Page 77 of You, Me, & Après-Ski
Tess Mackey sat in the chair across from my desk and watched me with a wary eye. “What can I do for you?”
I reopened my laptop and pulled up the video, then turned the screen toward her and pointed to a white-ish blob in the corner. A white-ish blob with a distinct, and rather large, blue blob on it. “What would you say that is?” I asked.
She looked at the screen and back at me. “Something blue.”
“Something blue, like your vintage ski jacket you gave to Val, perhaps.”
“Yes, I was giving lessons that day. Mrs. Keller dropped her glove and I returned it.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“I didn’t realize that Mrs. Kellerdropping a glovewould have mattered to you. Should I have also mentioned that she had a muffin at breakfast?”
She’s lying. She has to be. Why is she lying?“What did Robert Wilhelm and my father say to you at the gala? I wasn’t aware you knew each other.”
I’d seen her with each of them on separate occasions that night, their heads pressed together in a secluded back hallway when they thought no one was around. At the time, I worried maybe Tess had read somethingmore into my relationship with Val and was spreading it around. But now…well, now I wanted to know what the hell she was up to.
Without missing a beat, Tess said, “At Cyrus’s request, I was helping Robert plan a surprise engagement for Erica.”
Seemed logical enough, but something flashed in her eyes that had my suspicions simmering.Got you.“One last thing,” I said, tossing the wadded up letter to her. She smoothed it open with a puzzled look. As she scanned the text, her lips thinned and disappeared.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, plucking a pen from the holder on my desk. “Here’s the address of the florist you asked for yesterday.”
What?
She scrawled something on the paper, then slid it across the desk to me, touching a finger to her lips in a subtle shushing motion.
With a frown, I read her note.
Not here. We are being watched.
“Cressida will love having this for the wedding,” I said, sliding the note into my pocket as if nothing was amiss.
“Up for a celebratory drink at the bar? I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on your engagement yet.”
I knew where she was going with this. If there were hidden cameras or microphones, our private conversation would likely be drowned out by the ambient noise.And maybe whoever is watching won’t think to listen in, if we throw off suspicion.
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, Tess and I sat at the far end of the bar. It was après-ski time, so it was decently crowded, and a jukebox in the corner played some background music.
“Pillar blocks us from most of the cameras,” Tess said, taking a sip of wine. “So you figured it out.”
“Exactly how long have you been sleeping with my father?” I asked.
She choked on her wine. “Wow, youreallyfigured it out.”
“Maybe,” I said, still piecing things together. “When I saw you and Cyrus talking at the gala, I thought it odd but paid it no mind. But now I’m remembering the way he looked at you. It’s the same look he gives all of his mistresses. Possessive. Demanding. And it fits with my working theory.”
Tess sat back, wringing her hands. “Theory?”
“The only proof I have that my mother’s death may have been premeditated is security footage of you, holding her back so that she could get onto that specific chair. You were having an affair with my father and you wanted to get my mother out of the way. So you sabotaged the chair and made sure she was on it.”
“That is ridiculous,” Tess said, but a bead of fear formed in her eyes.
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it’s a pretty good motive. A crime of passion by a jilted lover.”
“That’s not what happened.”
