Chilled by Death (22 page)

Royce shook his head. “Honestly, not bad at all. I thought at the time she’d been joking the way she said it would be warmer for both of us if she joined me in my bed.” He laughed ruefully. “She laughed. I laughed. I didn’t think anything about it.”

“And it might not be anything. It’s hard to say at this point.” George ran his hands down his face as if that would help shake the last of the cobwebs from his brain. He wanted to hit something so bad. That someone had done this was unbelievable, but to all of them at the same time? Disgusting. Why had no one seen anything? Then he realized they might have, but he wouldn’t know until they woke up.

“Who had access to the cabin today?” Royce asked.

“You mean who didn’t have access?” George responded. He walked into the cabin, crossing to the kitchen sink. He reached for a glass and turned the tap on. Water poured. He filled the glass and took a long drink. It felt good. His throat was parched. Dry. He emptied it, then refilled it for Royce.

“Were you drugged?” George asked.

“Not really.” But he stayed quiet, thoughtful.

“What does that mean?”

Royce turned to face him, “I hate wine,” he said. “There was wine in my glass at one point in the evening. I tasted it. Realized what it was and dumped it down the sink. I refilled the glass with pop and sipped that all evening. But there was an odd taste to it.”

“So you’re thinking the wine was drugged and some of it either stayed in your mouth after that one sip or in your glass because you didn’t wash it clean.” He considered the several bottles of wine that had flowed freely. They’d each brought several, so they weren’t all from the same store. “They had to have been tampered with here.”

“With all of us getting up and pouring drinks, it could have been anyone.” Royce’s voice hardened. “I’ve been trying to think of how it could be anyone other than one of us, and I can’t.”

“Anyone could have come in during the afternoon,” George reminded him. “You yourself saw the rooms, belongings had been searched.”

“But not just anyone could have known which bottles would be used or likely have had time to tamper with them while they were still sealed.” He stared at George, grim lines at the corner of his mouth. “This is no longer a random break-in.”

“Shit.”

T
he light hurt
her eyes. Stacy slammed them shut and moaned. It shouldn’t be like that. She tried to sort out where she was. And remembered. She was at the cabin. They’d been boarding and sledding. Then she remembered. Yvonne.

She bolted upright and gasped, both hands rushing to support her head. She fell back before the sledgehammer in her head succeeded in getting out. “What the hell,” she whispered. “How much did I drink?”

“Stacy?”

Suddenly Royce was there. His hand was gentle, soothing on her forehead. “You’ll need a bit of time. Take it easy and just rest in place for a moment.”

“What happened?” she tried to enunciate clearly, but her tongue felt swollen and awkward. Something was wrong.

“A hell of a hangover.” Royce said, but there was no laughter in his voice. He sounded worried. She opened her eyes a slit and peered under her lashes.

“I’ve had hangovers. This is not a hangover.” She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. “My stomach doesn’t feel very good.”

“No, no one else’s does either.”

At that, she stilled. “Bad wine?”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“We were drugged,” she said softly. Her eyes flew open. “Was everyone affected?”

“I was the least,” he said. “I did have a sip then dumped it.”

“Right.” Now that her brain was waking up, she remembered he hated wine. He drank most alcoholic drinks, but not that. “But someone tried?”

He was slow to answer. She studied his face, wishing things would stay in focus and not move back and forth like they were currently doing. “Royce?”

“I think so.”

She’d have nodded, but she remembered at the last instant that it would hurt to move. “Son of a bitch.”

“Sorry about the head. You and Kathleen seem to be feeling the effects the strongest.”

“Being smaller, the effect would be stronger and longer lasting.” She rolled over slightly. “Would have been much better if I’d thrown it all up last night.”

“We didn’t figure it out until everyone was unconscious.” His big hand slowly stroked her back and shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re awake. You’re the last one.”

She smiled weakly. “I did enjoy the wine.”

He laughed lightly. “I wonder if you will again.”

“Not sure I’ll ever drink again.”

“Speaking of which, you need to sit up and get some water down.” He helped her into a sitting position then held up the glass of water for her to drink.

It took effort, but she managed to get half of it down. Then he helped her lie back.

She sighed. “It feels better to be horizontal.”

“How about we get you downstairs? You can wait there.”

“Wait for what?” She groaned as she sat up again.

Only she knew. She studied his grim expression, the gathering darkness in his eyes. “The cops?”

He nodded. “We called them early and they’ve been here for the last hour.” He motioned to the noise on the other side of the railing and down below. Now that it was pointed out to her, she could hear the loud noises, the extra voices. The string of words floating up to her. “You’ll likely be last.”

“Poison?”

“Hate.”

“Angry.”

“Jealous.”

None of those words made any sense when said to the friends she’d known for years. “They think one of us did it?”

“It’s the only real answer.”

Stifling a groan, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and crossed her legs. Her head hurt just from that movement. She couldn’t imagine trying to go down the stairs and being nice while being questioned. But she’d do it. It was part of what she did anyways. “Can you help me up please,” she asked in a shaky voice.

He grabbed her elbows and tugged her to her feet. Vertical, she swayed in place. The room spun around her. “I don’t think I can make it downstairs.”

“I’ll help.”

He smiled and in an easy move, he scooped her up into his arms and moving slowly, he walked over to the stairs and headed down. As he reached the bottom step, there were cries from the others.

“Yay, she’s awake.”

“Welcome to the land of dry throats and massive headaches, Stacy.”

She groaned. “I hear you there. That’s one club I could do without a membership to.”

That elicited a few responding groans of laughter.

“How are you feeling, Miss Carter?” the uniformed police officer asked in concern.

“I’m okay. At least I hope I’ll be okay.” She wasn’t so sure but if she looked like the rest of them, she was dead already.

Royce lowered her to the couch where she sat in the middle with Stevie on the left and Geoffrey on the right. Royce headed to the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a full glass of water for her. She thanked him and sipped it. It felt like she’d never get enough, but she was full. Or at least her stomach was saying she was too full. But at the same time, she was desperate to have more.

She sighed and sank back.

Stevie muttered, “Yeah, you got the same problem.” He held up the glass in his hand. “I want to drink. It tastes so great I want to drain the glass over and over again. But at the same time, I’m full. My stomach says it’s going to upchuck if I throw anything else down there.”

“Me too,” said Geoffrey. “Sucks.”

“Have you all given statements?” the uniformed cop asked the two men beside Stacy.

They both nodded. “We have. I think you just have Stacy left.”

“Great. Nice to know I’m in time for something.”

The uniform sat down in front of her on the coffee table. “I just need to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded. “To be expected. Although I have no idea how I can help.”

“Did you open any of the wine bottles yourself?”

She frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Did you watch anyone else open a bottle?”

She thought about it and said slowly, “I must have, but I can’t say that I remember who or when or even what bottles.” She looked over at Stevie. “You filled my glass last as you said something about it helping me sleep. Helping me to forget about Yvonne.”

“Did I?” He dropped his head backwards on the back of the couch. “I don’t remember much about the end of the evening. I understand that Royce got me to my bed and I crashed fully dressed.”

“Nice,” Stacy said with a grin. “At least I managed to get into my PJs before collapsing.”

“On the other side of that coin,” Stevie said, “I’m fully dressed now, but you, my dear, are still in your pajamas. And you’ll have to make it back upstairs and get dressed.”

At her groan, he laughed. “See, there is a method to my madness.”

“No,” she said, “You’re just lazy.”

“Well, now that you two are working through the merits of sleeping in your clothes or having to get changed twice,” Geoffrey snapped. “Maybe we can get back to the questions for Stacy so we can get to the bottom of this mess.”

Hearing and echoing his frustration in her mind, Stacy turned back to the policeman. “Sorry,” she said. “It helps to lighten the worry with humor.”

“Understood. As long as we are joking around though, the longer this will take to get through.”

That wiped the laughter off her face. “Sorry. Please continue.”

He quickly ran through the questions. She answered the best she could.

When he asked her about the afternoon and supposedly feeling as if her belongings had been disturbed, the others turned to her with interest.

“I can’t really explain it, except that I noticed the clothing wasn’t exactly as I’d left it. I’m a bit of a neat freak,” she said apologetically. “My clothes weren’t packed as I’d packed them.”

“Do you know of any reason why anyone would do that?”

“I wondered if one of the girls might have needed monthly supplies unexpectedly and not being here to ask, they just looked for themselves. Other than that, I can’t imagine. Unless a stranger entered and was looking for money or other small valuables.”

“But would a stranger who’d come into the cabin on the off chance that it was empty care about replacing the clothing in the same order? Wouldn’t they have just dumped the bags and sorted through to find what they wanted? And was there anything missing?”

At the rush of questions, she had to stop, marshal her thoughts, then answer them in order. “I don’t know. I imagine, and no.”

By the time the police had finished questioning everyone, Stacy was feeling marginally better. The coffee helped as did getting up and walking around followed by a hot shower. When she came out dressed and feeling warm, her stomach was gurgling loudly. Someone had made pancakes, and the group had sat down at the table in silence to eat. She joined them, reaching for a stack to transfer to her plate. No one said a word. That usually meant there was no good news. But she needed to know.

Finally, after a few moments, she had to ask the one question that hadn’t been brought up. “Has anyone heard anything of Yvonne?”

Silence.

They glanced around at each other while she watched. She caught George’s gaze and he shook his head. She nodded. Search and rescue would have been back out at first light. That her group was not joining them said much about the shape they were in today after the drugs. And how impaired the drugs were making them feel. She waited a few moments before bringing it up again. After several bites of the light fluffy treat, she asked, “Do you think it is related?”

Silence.

She kept eating, wishing she understood the undercurrents.

“Well, I highly doubt she’d have drugged the wine and then pulled a disappearing act,” Geoffrey said. “Especially not because Royce here turned her down.”

Stacy’s head jerked up, her gaze going from Geoffrey to Royce’s bent head.

“Oh, you missed that part,” Geoffrey said. “Apparently that’s the conclusion these two brilliant men came up with.”

“No, not really,” Royce said patiently. “But it’s a possibility that we have to consider.”

“Right.” Geoffrey subsided into sullen silence. The only sounds were the occasional clang of cutlery against the plates.

“Or the same person drugged us and had something to do with Yvonne’s disappearance.” She suggested. “Not that I am looking at a worst case scenario, but…”

Geoffrey stared at her. “You have a dark mind.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

How could she explain the stuff she saw and heard every day? Cases that were the worst of what mankind could do to each other. “Or it was a prank,” she suggested. “Maybe this was meant to be a joke and the drugs were more powerful than they thought.”

“You’re reaching here, sis.”

She nodded as she ate another bite. “Occupational hazard.” She had to think about the issue carefully. “Two issues. The question is – are they related?”

“Three issues, if we’re counting having everyone’s belongings searched.”

There were a few nods around the table, but no one said much of anything. She was lifting her cup of coffee to her mouth when her phone went off. She pulled it out and read the text. It was from James, another co-worker. He’d gotten the information for her on the male they’d found by contacting the RCMP here in Canada.