Genre: Mystery & Suspense
Plot: A world-class athlete murdered at the olympics
Words to use: famous, medal, sport, rigged, place, global, race, clue, steroid, flag, anthem, represent, showcase, honor, choke.
Copyright © Rachel D. Knepp.
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods—without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or critical articles.
Part 1
“I am so excited about your retirement, Siggy,” Angela Kunst poured pancake batter into the skillet, creating an imperfect circle, bacon sizzled in the oven. The buzzer went off on the microwave and she took out the slightly overcooked bacon and placed it on the counter close by.
“I am to, schatz,” Chief Detective Seigfried Kunst sat at the white dining table, the clean thin lines creating a stiff feel to the room. He had organized his plate, juice glass, and silverware in an orderly fashion in front of him. He started reading the news from his ipad as he waited for breakfast. His tie draped over the back of another dining chair, his jacket waiting beneath. “Soon we will be sitting with drinks, little bright umbrellas on the edges on the beach. That is where we will begin and go from there.”
“Are you gonna organize the sand while we’re there?” she asked, a large grin lit up her face.
“Breakfast is done.”
“Danke,” he said. He got up and grabbed the plate from her, poured syrup and sat back down. He shoved a napkin in the collar of his freshly pressed dress shirt. “There is some scandal at the Olympics. An official says that some famous athlete has been caught doping – with some kind of steroid…fascinating…” he trailed off and began eating and reading. “And an accusation of it being rigged…that would be a global scandal if that was true.”
“It would have been nice if we could have had the time to go and see some of the events. Are you going to be reading the entire breakfast? It is our only time together.” She had a plate for herself and sat across from him.
“I am sorry, schatz,” he put his ipad away into its case and his phone rang. She took a deep breath.
“Of course,” she said with a low sigh.
He looked at the number and gave her the ‘I am so sorry’ look as he answered the call.
“Kunst,” he said into the phone. “Uh huh,…I see…Okay, I will be on my way…” he hung up and slipped the phone in his inner jacket pocket. “I am so sorry, schatz, I have to go,” he grabbed his tie and threw it around his neck, put on his jacket with two easy movements, picked up the ipad and grabbed his car keys near the front door, hanging on his hook. “I’ll make it up to you with an extra Mai Tai in paradise someday.”
He blew her a kiss and slammed the door behind him.
The wind whirled playfully through the air, cutting straight through to the bone. Kunst rubbed his hands together as he walked toward the flashing lights that filled the parking area of the ski shop and restaurant. Detective Grange explained over the phone that they’d have to take a snowmobile up the slope to the crime scene. It didn’t seem like a good idea. He didn’t like the snow. It was all so untidy and the clothes were atrocious in his opinion. Plus the hat would definitely flatten and disarrange his hair. He’d take pains in taking care of the remaining strawberry blond. Not much had remained now that the silver started to appear. His wife said he looked distinguished, but he wasn’t sure. It was not tidy to have different shades of hair.
The snow crunched beneath his boots. They were always in his trunk, carefully arranged in a bag, if he needed something more rugged than his usual loafers. They were not going to be suitable for the snow.
“It’s a bit of a climb, Chief,” Detective Grange said, meeting him a few feet from his immaculate Audi.
“Don’t worry about me, Grange,” he replied, taking the still steaming coffee Grange had offered him.
“Thought you might need this,” the detective grinned sheepishly at his partner and mentor, “got it from the restaurant. Isn’t too bad. It looks like she’s been out here for a while, stiff as a board.”
Detective Elias Grange had a thick coat over his suit that fit snug over his youthful frame. His hair was dirty blond, covered with a woolen hat with a snowflake motif, his freckled face flushed red from exposure to the cold.
“Where’s the place the body was found?” Kunst asked the detective.
“It’s pretty high, up at the end of the ski lift, on the lift chair.”
He nodded. “And which sport did the victim compete in?”
“Downhill skiing and jumping. The team was going to be participating in a showcase, with each skier showing off their skills. They have all been sent back to their hotel rooms for now, babysat by some officers.”
“Which country did the victim represent?” Kunst had been taking sips of his coffee, looking at it with a frown.
“This way, Kunst,” the voice of another detective broke through the chatter all around them. He dressed in full snowgear waved at them.
“Ja,” he waved back. “I’m coming.”
“Russia.”
Detective Kunst’s entire body went stiff, not from the cold, but with generational trauma.
“You are not dressed warm enough, Kunst.” Detective Grange disappeared into a tent they had erected for the investigation. He reappeared with a thick jacket, snow pants, and a hat with mufflers. It took only a few minutes to put it all on and head toward the waiting vehicle to take them up the mountain.
The vehicles made a race up the mountain. From far away, Detective Kunst could see the men gathered around the ski lift. He saw the victim on the stopped lift chair from behind, slumped to one side. The body wore a thick, snow suit. The symbolic circles of the Olympics were emblazoned on the back of the jacket and the black pants had two feet with skis at the end. She wore a helmet, the shield protecting her from the frosty air was down, and a scarf had been wrapped around her neck and across her mouth. Men in snow suits pointed in different directions and a photographer had been taking pictures from all angles.
“This is Detective Kunst, Alex,” Grange said to the pathologist in charge, nodded toward his superior.
“It’s an honor,” the pathologist replied. “I’ve heard of you through my predecessor.”
“The honor is all mine,” Kunst replied, giving him a polite bow. “He will be missed, but I am sure you will suit our needs just as well. You have some big shoes to fill.”
“I will do my best, detective.” The pathologist said, fighting the urge to salute. He gave Kunst an amused look but hid the trepidation he felt. He had accepted the position before he had heard about Chief Detective Seigfried Kunst. He quickly turned back his attention to Detective Grange. “His reputation certainly has been proven true,” Alex said in a whisper to Grange who smirked back. Kunst, focusing on the body in front of him, now ignored every word said around him. A trait his partner found useful at times.
“I am assuming that the arrow protruding from her chest is the cause of death,” Detective Grange said flippantly. The arrow pointed upward and it had pinned the body to the lift chair. The deep purple blood created a stain that was never going to come out and had filled the left side of the body. It pained Kunst to see it.
“You may be right,” Alex said firmly. “I am not making a determination officially. You gotta wait for the report.” He closed up his bag and moved away, finding someone on his team to talk to, giving the detectives their turn to look.
“This is Ekaterina Belova, downhill skier and jumper extraordinaire. She was slated to sweep the events, but the rumors of doping had circulated and she had been disqualified. I guess the rumors were true,” Grange had been watching Detective Kunst getting a closer look at the body, her face as white as the snow, “She had been heard arguing with a woman in the athlete accommodations not too far from here.”
“Ja,” he replied. “I see. Have we a list of those close to her?”
“You mean potential suspects? Of course I have one, but she wasn’t a very pleasant person from what I heard and had a tendency at pissing people off as well. It’s gonna get longer.”
“Of course. Did you find anything on her person?” he got up from his crouching position, looking up at the victim’s face, a trail of blood from the corner of the mouth had crusted to a dark purple.
“Oh, yeah, we may have a clue or two,” he turned and heaved his feet through the thick snow to a table set up by the crime scene techs. He grabbed a couple bags marked evidence from the table, “a silver medal and a Russian flag pin. It has some fabric on the pin like it had been ripped off. Wonder if it was during a scuffle with the perp.”
“Ja, Ja, perhaps,” Detective Kunst had a look of deep thought that overshadowed his strict straight lines he usually displayed on his face. “Read me the list you have so far of those who knew her.”
“Well, she was a part of a team, five women. I have all five of their names plus a head coach, a jumping technique coach, her sports psychologist…”
“I get it, there’s quite a list. We should begin with her coach, I think.”
“Okay. Hopefully she doesn’t break out into song, she’s quite fond of singing the Russian national anthem to Americans — don’t know why.”
“Well, she may have to choke on those notes, if she is responsible for the life of this young woman.”
Detective Grange snorted, “Listen, Chief, it’s getting kinda cold, are you done?”
“Ja, ve are done,” Kunst replied, a cloud descended. A knot grew in Grange’s stomach as Kunst walked by, he oozed the haze of a family tragedy from decades ago, but one that never went away.
Copyright © Rachel D. Knepp
