A Crime for Christmas

  “He had an important last-minute deposition back in River Heights and had to change his flight, but he should be here tomorrow,” I filled him in as Carol slid up next to me. “But I did get to sit next to another one of your guests on the plane instead. This is Carol Fremont from Travel Bug.”

  “Impressive place, Mr. Leach,” Carol said.

  “Just Archie, please!” he insisted. “I am so glad you could make it! We’re thrilled that Travel Bug wants to do a feature on us. I think we’re on the cutting edge of a movement that could change how people think about responsible tourism as a way to make a lasting impact on the planet and have fun at the same time. I was just about to kick off the festivities with a few words about our mission, but before I do, I have another little mystery I was hoping Nancy might be able to help me resolve.”

  My ears perked right up at that. “I’ll do anything I can to help. I’m always down to solve a mystery.”

  “You heard about our plan to send a skier down every slope all at once for the inaugural first run, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “Well, our wonderful new chef was supposed to be one of the honorary first skiers, but she’s refused to leave her kitchen until all the prep for our big opening-night banquet is done. Which means we’re missing a skier. And I’d hoped my favorite young detective might do the lodge the honor of taking her place.”

  So much for my plan to wait and watch before taking my first plunge.

  “Um, this case might be harder than it sounds,” I said. “I’m a lot more confident in my detecting abilities than my skiing. It’s been a while since I’ve put on a pair of skis, and I’m feeling a little rusty. I don’t want to ruin your video by rolling all the way down the hill!”

  Archie laughed. “Then it’s a good thing it’s one of our easiest trails you’ll be skiing. A smooth grade all the way down with no big turns, hazards, or moguls. Our grooming crew was out early this morning marking icy patches to make sure all our bunny slopes are safe for beginners. It’ll be the perfect run to warm you up for a week of great skiing.”

  I was still a little nervous, but I wasn’t about to turn down a challenge. Or let Archie down, for that matter. Besides, it was just a bunny hill. What could go wrong?

  I smiled. How could I say no? “Count me in.”

  “Wonderful! Now if you ladies will excuse me for a minute.” Archie took a wireless microphone from one of the people he’d been talking to just as Grant Alexander skied up alongside him.

  “Ah, just in time, Grant,” Archie said, clicking on the mic and turning to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the grand reopening of the Grand Sky Lodge, one of Montana’s oldest ski lodges, and now its greenest as well!”

  A round of applause went up from the crowd.

  “By using renewable energy sources that reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, locally sourced goods that require less fuel to transport and support neighboring businesses, and sustainable products that produce less waste, Grand Sky will have a carbon footprint smaller than a resort half our size!” Archie continued. “And unlike most tourism businesses, we don’t just use resources, we create them—from the solar energy we generate to light our lodge to the thousands of pounds of composted food waste that we transform into the soil our world-famous chef Kim Crockett uses to grow the vegetables served in our exquisite new fine dining destination, Mountain to Table. I hope to see many of you tonight at our opening-night banquet, where you’ll get to sample some of her magnificent culinary creations.”

  “Whoo-hoo!” I shouted, cheering along with everyone else.

  “Transforming the Grand Sky into a truly environmentally friendly resort didn’t come cheap,” Archie informed the crowd. “As our investors keep reminding us, it would have been a lot less expensive just to do things the old-fashioned wasteful way, but I’ve always believed in putting my money where my mouth is.”

  Grant leaned over to speak into the mic. “He put my money where his mouth is too!”

  The joke got a big laugh from the crowd, Archie included.

  “It’s true. My longtime friend and business partner, Representative Alexander, is living proof that not all politicians are greedy,” Archie said, earning another laugh. “We both have a lot riding on this vision, but I believe it will pay off for all of us in the future. Not just in the money it will save the lodge in operating costs, but in how it can help save the planet. We set out to give people a place where they can have fun in the snow and protect the natural beauty surrounding us at the same time.”

  There were more cheers as Archie continued.

  “But we’re not just putting our money where our mouths are, we’re putting our land there too. As some of you know, the lodge owns hundreds of acres of pristine, undeveloped backcountry surrounding our ski slopes. To help achieve our goal, I intend to create a forever wild conservancy to protect that land and ensure that it can never be developed or exploited by anyone, not even by us. Our guests will be able to ski, hike, and enjoy every inch of the preserve’s beauty, but nothing bigger than a campfire will ever be built on it.”

  Everyone clapped, but the biggest cheer went up from the back of the crowd. I turned around to see a few more familiar faces. They’d ditched the signs, but a number of the protesters must have rushed over from the town hall, including the two high school kids I’d seen with the GECCOS sign.

  “Does that include the land the pipeline wants to build on?” Carol asked from the front, back in full-on reporter mode. It was the same question my detective brain would have asked if there’d been a mystery to investigate.

  Archie smiled, but Grant reached in and grabbed the mic before he had a chance to reply.

  “Wow, Arch, I think you surprised all of us with that one,” he said.

  His tone was joking, but he looked like he’d suddenly gone a shade paler. Considering that Grant was a politician, I didn’t blame him. Archie’s land conservancy idea could shut down the pipeline for good, and if Grant really hadn’t known about it, Archie had just dropped a huge political hot potato in his lap. It probably wasn’t going to make whoever was sending those death threats very happy either.

  “I think one thing my partner forgot to mention with all the talk of food waste and compost is the world-class skiing!” Grant continued, quickly changing the topic. “I’ve built my career as a politician on bringing prosperity back to great towns like Prospect and to all the good, hardworking folks in my district. Turning Grand Sky Lodge back into one of the premiere ski destinations in Montana is going to be a huge boost to the local economy and a grand achievement everyone in Prospect can be proud of.”

  Grant paused while the audience cheered.

  He went on, “And don’t forget to try the restaurants, shops, spa, and all the other great outdoor activities we offer while you’re here. Every dollar you spend at the Grand Sky Lodge helps turn Prospect back into the thriving outdoor sports tourism destination it was before and will soon be again. Now let’s hit the slopes!”

  Grant handed off the microphone to someone as the crowd clapped, and he was quickly surrounded by guests wanting to talk to him. I could see Archie not far off, already schmoozing with skiers as well.

  “This story keeps getting better. Nothing like a hot controversy to grab eyeballs,” Carol said as she skied off in the other direction.

  “Hi, Nancy?” a friendly voice said behind me before I could process what it all might mean for Archie and the lodge. I turned to see a woman in her twenties. She had the same effortless girl-next-door beauty as my friend Bess, only instead of a perfectly put-together outfit, she was wearing a red ski jacket with a wireless radio receiver strapped to one of the chest pockets and a large white cross with the words SKI PATROL on the other. Her dark hair was twisted into a long, thick braid that hung down her back from the base of her helmet.

  “I’m Marni,” she said. “I’m with the ski patrol. Archie asked me to show you to your slope for the opening run. Once everybody’s lined up, they’re going to s
end up a flare so all the skiers can head down at the same time.”

  “I just hope I don’t ruin the shot,” I half joked.

  “Don’t even worry—the hill you’re going down is a breeze,” Marni assured me. “Besides, I can tell from the way you balance on your skis, you’re already ready for a more advanced run than this one. You’re going to kill it.”

  “Thanks, Marni!” I was feeling a lot better about everything; her confidence was just what I needed.

  Everybody knew ski patrollers were basically the rock stars of the slopes, with the most glamorous—and dangerous—job on the mountain. They were the fearless heroes who swooped in to rescue people when they skied off a cliff or got trapped in an avalanche—not that I was going to get caught in an avalanche on a bunny slope. But Marni had the same professional self-assurance I’d noticed in Liz, and her encouragement had me feeling more confident too.

  A few minutes later I was lined up, staring down my first run of the day. I was feeling steadier on my skis already. And the trail looked just like Archie had said, a smooth run to the bottom without any big twists or obstacles. My dreams of conquering double black diamonds were returning. I was ready to coast through run number one and move on to something more challenging!

  “This slope has some pretty deep drifts off to the side, so it’s rated a little higher than most of our beginner trails, but really just as a safety precaution,” Marni said, pointing to a tall snowbank a few yards past a large orange sign that read SKI BOUNDARY AREA—NO SKIING BEYOND THIS POINT. “But the borders are clearly marked and the run is a breeze. There’s only one small curve halfway down, and it’s wide enough you barely have to turn. Just stay away from the red flags, where it can get icy, and you’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Marni,” I said. “I feel like I have my own private ski coach.”

  Marni smiled. “We’re going to have you skiing like you were doing it your whole life before you leave here. . . . There it is!”

  She pointed at the bright red flare rising over the mountain.

  “Let’s do this!” I shouted, pushing myself off with my poles and shooting down the hill.

  Okay, maybe “shooting” was an overstatement. I was coasting at a leisurely pace, but I felt great! The snow was perfectly powdery, I had my weight balanced forward over my skis just like you’re supposed to, and the view down the mountain was glorious. Archie and Marni were right—the slope was a breeze, and I found myself wishing I could go even faster and really feel the wind whipping against my face. Maybe I really would be carving up diamonds and making jumps before the week was out!

  I was gliding toward the bend when I saw a couple of the red ice markers Marni had mentioned planted in the snow in the middle of the slope to warn me away from the left side. It made the trail a lot narrower than I expected heading into the bend and forced me closer to the boundary signs to my right, but it really wasn’t much of a turn and I still had plenty of room. I leaned gently into the curve, shifting my weight to steer myself left.

  That’s when I felt the soft powder under my skis turn to solid ice. My speed doubled in an instant and my center of gravity was totally thrown off. I tried to catch my balance, but I was no match for the speed, and my skis shot out from under my feet, sending me flying out of control straight toward the ski boundary warning sign!

  CHAPTER THREE

  On Thin Ice

  I WATCHED THE WORDS SKI BOUNDARY AREA—NO SKIING BEYOND THIS POINT flash by in a blur as I careened off the trail toward a ten-foot-tall wall of drifted snow. I braced myself for the impact, but the snow wall caved under my weight, swallowing me up whole like it was made of quicksand as I tumbled end over end into a cold, dark sea of snow.

  I came to a painful stop a few seconds later. I wasn’t sure how deep into the drift I’d fallen, but it couldn’t have been more than a few yards. That’s what I hoped, at least. It had been bright and sunny a moment earlier, but it was so dark inside the snowbank, I could hardly tell if my eyes were open or closed, let alone where I was! I was going to have to feel my way out.

  I opened my mouth to take a deep breath and collect myself, only to suck in a mouthful of snow. And that’s when I began to get nervous. So I started to dig. It only took me a few feet to realize I had no idea which way I was digging! I wanted to dig my way out, but for all I knew I was just digging myself deeper in . . . or farther down . . . or sideways, for that matter. I’d spun around so many times that I was totally disoriented! And buried! It was like that awful feeling when you get wiped out by a wave at the beach and you can’t tell which is way up. I might not be able to drown like I could in the ocean, but I could suffocate. Every time I took a breath, I sucked in more snow.

  Calm down, Nancy, you’ve faced scarier situations than this, I told myself. I’d been in enough close calls to know that just about the worst thing you can do in a crisis is panic. Stay calm, try to get your bearings, and then you can figure out what to do next.

  I did my best to slow my breathing, inhaling carefully so I didn’t choke on the snow while I cleared an air pocket around my face big enough to breathe freely without feeling like I was kissing a snow cone.

  That’s when I noticed the snow starting to melt from my breath and drip down my chin. Which meant I knew which way was up! Thanks to gravity, you can be pretty sure water isn’t going to drip up. I still might not know which way was forward, but if I could crawl up, I’d eventually reach the surface. And freedom.

  I had just begun to calmly dig toward the surface when I heard a faint voice. I strained to listen as it got louder. It was calling my name!

  It seemed to be coming from in front of me, so I started digging forward. A minute later a hand gripped my wrist and pulled me to the surface.

  Sunlight streamed into my face, temporarily blinding me. I’d never been happier to see spots!

  “Are you okay, Nancy?” a blurry figure with Marni’s voice asked as I blinked the floating spots away.

  “I am now . . . ,” I started to say, but that was when the adrenaline wore off and the pain kicked in.

  “Or maybe not,” I squeaked as a white-hot jolt shot through my lower left leg. “I think I might have hurt my ankle.”

  “Just stay still and let us take care of you,” Marni reassured me. “We’ll have you back at the lodge in no time. My partner, Berkley, is on the way with the rescue sled. We’re gonna give you a chauffeured ride back.”

  “The sled ride of shame,” I groaned. “On my first day, too, and on the easy slope. I guess my dreams of Olympic gold will have to wait.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nancy. I don’t know what happened. I’ve been patrolling these slopes for years, and I’ve never seen a solid patch of ice like that spread across one of our beginner trails before,” Marni said, scrunching her brow. “I don’t know why the ice markers are in the middle of the trail instead of there, but with them cutting off the slope, there was no way for you to miss it. If it makes you feel any better, I nearly wiped out coming down after you.”

  “It kind of does a little, actually.” I tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a moan.

  Marni smiled as her radio beeped.

  “How’s she doing, Marni?” a staticky voice buzzed.

  “Might be a broken ankle, but she’s a trouper,” Marni said into her radio, giving me a warm smile. “Let’s get the grooming staff down here ASAP. I don’t know who put the markers down or how they could’ve missed a solid sheet of ice right in the middle of the run, but we need to get this trail closed until it’s safe.”

  “Copy that,” the voice said, and buzzed off.

  “At least I was the one who found the ice and not a little kid,” I said, reminding myself that even bad luck can have a silver lining. The accident could have been a whole lot worse if someone like little Grace had wiped out instead of me.

  “With that attitude, we’re going to have to make you an honorary ski patroller,” Marni said, tossing her long braid back over her shoulder.

&
nbsp; A few minutes later Marni and her partner, Berkley, had me strapped into a bright orange rescue toboggan, with a wooden splint bracing my left leg and a warm blanket wrapped around me. I saw Brady’s drone flying overhead and wondered if he was recording my embarrassing ride down the mountain so the whole world could watch the amateur who busted her leg on her first run on the easy slope. I was pretty sure this wasn’t how Archie had hoped the video of his ceremonial first run would end.

  Berkley hit the button on his radio. “Berkley here. Let Doc and the clinic know we’re on our way in with their first patient.”

  “Copy that, Berk. Out,” a voice buzzed back.

  There was a burst of static, and then another, fuzzier voice came on midsentence. And this one was mad. Screaming mad. “. . . still make it work for us, so figure something out fast! Or do I have to tell you how to do everything? I don’t want to see them anywhere near . . .”

  “Sorry about that,” Berkley said, switching off the radio. “We’ve got a new radio system, and there are still some kinks with private channels getting crossed.”

  I had no idea what the person on the radio had been talking about. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  That wasn’t the only yelling we heard on the way down to the clinic.

  “Oh, man, I hope Todd doesn’t lose his job over this,” Berkley said as he and Marni skied my sad little orange rescue toboggan off the slopes past the clubhouse, where a big guy with a beard was yelling at a short guy with a baby face.

  “First you slack off, then you have the nerve to lie to me about it?!” the big guy shouted down at the short one.