The Trooper who had problems with dead bodies coughed for a little attention. "How?"

He took a drink of orange juice. McKenzie had brought him extra supplies including a big jar of fresh orange juice. He loved it. He savored it a moment and then, "Hugh went down to the smoking shed. It was cleaned completely after the season and before they came here. He hasn't, that I know of, been down there until that day. Depending on how long one of his cigars lasts you could, possibly, time his being there."

"He could leave one lit and go away?" Davis said.

Westerby gave a 'maybe – maybe not' shrug. "I don't know too many cigar smokers who are that careless. Besides, he drinks and the mini-bar in there is electronic. Every time something is removed it's logged in as to what it was and what time it was taken and if it was put back. That way there's no arguing with guests lying. I've included the records in my report. Haven't gathered up any cigar butts in the smoke shed though."

As if on cue the young Trooper with the dead body problem grabbed a pancake and folded it around some bacon and scrambled eggs and headed toward the door."

"What about Muriel Rogers?" Davis asked.

"Back to the mini bar." Westerby smiled. "Wife likes her screwdriver about as much as her husband likes his Jack Daniels. Plus we may be a "rustic" lodge but the doors are all electronically keyed. That records in the report, too. How many times it was opened, closed and who did the opening and closing."

Remeriz put his fork down. "Okay, that takes care of the drinkers. What about the kid's father."

"He doesn't know it, but he was with me. There's a little office off of the library, most people don't even notice it. It's behind a wall with a two-way mirror. It lets us keep an eye on things, you'd be surprised how many people try to steal the books. Anyway, my own computer's been giving me fits so I was in there playing chess on the computer with my grandson for about three hours. Dan didn't have enough time to leave, do the deed and come back for dinner. Remember that when he starts taking the blame for his wife. He's that kind of man."

"What about the kids, Todd and Molly? They say they went off in the woods." Davis smiled at him, thinking he'd tricked him.

"I told them to stay on lodge land and that the other side of the forest was managed by the Feds. They went down to the river, and then tracked a bucket full of silt through the entry, up the stairs, down the hall and into their room. I'm going to be vacuuming and scrubbing floors for weeks. If they'd gone into the woods as far as the greenhouse the twigs and sticks and stuff would have scraped off the mud, instead they brought it back here."

Davis stood and as he walked toward the door to the lodge passageway Westerby called after him. "There's a dustpan and a broom outside the door. You should be able to sweep up a few samples pretty easily, that stuff is worse than glitter."

Remeriz leaned back from the table. "Westerby, Westerby, Westerby… you really missed your calling. You know this is now a Federal case, if the greenhouse is on Federal land."

"It is," McKenzie answered.

Remeriz nodded, "And you know the Feds aren't going to take your word for it."

"We shouldn't either," McKenzie said. "But we will, and they will. Take a close look at the pass cards and mini bar records and anything else you can think of."

"That's where you'll catch the mother." Westerby waved a fork at them and the piece of pancake fell off. As he retrieved it McKenzie sat back in her chair and squinted at him.

"Give us a clue."

He smiled. "She went back to her room for a nap and yes, the pass card will confirm that. But the records will say that the door wasn't closed until after dinner."

McKenzie's eyebrow lifted. "Tricky."

Remeriz spread his hands in a "what if" gesture.

Westerby smiled. "The door was opened for hours, anyone could have walked in and out, back and forth all day long. She says she took a nap but, did she, really?"

"How are you going to pinpoint her at the scene?" Remeriz asked.''

"You know what the greenhouse was used for originally, don't you?" Westerby sipped his coffee, looking innocently over the rim at Remeriz.

Remeriz laughed. "Everybody does."

"Well, it's still used for that. No one pays any attention to it, let along the Feds. Where do you think I get my stuff? I sure as hell can't grow it on lodge property."

McKenzie doubled up with laughter as Westerby went on.

"I harvested late this year and I know I didn't get all of it and frankly, I don't like climbing in that gully with all that glass. It's good at keeping out strangers and locals, too. My guess is, considering where I found the body – and you've got the pictures to prove it – my guess is a good dog with a good nose should be introduced to Mommie dearest. You're never going to find the piece of glass that killed the young woman, but I think you might not need it." He toasted them with a forkful of bacon. "Merry Christmas."

****

Three weeks later Westerby looked out his kitchen window. The snow was falling heavily and it would be near white out conditions soon. A strong wind rattled the windows. He'd put up a fence that the animals couldn't get past when they needed to go outside for a nature call and had put in a couple of rope alleys to the garage so he could start up the car once in a while. He was thankful the wood shed was attached to the lodge, although he'd lain in enough wood for the fireplace to last a month. With the stacks of wood came the spiders and insects so the cats would have plenty of amusement. Old snow had been shoveled off the roof and everything checked, rechecked and checked a few more times. Once the snow reached a certain height he'd stay inside and get exercise by running up and down the halls and the dog could use puppy pads.

He looked at the animals. "Didn't have much of a Christmas, did we this year? How about I make Mom's Anise cookies and we celebrate late?"

A pounding on the door sent the cats scurrying and the dog barking. "What the hell?"

He opened the door to a grinning McKenzie on the porch. She shoved an envelope at him. "You won the pool."

He smiled at her and then saw the backpack and grocery bags at her feet.

"I understand," she said, "we're due for about four to six feet of snow. Got room for a stranded traveler?"

He opened the door wide and she blew in with the wind.

THE END