Kunst went toward the left, heading around the pool house – just to make sure no one waited for him. Only his footprints behind him were visible in the new layer of snow. There would have been cement beneath, lights that lined the walkways still peeked out. The wind began to howl overhead, rushing through the limbs, cursing snow to fall in clumps around him.
“Detective Kunst!” Grange’s yell had drifted through the air, muffled, but it made him look around. It was the tone that made his stomach drop. Kunst tried to rush the same way he came, but the snow impeded his progress. He could feel the icy cold from the snow clinging to his trousers. He longed for the roaring fire inside and not running through the dark, cold night.
“Kunst!” Grange’s voice called again. Detective Jones came from the other side, meeting Kunst at the fork. Jones had gone to the left of the building. He had an arrow in his hand, raising it up to show Kunst as they met. Kunst nodded before turning toward the voice of Grange coming from beyond a row of trees. Grange’s tone had become quite fervent, thought Kunst. They found him leaning over the edge, his flashlight illuminating a lump. At the edge, a few specks of red were still visible in the light.
“Down there,” Grange said as he pointed the light over the edge. Not too far down, a dark figure laid on its side, a few bumps of fabric still peeking out. Kunst stared at the form with a deep sigh. Both Grange and Jones watched him, waiting for something wise to come out of his mouth.
“We need some help getting the body up,” Jones said, breaking the silence, “I’ll get some more officers and call it in.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Kunst and Grange kept their eyes fixed on the slowly disappearing body.
“It must have just happened because with this snow, any later and we wouldn’t have found anything by spring, and then there wouldn’t have been much left,” Kunst said, turning back to the footprints to return to the lodge. “I am headed back inside. I’ll leave you here to wait to show them the body.”
Grange nodded with a shiver.
“I’ll save you some hot chocolate,” Kunst replied and disappeared through the trees, leaving Grange with his flashlight and frozen feet.
Kunst watched from inside, the lights grew with the small team of officers with ropes and the small sled to pull the body up from the ravine. He found a spot in a quiet corner to think and enjoy his drink.
Grange stomped his boots outside before coming into the toasty warmth of the rear lobby. He blew into his hands and he warmed his back end in front of the fire. He looked around for Kunst. It took a while to find him.
“The body was of Anya,” Grange said, taking the chair next to Kunst.
“Ja,” came the only reply.
“Did you know?”
“Ja, I had my suspicions,” he replied. A few seconds went by before Kunst continued, “from the beginning. She knew too much.”
“Too much about what?” Grange turned back and stared at the figure in the dark. A pile of files laid on the table next to him with an empty mug.
Kunst leaned into the light. “Secrets.”
“Secrets? What secrets?” Grange’s voice cracked, sounding annoyed.
Kunst got up from his chair and stretched his legs, “It will keep till tomorrow. People will be swarming soon. Ich bin mude. I am going to bed. I made arrangements for another night. Good night, Grange.”
Detective Grange watched him as he took the stairs up two flights and disappeared. He strode over to the bar and ordered a hot chocolate, delaying his night drive down the mountain.
After breakfast, Kunst sat on one of the chairs in the shade of the building. The sun glowed through cracks of the ice blue tinged clouds that promised more snow. He had the evidence bag with the arrow on top of the files. He knew what it meant, a warning. Someone had gotten nervous.
He sent a good morning text to his wife. Then one to Grange before going back inside. The manager of the lodge had called Kunst to his office, irritated with the delays. It couldn’t be helped. There would be more people arriving that day and needed to know when the cops would be finally out of their way. He wanted Kunst’s promise that they could proceed as planned. The manager had grunted angrily as Kunst left the office.
He received a text from Grange, he was almost there. Kunst found his way to the balcony opposite to where he stood when the arrow flew past his head. The room was a larger suite, empty and ready for an occupant. He grimaced as he tried the light switch and nothing turned on. He took a few minutes to search the room. He checked the exterior light as well before going through the sliding door. He went to the edge of the balcony. It was about eighty feet between the two balconies. It had been pitch black dark with only a single light over his head. Whoever shot at him was a good shot. Luckily, he moved out of the way when he did.
Grange finally found him on the balcony, staring at the activity below. Snow had finally stopped some time during the night and the cold air began to feel drier. It penetrated Kunst’s lungs with each breath. He longed for the warm sun and sea. He had given his wife a promise – when he retired, their first trip would be somewhere tropical. Through all their years together, with regret, he hadn’t been able to spend as much time with her as he wanted. He always seemed to be pulled into some crime. He never enjoyed the disappointed look that spread across her face as he turned to leave. He hoped that this would be the last case. Grange remained silent as he joined Kunst.
They both watched the people milling around the lodge’s hardscape. Snow had been pushed off to the side. Kunst watched the staff, wearing thick snow jackets with lodge emblems, set up heaters and reorganized chairs around the tables.
“Good morning, sir,” Grange said finally. “I guess the management insisted on setting things up.”
“Ja. Along with the other lodges up and down the road. It’s a big day today. The games are about to begin, their focus is on the competition now.”
“I guess they don’t care too much about the three dead bodies.”
“I think that makes it more appealing to most,” Kunst replied. “People are panting after the drama of death.”
“That’s sick,” Grange replied.
Kunst shrugged, “Ja, though human nature. It’s like watching a train wreck – you can’t keep their eyes off of it.”
Grange sighed with a vigorous nod. “Figures.”
People started to multiply around as they watched. “Looks like more athletes.”
“And family members.”
Kunst’s grip twisted the cold metal railing and broke his gaze. He turned with abrupt force to head back inside.
“Let’s get back to work, Grange.”
Grange saluted him behind his back, “aye, aye sir.”
The two detectives convened to the conference room with the evidence, files with reports of blood analysis and preliminary autopsy results with pictures and plastic bags with murder weapons. Occasionally, they were interrupted by officers and Detective Jones with more information and theories.
“The manager baulked, but the room where the boyfriend was found dead is still closed and unavailable,” Jones told them. “But where they found Anya’s body can’t be kept closed off. The snow is too thick, so only a couple officers are guarding the area while other hearty souls are searching the area. It’s cold, so they don’t last long before they take a break. I had some staff members set up heaters for them and bring fresh coffee.”
“They probably won’t find much.”
“No? – you’re probably right.”
Kunst stared at the white board and flipped through files. He leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingers together. A text from his wife made him stir, the edges of a frown made his face look severe. Grange didn’t ask questions.
“I am looking forward to retirement, Grange,” Kunst said abruptly.
“I bet you do, sir,” he replied, “and I am sure your wife is too.”
Kunst nodded sadly. “Ja, we spend too much time apart. The absences weigh on a marriage. Are you seeing anyone, Grange?
Grange nodded no, “I don’t have time for anything serious.”
“Ja, it takes time as well,” replied Kunst, throwing a file back onto the pile. “Well, I have something to take care of. I will text you when I need you.”
Kunst took the elevator down a flight to reception and asked to see the manager. They spoke for a few minutes. From the corner of his eye, he saw the person he wanted to talk to leave through a side door leading outside. Kunst picked up his pace and crossed the crowded room, moving people to the side as he followed. He opened the door, the rush of cold air made his gasp. The figure in a blue jacket moved quickly away from the lodge, down the side walkway, and disappeared around a corner. Kunst followed, keeping his distance.
Part 7 – Finale….soon
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.