cut. Aside from the lack of a uniform, he looked like he belonged in the military.
“Sloane, how wonderful to see you,” a woman’s voice said.
I shifted my focus to the redhead who stood next to me.
“And you, Claire.”
Claire was somewhere around her mid-fifties and of Irish descent. She had a roundish head which harmonized with the plethora of freckles scattered throughout her body. She wasn’t much taller than the pub table we sat in and entirely stocky.
“How’s the martini?” she said.
“Perfect, as usual. How’s business?”
“Can’t complain,” she said. “Ski season brought me a lot of business this year, thanks to everyone coming in to check out that new resort. You know the one.”
“Wildwood.”
She nodded.
“That’s it. Between the fancy shmancy grand opening and Sundance, I’ve got no complaints.”
“Glad to hear it. We wouldn’t want my favorite place going out of business now would we?”
“Not a chance,” she said. “You want your usual?”
I nodded.
“I’ll tell your waitress,” she said, “if I can find the silly thing. As useful as a lighthouse on a bog, that one.”
“Is anyone interested in what I want at all?” Nick said.
Claire let out a full-bellied laugh and turned around.
“Why Detective Calhoun, I didn’t see you there,” she said.
He rolled his eyes.
“Sure, sure, you ladies finished yet, because I’m here to eat.”
“Aw, someone feels left out.” She patted him on the arm. “Give us girls a minute and we’ll get you all taken care of, alright? Keep your alans on.”
She turned toward me again.
“It was nice to see you Sloane, but I better get back to it.”
She gave Nick a civilized nod when she walked away.
“Detective,” she said.
Nick shrugged.
“What about my drink?” he said.
He sized my martini up from top to bottom like he wanted to frisk it.
I waved over the waitress.
“He’ll have a Bulleit Neat.”
“A bull what?” she said.
My first impressions were seldom wrong, and in this case my instincts told me two things—she was the one Claire referred to earlier, and tonight was sure to be her last.
“Bourbon on the rocks,” I said. “Ask the bartender, he’ll know.”
She still looked confused. I gestured toward Nick.
“And he would like to order,” I said.
Nick placed his order and the waitress headed for the bar.
“Now where were we?” he said.
“Somewhere between OCD and my day, I think.”
“Right,” he said, “tell me about it.”
“You won’t believe—”
“Oh boy. Here we go,” he said.
“I haven’t even come to the good part yet.”
Nick folded his arms and rested them on the edge of the table.
“Better get started then.”
“What do you know about the accident at Wildwood?”
“Same as you, I’m sure. Girl died of blunt force trauma,” he said.
“Her sister Audrey came to see me today.”
“About?” he said.
“The accident, or should I say alleged accident.”
The smile on his face vanished.
“What do you mean alleged? ”
“She hired me to look into her sister’s death and find out what happened.”
The waitress returned with Nick’s drink and our salads.
“Another martini?” she said.
I handed her my glass.
Nick took a swig of his drink and swallowed hard.
“We already know what happened,” he said.
“Audrey suspects it might not have been an accident.”
“Let me get this straight. The woman smacks into a tree on a black diamond trail and her sister thinks it wasn’t an accident?”
“You got it.”
“Based on what?” he said.
“The fact that Charlotte Halliwell was an experienced skier. The woman won a silver medal in downhill. And before you chime in, I already know what you’re going to say. That in itself doesn’t prove foul play, and you’re right.”
“You know family members aren’t always in their right mind after losing a loved one,” he said.
“I don’t know what to think. But she’s hired me to look into it