Welcome to Paths Not Taken, the thirteenth Operation Quickline story. When a sting operation is set up on the resort owned by Lisa Wycherly’s father, she and Sid Hackbirn find themselves revisiting their high school jobs. And hoping their covers don’t get blown. You can read the first chapter here.

I hate getting up early in the morning. Sid is a morning person and seldom sleeps past six a.m. Me? If I can stay in bed until noon, I will happily.

But there wasn’t much I could do about the early morning flight out of the South Lake Tahoe airport to Burbank. The only later flight didn’t leave until after three that afternoon, and we wanted to be at Mae and Neil’s for as much of that Sunday as possible.
It was Janey’s birthday, and the Whole Fam-Damily, except for Mama, was there. The Whole Fam-Damily was a joke Darby had made the year before and he’d thought he was really getting away with something. Except that the phrase stuck. It consists of my parents, Mae, Neil, and their six kids, Sid, me, Nick, Sy and Stella.
Mae, Neil, and the kids might have come up to the resort that Sunday, but between the fact that there was no place to put them and that it was too expensive to fly in for the day, Daddy and Sid had agreed for them, me, and Janey to fly down to the Burbank airport, then get a shuttle to Pasadena where the O’Malleys live.
Also, both Mae and Darby were performing in a community theatre production of Fiddler on the Roof. An arts group in the city of Pasadena was putting it on. The summer before, Darby had joined the little community orchestra, which got Mae trying out for that year’s production of Kiss Me Kate. Mae got the lead, Lilli Vanessi, and Darby had played second chair violin.
This summer, Mae had tried out again and won the role of Golde in Fiddler. The conductor and the director had thought it would be fun if the Fiddler could really play and got Darby to do it. It wouldn’t premiere until later in August. But the rehearsal schedule meant that driving up to the resort would have been really difficult, even if there had been some place to shoehorn the family in.
We spent a pleasant day with everyone, then Neil drove us to the airport for that evening’s flight back to Tahoe. But as the five of us waited for our flight, I noticed Nick was sulking.
“You okay, honey?” I asked, playing with the lock of hair that had, again, fallen over his forehead.
He made a face. “I just don’t want to go back. I mean, Darby got to go to music camp. He gets to do the show. It’s not fair.”
“You got to do a play,” I said.
We couldn’t say so, but Nick and I had gotten involved in a production of Richard III during the Kansas case eighteen months before.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to do it again.”
“I don’t.” Nick frowned. “It’s just that Darby gets to do all the fun stuff. I have to work. I hate that job.”
Sighing, I put my arm around his shoulders. “I know. I’m not liking the work, either. But it is helping your grandfather, and you are learning to drive. Darby isn’t yet.”
“I know.” Nick huffed.
They called our flight and Nick went to get on the plane.
Thanks to the noise of the plane, Sid and I were able to make a plan for the next couple of days. Sid had called Esther at the resort before we took off and had found out that things had been quiet. Desmond would continue to keep an eye on Dusty where he could. Frank would hang out and do perimeter checks while Desmond and Esther were working. He was also making friends with Pedro Delgado, and the two had done a couple searches, but had found nothing beyond the transponder behind the horse barn that had already been found. Pedro had yet to get any information on the equipment’s origins. Esther had seen it and didn’t recognize where it had been made, either.
The problem was, neither of us was sure what to do about the attack on Dusty, or even if it was an attack on Dusty and not just someone surprising a burglar. It had certainly seemed like Dusty was the intended victim, but since we weren’t even sure that Lipplinger had been murdered, we couldn’t say whether the two events were connected.
So, the first thing I did Monday morning was print out a list of the guests who were at the resort when Lipplinger was killed and another list of the guests who were there that Saturday when Dusty’s room had been broken into. That didn’t mean that the attacker hadn’t come onto the resort from someplace else, but it was a place to start.
I also messed up my back a few minutes later. The really annoying part of it was that I wasn’t doing anything that should have popped it out, like landing really hard on my backside. I simply twisted wrong, but the pain was incredibly intense and there wasn’t much I could do about it.
I had another errand to run. It was Lee Whitney’s day off and I had promised Sid that I’d talk to the errant manager. I eased myself into Sid’s Beemer and took off. Whitney lived in a small apartment to the north of the town. The thin young man with brown hair and eyes blinked at me sleepily when he opened the door to his place.
“Come on in,” he grumbled.
He was dressed, but in a dirty t-shirt and rumpled jeans. I wondered if he’d been sleeping in his clothes. A ratty couch sat in the center of the room, facing a new TV on a battered table. The place reeked, and a thin mist of smoke permeated the room. How much of that was pot and how much was incense, I couldn’t say. I can’t always tell when it’s marijuana that I’m smelling or someone’s cigar, I don’t care how distinctive people say the smell of pot is.
“Lee, you know why I’m here, don’t you?” I asked.
“Not really.” He shrugged sadly. “Sort of.” He blinked. “Is Sid still mad at me?”
“I don’t think he’s mad, but he is worried about you.”
“I don’t go to work stoned.”
“Yeah, but you called in sick the week before last and you came in stinking of marijuana the other night.”
“It’s just weed. Who cares?”
“Well, I do, for starters.” I frowned at him. “I thought you liked working the restaurant.”
He shrugged and flopped down on the sagging couch. “It’s as good as anything, I guess.”
“Is there something else you’d rather be doing?” I sat down next to him, trying not to choke on the fumes.
“I don’t know.” He took a deep breath, then looked over at the small counter in front of the kitchen. A thin stream of smoke wafted up from an ashtray. Next to it, a stick of incense glowed.
“Well, what did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“A grown up.” He blinked at me. “Honestly, Lisa. I have no idea. I just wanted to get through high school and be on my own.” He took a deep breath. “I figured I’d find something sooner or later. But I didn’t. I liked waiting tables. It was easy, and I didn’t have to think too much. And being manager was kinda cool. But it’s kinda like is this all there is?” He sighed. “My dad keeps yelling at me that I need some direction for my life.”
“Well, you’re not going to get it smoking weed.”
“I suppose.” He blinked. “And some days, it totally sucks. But most days I’m cool with waiting tables and smoking on my days off.”
“Except that Saturday night, when we needed you, you came in smelling like a stoner.”
“I wasn’t stoned.”
“You’re getting awfully close to it.” I got up. “And if you do come in stoned, you will get fired.” I went to the door. “I hope that doesn’t happen. You don’t deserve that.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
I left the apartment and blinked. The weird thing was that I felt dizzy and shook my head to clear it. It didn’t entirely help. I managed to drive back to the resort without mishap, but couldn’t figure out how I’d done it. I found Sid in my parents’ kitchen, making lunch.
“Oh, man, I feel weird,” I told him. “But I messed up my back this morning, and it doesn’t hurt now.”
Sid got a good snort of my clothes. “I’m guessing you got a solid contact high.”
“If this is being high, then I don’t like it.” My stomach gurgled. “And I’m starving, too. Any chips around?”
Sid laughed and got me some Cheet-ohs. I plowed through the bag.
“Someone’s got the munchies,” Sid said, handing me a ham sandwich.
I ate three more sandwiches, then went to rest in our room.
Sid’s Voice –
Poor Lisa was a mess, but I appreciated the way she’d talked to Lee. It was even more interesting that the contact high had taken the edge off her back pain. I was a little concerned about Whitney, but he was merely an annoyance. Clint Foster was a full-on problem and, thanks to the contact high, Lisa was in no shape to hear what had happened that morning.
Things were running smoothly at the restaurant by the time the breakfast rush eased, so I focused on working with Esther and Desmond on the new computer system. Clint somehow found us in the main office and insisted on talking to me. I took him into Daddy’s office and locked the door.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Clint demanded. “I was called in to pull a simple sting on the kid selling the tech to the Russians, and now Hattie’s telling me that he’s being set up to give them a set of dummy plans.”
“Hattie told us the same thing.”
“And what the hell are you doing here?” Clint’s face was just starting to get red.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Lisa and I are here to make sure our Soviet mole gets the dummy plans.”
Clint got in my face. “Whose fucking idea was that?”
“How about your good buddy Dale O’Connor?”
“He called me in on this.”
“I can’t help that.” I spread my hands. “This little clusterfuck was not my idea and I don’t like you getting all over my ass just because Dale got turned around. Not to mention the fact that yelling at me is not going to help this mission succeed.”
“This is why we have the Travel Club.” Clint started pacing. “You should have said something.”
“Oh, for fucking Christ’s sake! A- you could have said something and B- that’s assuming either of us were told the other had Need to Know on our respective operations.”
“We clearly had Need to Know.”
“No shit. But neither of us knew that, did we? You want to bitch about it? Go talk to Dale. In the meantime, we should probably figure out a way to verify the objective, then see what we can do to make it happen.”
Clint got back in my face. “Do not tell me how to run an operation. I’ve been in this business since before you popped your cherry.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. “I wouldn’t put any money on that. I lost it pretty early.” I held up my hands. “Look, can we find a way to work together on this? It doesn’t matter who fucked up.”
“I’ll talk to Dale.” Clint moved away. “In the meantime, you stand down and stay out of my way.”
“Fine.”
I shook my head as Clint left the office. There was a reason Lisa and I pretty much hated The Company.
Lisa’s Voice –
When I woke up that afternoon, I still felt pretty dragged out, but at least my head wasn’t spinning and while my back still hurt, it still felt better than it had. I also wondered about Marina and that stash of cocaine I’d found in her purse. She’d worked with Lee in the afternoons. I believed Sid when he’d said that he didn’t think Marina was using. But I began to think that it was possible that Marina was dealing. The question was how to ask her about it.
I was about to go up to her room when she came into the staff lodge from the front and flopped onto a couch.
“How’s it going?” I asked her.
She yawned. “Okay. I can’t wait ‘til Wednesday, though.”
“Day off, right?”
“Yeah.” She grinned and wriggled her shoulders. “I’m going to sleep in until mid-afternoon.”
I plopped into a nearby easy chair. “Um. Maybe you can help me. I’ve been hearing some rumors about drugs in the restaurant.”
Marina’s face went pale. “It’s not me.”
“Marina?” I looked at her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!”
“I’m not thinking you’re involved.”
Marina burst into tears. “Tommy thinks I am, and it’s all the fault of those stupid executives on the retreat. But I didn’t do anything. I swear.”
Tommy was another college kid who was waiting tables during the day.
“What happened?” I moved over next to her and put my arms around her shoulders.
Marina shook her head. “I swear. I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But you’re obviously upset. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Tommy.” Marina sniffed. “We were joking about where those executives were getting their coke and Tommy said that I was selling it to them!” She sobbed. “I didn’t sell anybody anything. I really didn’t.”
“Then why would anybody think you had?”
“Oh, lord. This is so awful.” Marina blinked and tried to get a hold of herself. “It’s one of the guys I go to school with at Sac State. I’m a computer science major. Anyway, the guys there are always giving me a hard time. Except Doug. I mean, he’s not a friend. He’s kinda mean. But he found out about my job up here, and he’s working up here, too, at one of the casinos across the state line.” She meant in Nevada, which we’re literally right on top of in Tahoe. “So, he gives me this book to hold for him. And I think, no big deal. It would be nice to get one of those guys on my side. So, I take the book. Only there was this little plastic thing of white powder inside. I mean, it has to be coke. Doug gets too wired, you know? So, he calls me and lets me know that if I get rid of the book, he will come after me. That’s when I looked at the book and found the powder. I can’t get rid of it. Doug will come after me. But I can’t let anybody find it, either.” The tears started flowing again. “Only Tommy must have. I mean, I thought it was hidden really well.”
“It probably is,” I said softly, knowing full well that it was. “Tommy was just making an insensitive joke.”
“You don’t think I’m dealing?”
I chuckled. “Marina, it’s a lot easier to tell when someone is dealing than you might think.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but unless Marina was one hell of a lot better an actress than I thought, then it was pretty unlikely that she was dealing.
“But what am I going to do?” She caught her breath as she began to hyperventilate. “I can’t get rid of it. Doug will hurt me. And if someone else finds it, I’ll be screwed.”
“I understand.” I smiled at her. “But it will be alright. Why don’t you give it to me? If your friend Doug comes after it, I’ll find a way to protect you. And if I have it, there’s no way that Tommy or anyone else can find it on you.”
“You can protect me?”
I shrugged. “I deal with all sorts of cranky, nasty people. I can handle it.”
Whether she believed me, I didn’t know, but she did eventually lead me up to her room and dug the packet of white powder out of her purse. I could see her shoulders relaxing as she gave it to me. I wished I could have felt as relieved.
I kept the packet in my pocket as my pager vibrated. Hattie wanted to ask me something and I couldn’t really ignore it.
I made my way to the main lodge and upstairs, feeling nettled. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have plenty of other things to take care of and I really resented being on Hattie’s leash, as it were. I was surprised to see Sid in the room with Hattie.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Clint wants us to stand down,” Sid said. “He thinks Dale brought him in to set up the sting on Dusty.”
“What does Dale say?” I asked.
Hattie’s eyes rolled. “Who knows? He is not returning any of our calls and he is not in Washington or here.”
“So, do we stand down or what?” Sid asked.
“We still have those plans to find,” Hattie said. “Especially now that we know someone else is looking for them. Until we get our hands on them, they are not safe.”
Sid sighed. “Would it make sense to focus on that and let Clint worry about any sting operations for the time being?”
“It does to me.” I watched Hattie carefully.
She groaned in frustration. “I swear, I would dearly love to electrocute Clint. And Dale, too.”
She spoke with such venom it startled me. Sid looked over at me.
“Alright,” he said slowly. “We’ll work on that.”
Hattie nodded, and Sid and I left the room.
“Let’s talk in the apartment,” I muttered.
Which is where we went.
“What are you thinking?” Sid asked as I checked the messages on the answering machine.
“Sid, do you think Hattie knows that her brother was electrocuted?”
“We don’t know for sure that her brother was electrocuted.”
“True. But it seems really odd that she put it that way about Clint.” I frowned. “And she was so angry, too. That’s not like her.”
“No, it’s not.” Sid frowned. “Wait. There is a perfectly innocent reason why she might know and it’s that, as next of kin, she probably has access to the coroner’s report.”
“Still.” I began pacing. “She got here awfully fast that day. You know as well as I do how hard it is to get a connecting flight here. How did she do it?”
“Hard to say. But you called her in Washington.”
I looked at the phone and answering machine. “No. I called her home phone number. That doesn’t mean she was actually in Washington.”
“How would you have reached her, then?”
“The same way people are reaching us. Our phone number has been forwarded to this phone.” I shook my head. “She could have forwarded her number to almost anywhere and we wouldn’t necessarily know. You can hear it switch sometimes when it’s forwarded, but if you’re not paying attention, you’ll miss the sound.”
Sid winced. “Okay. I’ll have to buy that possibility. But we still don’t know for sure how Lipplinger died, and if he was electrocuted, how that could have happened? The TV was unplugged.”
“I have no idea.” I got the two print outs I’d made earlier that morning. “Maybe if we look at who was here when Lipplinger died and who was here this past Saturday, that will help.”
There were five spaces that had not vacated that Saturday, with only three that had been at the resort both when Lipplinger died and when the attack had occurred. The Winslows were staying the entire summer and were in Cabin Eight. The DiNovo Family, in Cabin Three, were reserved through the middle of August. Maria Sanchez had extended her reservation the week before.
“Ms. Sanchez is in the room next to Lipplinger’s,” I told Sid. “But if she’s hiding that she’s a Soviet spy, then she is doing a masterful job of it. She’s incredibly nice.”
“Could she be about my size?” Sid asked.
“She’s closer to my height,” I said. “Plus, she’s got some decided curves. On the other hand, it was dark.” I looked at the paper again. “I’d think the DiNovos are more likely, but they’re not wandering around a lot. He mostly works and she spends all her time reading and sometimes keeping an eye on her kids.”
“There’s also the Winslows.” Sid shook his head. “He’s not that tall, and the girls are pretty much oblivious.”
“Yeah, but they’re regulars. They’ve been spending the summer here since…” I frowned. “Come to think of it, he used to come with his family when he was a kid, and I possibly had my weekly fling with him. I don’t think so, but we might have.” I sent Sid a mock glare as he chuckled. “For crying out loud. There’s no reason I should remember the guy, and you can’t possibly remember every woman you slept with.”
He laughed. “Not if I have to come up with a list of names. But when I see someone I slept with, I generally remember.” He thought about it. “Although high school was twenty years ago. It’s entirely possible that I wouldn’t be able to place some of the girls I knew back then.”
“And it’s been well over ten years back for me.” I leaned into him.
He nuzzled my ear. It was so tempting, but then the walkie-talkie squawked, and I had to go running.
Thank you for reading. For more information about the Operation Quickline series, click here.
Please check out the Fiction page for the latest on all my novels. Or look me up at your favorite independent bookstore. Mine is Vroman’s, in Pasadena, California.