Death Knell In The Alps (A Samantha Jamison Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

so damn quiet back here it gives me the creeps. Plus it’s going to get dark soon. If I could break into that house I would, but all the windows are closed and shuttered. I’m also getting hungry.”
    I looked over at his feed bin in his covered shed. It was overflowing with oats . Did a neighbor feed him?
    My stomach growled. “If I was a horse I’d eat that.”
    He looked me directly in the eye, snorted, turned around and walked over to his comfortable shed and his damn oats.
    “…Hey, was it something I said?” I turned away and plodded back through the snow over to a shuttered window and pulled hard. It wouldn’t budge.
    So sue me. I had to try.
    I looked back to the horse. His ass was facing me as he munched on his oats. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was making a personal statement. Shrugging, I turned.
    Skis, here I come.
    I was headed toward the front of the chalet when I heard a voice from behind me. I turned back to see who it was.
    “I wondered who those skis out front belonged to.”
    An older man dressed for skiing approached me.
    I grinned . I was looking at my ski ticket out .

 
     
     
    Chapter 18
    Talk About An Escort Service
     
     
    He took off his sunglasses. “Can I help you, Miss?”
    Was that a slight accent?
    He was tall and elegant-looking with gray hair and mustache and perfectly attired: black jacket, gloves, pants and ski boots.
    But where were his poles and skis?
    “I seem to have gotten separated from my ski instructor, then remembered passing this chalet and hiked back to ask for directions. I wasn’t sure how to get back to the village.”
    “If you had followed the main ski tracks,” he said, “you would have ended up at the edge of Grindelwald .”
    “But the tracks started to veer in different directions and I had visions of ending up wandering after dark.”
    He looked out to the woods, and then turned back.
    “Yes. Unfamiliar territory can be intimidating.”
    I stuck out my hand. “By the way, I’m Samantha.”
    He nodded and shook my hand. “And I am Hans.”
    Wait a minute! All the shutters were locked.
    “Are you a neighbor?”
    “…No.”
    Then what was he doing here?
    As though reading my thoughts, Hans said, “Your skis stood out since this house has been vacant for a long time.”
    Then why was the horse here? This didn’t wash.
    “The trail is ideal: secluded and no tourists,” he said.
    Yeah, especially behind this chalet, I thought .
    My eyes darted about, taking in my surroundings. What was I thinking standing there in the middle of nowhere talking to him? I took another step. “I’d better get going.”
    “Wait,” he said, latching onto my arm.
    Surprised by his strength, my breath caught. He let go.
    “Don’t wander too far. You might get hurt.”
    I stepped back. What kind of warning was that?
    “When the ski tracks veer right, take them. You will end up skiing right into the village by the pastry shop.”
    That was across from my hotel. Did he know that too?
    “I should escort you to make sure you don’t get hurt.”
    Uh-uh. Then my hotel would definitely be confirmed.
    We both turned when someone called out my name.
    Perfect! “Peter must have hiked back and found me.”
    Smiling, I quickly hustled toward the front, relieved to be seeing Peter for a safe escort back. But as I rounded the front of the chalet, I found it wasn’t Peter at all, but that handsome stud from the ski shop: Olaf.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked.
    “At lunch Peter bragged how skilled you were. I knew the trail he’d take and figured I would catch up to see for myself. I recognized your scarf hanging from the skis.”
    “Oh, that red one. Your timing’s impeccable.” I turned half expecting to see Hans coming after me, but he hadn’t.
    Olaf followed my gaze. “What? Is Peter back there?”
    “No, just that man I was talking to.”
    “What man?” Olaf asked, following me to the back.
    But once there I saw only tracks in the snow. No