{"id":445,"date":"2025-11-10T21:27:36","date_gmt":"2025-11-10T21:27:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/?p=445"},"modified":"2025-12-10T02:57:27","modified_gmt":"2025-12-10T02:57:27","slug":"snow-queen-of-death-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/2025\/11\/10\/snow-queen-of-death-part-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Snow Queen of Death – Part 2"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Detective Kunst took a long look at the body, lost in thought, the arrow still piercing the flesh, the ashen face, eyes clouded but wide open like she was shocked, finding death a surprise. He thought the skis didn\u2019t look right, neither did the jacket that had been only half zipped. Kunst kept his observations to himself while he absorbed every inch of the scene. There were very few things he missed when it came to murder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The wind picked up. \u201cLet\u2019s head back down and get inside,\u201d Kunst told Grange, \u201cwe need to question the coach first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The detective nodded, taking the lead toward the snow mobiles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The circular chalet featured tall windows that went from floor to the vaulted ceiling. The one hundred, eighty degree fenestration gave a dynamic view of the nature outside, tall evergreens dotted with white and naked birches, the occasional deer or white fox could be enjoyed by anyone lucky enough. A fire raged in the fireplace. Groups of people in colorful sweaters with flag emblems, snow pants and boots were scattered through the room, drinking hot drinks of a variety of types. Officers were posted to keep them company as they waited for the detectives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every head turned as they entered with a swish of the doors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood morning, everyone,\u201d Kunst said. The room seemed to have held its breath. \u201cWhere is Coach Morozov?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Viktor Morozov stood a head taller than most. A past professional skier himself, his retirement came early from an injury. He was lean, but powerful, his hair dark, but streaked with gray, eyes a pale-blue that were sharp and observant. A prominent scar went from his left ear toward his jaw, slicing his cheek in two. He excused himself through the team members who surrounded him. The group either sniffed back tears or looked smug at the detectives. Kunst stiffened slightly as the coach got closer. Grange watched him grow angry and try to hide it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome with us, this way,\u201d Grange said. They all followed him to a small conference room on the second floor of the lodge. It decorated in contemporary lodge style, simple but rustic. Through the glass door was a balcony that went half the length of the one wing of the building.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCoach Morokov,\u201d Kunst said through gritted teeth, his jaw twitching, \u201cWe are very sorry for your loss.\u201d An officer stood guard outside. Management had the table set up and ready for them as requested. Grange heard irritation in the voice, but for a moment. He reminded him of the severe tragedy that occurred and of course they wanted to figure out what happened to the poor victim. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course, it is quite distressing for us, this tragedy, but we are busy,\u201d Morozov sat down opposite to Kunst and gave him a look of impatience.  \u201cThere is no one on this team who would do such a thing. You must look to someone else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJa, we will be brief with each one of you,\u201d Kunst replied, smoothing his grey gaberdine trousers after sitting. \u201cI will have additional questions when we have gathered the evidence, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery well, of course, we\u2019d only be happy to cooperate in this matter,\u201d he said, leaning back against the upholstered chair. He crossed his legs and placed his intertwined his fingers on his lap while he waited for the first question. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

An uncomfortable silence settled on them. Grange studied Kunst\u2019s face. He couldn\u2019t quite put his finger on what was going on with his boss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you for your understanding,\u201d Kunst started. \u201cIt will be difficult for you now, with your star athlete no longer alive.\u201d His tone had become harsh. Grange stirred nervously in his seat. He gripped his pen, his finger became white.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he replied, \u201cshe was my star athlete. The whole team is strong this year though. The others will focus on winning, for Ekaterina.\u201d His voice became low, melancholic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d Kunst sat back casually against his chair, his eyes narrowing, gazing at the man across from him. \u201cWas there any arguments that you may have heard between the victim and someone else, either recently or perhaps past?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201dNo, nothing like that,\u201d he started, \u201cbut, you know how temperamental people can be and the stress of the competition, and, of course, everyone is tired, from travel and training.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201dOf course,\u201d Kunst said, jotting down some notes into his notebook. \u201cWhat about correspondence, anyone threatening the victim that way?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201dNo,\u201d he replied sharply. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kunst made more notes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid she have any boyfriends?\u201d Grange chimed in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201dAch, Ja, boyfriends\u2026or girlfriends?\u201d Kunst looked at Morozov.
\u201dOf course, she had ex boyfriends, but no one threatening her that I\u2019d know of. You must ask her team mates, they will know.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201dWe will,\u201d Kunst said. He cleared his throat, biding his time for his last question, \u201cAnd, what about your relationship with her? Was it strictly professional or..\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The coach\u2019s eyes shot up at Kunst, wide, in disbelief and didn\u2019t let him finish his question, \u201cWhat do you mean by \u2018relationship\u2019, please? What are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExactly as you think it means,\u201d Kunst said. He leaned forward in the chair. The coach\u2019s face became red. Detective Kunst watched him as he grew agitated. Grange stared at Kunst, then moved his gaze to Morozov\u2019s. Their eyes met and Grange looked down at his notebook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere was no \u2018relationship\u2019 other than professional. I want you to know, detective, that those ladies are off limits, to everyone, especially while we are training and competing. There is no time for camaraderie, no time for nonsense,\u201d he voice was as a shard of flint, it cut through the room and made its point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you for your candor, Coach Morozov,\u201d Kunst waved his hand to him and wrote more into his notebook. Morozov got up in a huff, the chair came close to falling over and he left them cursing in Russian. Kunst gritted his teeth harder. Grange had been used to his stoic manner, but this was beyond his usual behavior. \u201cLet\u2019s move on to\u2026Irina Volkova.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Grange got up and told the officer outside to get the next person. There was no such drama. Kunst and Grange asked their questions and moved on. Kunst examined each person, with some he was gruff, others, indifferent. They finished and the detectives sat alone in the room, reviewing notes. Kunst had his fingers pressed together sitting back in his chair. The dark cloud remained over him. His nose flaring, German words came out that didn\u2019t sound so nice to Grange.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Grange waited for Kunst to mentally come back into the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, I noticed something interesting,\u201d he began, swinging back and forth in his chair, \u201cnot with their behavior, but in yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHmmm,\u201d Kunst laid his pen on the notebook and crossed his arms against his chest, \u201cwhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d he said, \u201cyou\u2019ve been out of sorts and the questions seem\u2026well,…unusually harsh for them just losing their teammate. What\u2019s up with you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kunst looked over at him and pushed himself up from the chair. He headed to the window, crossed his arms firmly and looked out over the white terrain outside. Clouds had shrouded the sun and their appearance meant more snow. \u201cIt is nothing,\u201d he replied. \u201cI\u2026am ready to go. Oh, we forgot someone on the list.. Paval Chernov, the equipment manager. I saw him, but he didn\u2019t come in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201dI think he had been sent for some supplies,\u201d Grange replied. \u201cWe can question him later.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They went back to the city, snow began to fall in tiny balls which turned into light rain as the zigzagged through the hills. Kunst spoke to no one as he entered the precinct. As soon as he got to his office, he shut the door, hung his coat up on the rack in the corner, and sat down at his immaculately clean desk. Kunst had precision and a tense relationship with orderliness that drove Grange crazy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Detective Grange had intermittently looked at him through the open blinds of his office windows. He had taken a few calls and sat reading files in between. He tapped his pen against his notebook, made multiple phone calls trying to track down the ex-boyfriend, Nikolai Vetrov, but without luck. He was MIA according to his roommate. He left the night before and he hadn\u2019t heard from him since. All his clothes were gone. Grange told him to call if he heard from him and left him with his cell number. Grange knocked on the glass before opening the door to let Kunst know, only a grunt came as his reply.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKeep on top of it, Grange.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan do, sir.\u201d He saluted and shut the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kunst opened the front door of his house with a sigh, his wife deep in the cushions of the sofa, reading a book, their cat, Charley, curled up next to her. She looked up as he flopped next to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat good a day, I see,\u201d she replied, turning a page and placing a marker between the pages. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d Charley stretched its black feet and curled on its head, waiting for a pet on her stomach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA murder of one of the olympic skiers,\u201d he replied. He pushed each shoe off with the other foot and stretched out, sliding his hand on the silky fur between them. She stretched and turned, purring with each stroke. \u201cShe was found on the chair of the old ski lift, maybe killed somewhere else, considering the amount of blood, or the lack of blood really, but that could have been covered with snow. The trajectory of the wound was straight on, not from below or above. We need to find the scene of the murder, that is what I left Grange to do. There is an ex-boyfriend, according to her best mate, Anya Moroza.\u201d He let out another sigh while he scratched Charley\u2019s head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your experience telling you?\u201d She had placed her book to the side and leaned closer to him, her head against the thick back cushion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLover\u2019s quarrel gone wrong, jealousy, or something in between, or maybe both. Meaning I am still not sure. I have too many questions and I need to find where she was shot with the arrow\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe was shot with an arrow? Yikes,\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cThat\u2019s pretty grim. On that note, not to change the subject, but are you hungry?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJa, starved,\u201d he replied. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have some leftovers,\u201d she got up from the sofa and headed to the kitchen. He followed her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He followed. \u201cI am trying to figure out the motive and why the ski lift. Is there a purpose? There are so many questions that whirl in my brain, you know how I am, schatz.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI do,\u201d his wife nodded as she placed the leftovers on the plate and put it in the microwave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere is another issue I am\u00a0having something that is clouding my judgement, something that I think you only know bits and pieces about, my family\u2019s history. We don\u2019t really talk about it much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs that right? Believe me, I noticed your family is pretty much closed-lipped about family things, especially histories.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrue, and I am sorry about that. It haunts us like a persistent specter. It came all rushing back to me as soon as I heard the coach speaking in Russian.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy would that be,\u201d she looked at him with half-lidded eyes. \u201cIt\u2019s just another language.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked at her with a sheepish expression, his cheeks turning red. \u201cYou know I pride myself on being non-judgemental and try to look at things based on facts, but\u2026as soon as I heard\u2026him speak\u2026 well, it all flooded in on me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ding of the microwave sounded and she took out the plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay, so I am confused. What does Russia have to do with anything?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRussia has EVERYTHING to do with it. It is a family\u2026trauma I guess you can call it. A prejudice of sorts, but from something that happened a long time ago, with my great-grandmother and the story my father told me. It became like \u2013 a legacy of dislike\u2026and I am a bit ashamed of my bias, to be honest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d she replied. \u201cI am gonna need a little bit more information, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJa, of course, once upon a time,…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Part 3<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Copyright \u00a9 Rachel D. Knepp.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Detective Kunst took a long look at the body, lost in thought, the arrow still piercing the flesh, the ashen face, eyes clouded but wide open like she was shocked, finding death a surprise. He thought the skis didn\u2019t look right, neither did the jacket that had been only half zipped. Kunst kept his observations […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":418,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,15,96],"tags":[5,17,7,30,10,11,4,20,12],"class_list":["post-445","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog","category-detective-fiction","category-fiction","tag-author","tag-detectivefiction","tag-fiction","tag-mystery","tag-shortstory","tag-story","tag-storywriter","tag-writer","tag-writingprompts"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=445"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":506,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445\/revisions\/506"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/418"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=445"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=445"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=445"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}