Murder at the Big T Lodge: A Liz Lucas Cozy Mystery (4 page)

Liz dreaded the thought of having to
call Milt’s wife. She couldn’t imagine someone she didn’t know calling her and
telling her that Roger had died. She decided to wait until the people from the
mortuary came, and she’d be able to tell his wife exactly where his body had
been taken.

She shivered involuntarily
thinking about the cold-heartedness of Jack, the owner of the lodge. It seemed
to Liz the only thing he cared about was making sure the other hunters had a
good time and telling them that a guest had died in the lodge where they were
staying didn’t make for a good time.

The chef’s assistant had
taken the coffee pot back to the kitchen while the guests were assembling in
the hallway, and Liz needed another cup of coffee. Jack had mentioned he’d be
in the last ATV to leave, since he wanted to make sure all of the guests had
been transported out to the duck blinds. Evidently he’d made a detour to the
kitchen, because as she approached the kitchen she overheard him telling the
chef and his assistant about Milt’s death. He specifically told them not to say
anything about the death to the other guests. He wanted everyone to think Milt
had an emergency come up, and he had to leave unexpectedly.

Jack told the chef he’d
arranged for the mortuary to come and get Milt’s body while the rest of the
hunters were away from the lodge for the duck hunt, thus making sure that none
of them found out that Milt was gone until after they returned to the lodge
from the afternoon quail hunt. Liz didn’t want to walk into the kitchen while
Jack was there, so she decided to forego another cup of coffee and instead,
turned and walked into the great room.

It was very clear to Liz
she had a new friend, Sam, the big bullmastiff. He hadn’t left her side since
she’d come down the stairs. Liz wondered if the dog was close to Jack’s wife,
if he had one. It certainly made no sense for him to have bonded instantly with
Liz, however, given what had happened to Milt, she was glad to have his
company.

An hour later Liz was in
her suite when she heard the doorbell ring downstairs. She looked out the
window and saw a mortuary van parked in the driveway. She hurried down the
stairs, Sam by her side. The staff employees had all accompanied Jack on the
day’s hunt, and the chef’s assistant opened the front door of the lodge.
“Hello, Mr. Gordon, my name is Cassie Sowers. You may remember me from when my
husband, Paul, died a few years ago. Mr. Huston’s body is upstairs in room
number eight. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” she said as she
turned and walked back to the kitchen.

The man named Mr. Gordon
turned to Liz. “Do you know anything about this?” he asked.

“No, not really. My name
is Liz Langley. My husband and I are guests here at the Big T Lodge. My husband
knew the decedent, actually they’d been in law school together many years ago,
but I wouldn’t say they were close friends. The owner asked me to call his wife
after you got here, so I could give her instructions on how to reach you.”

“From what Jack told me on
the phone, looks like he died in his sleep,” Mr. Gordon said. “I understand he
was only fifty-three years old. Seems kind of young, but sometimes things like
that happen. Here’s what’s you can tell his wife. I’ll take the body to the
mortuary, and then I’ll wait for instructions from her. Can’t do nuthin’
without the death certificate, and since our county’s pretty remote, and we
don’t have a justice of the peace, the judge will probably have to sign it, but
I doubt if that will happen until tomorrow.

“When you talk to his
wife, tell her not to plan any services or anything for several days. After the
death certificate’s signed, we’ll put him on a plane and fly him out to
California, course she’ll have to pay the airline in advance.” He and his
assistant walked up the stairs carrying a gurney. A few minutes later the
covered body of Milt Huston was taken down the stairs by them and placed in the
rear of the mortuary van.

Mr. Gordon walked back in
the lodge and said, “Would you give me a call after you talk to the widow? I’d
kinda like a heads-up on what to expect. Here’s my business card with my telephone
number. I’ll convey my condolences when I talk to her. No matter how they die,
it’s always sad for the ones who are left. Give me about an hour. It’ll take
that long for us to get back to the mortuary.”

“I’m going up and call her
now,” Liz said. “I’ll call you afterwards.” The big front door of the lodge
closed, and the van drove off while Sam and Liz looked out the window at the
long trail of dust it left behind. “Okay, boy, let’s get this over with. I have
a feeling you’re coming up with me again.” The big dog walked next to her as
she went up the stairs.

Liz dialed the number
she’d retrieved from Roger’s cell phone and listened to the ringing phone. A
moment later a woman’s recorded voice said, “You’ve reached the home of Milt
and Valeria Huston. Milt is on a hunting trip in Texas, and I’ve taken my
visiting parents sightseeing in Northern California. We’ll be returning in a
few days. Our housekeeper is staying at our home with our family pets, but she
won’t be answering the phone. At the sound of the tone, please leave your
message, and one of us will return your call. Thank you and have a nice day,”
the woman said with an accent that sounded like Italian had been her native
language.

“There’s no way I’m going
to leave a death message on her answer machine,” Liz said to Sam. “I guess I’ll
keep trying every day until I reach her.” She looked at her watch and saw that
it was too early to call Mr. Gordon. She spent the next half hour unpacking the
rest of hers and Roger’s clothes and generally getting organized.

Liz was no stranger to what she
called “her niggle,” that feeling or little inner voice that always alerted her
when something was off, and right now it was making itself heard loud and
clear. It was very insistent she go to Milt’s room and look around before Roger
and the rest of the hunters returned for breakfast. She decided she probably
should put Milt’s things in his suitcase and have it sent to his wife along
with his body. She wished she’d thought to do it earlier and given it to Mr.
Gordon when he was here. If anyone questioned why she was in his room, she
could use that as an excuse.

She and Sam walked down
the hall to Milt’s room. She looked up and down the hall and didn’t see anyone.
Actually
, she thought,
since all the guests and the guides are out
hunting, seems like the only people who are in the lodge right now are Cassie,
the chef’s assistant, the chef, me. and of course, Sam, although technically he
doesn’t qualify as a person.

Liz gingerly opened the door
to room number eight, wondering why no fingerprints or any other type of police
investigation had been taken. If a death occurred in Northern California, where
she and Roger lived, it was normal police procedure for some type of police
investigation to occur. She remembered when Barbara Nelson had died in one of
the guest cottages at her lodge and the bumbling chief of police, Seth
Williams, had looked for evidence of foul play and had dusted for fingerprints.

Of course, that was
definitely a murder. This isn’t, or so the lodge owner thinks, so I suppose
that’s why no law enforcement personnel have been called to the lodge.

Her eyes slowly adjusted
to the dimness in the room that had been Milt’s. She agreed with what Jack had
told her. Nothing looked particularly suspicious. She didn’t see anything in
the room that looked unusual. The bed appeared to have been slept in normally.
Evidently Milt had planned on unpacking later, because the only thing that
appeared to have been taken out of his suitcase was his dopp kit which was on
the bathroom counter. An eye drop bottle was next to it along with a washcloth,
a toothbrush, and toothpaste. His clothes were still neatly folded in his
suitcase and nothing had been put in the room’s chest of drawers or the closet. 

Liz put the dopp kit in
his suitcase and noticed an attaché case next to it. She looked inside and saw
a phone and an iPad. She turned them on and quickly scanned them to see if
there had been any recent activity on either one. Evidently Milt had called his
wife the evening before as the outgoing telephone number matched the one Roger
had given her. There was nothing of interest on the iPad. She put them back in
the attaché case.

Sam had been watching her
while he was lying on a rug that partially covered the highly polished hardwood
floor.  She walked over to the nightstand and saw the bottle of beet juice
which Milt had evidently put next to his bed along with a glass. The big dog
suddenly got up and took a position between Liz and the nightstand, a low growl
coming from deep in his throat. He gently pushed her away from the nightstand.
She looked down at him. “What is this about, Sam? I just want to look at that
bottle.” Again, he pushed against her, his nose flaring, and the guard hairs on
his back raised.

“Sam, let me look at that
bottle. I won't drink from it. Move. I need to get closer.”

It was as if the big dog
understood every word she said. He slowly moved to one side, and she picked up
the bottle. As she did she noticed a strong smell coming from it. She
remembered that although Milt had said he added ground almonds to his drink to
make it healthier, she didn’t remember the contents of the bottle having such
an overpowering pungent smell like the one that was now emanating from the
bottle. When she’d taken a sip of the beet juice the evening before, the smell
was entirely different from what she now smelled. She screwed the cap back on
the bottle, having no idea what to do next.

Liz quietly closed the door to room
eight and walked down the hall to her suite, the bottle in her hand. For some
reason, blame it on her niggle, she’d felt compelled to take the beet juice
bottle with her when she left Milt’s room. She had no idea what she was going
to do with it, but something told her it was important that she have it. She
sat down at the table in front of the large window that overlooked the
well-groomed grounds at the lodge. Sam sat down next to her and looked up, a
questioning look in his eyes.

It's almost as if he’s
asking, “Okay, Liz, now that you have the bottle what are you going to do with
it?”
She
unscrewed the cap and smelled it again. The odor coming from it disgusted her.
Once again Sam let out a low growl. The red liquid definitely had a strong
smell, but she couldn’t identify it.

I don’t know anyone in
Texas that can help me find out what’s in this bottle. I wonder what it is. It
sure doesn’t smell like beets, and if I’m smelling ground almonds, he must have
put an awful lot of them in there.

Liz sat for several more
minutes trying to figure out what to do with it. She reached for her cell phone
which was on the table and punched in the telephone number for Gordon Mortuary.
An almost ghoulish sounding voice on the other end answered and said, “Gordon
Mortuary. This is Selene. May I help you?”

The voice sounded like it
was waiting for the caller to give directions to where the next dead body was
to be picked up
, Liz thought. “Yes, my name is Liz Langley. May I speak with Mr.
Gordon?”

“May I tell him what this
is regarding?” Selene asked.

“Yes. This is regarding
the death of Milt Huston. Mr. Gordon left the Big T Lodge an hour or so ago and
asked me to call him after I talked to the decedent’s widow.”

“Just one moment. I'll see
if he’s available,” Selene said.

A few moments later a male
voice said, “This is Stanley Gordon, Mrs. Langley. Were you able to contact
Mrs. Huston?”

“I called her, but
evidently she’s taken her parents, who are visiting from Italy, on a
sightseeing trip. The message said she’d be out of town for a few days. I
didn’t leave a message, because I felt she wouldn’t want to hear news like that
on an answering machine. I do have a question for you. I have something I’d
like to send by FedEx or UPS. Does the town where you’re located have a
facility that provides a service like that?”

“Yes, you can either go to
the post office on Main Street in Riley or go one street over to Elm Street,
and there’s a private mail box service there that has FedEx. A lot of the
ranchers in the area have post office boxes there, because it's simply easier
to have their mail sent there rather than to their remote ranches. They
generally send in one of the ranch hands several times a week to get their
mail. You can easily find it.”

“Thanks. Jack said there
were several cars available for use by the guests, and he specifically told me
since I wasn’t hunting, I was more than welcome to use any of them. I think
I’ll drive into town later, take care of my business at the FedEx store, and
then explore the town a little bit. I probably need to pick up some souvenirs
from this trip.”

“Don’t get too excited
hoping you’ll find things,” Stanley Gordon said. “I’d be willing to bet this is
one of the smallest towns you’ve ever been in. There’s a grocery store, our
mortuary, the post office, the private post office, The Riley Restaurant, and a
couple of stores that sell ranch items. Trust me, Dallas it ain’t.”

“Thanks for your honesty,
but I think I’ll go the FedEx store anyway. When I finally get in touch with
Milt’s widow, I’ll let you know what she says.”

“Good. I’ll look forward
to hearing from you. Tell your husband I hope he has a good hunt.”

“I will,” Liz said as she
ended the call.