Murder at the Big T Lodge: A Liz Lucas Cozy Mystery Page 3

  When they got to the bottom of the stairs and walked into the great room where the other guests had congregated, a man detached himself from the group and walked over to them. He was holding a bottle of red liquid in his hand and a glass.

  “Milt, I didn’t see you earlier. I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Liz,” Roger said. “Liz, this is my friend from law school, Milt Huston.” They shook hands. “Milt, I’m sure I’m not the first one to ask, but what in the world are you drinking that’s in the bottle?”

  “It’s something I picked up from the USC basketball team. They’ve gotten great results from drinking beet juice, so I usually have one at the cocktail hour and another one when I go to bed. I mix it with ground almonds to make it even healthier. I have to say it’s really improved my energy level, and when I run for governor that’s going to be a big plus. Want to try some?” he asked.

  “I would,” Liz said. “I’ve never had beet juice before.”

  Milt walked over to the bar and got a glass. He poured a little bit of the beet juice in it and handed it to Liz. She took a sip, grimaced, and said, “I think this must be an acquired taste, but thank you anyway.”

  “Speaking of elections and politics, how was Dallas? Were you successful in raising some money for your campaign?” Roger asked.

  “Very. It was far more successful than I’d even hoped. With my recent stand on water issues in California and knowing how important water is here in Texas, I thought going to Dallas might be an exercise in futility.”

  “That’s great. So you’re definitely all in for the governor’s race?”

  “Absolutely. As I told you at lunch the other day, I’m committed to it, but in all honesty, if I found out I didn’t have the necessary financial support, and I wouldn’t be able to run a very effective campaign, I probably wouldn’t run. However, having said that, I think I’ll be fine.” He turned to Liz and said, “I understand you don’t hunt. What do you plan to do during the day while we’re out hunting?”

  “Nothing more important than reading a book and taking walks,” Liz said. Just then she felt something next to her thigh and looked down. Sam sat down next to her leg and looked up at her. She heard Jack’s voice calling to the dog, “Sam, come. I’m sorry, Liz, he never does this with guests.”

  “Jack, I’m fine with having him here. I already miss my dogs, so please, I’d enjoy it if he could sit next to me.”

  “Well, all right, but you let me know if you change your mind. Now why don’t you two come over here and get something to eat and drink. Everyone is way ahead of you and dinner will be served in about half an hour.”

  Liz walked over to a long table which had several trays labeled “Charcuterie” and then individual small signs in front of them. There was a duck sampler, duck prosciutto with ham, and smoked duck biscuits. She turned to Roger who was pouring them a glass of wine and said, “I’ve never had any of these things. How interesting.” She took a bite of the smoked duck biscuit and said, “This is fantastic. My instincts were right about the food we’re going to have during our stay here at the Big T Lodge!”

  “Well, sweetheart, your instincts may have been right about the food, but I think mine were right about the wine. Any place that serves Rombauer chardonnay is going to be just fine with me.” He held his glass up and said, “To a great vacation.” She lightly touched his glass with hers and said, “We made it here, and everything is going to be wonderful.”

  They spent the next half hour chatting with the other guests. There was the usual: “Where are you from?” “What do you do?” “Have you ever been here before?” It was the type of conversation people have who are going to be spending the next few days together in a special setting.

  Their first dinner at the lodge was spectacular, in Liz’s view. A few people were beginning to go to their rooms when Roger said, “Liz, I think we need to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for me, and I want to be ready for it. They’re taking us out to the duck blinds before dawn. I’ll come back around 9:30 or so, and we can have breakfast together then.” With that they excused themselves and made their way up to their room, looking forward to a quiet night’s sleep in the middle of nowhere.

  CHAPTER 7

  The digital alarm clock on the nightstand next to their bed buzzed at six a.m. Liz rolled over in bed and said, “Roger, there must be something about sleeping in a big beautiful lodge out in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, that’s one of the best night’s sleep I've ever had. I really don’t mind waking up early after I’ve slept so well.”

  “You’re not the only one. I never woke up once. I better get a move on, because I need to put on my gear for duck hunting, and since I’ve never done it before, I don’t want to look like a newbie. All of the hunters are supposed to assemble down in the great room at six-thirty, so I’ve got just enough time to get suited up.”

  “I think I’ll spend the day reading, taking a walk, and just relaxing,” Liz said. “Don’t need a lot of make-up and special clothes for that. I’ll get dressed and walk you downstairs for your first morning hunt, plus I could use some coffee.”

  A half hour later they walked down the large curving staircase only to be met by Sam who seemed to have been waiting for Liz. The big dog stood up as soon as she got to the bottom of the stairs and wagged his tail in greeting. “Good morning, Sam,” she said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you might have been waiting for me.”

  Jack Mercer saw them and walked over. “Have you seen Milt this morning?” he asked. “I’m guessing he overslept. I better go up to his room and wake him up, although usually he’s the first one down here in the morning. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  Jack returned shortly looking grim. “Roger,” he said, “would you please come with me?” He turned and walked back up the stairs. Roger shrugged his shoulders as he looked at Liz with a “what’s this all about?” look on his face and followed Jack up the stairs.

  “I didn’t want the rest of the guests to hear this,” Jack said as they made their way up the stairs, “but I know Milt’s a friend of yours. Unfortunately, he’s dead.” He opened the door to Milt’s room, while Roger stared in shock at his friend who was lying on the bed. A red drink similar to the one Roger had seen Milt drinking the evening before was on the nightstand next to his bed. Roger walked over to the bed and took Milt’s hand in his own. There was no pulse, and it was very apparent that Jack was right. His friend, the Attorney General of California, and a candidate for governor of that state, was dead. There were no signs of foul play. It appeared Milt had died of natural causes, even though he was only fifty-three years old.

  Immediately Roger thought of the recent death of Antonin Scalia, the Supreme Court Justice. Good grief, this is just like what happened to him. He died in his sleep in at a Texas hunting lodge.

  “I assume you’re going to cancel this morning’s duck hunt because of this,” Roger said.

  Jack looked at him in astonishment, and said, “Are you kidding? Even though the guests are very wealthy, for many of them a trip like this justifies why they work so hard. No, I won’t be telling anyone about it. I’ve decided to say that something came up, and Milt had to leave unexpectedly, which in a way, is true. The hunts scheduled for the next three days will continue as planned. I know Milt was recently married, but I never met his wife. Do you know her?”

  Roger was having a hard time absorbing the fact that his host was planning on going about business as usual. He couldn’t believe that although his friend had died, his host intended to tell people he’d had to leave unexpectedly. “No, I don’t know her,” Roger said. “She needs to be notified. Although I’m a lawyer, I have no idea what the law is here in Texas regarding someone dying under circumstances like this.”

  “I'd appreciate it if you’d call his wife,” Jack said. “I really need to get back to the other guests. It’s almost time for everyone to go out to the duck blinds. That includes you. Since your wife’s staying here, m
aybe she could call Milt’s widow and be here when the mortuary comes to pick up the body. I’ll call them now, and they should be here in an hour or so. Matter of fact, I’ll talk to your wife and see if she’ll take care of the situation.” He hurried out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

  Although Roger and Milt had never been close friends, and their relationship was more like acquaintances who shared lunch every couple of years, Roger felt very uncomfortable about the way Jack was handling the shocking and sad situation surrounding Milt’s death. He wondered if there would be an autopsy, and he certainly didn’t feel it was Liz’s responsibility to be the one to call Milt’s wife and deal with the mortuary, because the owner felt the duck hunt was more important than the loss of a man’s life. He walked down the stairs, determined to tell Jack it was his responsibility to call Milt’s widow, not Liz’s.

  When he reached the bottom of the stairs he saw Liz and Jack having an intense conversation off to one side of the great room and away from where the other hunters had gathered as they prepared for the morning duck hunt. When Roger walked over to them, Liz looked at him and said, “Go. I'll take care of this. There’s no reason for this to ruin your trip. I wasn’t planning on doing anything special today anyway.”

  Within minutes Jack told the guests the ATVs were in the driveway waiting to take them to the duck blinds. He told them the dogs had already been taken to the blinds and if they hadn’t brought their own guns, there were guns and ammunition in the ATVs. The guests hurried out to begin the hunt.

  Clearly torn between participating in the duck hunt or staying with Liz, Roger turned to her and said, “I’m so sorry to involve you in this. I really don’t feel good about it, but I honestly don’t know what else to do. From what Jack told me upstairs, there’s no justice of the peace in this county, and in cases like this, the body is taken directly to a mortuary and then according to Texas law, a county judge can sign the death certificate and release the body to the next of kin. It sure sounds different from the way we do things in California, but I guess this is how it’s done in Texas when the death occurs in a rural county with a low population.”

  “Roger, we both know this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with something like this, so try to have a good time. I know that’s almost impossible under these circumstances, but there’s really nothing to be accomplished by you staying here. I’ll take care of it, although I’m certainly not looking forward to making the call to his wife, or I guess I should say widow. I have to tell you the owner of this lodge is pretty far down on my list of what constitutes a decent and caring human being. Do you have Milt’s home number?”

  “Yes, I have it as well as his wife’s name on my cell phone upstairs. I left it on my desk. You’ll find it there and again, I’m so sorry you have to be the one to handle this.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll do whatever’s necessary, and I’ll see you when you get back for breakfast. Jack said it would be about 9:30 or so. Good luck duck hunting.”

  CHAPTER 8

  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.

  CHAPTER 9

  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.