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.
Thursday mornings were the all-management meeting. The breakroom was barely big enough for the entire team, but there was coffee in the breakroom and usually snacks. That Thursday, Sid had put out a large bowl of fruit salad. Most of us grabbed the donuts that Lourdes had brought in.
“I’ve got The Sound of Music for the movie tomorrow night,” Ms. Wannamaker told us.
“And I’ll be smoking beef brisket for the picnic,” added Bracha Solomon. “With Bill’s help, of course.”
Bracha and Daddy often worked together on the food for the Friday night picnic and outdoor movie because Daddy is amazing when it comes to smoking meat.
Sid looked over his list. “We have three seatings almost completely reserved, mostly two-tops.”
Which meant that a lot of parents would be dropping their kids at the picnic, then going to dinner by themselves. That was okay. Several of the college kids would be there to keep an eye on the little ones.
“Sounds good,” said Daddy. “What do we have for Saturday?”
That was the really, really busy day. All of the cabins and most of the lodge rooms rented from Saturday to Saturday, so except for those families staying more than one week (and we had two staying for two weeks, another staying through mid-August, and one family there for the whole summer), there would be a lot of people checking out, then just as many checking in.
“Three-oh-five and three-oh-six are staying through,” Irene told us. “Three-oh-four checked out this morning. Two-eleven is staying. Everything else, except cabins three, eight and twelve are vacating.”
Lourdes, a medium-sized woman in her late 50s with dark hair and eyes, nodded.
“We’ll have the full crew ready to go at seven,” she told us. “Let’s just hope that folks get out early.”
Both hers and my walkie-talkies squawked at the same time.
“Lisa? Lourdes?” said Mira’s voice in my ear. “Can you get Bill and get up here to room three-oh-five?”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“You’ll see when you get here.”
I looked over at Daddy.
“Bill, we’ve got a problem upstairs,” Lourdes said, heading out of the room.
Daddy and I were on her heels. Outside room 305, Mira held Donna Mars, a college kid, whose face was utterly ashen.
“What the hell?” Daddy growled.
Feeling my stomach doing three kinds of flip-flops, I pushed ahead into the room. I probably shouldn’t have. You see, I have this little phobia of dead bodies, which is really odd given my business. But I had a bad feeling that I would need to see what was in the room. Well, apart from the body.
And it was a body, Lipplinger’s, to be exact. He lay on his back, eyes open and staring. The television was unplugged and had fallen on its side, as if Lipplinger had started to move it when he collapsed. The rest of the room looked pristine. That was as far as I got before my stomach started heaving. Somehow, I kept it all down and got out of the room. Daddy cursed under his breath.
“Mira, shut the door.” Daddy sighed deeply and shook his head. “We’ll have to call the paramedics and the police. It’s sad, but these things happen. Lisa, can you get the emergency information from Irene? And I know it will be hard, but let’s try not to upset the other guests in the meantime. It’s not their fault.”
I sort of already had Lipplinger’s emergency information, but I went downstairs and asked Irene for it, anyway. She led me to the reservation office and got the number from the computer. Sid showed a moment later as Irene went back to the meeting.
“They said there’s a stiff?” Sid asked, his face creased with worry. He knows me and bodies mostly because it was working for him and the spy biz that started the phobia.
“Lipplinger,” I said softly, blinking my eyes. “Daddy’s acting like it was a heart attack, and that almost makes sense.”
“He wasn’t a young man.” Sid sighed, then put his hand on my arm. “How are you doing?”
“Shaky, but okay.” I swallowed. “I didn’t barf, and I saw him.”
“That’s good.” Sid shook his head. “I can’t help but feel for Hattie. All the same, this is not good timing.”
“We’ll see.” I swallowed again. “Speaking of, I’ve got to call Hattie.”
Hattie Mitchell was Lipplinger’s younger sister. In fact, our adventure with Lipplinger was how Sid and I initially met her. She lived in Washington, DC, although she traveled a fair amount.
I had to wait for one of Hattie’s staff to get her, but it wasn’t that long before she picked up.
“Hello, Lisa, what’s going on?” she asked. “It’s an emergency?”
“I’m afraid so, Hattie. Sid and I are here in South Lake Tahoe.”
“Yes. Miles is supposed to be there, too.”
“He was. Umm, Hattie, I’m so sorry. He died either last night or this morning.”
“Oh.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Um. Do you know what happened?”
“I’m afraid not. We just found him in his room. The paramedics and the police aren’t even here yet.”
“Hm.” There was another long pause. “Well… Hmm. Um. I suppose I’d better head out there. Have you talked to Dale yet?”
“You’re the first person I called. I’m not even sure where Dale is.”
“I think he’s in DC. He should be. Congress is still in session for another couple weeks. Are you sure it’s Miles?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure. I mean, he doesn’t have a look-alike, does he?”
Hattie let out a bitter chuckle. “One of him is more than enough.” She hemmed for another minute or so. “I’ll call Dale.”
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.
“Of course. I’ll let you know when I get there.”
“Okay. Have them radio me if I’m not at the front desk when you arrive.” I paused. “I’m so sorry, Hattie.”
“Thanks, Lisa.”
By that time, the paramedics and the police had arrived, and I let them in through the back and upstairs in the freight elevator. The nice thing about cops and fire people in South Lake Tahoe is that they’re really sensitive to the tourist trade. It’s not an everyday kind of thing, but people die in hotels often enough that the local authorities know how to be discreet about it. And people dying in hotel rooms is one of those things that freaks the guests out, even if the hotel has nothing to do with it. And it usually doesn’t.
The paramedics seemed pretty sure that Lipplinger had died of natural causes, and the cops agreed. At least, that’s what Daddy told me. In any case, Lipplinger was hauled out of there pretty darned quickly and quietly, and for that, I was grateful.
My next job after that was getting the room thoroughly cleaned. Mira, fortunately, volunteered to do that, and I helped. However, while she scrubbed and vacuumed, I went through Lipplinger’s clothes, suitcases, and briefcase. Ostensibly, I was packing, but it also gave me a chance to search the dresser, closet, and bedside tables, looking for his personal items. Together, we remade the bed and replaced the towels.
I sent Mira to page Dusty so that we could replace the TV. I figured the one that had fallen wasn’t going to work anymore. While she was gone, I moved most of the furniture and searched behind and under it but didn’t find anything.
Once Dusty had brought the new TV, I went downstairs to find a place for Lipplinger’s stuff to wait until Hattie could claim it. Then I went to get lunch since it was after one already and I was starving. In between orders, Sid volunteered to look at Lipplinger’s computer to see if there was anything on it that we should be hiding. I was happy to let him.
Almost the entire staff was acting off because of the death. It’s as though we all felt guilty because we had all disliked him so much and now he was dead.
Nick, however, didn’t seem to have any feelings about it.
“I don’t know,” he said to me that afternoon as we walked back to my parents’ house after he’d gotten off work. “I mean, he was a total jerk, and it’s not nice that he’s dead, but it doesn’t really affect me.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. One of the things that both made me crazy about teenagers and that I loved about them was their amazing self-absorption. Nick stopped walking.
“It’s not making your life harder, is it?” he asked, frowning.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t totally self-absorbed. I smiled and ran my fingers through the lock of dark, wavy hair that constantly fell over his forehead.
“It is, and it isn’t,” I said.
“I’m sorry about that.” Nick sighed, then grinned. “Grandpa said that he’s going to teach me to drive next week.”
“What? You’re not fifteen and a half yet and you don’t have a learner’s permit.”
“So? Grandpa’s not worried about it.”
I glared at him. “And what does your dad think about this?”
“Dad said okay.”
I started to feel really steamed. It wasn’t like Sid to make snap decisions about raising Nick without checking with me first, but it did sometimes happen. Just like I sometimes made snap decisions about raising Nick, I reminded myself. That didn’t make up for much.
That’s when three of the four dogs staying at my parents’ place started howling and barking. Spot and Richmond belonged to my parents. Motley and Bowser belonged to Sid, Nick, and me. I’d gotten Motley in the fall of 1983. Sid’s aunt, Stella, had given Bowser to us after she’d found him abandoned behind her music school when we were still in Europe. Bowser was probably whining along with the other dogs, but given that he was a 12-week-old puppy and living in a dog crate in the living room when Nick wasn’t around to keep an eye on him, he wasn’t making much noise.
Hearing the dogs barking gave me an idea, though.
“Nick, we’ll put the driving on hold until I’ve had a chance to talk to both your father and grandfather, okay?”
“Mom!”
I held onto my temper with both hands. “It won’t take long. Trust me. Now, you go feed the dogs and make sure Bowser has plenty of time outside and give him extra praise when he does his business out there.”
“I know, Mom.”
He ran ahead while I contemplated tanning his fanny. I don’t believe in hitting kids, but there are days when it’s tempting. I tried to banish adolescent angst from my mind as I got through the gate in the fence separating the back of my parents’ house from the rest of the resort.
Motley, my liver-colored springer spaniel, came bounding up to me. Spot, an almost-two-year-old Dalmatian mix, and nine-year-old Richmond, a tan mutt, were both dancing around Nick. I found Motley’s leash on the hook next to the back door into the house’s kitchen, then clipped it onto Motley’s collar. He whined a little. It was dinnertime, and I was taking him for a walk?
“Come on, boy,” I said, leading him out of the yard into the resort. “We’ve got some work to do.”
The guests were pretty well used to seeing dogs all over the place, mostly because we allowed people to bring their dogs as long as they were kept on a leash while outside and not left by themselves in the rooms or cabins, or in the guests’ cars. Spot also got a lot of attention by running with the horses on rides. Richmond had done the same, but at his age, he was turning into quite the couch potato.
Motley, however, had been restricted to my parents’ yard unless I or Sid had him on a leash. Oddly enough, it wasn’t that Motley was badly behaved. In fact, it was the opposite. Motley was not only very well behaved, he was very well trained at finding illegal substances, specifically cocaine.
Sid and I had acquired Motley when he was a little over a year old, while working a case in Tahoe that had involved several packages of white powder. Motley had proven very adept at finding said packages of white powder. And right after he got to the resort this summer, he proved he was still very adept at finding said packages, not to mention packages of marijuana.
You might wonder who brings drugs to a family vacation spot? You’d be surprised. People do all sorts of stupid things, and there’s really not much we can do about what they hide in their luggage. If somebody is obviously stoned or drunk in one of the public areas, we have to intervene, but beyond that, we have to let it go.
So, when Motley ran loose that first day there, then went into conniptions at the door of cabin eight, the guest at the time got extremely peeved. I later went in and found the cocaine behind the front door and had reason to believe that particular guest hadn’t hidden it. Sid and I also decided that it would be safer for Motley if he didn’t wander around loose to find things he probably shouldn’t. After all, people hiding drugs are not usually very nice about it when you find them.
I headed first to my father’s private office in the main lodge and found Sid there, pulling a three-and-a-half-inch floppy disk from Lipplinger’s computer. I left the door open so that I could see outside to the main office just in case my father decided to come in.
He sighed. “I have no idea what’s on this.”
“Can I borrow one?” I asked.
“Sure.” Sid handed the plastic disk to me. “Giving Motley a chance at turning something up?”
“Why not?” I said. “Um. Nick said you’d told Daddy it was okay for Daddy to teach him how to drive.”
Sid chuckled and shook his head. “Nick was overstating it. Daddy mentioned it to me this morning right before the meeting. I told him I had to discuss it with you first and was going to as soon as lunch rush was over. But then things blew up.”
“I guess they did.” I sighed. “How do you feel about it? I mean, the driving thing.”
Sid snorted. “I’m perfectly happy letting your dad teach him. I don’t need another reason for Nick to be pissed at me.”
“But he’s not old enough for a learner’s permit.”
“He’s got less than a month.” Sid shrugged.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Are you trying to indulge him to make up for making him work this summer?”
“Possibly.” Sid sighed. “Probably.” He looked at me and winced. “But again, he is at the age for it.”
I snorted and looked away.
“Lisapet, is there a reason you are looking so disgusted right now?” An almost sly smile crept across Sid’s face. “Such as maybe your father’s attitude about you driving when you were Nick’s age?”
“I was a very good driver,” I snarled.
“I’m sure you were.” Sid smiled softly. “And you still are, by the way.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. Neither my mother nor my sister thinks that about the way I drive now. More than a few car chases have had their effect on how I handle traffic.
“That being said,” Sid continued. “Let’s just say I’m getting a good idea of how your father felt back then.”
I rolled my eyes. “In my case, my gender may have played a big role, too.”
“True. But your father told me something last spring, and Stella did, too.” He winced a little. “One of the problems that you and I will have with Nick is that we’ve had so little time with him. Other parents have known their kids since infancy. We’ve only known Nick since he turned eleven.”
Which was when Nick’s first mother finally let Sid know that he had a son. Rachel had passed away three years before, which was when we took custody.
“It’s going to make it a little harder for us to let go,” Sid said.
“Which is exactly what we’re supposed to be doing,” I grumbled. “You’ve got a point. But driving?”
“Yeah, I know. Which is kind of why I’m happy to let your father deal with it.”
I couldn’t help making a face. “Fair enough. I can’t say I want to be teaching Nick to drive, either.”
“So, we tell Daddy yes.” Sid smiled softly at me. “How about if I make you happy?”
“You already do,” I said, smiling back.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Sid reached over and touched my cheek.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “You don’t seem that horny.”
“Not any more than usual.” He sighed and shrugged. “It’s Lipplinger, I guess. I know you got thrown off by it, and I’m feeling a little strange, too. I’m just thinking that maybe celebrating our love for each other might make us feel better.”
“You mean making love as a way of being life giving in the face of death.”
Sid’s eyes shone with warmth. “Yeah. Exactly.”
I smiled back at him. “After dinner?”
“Now.” He gently pulled me into his lap.
Motley flopped onto his belly with a soft snort while I returned Sid’s kiss.
“This is not a good time or place,” I whispered.
“Just a little quick one.” He nuzzled my ear, then kissed me again, his hands wandering.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” snarled a cranky, older voice.
Lyle Weaver stood in the doorway to the office, glaring at both of us through his faded blue eyes. What there was left of his hair was light gray and standing up all over his head.
“I told you.” I slid off Sid’s lap. “Can I help you, Lyle?”
“I need the reservations book,” he grumbled.
“The printout with today’s reservations is on the front desk,” I nodded at the front.
“I’ve got a request for next month that I need to reserve.”
“Then you need to check the computer. Do you want me to show you how again?”
Lyle’s eyes shot to the phone on the desk, where a line had lit up.
“Damn it. That Irene has taken over again.”
“It’s her job. She’s the reservations manager.”
“Don’t you talk down to me,” Lyle snapped. “You’re not too big for your daddy to take you over his knee. And he will when I tell him what you said just now.”
He stomped off to the front desk. Sid rolled his eyes.
“We do not need him at the front desk,” he said.
“He’s very pleasant to the guests. And, technically, he’s not our problem.” I grabbed the disk that had landed on the desk right about the time I’d landed on Sid’s lap. “This is. We’ll see about giving life to each other when we get back to our bedroom tonight.”
Sid sighed a little, then smiled. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
I went upstairs, Motley on my heels. As we walked down the hall, Motley began sniffing at all the doors. I opened the one to Room 305 with my passkey, and Motley bolted inside. He ran straight to the closet door and barked at the upper shelf.
“Quiet,” I ordered.
Motley stilled, but stayed looking at the shelf, his stump of a tail wagging furiously. I ran my hand across the top of the shelf, then pulled the room’s chair over to the closet, and stood on it to get a good look. There was nothing up there but the plastic laundry bag we always left and an iron, its cord still neatly wrapped. I looked under the shelf and didn’t see anything. But Motley was sure there was something up there and Motley had never been wrong before.
I ran my hand along the underside of the shelf and found a bit of tape. I slid under the shelf and saw that a piece of silver duct tape had been stuck to the bottom. The shelf was intact, so there was no reason for the tape. I pulled it free and sighed deeply. A small plastic-wrapped bundle remained stuck to the tape. I debated yanking the plastic free from the tape, but didn’t want to risk getting white powder all over the room’s floor. Assuming there was a white powder inside the package. I hoped it was a micro-dot, but Motley didn’t usually alert on those unless I’d given him a similar one to sniff and told him to find it.
I presented the dog with the floppy disk.
“Okay, Motley, find,” I commanded cheerfully.
Motley went happily sniffing all over the room. He paused at the end of the dresser, where Lipplinger’s computer had been set up, and sniffed that extra thoroughly. Looking up at me, he sat and whined disconsolately.
“You’re still a good boy,” I said, scratching him between the ears. “You’re my good boy. I love my Fool’s Motley.”
Motley and I left the room. I relocked the door, then headed over to my parents’ house. Sid was in the kitchen, making dinner with Janey’s help. I shook my head at him and fed Motley.
Hattie showed up at the resort that evening around seven, right after dinner. I did not know how she’d found the right combination of flights to get to Tahoe, but I wasn’t going to question it. My biggest problem was where to put her.
“We’re filled to the rafters,” I told her very quietly, the front counter between us. “The only room open is the one your brother had.”
Hattie is a tall woman with gray hair and an incredibly calm demeanor.
She smiled. “That’s exactly what I want.”
“You’re not feeling creepy about it?”
Hattie shrugged. “I’m sure if Miles could find a way to haunt me, he would. But as it happens, I do not believe in ghosts. Furthermore…” She lowered her voice and looked me in the eye. “I need to spend some significant time in that room in a way that will not be remarked upon.”
I sighed. “Okay. Just so you know, I already went through it twice and Sid opened up every file he could find on the computer and the disks he had.”
“I’ll need to look at those, too.” Hattie glanced around, but the lobby was empty for a change. “We need to get those plans he had before the target gets a hold of them or we’ll be in deep trouble.”
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.