the bed, listening to the lodge settle, wondering if Karen was asleep yet. Why hadn’t he kissed her when he’d had the chance? Because he’d brought her up here to keep her safe. Kissing her in the moonlight would have been anything but safe.
He smiled as he remembered their evening together and especially her reaction to the ski lodge. He’d liked this old place right from the first, but his family had all argued that the place was jinxed, a true white elephant, and something he shouldn’t sink any money into but should get rid of as quickly as possible.
The place had been Crazy Uncle Chuck’s dream. Chuck had built the ski hill in the early 1950s, just about the time snow skiing was taking off in Montana. Unfortunately, his dream of a money-making resort never materialized.
The woman Chuck had planned to marry stood him up at the altar. Brokenhearted, Chuck had closed the place before it ever opened. He’d left it just as it was the day he walked out. But while he’d never returned, he’d never been able to part with it, making him appear all that much more crazy.
Fortunately, he’d hired a caretaker to make sure the place was taken care of. But still, it needed a lot of work and so did the road up to it, and as Jack’s family had said, what did he plan to do with it?
He didn’t know. Except keeping it seemed more of an option now. At least Karen thought so. And after seeing her woodwork, he had a great deal of respect for her opinion when it came to fixing the place up. She seemed to like it as much as he did. He smiled. A woman with exceptional taste.
His smile faded as he reminded himself what Karen was doing here. He’d pushed it from his mind during dinner. But he couldn’t afford to do that any longer. He’d promised to take her back to Missoula tomorrow. Back to where the killer would be looking for her.
He picked up the copy of Liz Jones’s murder file and reluctantly opened it. A photograph of Liz fluttered to the floor. He leaned down to pick it up, surprised to see that she didn’t look anything like the usual women his partner dated. A pretty brunette with brown eyes looked up at him.
He turned up one of the crime-scene photos, never comfortable with the death and damage he had to witness in his job. He’d heard that Liz Jones had been strangled with her own panty hose. He hadn’t thought to ask Denny about it. But he could see the thin fabric around her neck, drawn tight.
He pulled out the autopsy report. Cause of death: “Blow to the head.” He frowned. Why strangle her, then? The killer must not have wanted to take any chances that she might still be alive.
The victim had also been beaten with the base of a hotel lamp found at the scene. No latents had been found. The killer had either worn gloves or wiped down everything he touched before he left.
But while apparently trying to fend off the killer, her watch had been broken, establishing the time of death. Thirty-five minutes after Karen had seen a man enter Liz’s hotel room.
The brutality seemed to indicate that this had been a crime of passion. The question was: What passion? If Jack knew that, then he’d know who killed her.
Dr. Carl Vandermullen, the jealous ex-husband?
The secret lover she’d threatened to expose?
Or someone else? Perhaps a former lover she’d dumped back in high school?
Jack shook his head, refusing to believe his friend could do something like this. Sure, Denny had a temper and a pretty short fuse, but Liz dumping him in high school didn’t seem motive enough for murder.
If the killer was Dr. Carl Vandermullen, then it could have been over the divorce or maybe Vandermullen had just found out about the secret lover.
And if it was the secret lover? Liz had gotten a room in her own name in a far wing of the Carlton on a floor with no other guests, requesting privacy. She’d been expecting her secret lover when she’d called Karen. A man, the one Karen had seen, arrived while Liz was leaving a message on Karen’s answering machine.
Jack thought it pretty safe to assume the man Karen had seen was the secret lover. Because of the time element with only thirty-five minutes between the moment when Karen had seen the man in the