Peril at Granite Peak (9 page)

“It's not that,” he said quickly.

“Sure it is.” I flopped onto a chair. “We're all a little bored being stuck inside. But this is one mystery that's already solved.”

“I guess you're right,” Frank muttered, though he didn't look happy about it.

Time to distract him. “Hey, there's a Ping-Pong table in the kids' playroom,” I said, jumping to my feet. “And
all those little Richmonds are at the wildlife lecture, so we'd have the place to ourselves. Who's up for a game or three?”

Soon Frank and I were hitting the little white ball back and forth. Chet lounged in an undersized plastic kids' chair on the sidelines, cheering and giving us advice on our technique.

“Score!” I crowed as I hit the ball right past Frank's paddle.

He barely noticed. He was staring past me into the hall outside. “There's Cody,” he said. “He doesn't look happy.”

Chet jumped up. “Cody!” he called through the doorway. “What's up? Haven't seen you in a while—where've you been?”

“Yeah.” I patted Blizz as she trotted in to say hi. “You missed all the excitement.”

Cody hovered in the doorway, looking distracted. “I heard.”

“So what's going on with Josie?” Frank asked.

He sounded a little too interested. Guess my little talk with him hadn't stuck. Oh well. Frank can be stubborn when he's sure he's right about something.

“I'm not sure.” Cody ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up. “She's still in the office with my mom. Um, but listen, I'll catch you later, okay? I'm supposed to be, you know . . .”

He took off without another word, surprising even Blizz. The dog took off too, catching up to her master just before he disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall.

“What's with him?” I wondered.

Chet shrugged. “He's probably just upset that some random maid almost ruined his family's business.” He wandered back into the playroom and grabbed my paddle, which I'd abandoned on the table. “I call next game.”

We messed around in the playroom for another hour or so. When regular Ping-Pong got boring, we invented our own rules. We were on our fourth game of Sudden Death Torpedo Pong when my stomach grumbled.

“Hey, it's lunchtime,” I said, checking my watch. “Let's get over there. Maybe if that wildlife lecture is still going on, we'll beat the rush.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, some rush,” he said. “Us and, like, a dozen other people. Call out the crowd control specialists.”

Chet chuckled. “I'm with Joe. Let's eat!”

We tossed our paddles back on the shelf and headed for the door. As we reached the hall, there was a sudden loud shriek from somewhere nearby.

“Who was that?” Chet exclaimed.

I was already running. “Let's find out.”

The three of us rounded the corner into the staff hallway. Josie was standing there, staring into a doorway about
halfway down the hall. Toy Toy was wiggling in her arms and barking.

“Josie?” Frank said as we hurried over. “What's wrong?”

“My room!” she cried, pointing through the open door.

I'd reached her by then and turned to look. “Whoa!” I said. “Looks like it's been ransacked!”

I
STARED INTO THE BEDROOM,
only vaguely aware that Joe was questioning Josie. The place was totally trashed. Dresser drawers had been pulled out and upended, strewing clothes everywhere. The desk lamp was tipped over. Books were lying on the floor near the bookcase. The bedspread was wadded up in the middle of the floor. Even Toy Toy's food dishes and box of puppy pads had been tossed around. If Josie was behind all the mischief at the lodge, why would she ransack her own room?

“I just found it like this,” Josie was saying in response to Joe's questions. She sounded upset. No wonder. “I've been with Mrs. G until just now. It looked normal when I left for breakfast.”

“So you've been with Mrs. Gallagher since we saw you last?” I asked.

Josie nodded, looking pale. “I just got here. I wanted to get Toy Toy a snack before lunch.”

“But who would do something like this to your room?” Chet sounded confused. “I thought you were the only one causing trouble around here.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” I stared at Josie. “Want to retract that confession?”

“What?” Josie blinked at me. “No! I don't know who did this. But I did all that other stuff, like I said. I swear.”

“Okay,” Joe said. “So where's Poppy's music player? And that kid's boots?”

Josie's expression wavered. “I'm—not sure yet. Like I said, I probably moved them around by mistake.” She darted into the room and grabbed a box of dog treats out of the mess. “I'd better go tell someone about this,” she said, hurrying off down the hall.

Joe, Chet, and I followed more slowly. “Well?” Joe said. “Do we believe her?”

“No,” I said, at the same time Chet said, “Maybe.”

We reached the lobby and had to stop talking about it for a while, since Stanley was there complaining to Poppy about how boring the wildlife lecture had been. Typical.

But as soon as we got our food, the three of us settled at a table in the corner of the dining room.

“Okay,” Joe said, digging into his lasagna. “So maybe you
were right, bro. Josie sure seems like she could be hiding something.”

“Music to my ears.” I smiled weakly. “Seriously, though, I'm sure of it now. Josie can't be the culprit.”

“Just because she couldn't have messed up her own room, it doesn't mean she didn't do the stuff she confessed to.” Chet's eyes lit up as he reached for the salt. “I know! What if one of her victims was getting revenge by ransacking her room?”

“You mean like me? I almost wiped out on the stairs, remember?” Joe grinned and crossed his heart. “But I didn't wreck Josie's room—I swear!”

“Actually, I was thinking of Stanley.” Chet shrugged. “He seems pretty upset about everything that's happened. What if he thinks Josie was really trying to kill him?”

“He does seem like the type to hold a grudge,” Joe said.

“I suppose it's possible,” I admitted. “Except Stanley was at that wildlife lecture, wasn't he? We just heard him talking about it. There's his alibi.”

“Sure. But we don't know when that ended.” Joe glanced around the room. “Hang on a sec. . . .”

He hurried off. I stirred my soup, still thinking about Chet's theory. Stanley definitely seemed eager to spread blame around whenever possible. But was he really the type of guy to trash someone's room in revenge?

Joe returned after a moment. “Well?” Chet asked.

“Inconclusive.” Joe shook his head. “Apparently the
lecture let out about twenty minutes ago. But it lasted a long time, so just about everyone left to use the bathroom at least once.”

“Including Stanley?” I asked.

Joe nodded. “Including Stanley. At least that's what Nate said.”

We continued discussing the situation while we ate. But we didn't reach any real conclusions. At least Joe and Chet now agreed that Josie might have been lying in her confession. But how could we prove it one way or the other?

“The key to all this seems to be Stanley,” I said as I wadded up my napkin and tossed it on my empty plate. “I think we need to find out a little more about the guy.”

“You mean talk to him?” Joe looked less than thrilled by the idea.

“No,” I said. “I was thinking we could tail him for a while. See where he goes, what he does. Whom he annoys.”

“Oh.” Joe looked much more interested. “Okay, cool.”

“What about Josie?” Chet asked. “Shouldn't we follow her, too?”

I shrugged. “I don't think we have to worry about her. After her confession, I doubt the Gallaghers will let her out of their sight for long. That gives me an idea, though—why don't you talk to a few people, see if anyone has any opinions about Josie? Feel out whether she really might have done what she claims she did.”

Chet agreed. He headed off to talk to the honeymooners,
who were eating over near the window. Stanley wasn't in the dining room, so Joe and I headed into the lobby.

“There,” Joe said in a low voice.

Stanley was sitting near the fire, flipping through a magazine. He didn't look up as Joe and I strolled past, settling in another seating area behind him.

He also didn't notice when we followed him as he finally headed in to eat lunch. Or when we stayed just out of sight while he wandered down the hallway, picking his nose. Or when we waited outside the men's room until he emerged, still buckling his belt. Or listened from a discreet distance as he complained to Mrs. Gallagher about the texture of his bath towels.

Yeah. I'd been on more interesting stakeouts, that was for sure.

Basically, for the next two hours we followed Stanley as he wandered aimlessly around the lodge. Joe started to look fed up after a while.

“Is this guy ever going to do anything interesting?” he whispered as we tailed him down the hallway leading to the hot tub lounge.

I didn't answer. Stanley had stopped short halfway to the lounge. “Shh,” I hushed Joe, pulling him into an alcove.

Then I peeked out—just in time to see Stanley glance in both directions before ducking out of sight through a door. Luckily, he didn't seem to see me.

“Where'd he go?” Joe whispered, looking out.

“Not sure.” I led the way to the door. The sign on it read
KITCHEN: STAFF ONLY
.

“Weird,” Joe said. “Let's take a look.”

“Careful,” I warned.

Joe pushed the door open a crack, then quickly let it fall shut. “He's in there,” he confirmed quietly. “Looks like he's the only one in there right now, actually. If we open the door, he'll see us for sure. Should we go in? Maybe tell him we're looking for a snack or something?”

“No, stay here,” I said. “I'll run to the dining room in case he comes out that way.”

The dining room was deserted except for the other maid/waitress, a woman in her thirties whose name I couldn't remember. Since the blizzard had started, it wasn't only the rules about dogs being out around the guests that had been relaxed. Most of the staff wasn't bothering to wear uniforms or name tags anymore either.

“Hello, sir,” the woman greeted me pleasantly. “Can I help you?”

I thought fast. “Um, is there any coffee left?”

She waved a hand at the coffee station. “Sure, help yourself.”

As she went back to work wiping down the tables, I busied myself pouring and stirring a cup, keeping one eye on the door to the kitchen. But there was no sign of Stanley.

A moment later I heard a short whistle. Glancing over, I saw Joe gesturing from the side doorway. Leaving the coffee behind, I hurried over.

“He just came out,” Joe said quietly. “Heading back to the lobby, I think.”

“Did he have food with him?” I asked.

Joe shrugged. “Not that I saw. If he was getting a snack, he must have eaten it in there.”

I nodded and followed Joe toward the lobby. Was Stanley's detour into the deserted kitchen suspicious? Or was he just helping himself to a between-meals bite? I had no idea.

By the time we reached the lobby, Stanley was nowhere in sight. But Chet spotted us and rushed over. He looked kind of excited.

“There you guys are!” he exclaimed. “Can we talk?”

“Sure. Did you find out anything?” I asked.

Chet glanced around. Unlike the kitchen and dining room, the lobby was fairly busy. The Richmond kids were tossing a ball around in the corner. Mr. Gallagher was chatting with the honeymooners, who were settled in near the fire, looking cozy. Mrs. Gallagher and the lodge's chef were huddled over some paperwork on one of the big wooden coffee tables. Mr. and Mrs. Richmond were over by the windows, sipping drinks and gazing out at the swirling snow.

None of them were paying any attention to us, but Chet gestured for Joe and me to follow him into an unoccupied corner behind the racks of brochures advertising local restaurants and other attractions.

“Okay, so I was talking to the chef,” he began in a low voice.

“In the kitchen?” I shot Joe a look, wondering if this was connected somehow to Stanley's recent pit stop.

Chet shook his head. “I ran into her in the hall near her room. I started asking about all the staff—you know, so she wouldn't get suspicious of me wanting to know about Josie.”

“Why would she get suspicious, dude?” Joe asked with a grin. “Everyone in the lodge knows about Josie's confession.”

“Whatever.” Chet frowned slightly. “The point is, she told me something interesting about Rick.”

“Rick Ferguson? What about him?” I asked, keeping an eye on the doorways in case Stanley came in.

“Apparently Rick has a criminal past!” Chet said.

That got my full attention. “What do you mean, a criminal past?”

“He's a felon,” Chet said. “The chef didn't know all the details, but she was sure of that part. I guess the Gallaghers gave him a chance to turn his life around when they opened this place, like, fifteen years ago. And Rick's been here ever since.”

“I guess that's interesting,” Joe said. “Not exactly surprising, though. Rick looks like a guy who's done some living, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded, but I was distracted by the sound of a raised voice. It was Nate. He'd just stood up from his spot near the fireplace, looking annoyed.

“Well, I hope it turns up soon,” he exclaimed, his voice
carrying as he glared at Mr. Gallagher. “I'd just come to the exciting part!”

“What's going on over there?” Joe followed my gaze.

“Not sure. Let's find out.” I stepped closer.