room. “Oh my gosh. You painted all of these, didn’t you?”

Sally nodded and smiled. “Over the years. I like painting landscapes.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to paint.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sally said, surprised. “I’d be happy to show you how to get started while you’re here, if you’d like.”

“Really? I would like that,” Rachel responded with a little smile. “I think it might help me take my mind off things, you know?”

“Yes. I definitely agree. Painting is very therapeutic. When you’re painting, you get lost in your own little world.”

Sally was pleased that her daughter-in-law was showing interest in such a positive pastime and wanted to do anything she could to encourage it.

“Just let me know when you feel like getting started. I have another easel and some extra canvases and brushes that you can have.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Rachel said, her eyes lighting up.

“Tomorrow would be great. I’ll look forward to it, Rachel.”

Sally walked over to the bureau and started going through it to find a change of clothes for the next day. But she felt so tired that she couldn’t focus on everything she would need.

“Rachel will you do me just one favor?” Sally asked. “Would you please not lock the door? I’ll need to come in early tomorrow morning to get some clothes. I promise I’ll be quiet and won’t wake you up or get in your way.”

“Sure,” Rachel shrugged. “I don’t need to lock it now anyway.”

Rachel walked over to Sally and gave her a hug.  “It’s really nice of you to do all of this for me.”

Sally was surprised and touched at the gesture. “I’m happy to, Rachel. We’ll have fun painting tomorrow.”

Sally gathered her things and went to the door. “You just eat your sandwich and get a good night’s sleep, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sally quietly shut the door and tiptoed down the opposite hallway to Lance’s room. She crawled into Lance’s bed and, relieved that one major problem was taken care of, fell asleep quickly and slept soundly through the night.

Chapter Twenty-one

Sally awoke with a start. For a moment, as she looked around the room at the model airplanes hanging from the ceiling and the baseball cards lining the walls, she didn’t know where she was. Then it all came back to her. She was in Lance’s room.

The house is quiet. It must be early,
she thought. The angle of the sun coming into the bedroom seemed very low, so she guessed it was around seven oʼclock or so. She went into the adjoining bathroom and found a furry brown bathrobe that she recognized as one she’d given to Lance a couple of years ago. Slipping it on, she stepped out onto the balcony.

It was cold, much colder than yesterday. The snowfall was still heavy, but the winds had settled down some. She glanced over to check out the swimming pool. About a foot of snow covered the patio. The lawn chairs were invisible, and the water’s surface had more leaves than normal, but steam rose off the pool, and it looked swimmable.

She turned the television on low volume to listen to the weather report. Outer bands of the storm hit overnight. The full-fledged storm would come in this afternoon. Swimming didn’t look impossible, and it would do her good. If the storm was as bad as it looked like it would be, swimming would be out of the question for two or three days. A day like this definitely pushed her limits, but Sally needed the exercise to work off the monumental level of stress that had built up yesterday.

Pulling Lance’s robe tightly around her, Sally walked softly to her own bedroom and pushed open the door. Rachel had the covers pulled up to her neck and was turned toward the wall. She seemed to be dead to the world.
Poor thing,
Sally thought.
She’s exhausted.

Sally tiptoed to her bureau and pulled out her white, one-piece bathing suit. She took her long, white terry cloth robe from a hook in the bathroom.  Checking her closet, she found a baby blue velour warm-up to change into after her swim.

She returned to Lance’s room and changed into her bathing suit. She put on her robe, grabbed a couple of large white towels, and skipped lightly down the stairs. She wanted to take the dogs out for a walk before going swimming.

When she passed by the dining room, Sally noticed the dinner dishes were still on the table. Nothing had been cleared off or put away. Disgusted, she decided she’d clean it up after her swim, and maybe enlist a couple of the kids to help. Any food left in the serving dishes would already be spoiled.
What a waste,
Sally thought, but she wasn’t really surprised. She shook her head in disappointment. Her children were nothing if not predictable. She wondered if she should have made them do more chores when they were little. Had she spoiled them too much? It didn’t seem like it at the time, but she must have, judging from their behavior now. She couldn’t totally blame them, she knew. She had raised them. 

Sally left the dining room and turned the corner into the kitchen. Helga jumped in surprise.

“Sally!” she exclaimed, spilling her coffee. Grabbing a paper towel to clean up the mess, Helga composed herself. “You up very early.”

“Yes,” Sally agreed. “Earlier than usual. Thought I would take a swim.”

“Swim? In this weather? You sure?”

Sally laughed. “I’m definitely pushing it, I know. This may be the worst day that I’ve ever tried it. But nothing relieves my stress like a good swim. And God knows I have stress!”

Helga nodded. “I understand. When your children come, they bring the stress with them.”

Sally glanced to the corner of the kitchen where all of Helga’s possessions were packed into four large suitcases.

“I see you haven’t changed your mind,” Sally said sadly. “But Helga, I have to tell you, no one’s leaving this mountain today. We’re snowed in.”

“I afraid of that,” Helga said, frowning. “But I leaving the first day we can drive down the mountain.”

Helga stood up to take her bags back to her bedroom down the hall from the kitchen. Sally sighed in resignation. If Helga’s mind was made up, that was that. It was just so upsetting.

Before leaving the kitchen, Helga told Sally, “Looks like you will need help the next few days. Since I can’t leave, I help. Don’t worry about dining room. I clean it up.”

“Oh, thank you, Helga,” Sally said, sighing with relief. “That will be so helpful. I really have my hands full.”

“And I already take dogs out. They in laundry room so they don’t scare little dog.”

What would she do without Helga? She couldn’t bear the thought. Helga was always one step ahead of her. “Thank you, Helga. I hate to keep them in there, but it’s only for a couple of days.”

Helga left the kitchen, and Sally stopped by the back door to wrap her robe tightly around her shoulders. She clutched the towels close to her body and stepped barefoot out onto the freezing, snow-filled patio.