Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) Read Free

going to?”
    After looking at her own similar, long black dress, Betty interceded. “You know we’re not as audacious as you.”
    Martha nodded. “You both offset me nicely, though.”
    “That was our intent,” mollified Betty.
    Hazel looked over at Betty. “Stop while you’re ahead.”
    “Well then, quit inciting,” replied Betty. “I’m hungry.”
    I stared at my watch. Because of skiing, we opted for the second seating for our first formal dinner. “Me too,” I said as the others gathered their purses and left.
    I paused at the door and looked back. It was an older, elegant hotel decorated in eighteenth century antiques. Our suite was on the fourth floor: a top corner unit with two connected rooms with their own baths. The room Martha and I shared overlooked on one side, a skating rink with a view of the town’s main street, stores, and restaurants, and the other side bordered the front of the hotel. Hazel and Betty’s room faced the front with the elevator on the other side of them. There was another suite across the hallway.
    I did another visual inspection. I wanted to memorize where I’d left my things to see if they were touched while we were at dinner. The hotel was crawling with guests and housekeeping staff, coming and going. This was my first step in trying to pinpoint a lapse in security.
    I hustled down the hallway to catch up with the others. But then I thought I heard a door open and close softly behind me. I stopped and quickly turned back to look.
    Nothing. No one.
    I waited a beat, heard nothing more, turned back and caught up to the others, making a mental note to pay closer attention to who might occupy that suite across the hall.
    Martha was still holding the private elevator door open.
    “For someone so young, you sure walk slow.”
    After tomorrow’s workout, I’d probably be crawling.

 
     
     
    Chapter 7
    Decent Into Hell
     
     
    The creaking, tiny, European elevator descended slowly.
    Hazel’s eyes anxiously darted about the cramped space. Irritated, Martha finally said to her, “What’s up with you?”
    “It’s just such a tiny space,” she mumbled.
    I saw beads of sweat appear on her and remembered that she suffered from claustrophobia. “Hey, don’t worry.”
    Betty nudged me. “I don’t think she’ll freak out.”
    Martha frowned. “What’s this … you …don’t …think? ”
    The elevator paused dramatically, screeched, but then rumbled on.
    Hazel placed a hand against one wall. “Oh, my!”
    I checked my watch. It was only four floors. Come on!
    Betty nervously played with her pendant. “Hmm…”
    Now Martha turned to her. “ What , is with you two?”
    “I wouldn’t want an all-out panic attack,” said Betty, eyeing her friend with concern.
    Martha then cast a wary eye on Hazel, who looked ill.
    I tried to distract Hazel, but suddenly there was a shift in momentum.
    We’d stopped.
    I turned to the panel of buttons. None were lit. “Damn.”
    “What floor are we at?” asked Martha, alarmed.
    “I don’t know,” I said.
    Martha shoved me aside. “What do you mean you…?”
    Vice-gripping Martha’s arm, Hazel asked, “What?”
    “We can’t tell what floor we’re on. No buttons are lit.”
    Hazel pulled at the metal cage gate.
    It wouldn’t budge.
    Then she closed her eyes. “One, two, three, four…”
    Betty patted Hazel’s arm. “Now, easy does it, Hazel.”
    “…Why is she counting?” I asked uneasily.
    Betty gave a weak smile. “She’s trying not to scream.”
    Martha slapped her own head. “That’s all we need.”
    “Five, six, seven, eight…”
    I gripped Hazel by the shoulders. “Hazel! Look at me!”
    She opened her eyes. “I think I’m in a meltdown.”
    “Martha’s going to call on the elevator phone,” I said.
    “No I’m not,” Martha replied matter-of-factly.
    I whipped around to her, now annoyed. “And why not?”
    “Because there isn’t one,” she said.
    I heard an intake of breath. But this time it