Last Resort of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 9) Read Online Free

dead,
Dad,” Lacy said.
    Clint shook her seat. “Hey, no
making fun of the geriatric.”
    “Lacy, why are you on a diet?”
Michael asked.
    “To lose weight, obviously,” Lacy
said.
    “Why obviously? Better to be a
cello than a flute,” Michael replied.
    “This is Frannie’s doing,” Clint
said with uncharacteristic enmity.
    “No, Dad, this is my decision,”
Lacy said.
    “You might think it’s your
decision, but you wouldn’t have these thoughts in your head about your weight
if she hadn’t been pressuring you all these years.”
    “It’s not Mom’s fault.”
    Jason agreed with Clint, but Lacy
sounded near tears. She put her hand in her pocket and stuffed two seaweed
blobs in her mouth.
    “Clint, you played basketball in
high school, right?” he asked.
    “And in college,” Clint said,
somewhat sullenly.
    “Did you play?” Jason asked
Michael.
    “No, but I sold pot to our high
school’s point guard once,” Michael said.
    “But you can play, right?” Jason pressed.
    “I enjoy a good game now and then,”
Michael said.
    “I think they have an outdoor court
here. Maybe we could get a game of two on two with Tosh.”
    “That seems like a stacked deck,
considering my advanced age and all,” Clint said.
    “No, Tosh is terrible at
basketball,” Lacy said.
    “With height like that? He should
have been a forward,” Clint said.
    “He can’t dribble,” Lacy said.
    “I’ll be sure and use that against
him,” her father said, and the remainder of the ride was filled with happy
conversation and pleasant banter.
    At last they arrived. Lacy gasped.
    “Wow,” Jason said.
    “Are we sure Tosh is paying for
this?” Clint asked.
    “If not, we’d better scope out the
exits for a quick getaway because there is no way we regular folk could afford
this place,” Michael said. “Well, except you, my millionaire friend, Lacy.”
    She turned to wrinkle her nose at
him while Jason took in the fancy resort. Set halfway up a small mountain, it
looked like the kind of place he would see in the background of an Olympic ski
competition. It was massive, a giant wood and stone structure with glass
windows on every side.
    “It’s a Tyrolean fantasy land,”
Lacy said.
    “Honey, could you translate that
for the non-English lit majors in the car?” her dad said.
    “Alpine, Bavarian,” Lacy said
distractedly. “Look, there’s the ski lift. Is it scary to ride a lift?”
    “Only if you’re afraid of heights,”
Jason said.
    “Or falling from them,” Michael
added.
    “Don’t worry. Beginners usually
start with a tow rope,” Jason reassured her.
    “Good, that’s good,” Lacy said.
    “You don’t have to ski,” Jason
reminded her.
    “I will ski this weekend or die
trying,” Lacy said. The men in the car looked at each other in silent
agreement: that’s what they were afraid of.

Chapter 4

 
    “Welcome to Torsten Resort.”
    Lacy expected the man who greeted
them to have a German accent, like the storeowner from Frozen. Woo-hoo, big summer blowout. He didn’t, though. Despite his
blond hair, blue eyes, and obviously Nordic features, he spoke softly and
distinctly, as if to convey the image of wealthy refinement.
    “We have a reservation under the
name…”
    “Lacy? Lacy Steele?”
    Lacy turned toward the sound of her
name and saw a man heading toward her, arms outstretched for a hug. She took a
step back and bumped into Jason, and then recognition hit. “Snaps? Is that
you?”
    “It’s me,” he said. He reached her
and enveloped her in a bear hug, which she returned.
    “I can’t believe this. What are you
doing here?”
    “I’m here to lose the paunch,” he
said, patting his slightly protruding belly. “What about you? And don’t tell me
it’s to lose weight because I won’t believe it.”
    “Okay, I won’t tell you,” she said.
    “Is this your husband?” His eyes
flicked to Jason.
    “Boyfriend. Jason Cantor, this is
Snaps McKenzie.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Snaps said.