Murder in Big Sky Country

By Stephanie

This story takes Jessica to beautiful Waterton-Glacier National Park. She is joined there by good friend George Sutherland. As always, I would like to thank Donald Bain for creating the character George and I hope that my portrayal of him has not strayed too far from Mr. Bain’s. Finally, I would like to thank Anne for all of her help. She really keeps me on my toes.

While the setting for this story is one of nature’s true wonders, the characters and events are purely fictional. The Old Flathead Ranger Station however, is not fictional, but sadly, it burned down in a forest fire in 2003.

Eventually, I intend to write another story that takes place aboard the Queen Mary II and is more or less a continuation of the Deadly Diary. As that is the case, I hope that no one is too terribly confused by a reference here or there to something that may have occurred aboard the QMII. I hope that everyone enjoys this story and I look forward to reading any reviews and/or constructive criticisms that you may have.

After a lengthy delay in Chicago and a missed connection in Denver, Jessica was thankful to finally arrive at Glacier Park International Airport. Making her way through the concourse, she took a moment to browse several attractive display cases that exhibited Native American jewelry and “Made in Montana” products including pottery, sculptures, paintings and an interesting assortment of gourmet huckleberry sweets. Framed posters decorated the cool blue walls and advertised downhill skiing at Big Mountain in nearby Whitefish, fly fishing in the many lakes and streams of Big Sky Country, and Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park, which was where Jessica and her close friend, George Sutherland, would be spending the next week.

She had hoped to find George waiting for her in baggage claim when she arrived, but before she could find him in the large crowd of vacationers, a red light overhead began to flash and the baggage carousel slowly began to move. Seeing that her own suitcase was one of the first to be unloaded, she quickly slipped through an opening in the pack and retrieved her bag.

As she lowered the large gray suitcase from the carousel to the floor and prepared to lug it through the sea of people, she heard George’s unmistakable Scottish brogue from directly behind her.

“Why don’t I take that?” he asked as his grabbed the suitcase by the handle and lifted it effortlessly. “Anything else?” he asked.

“Oh, dear…yes! My fly rod case!” Jessica exclaimed, suddenly glancing back around and searching the carousel. “I think that’s it, right there,” she proclaimed, pointing to a silver and gray tube that was just beyond her reach. .

“Come, my dear, before we get ourselves trampled,” he said, after retrieving the case and tucking it under his left arm, which was already holding her suitcase. Taking her hand with his free one, he led her through the crowd to an open area near the exit, where he stopped and set Jessica’s suitcase and fly rod case on the tile floor. “Now, for a proper greeting,” he said before catching her in a huge hug. He took in a deep, soothing breath and murmured, “Laird, I missed ye, Jessie.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Jessica offered before he finally released her. “When I didn’t see you right away, I thought that maybe you had gotten tired of waiting for my flight and decided to do some exploring.”

“Actually, I used the extra time to take care of a couple of errands and then I did do a bit of exploring,” he admitted. “I had planned to be back earlier, but encountered an unexpected delay.”

“What sort of delay?” Jessica asked as George picked up her luggage again and led her out of the terminal, where the late afternoon sun still shone against a clear blue sky that appeared to stretch forever in all directions.

“A herd of elk was blocking the highway not far from here,” he started to explain before being momentarily interrupted when a young boy, pulling his sister along by the hand, cut in front of them and nearly ended up being knocked down by Jessica’s mammoth suitcase. “The beasts…” George continued once the children were safely on their way. His comment immediately earned him a stern look from Jessica, which made him laugh. “No, Jess, I was referring to the elk, not the children.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Please, go on with your story,” she urged before taking his arm again.

“Mind you, I’m not complaining. They are very majestic creatures but they weren’t terribly interested in sharing the road with the rest of us nor were they concerned about anyone else’s schedule.”

“I bet not,” Jessica commented before they stepped off the curb and crossed the street to the short term parking area. George unlocked the doors of a silver Jeep Grand Cherokee, which Jessica noticed had two mountain bikes mounted on the rear hatch. Before loading her suitcase and fishing gear into the back seat of the vehicle, George opened Jessica’s door and helped her into the SUV.

Once he had joined her inside, she asked, “Are we planning on driving off-road?”

“When in Rome,” he responded with a mischievous gleam in his eye after starting the vehicle and revving the engine slightly.

Somewhat taken aback by his response, Jessica replied, “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“Only teasing, Jess,” he assured her as he shifted into reverse, “although now that you mention it, it does sound like a jolly good time.”

After leaving the airport and turning onto US Highway 2 they drove north to Columbia Falls, where the highway curved to the east before eventually turning north again toward the small, scenic mountain village of West Glacier. They drove slowly through town and continued a short distance north until they came to the West Entrance of Glacier National Park, where George slowed to a stop before lowering the window and showing the ranger their receipt for admittance into the park.

“You’ve been very busy,” Jessica commented once they were under way again.

“I was afraid that the visitor center might be closed by the time your plane arrived so I made a quick stop there to purchase a topography map and a few other things that we are likely to need in the morning,” he answered just as they approached the Apgar Visitor Center, which was located on the southern tip of Lake McDonald. “Afterwards, I checked us into the lodge and picked up the bicycles and a few other necessities.”

“That couldn’t have taken you five hours. What else did you do while you waited?”

“Let’s see,” George answered thoughtfully. “I unpacked and took a cat nap, after which I went for a short walk and snapped a few pictures of the lake and the mountains,” he answered, glancing at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the road.

“Only a few?” Jessica asked, surprised as she now knew that George was quite an accomplished amateur photographer.

“Actually, I shot an entire roll,” he answered sheepishly.

“I can certainly see why,” she answered slowly as she took in the large, shimmering, glacial lake on their left.

“Tha’ is Lake McDonald,” George announced, his Scottish burr doing justice to the name. “It is ten miles long and was carved out by a two thousand foot thick glacier. The Kutenai Indians called this Sacred Dancing Lake and at one time they performed tribal ceremonies on the lakeshore.”

“You must have done some reading while you waited, too,” Jessica observed, taking in all of the scenery around them.

“Aye, a little bit,” he admitted as he turned into the parking area of the lodge, which bore the same name as the lake. “The lodge was built by John Lewis in 1913, as a hunting lodge,” George explained as he parked their vehicle in front of the rustic three and a half story hotel.

After enlisting the help of one of the hotel’s employees to take Jessica’s things to their cabin, George led her into the cozy lobby and up two flights of stairs that eventually led to the terrace.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they stepped onto the veranda, which overlooked the pristine, crystal blue lake. The veranda was massive and offered guests a choice of very comfortable, oversized deck chairs for lounging while enjoying a spectacular view of the lake with its evergreen frame and mountain backdrop.

Glancing back at her for a moment and smiling, he answered simply, “To watch the sun set.”

“And we’re just in time,” he added as they found a spot at the railing, which would allow them a good view without obstructing anyone else’s. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he rested his chin on the top of her head just as the blue sky began to give way to the deep purple, wine red and vibrant orange and yellow that was created by the sun as it descended toward the horizon.

After all of the colors had finally faded, George led Jessica back inside, down the stairs, through the lobby and out a large set of doors, which led toward the lake and several private cabins that were also part of the lodge’s property.

In keeping with the era in which the lodge had been built, the cabin was small and offered no modern day amenities such as air conditioning or a television. The only exception was a telephone, which sat on the bedside table that was positioned between a pair of twin beds. All of the furnishings were made from knotty pine and the curtains and bedspreads reminded Jessica of the wine-red that had dominated the glorious evening sunset that they had just witnessed.

While Jessica unpacked her things and freshened up for dinner George reclined on one of the beds to read. When she emerged from the bathroom she caught a glimpse of him in one of the mirrors and realized just how small the bed was when compared to his long frame. After sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him, she said, “Thank you, George, this is exactly what I needed - peace and tranquility.”

He looked up over his reading glasses and smiled. “It’s not too rustic or antiquated?”

“Heavens no,” she answered, glancing around at her simple surroundings, “it’s nearly perfect. I could do with plenty of fresh air and scenery after spending the past few months doing nothing but teaching and writing.”

George removed his glasses and set them aside with the book and map that he had been studying. “You said it was nearly perfect?” he repeated before propping himself against the headboard.

“Actually, it’s perfect for me, but the bed seems to be a little too short for you.”

“Aye, a common problem, I’m afraid,” he explained before reaching up and gently brushing his hand down her cheek. “But it’s well worth the sacrifice to spend a week in your company,” he added before framing her face with both of his hands and kissing her tenderly on the lips. At length, he added, “It’s just unfortunate that the lodge doesn’t have room service.”

“Yes, it is,” Jessica agreed, fully comprehending the subtle invitation that accompanied his words and suddenly realizing just how much she had missed his company and his touch.

“And it is also unfortunate that the restaurant closes in less than an hour,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Where are we dining?”

“Here, in the lodge,” he answered. “Russell’s Fireside Dining Room, after which I thought we might take a walk and enjoy some crisp, fresh mountain air, if that is acceptable to you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jessica agreed before standing and reaching for his hand to help him up from the bed.

Despite the darkness, they could easily make out several of the more prominent architectural features of the lodge as they approached it from the west. The rustic building had been built in a Swiss-chalet style with clipped gable roofs and jigsaw detailing. The foundation and first floor walls were made of stone and had been framed with heavy timber. The main gable was intersected at its north and south ends by two perpendicular gables, a feature which added greatly to the chalet feel. Extending from each end of the main lodge were one and a half story structures with low gable roofs and minimal detailing - an architectural feature that George explained was used to draw the viewer’s eye toward the main lodge. Also adding to the character of the building were the milled logs that had been used to create the lozenge patterns of the balconies and the veranda railings, which wrapped around the entire building.

From the lobby, they entered the south wing and quickly located the dining room, which was outfitted with the original furnishings and boasted a large stone fireplace and red, rough cut, cedar walls. Scenic paintings and hunting trophies adorned the walls of the restaurant, whose menu boasted a long list of wild game dishes and local favorites including apple bread pudding with caramel-cinnamon sauce.

After dinner, Jessica and George enjoyed a stroll along the lake shore before returning to their cabin. The combination of the clear, dark sky above, sprinkled with dazzling constellations, and the gentle waters of the lake, lapping quietly at the shore, created a feeling of serenity for them both.

Before getting ready for bed, Jessica inquired as to their plans for the following day.

“I thought we might take a little bike ride in the morning, if you’re up for it, and then wander up to McDonald Falls in the afternoon,” George answered.

“What do you mean, ‘if I’m up for it’?” Jessica asked, feigning insult at his comment as she removed her nightgown from her suitcase.

“It’s ten miles round trip,” he informed her from where he sat at a small table, which was covered by his topo map.

“Is that supposed to be a challenge?” Jessica asked as she turned toward the bathroom.

“If you like,” George answered rather smugly, a hint of a smile creeping across his lips.

Looking back over her shoulder at him before disappearing around the corner, Jessica replied, “In that case, I’m definitely up for it.”

Jessica returned to find a dejected looking George still sitting at the table, which was now empty except for the small cribbage board sitting in the center. He was shuffling a deck of playing cards, occasionally making them rise in the shape of an arch.

“And here I was sure that you’d be busy rearranging the furniture,” Jessica commented as she sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him.

“Believe me, Jessica, I fully intended to but the bloody beds are bolted to the floor,” he grumbled as he started to deal the cards.

“I guess we’ll just have to make do then, won’t we?” she responded as she reached over and turned off the bedside lamp, causing the entire cabin to become as dark as the night sky. “Unless, of course, you need to conserve your energy for our little expedition in the morning,” she added.

“Now that is definitely a challenge,” George answered, “one that I have absolutely no intention of begging off.”

Early the next morning, they parked in a small, empty parking area located just a short distance from what appeared to be the home of one of the park rangers. After unloading the bikes, George retrieved four bottles of water from a cooler in the back of the vehicle, placed one in its holder on each bike and the other two in his backpack.

“Would you care to navigate?” he asked, offering Jessica the map.

“Oh, no,” she declined, shaking her head. “You go ahead. I’m more than happy to follow.”

“As you wish,” George said. He tucked the map into his pocket and began down a wide, level, paved path that was bordered on both sides by soaring evergreens. After going a short distance they came to a small barn, where the road forked. Without consulting his map, George took the left fork, which eventually led them to the Quarter Circle Bridge. The bridge was made from broad, sturdy planks and spanned the lower end of McDonald Creek. The trail gradually became steeper and more primitive as they went, but provided impressive views of the McDonald Valley and the Flathead River.

George maintained a steady but easy pace, stopping regularly to enjoy the vistas that surrounded them. Their pace slowed slightly as the grade of the fire trail increased and when they encountered two very steep, rutted stretches of road, they were forced to continue on foot while pushing their bicycles instead of risking bodily injury. Finally, they reached an open hillside where George stopped and dismounted from his bike. After Jessica had done the same, he informed her that there was supposed to be an exceptional view of the river just another hundred feet over this hillside.

“I can’t imagine anything more spectacular than what we’ve already seen,” Jessica said as they walked over the hill, “except that,” she added when the bluff, rising above the confluence of the North and Middle Forks of the Flathead River, finally came into view. At George’s suggestion, they sat on the hillside and enjoyed the view along with a well deserved rest.

“No wonder,” George muttered to himself after sneaking a quick look at his watch.

“No wonder what?” she asked absently as she watched the rapidly flowing river below.

“No wonder I’m starting to feel hungry,” he replied.

“How long did it take for us to come this far?” Jessica wondered as she watched a squirrel scurry along a fallen tree trunk.

“Three and a half hours,” he answered lazily before reclining fully onto his back. “That’s nearly two hours longer than we had planned and we still have a short distance to go to reach the ranger station.”

Eventually they resumed their search for Old Flathead Ranger Station. “I think we missed it,” George deduced when they came to a chain blocking their path and supporting a sign advising them to go no further. “What do you think?”

Jessica looked around. “How could we have missed a ranger station?” she wondered aloud. “Maybe we should go a little further?”

“There are bears up here,” George reminded her cautiously.

“We must be getting close,” Jessica reasoned. “I’d hate to give up after coming all this way.”

“Okay, Jess, we’ll go a little further,” George conceded. “There’s probably not much chance of actually running into one of them, I suppose.”

After going another half mile they still hadn’t found the station and decided to start back down the mountain. As they neared the hillside from which they had rested and enjoyed the view of the bluffs and river, they found it. The dark brown ranger station, which had been obscured by a thicket of pine trees when they had passed it earlier, was clearly visible when coming from the opposite direction.

“Finally,” George said. “I don’t know how we missed it,” he added as he parked his bike. The ranger station was locked but they were still able to make out the interior through numerous grimy windows.

“George, look at this,” Jessica said, waving him over to a small porch. “Is that blood?” she asked, pointing to what appeared to be a partial palm print on the window of the door.

“I can’t tell for sure,” he answered, taking a closer look. He removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed lightly at the edge of the window frame, where the hand print had extended beyond the window pane. When he inspected the piece of cloth, he found that it was stained a dark red color. “I think it might be,” he decided. “Is there another way in?” he asked as he began to walk around the building in search of another entrance.

“Here, George, this window is broken out,” Jessica observed before starting to climb through a window on the south side of the building.

When he joined her inside, George found her standing stone still in the doorway nearest the window. “I think he’s dead,” Jessica said simply.

When George reached the doorway, he saw a young man in his late thirties or early forties, lying on a small cot. He had wavy, blonde hair and was wearing hiking boots, khaki pants and an olive shirt, which had a large dark red stain coving the front. George stepped around Jessica to inspect the body. “It was most likely a shotgun,” he announced, having seen similar wounds in the past.

“An accident?” Jessica asked as she joined him to take a better look.

“I suppose it’s possible, but there shouldn’t be any hunters inside the boundaries of the park, so if it was an accident whoever is responsible was likely hunting illegally,” George said after pausing to consider the scenario. “Regardless, we need to report it.”

George took Jessica by the arm and led her back into the adjoining room, where they had entered through the broken window.

“You go. I’ll just slow you down,” Jessica suggested.

“Jess, you can’t stay here. There are wild animals out there. What if one of them comes looking for its next meal?”

“That’s even more reason for me to stay,” Jessica reasoned. “If I go, we have no way of covering up the window to keep the animals out and preserving the scene. If I stay, I can block the window from inside with some of the furniture until you return,” she continued as she started looking through the cabin for something suitable for the job.

“Don’t move anything just yet,” George cautioned her as he set down his backpack and removed his digital camera. “We’d better take some pictures before moving anything.”

Twenty minutes later, after leaving his backpack with Jessica and promising to hurry, George began to make his way down the mountain. As soon as he had climbed through the window, Jessica pushed a heavy desk in front of it. After several minutes of struggling with the desk, she managed to move it into place and then turn it on end, completely covering the window. Next, she walked into the adjoining room, where the body of the young man rested on the cot. She closed the door behind her and wedged a chair under the doorknob to secure it further.

If she was lucky, George would be back in no more than three hours. After resting for a short time, Jessica unzipped his backpack and rummaged around until she found his digital camera. He’d bought it the previous fall while they were aboard the Queen Mary II, and shown her how to use it – a lesson that would come in handy now. After checking the battery level and remaining memory, she took more photographs of the room including several of the body. When she had finished, she replaced the camera where she had found it.

It didn’t take long before boredom set in and Jessica soon found herself looking through George’s backpack for something to read. Inside, she found a copy of National Geographic’s Guide to Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park. She settled in and began skimming the book, stopping to read several sections that she found of particular interest. After finishing, she set it aside. She opened the pack again and continued to search the main compartment, where she found a simple map of the park, the two extra bottles of water, a compass, a small first aid kit, George’s wallet and strangely enough a deck of playing cards.

She set the playing cards aside and, after much internal debate, peaked inside the wallet. What could it hurt? The classic bifold wallet was made of well worn black leather and opened to reveal George’s driver’s license, which made him look more like a criminal than a police officer. Apparently not even a handsome Scotland Yard inspector was a match for the driver’s license bureau’s camera. Several credit cards, his Scotland Yard I.D., and a few business cards filled slots next to the driver’s license.

The section for bills contained not only British and American currency, but Canadian as well and tucked behind the bills, she found several receipts. The first two were from the visitor center and a supermarket but the third was from a local jewelry store and indicated a modest purchase, but to Jessica’s disappointment did not detail the items purchased. What could it be? she wondered. It isn’t my birthday and Christmas is six months away. Jessica’s next thought caused a moment of sheer panic – a ring? No, it can’t be a ring, she reasoned, as there were two items on the receipt. Thank goodness!

Relieved, she re-folded the receipt and placed it with the others. The only remaining item that had yet to be inspected was a photo insert that had also been tucked behind the bills. Like the wallet, the insert was well worn and the plastic, which had once been transparent, was now slightly opaque. Jessica turned it upright and found a photo of herself. That, in and of itself, was not surprising but what was surprising was that it was a photograph that she had no idea even existed. It was a candid shot of Jessica curled up with a book in the library at Sutherland Castle. The natural light that shimmered through the large windows that lined one wall of the room had softened the image and created a gentleness that Jessica imagined would be very difficult to recreate intentionally. Had George carried her picture with him ever since she first visited him in Scotland? It certainly appeared that way.

Jessica flipped to the next picture. It was another candid shot, this time of George’s late wife, Emily, who was laughing and holding her hands in front of what appeared to be a self-portrait that she had been sketching. An intimate moment shared between husband and wife, utterly priceless. The other pictures were more traditional and included formal pictures of nieces and nephews who had graduated, family photos and even a photo of George and his sisters as kids. After looking at each, Jessica returned the insert to its proper place and set the wallet aside.

Next, she unzipped the small front compartment of the pack. Inside, she found a Swiss Army knife, two rain ponchos, and a small box of matches, sealed in a Ziploc bag.

Always prepared, that’s George, Jessica thought. Although he would be returning soon, Jessica felt somewhat better knowing that she had dry matches with which to light a fire if necessary. It was still spring and once the sun set for the evening, the temperatures dipped dramatically. After replacing all of the items, Jessica removed the playing cards from their box and dealt a hand of solitaire.

After several games she heard the sound of a vehicle outside. Before she could remove the dresser and desk from in front of the window, a park ranger had unlocked the door and entered the building, followed by a second, younger man and George.

Glacier National Park Ranger Bill Sheridan was the first through the door. He nodded politely at Jessica and offered her a simple greeting of “Ma’am” before entering the adjoining room where she had just spent the past three hours alone with a corpse, a thought that suddenly gave her an eerie feeling. Sheridan was a man of medium height and build with no truly distinguishing features. He wore a brown ranger’s hat over his short hair, which Jessica guessed was dark brown, based on the color of his neatly trimmed goatee. His eyes were dark and deeply set and when combined with his weary expression, made him appear to be much older than his forty-two years.

“It’s Grant Wallace,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was afraid of this,” he added as he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his colleague, Rhett Carson, who had stopped as soon as he had seen the body and was still standing in the doorway between the two rooms.

“I can’t believe it. I just talked to him yesterday afternoon,” the young man replied in shocked disbelief before reality struck, causing him to become physically ill. He covered his mouth and bolted for the door. Jessica’s first impulse was to follow him outside, but George suggested that she give him a few minutes of privacy before checking on him.

“I know,” Sheridan replied, not having noticed that Carson was no longer there. “I can’t believe that I’m going to have to tell Skye. It will devastate her.” He rubbed his brow at the thought of having to inform the victim’s wife of his death. After a moment of quiet, Sheridan remembered that Jessica and George were also there. He crossed the room to where they stood and apologized to Jessica for not having introduced himself. “I’m Bill Sheridan, the senior-most ranger on the west side of the park,” he informed her as he offered his hand.

“And I’m Jessica Fletcher,” she replied as she accepted his dry, course hand and shook it.

“Where is Ranger Carson?” Sheridan asked, suddenly realizing that his colleague was gone.

“I’m sure he’ll be right back,” Jessica assured him just as the young man in question, still looking quite ill, made his way back up the steps and into the ranger station. After Jessica and Rhett exchanged names, Sheridan asked her to explain to him exactly how she had happened upon Grant Wallace’s body. After doing so, and giving a nearly identical account as George had when he arrived at the West Glacier Ranger Station, she and George left the cabin while Carson began boarding up the broken window and Sheridan took photographs of the scene.

As they walked down the steps, George wrapped an arm around Jessica’s shoulders and led her to Sheridan’s pine green Ford Explorer, which was emblazoned with the arrowhead shaped badge of the National Park Service. He opened the passenger side rear door and retrieved a periwinkle blue fleece jacket that Jessica had left in their SUV. “I thought that you might need this,” he said as he offered it to her, “it’s starting to get fairly chilly up here,” he added before grabbing his own jacket.

Jessica donned her coat and zipped it up, reveling in the warmth that it provided against the sudden shift in temperature that had occurred now that the skies were overcast and the sun was beginning to set. As she tucked her hands in the pockets to warm them, she felt something that she hadn’t expected. A thankful smile crossed her lips and she laughed slightly when she removed the item and found a large chocolate candy bar in her hand. “George, I could kiss you right now,” she said as she began to peel the corner of the wrapper away from the chocolate, “I am famished.”

“I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer later tonight, but for now I suggest that you wait until I’ve had an opportunity to clean up a bit. The ride back down the mountain was a bit dusty,” he replied before reaching into the back of the vehicle again. “I just thought that you could probably use a bit of a snack by now.” He offered her a bottle of Diet Coke and before she could say anything he quickly explained why he had chosen a diet beverage for her: “Totally presumptuous, I know, but I couldn’t find any iced tea and that’s the only brand that I’ve ever seen you drink.”

“Oh, believe me, this is just fine. I was just going to thank you,” she said before kissing him on his cheek. Her resulting grimace made George laugh out loud.

“I told you I was dirty,” he reminded her before closing the door and suggesting that they take a walk.

As they walked around the front of Sheridan’s vehicle, Jessica noticed a set of tire tracks that extended well beyond the front of the vehicle and into the grass that surrounded the cabin. “What do you make of that?” she asked.

“It’s hard to say, Jess. They look fairly fresh, but we have no idea how often people come up here,” he answered, giving all options consideration. After walking around the cabin and seeing nothing else of interest, they walked the short distance to the overlook where they had rested earlier in the day.

“I believe that’s where your guide is taking you fly fishing tomorrow,” George commented as they looked down at the river, which was becoming more difficult to make out as the sun continued its nightly descent.

“On that!” Jessica exclaimed. “The current will carry me away before I wade in more than a few feet,” she predicted with no small amount of apprehension.

“As I understand it, love, you fish from a boat,” George explained. “I’ve been told that it’s quite safe,” he assured her, sensing her obvious anxiety at the idea of being swept down the river.

“Fly fishing from a boat?” Jessica asked contemplatively. “I hadn’t considered that. It sounds…interesting,” she finally decided.

“Good, because you leave before sunrise,” he said before slowly getting up and offering her his hand to help her do the same.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jessica asked as they walked back to the long forgotten building.

“I thought that I might hike up to Sperry Chalet,” he answered. “I had hoped that we might spend at least one night there, but it is undergoing renovations this year.”

“You should come fly fishing,” Jessica suggested.

“I considered it, but I haven’t had time to learn how,” George said, “and you’re likely to have far more fun without a novice tagging along.”

“I doubt that,” Jessica argued politely.

“Perhaps you can teach me the art of fly fishing sometime,” George suggested. “Until then, I believe I’ll stick to hiking.”

As they approached the cabin both rangers were exiting the building. “Finished for now,” Sheridan announced.

“Already?” Jessica asked in surprise.

“We’ve done what we can for tonight,” he explained. “Carson will spend the night up here and we’ll finish when the sun comes back up. I’ve already notified the U.S. Park Police and one of their men will arrive from San Francisco late tomorrow morning.”

“I see,” Jessica replied.

“It’s not that we can’t handle the investigation,” he continued a bit defensively, “but we deal primarily with poachers, burglars and the occasional heart attack up here. The USPP’s instructions for now are to leave everything as is until they can evaluate the scene for themselves and I’m not willing to risk my career by having a turf war with ‘em so, we’re done until they get here,” he finished.

“I didn’t mean to question your procedures,” Jessica said apologetically. “I imagine that there are plenty of politics to deal with in every law enforcement agency,” she offered sympathetically.

“There are,” Sheridan agreed, “but some of the USPP boys have pretty big egos. You’d think they worked for Scotland Yard or something.”

At Sheridan’s comment, Jessica gave George a questioning look, which he returned with a subtle shake of his head. “I’m on vacation,” he whispered before opening one of the passenger doors for her.

After George loaded Jessica’s bike, the trio made their way back down the mountain. Due to the darkness, the trip was made at a much slower pace than the ascent had been only an hour earlier. Several stretches of the road were extremely bumpy and both Jessica and George were forced to brace themselves against the resulting jarring. Between bumps and jolts, Jessica finally asked, “I’m sorry, Ranger Sheridan, but I was wondering about something.”

“What’s that?” Sheridan replied without taking his eyes off the darkened fire trail that served as the road to Old Flathead Ranger Station.

“When you first saw who it was, you said that you were ‘afraid of this,’” Jessica said. “What made you think that it was Mr. Wallace even before you confirmed it for yourself?”

“Because very few people hike up this particular trail and the last thing that I did yesterday afternoon before leaving for the day was to authorize and sign Grant’s overnight backpacking permit so that he could rough camp up there,” he explained.

Jessica nodded her head in understanding before inquiring as to who might have wanted to do Mr. Wallace harm.

“You sound like a cop, Ms. Fletcher,” he commented after glancing at Jessica in the rear view mirror.

“Actually, I’m a writer, and please, call me Jessica.”

“Thinking about writing a book about this?” the ranger asked, now slightly intrigued by her obvious interest in Grant Wallace’s death.

“I’m always looking for a good plot or an interesting character, like yourself,” she answered. “I’ve never used a park ranger as my protagonist before.”

Jessica’s comment nearly made George laugh out loud, but instead he sat quietly, doing his best to suppress a smile as Jessica continued to interrogate Sheridan.

At length, the ranger finally answered Jessica’s question with one of his own. “Do you want to know what I think happened?”

“Of course I do,” she replied enthusiastically. “I’d like to know how your mind works.”

Jessica, love, you’re laying it on a bit thick, George thought to himself as he listened.

“I think I have a pretty good idea who killed him,” Sheridan announced confidently as they reached the bottom of the mountain, where he slowed to a stop before turning onto Going-to-the-Sun Road. “You see, Jessica, Grant was being pressured to sell his family’s business and I happen to know that he got into a pretty heated argument with one of the representatives from Barrow Corp. yesterday afternoon. I figure it was one of them and if it wasn’t, he was also having problems with his brother, who also wanted to sell.”

“Who is Barrow Corp.?” Jessica asked.

“A big outfit from somewhere on the East Coast. They are trying to buy up the last few privately owned businesses within the park’s borders. They want to build a luxury hotel and a couple of high-class restaurants.”

“I didn’t realize that there were any privately owned businesses in the park,” George commented.

“We still have three of them. Wallace worked primarily as a guide, but he also owned a small hotel called the Wilderness Lodge. He inherited it from his grandmother some years back. Eddie’s is another one that it still privately owned. It is a grocery store and café here in Apgar Village - best hamburger in a couple hundred miles. The third one is a lodge and restaurant up near Crandell Mountain on the Canadian side. Normally, a privately owned business located inside the park must either be passed on to a family member or the National Park Service has the first opportunity to buy it. Unfortunately, with budget cuts, we can’t afford a full staff much less to buy any real estate, so if someone wanted to sell right now, an outsider would be able to buy property inside the park. Barrow Corp. has been lobbying very hard to entice all three businesses to sell now, when they are free to make an offer.”

“Was Mr. Wallace interested in selling?” Jessica asked.

“No, but his brother Jeff was. Grant gave him 25% of the business last year when Jeff agreed to manage it for him. Anyway, Grant was considering selling initially, but when he stopped by the ranger station yesterday, he was all bent out of shape. He said that he had just come from a meeting with his brother and the reps from Barrow Corp. He called them ‘a bunch of crooks’ and said that even if they had offered him what the property was worth, he would never sell because he didn’t agree with their plans. He said that if he or any of the other private owners sold, the park would begin to lose all of its character.”

“I can understand that,” Jessica said. “What will happen to Mr. Wallace’s hotel now that he’s gone?”

“I imagine that he probably left his share of it to his wife. She’s a local artist; has a couple of galleries in the area. She could hold onto it but with her own businesses and now being left to raise their son by herself, she won’t have much time to deal with it. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if she sells it.”

“Where are Mrs. Wallace’s galleries?” Jessica inquired as she balanced herself on the front edge of the seat.

“East Glacier and Whitefish,” Sheridan answered as he parked the Explorer next to George’s rental. Before departing he informed them that the USPP detective was sure to want to interview them sometime the following day. George provided the ranger with their hotel information and itinerary for the upcoming day and scheduled a tentative meeting for five o’clock in the afternoon at Park Headquarters.

“Eddie’s for supper then?” George suggested after Sheridan was gone.

“How did you know?” Jessica laughed. “Am I becoming that predictable?”

George shook his head before answering, “Nay, I would never call you predictable. I think ‘persistently curious’ would be more appropriate.”

Like nearly all buildings in Apgar Village and West Glacier, Eddie’s was fairly small and very rustic. The store offered four or five small aisles of groceries and the adjoining café contained approximately a dozen tables, which were bordered by another dozen booths, six on each of two sides. Much like the furniture in Jessica and George’s cabin, the tables and booths were made from sturdy, knotty pine.

The restaurant was buzzing with activity and only one table, a booth, was vacant when they arrived. Before the waitress left their table, Jessica inquired as to whether or not the owner was on the premises.

“Always,” the young woman answered, “but he’s in a meeting at the moment,” she added before glancing across the restaurant to a table where a graying man of about fifty-five was seated across a table from two men, both wearing very expensive looking suits. Chuck Edwards, the owner of Eddie’s, was dressed less formally. Wearing a dark green cap and white apron, he looked like he had come directly from the kitchen.

As they waited for their dinners to arrive, Jessica and George quietly discussed their impressions of Ranger Sheridan’s investigative prowess, the death of Grant Wallace and the role, if any, that the possible sale of the Wilderness Lodge might have played in it.

“Why didn’t you tell Sheridan that you work for The Yard?” Jessica finally asked, still curious about why George had failed to disclose that fact.

“Three reasons,” he answered, holding up the same number of fingers for emphasis. “First of all, it’s not important to his investigation. Secondly, we agreed that this was a vacation – no work allowed, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. What’s your third reason?” Jessica asked curiously.

“He never asked and after his comment about the Park Police, I thought that it might be better to not say anything, at least for now,” George answered just as the waitress arrived. She was balancing a large tray with more food than they could possibly eat, no matter how hungry they were. Each steaming platter was heaped with a mountain of delicious looking food. George had ordered a buffalo burger with everything, French fries and a side salad, while Jessica had chosen the fresh rainbow trout with coleslaw and home fries.

“Do you think that’s really buffalo meat?” she asked as she dipped a fry in ketchup.

“Aye, I believe it is,” George answered after swallowing the first bite of his burger. “And it’s incredibly tasty,” he added before taking a second mouthful. In no time he managed to polish off every bit of food on his plate. “That was the best burger I think I’ve ever eaten,” he declared as he set his napkin on the table before stretching, obviously pleased with his choice.

“I didn’t think that there was any way that you could possibly eat all of that,” Jessica commented before taking a final bite of coleslaw and pushing her plate to the side.

“I haven’t eaten since six o’clock this morning,” he reminded her, “and I did ride at least fifteen miles up and down that bloody mountain today,” he rationalized.

“You mean to tell me that you thought to bring me something to eat when you came back, but you didn’t eat anything yourself?”

“As I recall, you didn’t offer to share,” George said before taking a drink of milk.

“You don’t like chocolate,” Jessica pointed out as she too set her napkin on the table.

“I believe it was filled with peanuts, caramel and some other gooey concoction,” he reminded her while remaining as straight faced as he could.

After a moment’s contemplation, Jessica finally responded. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” she asked as she reached under the table and tried to squeeze his knee.

“Me? Never,” he answered, feigning innocence. “In all honesty, Jessica, with all of the excitement I forgot about being hungry until Sheridan drove us back down the mountain. Besides, you needed the calories in that candy bar far more than I did,” he said as he slid out of the booth.

“You’re starting to sound like Seth,” Jessica commented almost begrudgingly.

“What has Seth troubled now?” George asked as he helped her with her coat.

“My weight,” Jessica answered. “As usual, he claims that I’ve been working too hard and he seems to think that I’ll waste away if I miss a meal or two.”

“He is your doctor,” George pointed out diplomatically, “and he’s obviously concerned about your welfare,” he added as he held the restaurant door for her. Once they were inside the Cherokee, George turned to face her, kissed her on the cheek and then offered his opinion. “Jessica, love, I think that you look amazing.”

“Thank you, George, I’ll be sure to tell Seth that the next time he brings it up,” she said, relieved that she wasn’t going to have to repeat the same conversation that she had just had with Seth a few days earlier.

“Not so fast,” George responded before laying his hand gently on her cheek and finishing his thought as gently as possible. “You do look incredible, but if you lose another pound I’m afraid I’ll be forced to side with Seth on this.” Before turning away and starting the engine, he kissed her softly once more, on the lips.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to gain a few pounds yourself,” Jessica commented as George pulled away from the curb.

“I’ve tried. It doesn’t seem to stick,” he explained as he checked the intersection for oncoming traffic, “but we were talking about you, not me?” he reminded her.

“Yes, we were. How about if we go back to the cabin, get cleaned up and then maybe we can share some dessert,” she suggested.

“Dessert?” George repeated, grinning slightly and raising one eyebrow at her.

“Ice cream…a great big bowl of ice cream…from the pizzeria,” she clarified, much to George’s disappointment.

After they had each showered, they made their way back up to Jammin’ Joe’s Grill and Pizzeria, which was located inside Lake McDonald Lodge, not far from Russell’s Fireside Dining Room where they had dined the previous evening. Once there they were seated at a small table for two, which was covered with a red and white checked tablecloth. George enjoyed a bowl of maple walnut while Jessica indulged in a bowl of Rocky Road as Jammin’ Joe’s offerings did not include her favorite, mocha chocolate.

As they started their walk back to the cabin the clouds above burst suddenly, releasing large drops of rain, and by the time they were safely inside their cabin, a torrential downpour pounded on the roof. After closing the door, George pulled a completely drenched Jessica into his arms. As he tipped his head down to look into her eyes droplets of water fell from his hair and onto her forehead. “Guid laird, Jessie, yoo’re e’en bonnie when yoo’re soakin’ dreich,” George observed before kissing her fully on the lips. “We’d better get you out of those wet clothes,” he suggested before unzipping her jacket, sliding it off her arms and kissing her again, this time along her neck.

“We’d better,” Jessica agreed faintly. “I wouldn’t want for either one of us to catch a chill,” she added before kissing him back and starting to remove the sweater that he had worn in place of a jacket.

Before sunrise the following morning, Jessica was met in the lobby of the lodge by her fishing guide for the day, Lee Hagen. Armed with their gear and two cups of steaming coffee, they were off for the Middle Fork of the Flathead River.

George was awake as well and after helping Jessica load her gear into the young man’s pickup, made his way to the Sperry Trail head, which was located across the road from the lodge. As soon as the sun began to rise he started the long trek from Lake McDonald to Sperry Chalet. Beginning at the cedar and hemlock lined southern edge of the lake, the footpath worked its way upward along the base of Mount Brown through a series of zig zagging switchbacks. After crossing aptly named Midget Creek it sloped upward again for another mile before changing its bearing and leading him downhill toward Crystal Ford, located on Snyder Creek.

After crossing the footbridge George continued toward the west ridge of Mount Edwards. As he continued to climb, the hemlock and cedars were gradually replaced by larch, firs and pines. White and purple wildflowers growing along the edge of the trail were beginning to bloom and according to George’s trail map, wild huckleberries could also be found in the area if the season was right.

He continued to work his way up the Sprague Creek valley, stopping occasionally to admire the view and to take photographs, until he reached a lengthy switchback which ran across the southern rock mass of Mount Edwards and afforded a spectacular view of Beaver Medicine Falls. A succession of shorter switchbacks took him further up the mountain and into a small valley surrounded by alpine forest and located directly above the falls.

As the forest thinned around him, he was able to make out two chalets perched high on a cliff above. The trail continued along Mount Edwards and eventually crossed Gunsight Mountain at the top of the valley. When he reached another footbridge that crossed Sperry Creek he was treated to a spectacular show of forceful head butting by two adversarial mountain goats.

After checking his watch he decided that he had made good time and could afford to explore the chalet, which was nestled in a glacial cirque, at a leisurely pace while taking plenty of photographs. The two-story hotel, a historic landmark, had originally been built during the Great Northern era. The hotel was crowned with a large gable roof and the structure’s random rubble masonry provided a rugged architectural feel.

The kitchen and dining room building, the only other structure on the site, had been built with smaller stones and was topped with a smaller roof, but had a similarly rugged look to it. After resting and snacking on beef jerky, an energy bar, and water, George began his descent. The hike up the mountain had taken four and a half hours and if he was going to make it back to the lodge in time to meet Jessica and still make it to their five o’clock meeting at the ranger’s station, he couldn’t afford to spend anymore time at the chalet.

While George hiked up Sperry Trail, Jessica found herself trying to adjust to fly fishing from a McKenzie River boat on the very fast, very powerful Flathead River. After struggling for the first hour, Lee recommended that she try to let her dry fly draw under the water at the end of her drift. While this was not a particularly attractive technique, and would be offensive to the purist fly fisherman, it worked and Jessica was rewarded with a large westslope cutthroat trout, which had snatched up her fly almost immediately.

Because piloting a boat on the Flathead River was a demanding and serious task given the river’s blind bends, rock-choked chutes and numerous downed trees, Jessica and her guide spent very little time discussing anything other than fishing and navigating the river.

Lee was a pleasant twenty-two year old man who had recently graduated from Montana State University in Bozeman with a degree in fish and wildlife biology. He had spent the past several summers working as a fishing guide in and around the park and planned to return to graduate school in the fall.

On the drive back to Jessica’s hotel, Lee drove past the Wilderness Lodge and suddenly became very quiet.

“Did you know Grant Wallace?” Jessica finally asked.

“Yes. He was a good guy and probably the best fishing guide in this part of the country. Whenever he’s booked, he refers clients to me. That’s how your friend, Mr. Sutherland, hired me to be your guide today.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jessica admitted. “I can understand why, though. You’re an excellent guide,” Jessica told him in all sincerity. “Were you and Mr. Wallace friends or just business associates?”

After a moment’s contemplation, Lee answered, “Both, I guess, but probably more than anything else, we both loved to talk fishing.” Lee slowed the vehicle to a stop, allowing three deer to cross the highway. Before continuing on, he sighed and looked at Jessica. “You and Mr. Sutherland were the ones who found him, weren’t you?”

Jessica nodded. “Yes, unfortunately, we were,” she answered gently, having noted that the young man was obviously grieving the loss of his friend.

“I guess I figured that,” Lee replied before pausing. He slowed the vehicle, waited for the opposing traffic to pass, and then turned into the parking lot of the lodge. “My friend Rhett told me a little bit about it and since there aren’t too many guys with Scottish accents around these parts, I figured that it must have been the two of you who found him.”

Rhett parked his pickup as close to the lodge’s entrance as he could and helped Jessica unload her gear. Lee insisted on carrying Jessica’s things back to the cabin for her. When she attempted to pay him for the day, he informed her that George had already taken care of it.

Jessica treated herself to a bottle of iced tea from the small cooler, which they had moved from the SUV to their room. Afterwards she showered and took a short nap while waiting for George to return from his hike. Dog-tired, George immediately dragged himself into the shower and they departed for their meeting as soon as he had finished and dressed.

When they arrived at Park Headquarters they were met by young Ranger Carson. He offered them each a cup of coffee and a place to sit while they waited for the detective to see them. As soon as they had seated themselves they heard a loud, booming voice coming from the doorway of one of the offices just off the main lobby. “Chief Inspector Sutherland, what are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

“Well, I’ll be,” said a surprised George before setting his coffee down on a small table located next to his chair. “Detective Crenshaw, a pleasure to see you again,” he said as he stood and walked toward the detective, his hand extended in greeting. “I thought that they were sending someone from San Francisco.”

“They did. I transferred there almost a year ago,” Crenshaw explained. “And you must be J.B. Fletcher,” he said as he approached Jessica.

“Yes, I am,” she answered as she stood and shook hands with him, still somewhat taken aback by the fact that the two men seemed to be fairly well acquainted.

Crenshaw motioned them into an office and closed the door before offering them each a seat. “So,” he began, sitting casually on the corner of the desk, “could someone please explain to me how a senior inspector from Scotland Yard and a world famous murder mystery writer happened to stumble upon a murder victim in Glacier National Park of all places?”

“Simply an unfortunate coincidence, I’m afraid,” George answered before Crenshaw asked him to once again walk through the events of the previous day. George did so, including everything that Sheridan had told them about Barrow Corp. and their attempt to persuade Wallace to sell the Wilderness Lodge.

“So, what do you think?” the detective finally asked, looking directly at George who merely glanced in Jessica’s direction. “Go ahead, Jess, tell him what you think.”

“I really don’t have a theory as of yet, just some questions,” Jessica answered.

“Go ahead,” the detective said when Jessica hesitated. “The inspector’s already told me what a great mind you have, especially when it comes to solving a murder,” he added, causing Jessica to glance sidelong at George.

“It seems to me that Ranger Sheridan might be narrowing his search a bit too quickly,” Jessica started. “The first questions that come to mind for me are ‘who else might benefit from Mr. Wallace’s death’ and ‘if Barrow Corp. was involved, how could they be sure that whoever inherits the hotel from Mr. Wallace would sell it to them.’”

“Fair questions,” Crenshaw observed, nodding his head slightly. “Please, go on.”

After pausing for a moment Jessica continued her line of thinking. “If the representatives from Barrow Corp. followed Mr. Wallace up the mountain yesterday afternoon, they would have needed a four-wheel drive vehicle to do it because if they had gone on foot, they would have had to wait for morning to find their way back down and George and I would have crossed paths with them on our way up.”

“That’s something to consider,” Crenshaw admitted. “Anything else?” he asked.

Jessica inched forward on her seat. “As a matter of fact, I am curious about several other things. I would like to know who had knowledge of the fact that Mr. Wallace was going hiking, and what happened to his gear? He must have had a tent or a sleeping bag…at a minimum you would think that he would have taken a backpack, especially if he was planning to camp overnight.”

Crenshaw rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering. “As far as who might benefit from Grant Wallace’s death, the obvious answer is his wife. If she agrees to sell hotel, Barrow Corp. will benefit as will Wallace’s brother, who is a part owner of the hotel. His wife has an iron-clad alibi. She was in East Glacier.”

“And the Barrow Corp. reps are each other’s alibis?” Jessica asked presumptuously.

“That’s correct,” he answered. “I’ll have to check on their rental,” he said, jotting himself a note on a small yellow pad. “As far as who knew that he was going hiking - his wife and brother both knew and several of the hotel employees. I still have several people to interview, but I suspect that that list will only grow and may include some of the hotel guests. It doesn’t seem to have been a secret.”

“Sheridan mentioned that the victim’s brother wanted him to sell the hotel,” George reminded them. “Do you know if that is fact or purely rumor?”

“Fact,” Crenshaw said simply. “I interviewed him just after lunch and he admitted that he and the vic had argued about it that afternoon.”

“Does he have an alibi?” Jessica asked.

“I’m still trying to verify his whereabouts. He spent the morning in Kalispell taking care of some bank business for the hotel, met with the vic and the Barrow Corp. reps that afternoon, and then worked the front desk at the hotel from four until six that evening so that the clerk could drive to Whitefish for a dental appointment. That much I can verify. After that, he says that he picked up a pizza from Jammin’ Joe’s, went home, and fell asleep after watching a boxing match.”

“Ah, home alone?” George commented, “Often times very difficult to prove either way.”

“Exactly,” Crenshaw agreed before standing and beginning to pace back and forth behind the desk. “He lives in the manager’s apartment at the hotel, but says that he used the private entrance when he came back from the pizza place. The night manager says that wasn’t unusual, but still, none of the other employees or guests remembers actually seeing him return. The only proof that he came back was a Pay Per View order for the boxing match, which he placed at 6:38 p.m. Unfortunately, that doesn’t prove that he didn’t leave again after placing the order or that he didn’t place the order from another location,” he explained as he continued to pace.

“What about his vehicle?” Jessica asked. “Were there any guests who might have checked in or returned to the hotel after that time, someone who would remember seeing or not seeing it parked outside of the hotel?”

“That’s what I thought,” Crenshaw replied, “but the private entrance is located in the rear or the building as is the manager’s parking space and neither can be seen from the other parking areas.”

“You just reminded me of something, Detective Crenshaw. There were also what looked to be fairly fresh tire tracks that extended beyond the fire trail itself and into the grass, not far from the entrance to the cabin. Have they been identified?”

Crenshaw stopped suddenly and looked directly at Jessica. “Fresh tracks, are you sure about that?” he asked, now glancing at George for confirmation.

“Aye,” George answered, “they extended into the grass a good four or five feet in front of where Sheridan parked last evening.”

“I’ll have to check on that, too,” Crenshaw said, picking up his note pad and making another entry. “Hopefully they haven’t been destroyed. By the time I arrived this morning, there were already two park vehicles and the county coroner’s SUV parked up there.

“Is there anything else that struck you as unusual?” Crenshaw asked, hoping for another lead.

“Not that I can think of at the moment,” Jessica answered thoughtfully.

“Inspector?” Crenshaw asked

George thought for a minute before answering, “No, nothing that comes to mind.”

The conversation moved from professional to personal and they chatted briefly about their plans for the remainder of the week. George provided Crenshaw with their itinerary and the detective thanked them for their assistance and promised to keep them posted on his progress. When they were ready to leave, he escorted them into the lobby area, where Rhett Carson waited patiently, even though he was no longer on duty.

“Mrs. Fletcher,” he said, “I hate to intrude on your vacation, but my mother loves your books and I sort of missed Mother’s Day,” he began to explain, as his cheeks and ears became flushed with embarrassment. “And well, I was sort of wondering if you would mind autographing one of your books for her?”

“I’d love to,” Jessica said graciously, leaving George and Detective Crenshaw alone.

“Thank you so much,” Rhett said, relieved. “I have one right here.” He stepped behind the main desk and retrieved a hardcover edition of Jessica’s most recent novel from his backpack. He placed the book, The Venomous Valentine, on top of the desk along with a pen.

After signing the book she turned and noticed that George and the detective were now speaking in hushed voices. Once George noticed that she had finished, he wished Crenshaw luck and met Jessica at the door.

“A conference in Toronto several years ago,” he said after they were outside and the door had closed behind them.

“That’s how you know Detective Crenshaw?” Jessica asked.

“Aye,” George answered. “And how exactly did your name come up in our conversation?” he added, anticipating her next question.

“I must admit that I was curious about that,” she admitted as she buckled her seatbelt.

“We were debating the pros and cons of using civilians, such as psychics, to assist in murder investigations and a colleague from Glasgow asked about your role in solving Marla Tralaine’s murder aboard the QEII.”

Jessica shook her head in understanding and at length asked, “Was that an awkward discussion for you?”

“Of course not,” George answered as he turned north toward the lodge. “Why would it be? I have absolutely no problem with the fact that you are a woman of extreme intelligence, who possesses perhaps the most outstanding deductive reasoning skills of anyone that I know.”

“And Detective Crenshaw, what was his opinion about involving a civilian in police business?”

“Now that I think back on it, I don’t recall Carl rendering his opinion on the matter,” George answered thoughtfully.

“And now?”

“I’m not sure. That isn’t what we were discussing when you were signing Rhett’s book.”

“What were you discussing?”

“Nothing important,” he answered nonchalantly as he pulled the Cherokee into the parking lot. After climbing out of the vehicle, he walked around to open Jessica’s door and offered her his arm as they walked toward the lobby entrance.

Nothing important, Jessica thought to herself, we’ll see about that. “Did Detective Crenshaw ask for your assistance in his investigation?” she inquired as they neared the entrance to the dining room.

“No,” George answered politely, just before the hostess greeted them. The woman, whose name tag identified her as DeAnn from Minot, ND, greeted them warmly before showing them to a table.

“It had to be something,” she persisted after the hostess had left them. “You were fiddling with your collar when I turned around.”

“I was fiddling with my collar?” George repeated, looking at her very curiously.

“Yes,” she answered. “You do that when you’re nervous...or embarrassed.”

“I do?” he responded, somewhat skeptical of Jessica’s observation.

“Yes, you do,” she confirmed, “just before you loosen your tie.”

George considered Jessica’s observation for a minute. “In that case, love, I’ll have to remember never to play poker with you,” he joked good-naturedly before reaching for his glass of water.

Before she could interrogate him any further the waitress arrived with their drinks and menus. After explaining the specials for the evening, she left them alone to make their decisions and returned as soon as they had both closed their menus. Jessica chose the trout amandine while George, after considerable contemplation, settled on the venison steak with sausage filling.

“So, Jessica, my dear, you haven’t told me about your fly fishing expedition today,” George queried once the waitress had left with their orders.

“It was amazing!” she exclaimed. “I still don’t know if we were fishing or whitewater rafting,” she laughed, and shook her head.

“You enjoyed yourself then?”

“Very much so, it was an incredible experience,” she said before pausing. “I must admit though, it was very frustrating at first, but once Lee suggested that I alter my technique slightly, I caught my first cutthroat almost immediately.”

Even after their dinners arrived, Jessica continued to tell George all about her unforgettable day. “I’ve been talking a mile a minute and you haven’t told me anything about your hike up to the chalet,” Jessica realized as she set down her fork.

“I’ll show you when we get back to the cabin,” George assured her, “but for now, I’d like to hear more about your day.” George continued to listen attentively and couldn’t help thinking about how nice it would be to share the news of their respective days over dinner on a regular basis.

“We saw a mountain lion on the shoreline and a bear…a huge grizzly bear,” she repeated as she mimicked a large, menacing bear. “It swam across the river, right in front of our boat. I couldn’t believe it. I wish that I had taken my camera, but I didn’t even think of it,” she commented as they walked along the edge of the lake toward the cabin.

“Look at that,” George said with a laugh as he stopped and glanced upward. “It’s snowing!”

“It is,” Jessica said as she peered up at the snow flakes that had begun to fall. “It’s lovely,” she added wistfully.

A short time later, after she had finished getting ready for bed, Jessica entered the bedroom area of the cabin and noticed George, who was sitting on one of the beds, working on his laptop. “I thought that we agreed to a ‘no work allowed’ policy on this vacation,” Jessica reminded him in mock reproach.

“We did and I’m not,” he answered as he studied the screen thoughtfully and keyed something in before saving the file.

“What are you doing then?” Jessica asked as she sat down next to him on the very narrow bed.

“I’m just cataloging some photos that I downloaded from my camera and saving them to my flash drive,” he answered as he opened another file and double clicked the slide show feature.

As the first picture appeared on the screen, it caused Jessica to laugh out loud and place her hand in front of the screen. “When did you take that?”

“This morning when we were loading your gear. I figured that it might be my only chance to snap a photo of you wearing your fly fishing hat,” he added. “It’s very fashionable, you know.”

“Oh…now that is beautiful,” she commented after they had viewed several more slides.

George paused the program and slid the computer over to Jessica’s lap while he adjusted his position slightly. After placing one arm around her shoulders, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead before quietly whispering next to her ear, “It gets better,” and then tapping a key to resume the program. As each photo was displayed, George offered a variety of narration ranging from a simple, “Beaver Medicine Falls,” to a comical story about the two sparring mountain goats.

“Do you see that?” he asked as he paused the computer once again and pointed to two rustic buildings perched on a cliff on the west side of Gunsight Mountain. “That is Sperry Chalet,” he said.

“And you wanted to spend a night up there?” Jessica asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Aye,” George replied. “You’ll see why before too long,” he added before resuming the show and letting his cheek rest against her head.

“Wow,” Jessica said as a stunning vista filled the screen. The panorama featured three large mountain peaks, separated by U-shaped valleys, which George explained had been carved out by glacial ice. “What’s that?” she asked as she pointed to a lake far off in the distance of one of the photos.

“Lake McDonald,” George replied.

“Way down there?” she exclaimed.

“Aye, way down there,” he chuckled.

“You must have hiked a good five miles and another half mile in elevation,” Jessica guessed.

“Six point seven miles with a 3300 foot change in elevation, I believe,” George said, quoting the guide book that he had just referenced while labeling his photographs.

“Nearly seven miles, poor baby, no wonder you looked so tired when you got back,” she said teasingly as she turned her head toward him slightly and tunneled her fingers gently through his hair.

“I believe it was closer to thirteen miles as I had to hike back down,” he pointed out as he closed his eyes, “which is why I’m not going to make you pay for the ‘poor baby’ comment until tomorrow.”

“I’ll count myself lucky then,” she decided as she once again ran her fingers through his hair, which she noted was showing a bit more grey than the last time that they had spent time together. “What were you and Detective Crenshaw discussing just before we left the ranger station?” she finally asked in a soft, soothing voice.

“You’re trying to take advantage of my weakened state, aren’t you?” George observed, his eyes still closed, as a slight smile crossed his lips.

“I thought it was worth a shot,” she admitted. “Is it working?”

“Aye, I believe it is,” he answered contentedly before sighing deeply and beginning to explain. “The good detective wanted to know if you and I were on our honeymoon.”

“What!” Jessica exclaimed as she pulled away and turned all the way around to face him, nearly knocking the computer to the floor in the process.

Suppressing a sudden urge to laugh, George rescued the computer and set it aside before continuing. “Apparently, Ranger Sheridan had come to the conclusion that because we are traveling together and sharing a hotel room, but have different last names, different home addresses and you wear a wedding band that you and I must be having an extra-marital affair.”

“You’re joking,” Jessica replied in disbelief.

“No, I’m afraid I’m not,” George answered. “Fortunately, Detective Crenshaw had a less licentious theory.”

“What was Crenshaw’s theory?” Jessica asked although she wasn’t completely sure that she wanted to know the answer.

“Crenshaw assumed that we had recently been married and were most likely on our honeymoon, so you hadn’t yet had time to update your identification yet.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Don’t worry, love,” George said with a slight laugh as he pulled her close again, “I was very discreet. I simply explained that you and I met many years ago, after having both been widowed; that we have numerous common interests and enjoy spending time in each other’s company.”

“That’s it?” she asked in surprise.

“A gentleman wouldn’t say anything more than that and the intimate details of our relationship are no one’s business but our own and they are certainly not vital to his investigation,” he explained before kissing her on the temple.

“Truthful yet ambiguous,” Jessica observed, nodding her head in approval.

“I’ve had plenty of practice over the past seven or eight months.”

“Does that mean that neither you nor Tessa has told your family?”

“My sister and I have a tacit agreement to not discuss each other’s personal relationships with the rest of the family.”

“Do you mind if I ask why you haven’t told your family?” she asked, finding it curious.

“Because the moment I do, they are likely to start planning our wedding and I would prefer that they not do that until I’ve actually convinced you to marry me,” he answered with unwavering confidence.

“You’re going to convince me to marry you?” Jessica asked, clearly amused by his candidness.

“Aye, that’s my current plan,” he answered as he peered down into her dazzling blue eyes.

“And if I say no?”

“I’m a patient man, Jessie,” he reminded her as he closed his eyes again.

“You’re a stubborn Scotsman,” she said, correcting him.

“I’m that, too,” he laughed.

They began the next day with an early morning walk to McDonald Falls before returning to the lodge for breakfast. After loading their things into the Cherokee and mounting the bicycles on their rack, they made their way north along Going-to-the-Sun Road. Along the way they stopped at Avalanche Creek and enjoyed a leisurely walk through the Trail of Cedars. Their next stop before reaching Logan Pass was the Garden Wall, a knife-edged ridge, which was part of the Continental Divide and which, according to George’s extensive reading, had been formed by two glaciers grinding down opposite sides of the ridge. They also made a brief stop to view Bird Woman Falls and the spectacular valley that surrounded it.

After reaching Logan Pass at the top of the Continental Divide, George parked and they walked down Hidden Lake Nature Trail until they arrived at the lake, which was surrounded by white, yellow and purple wildflowers and which was framed by dramatic mountain peaks. The lake was a haven for grazing mountain goats, golden eagles and marmots and as Jessica might have predicted, George was unable to resist taking numerous photos.

They continued along their route through the park, stopping to view Jackson Glacier. Their next stop was Sun Point, which offered picnic tables and a stunning view of St. Mary Lake. To Jessica’s complete surprise, George had somehow managed to plan a romantic picnic for two, complete with a blanket and wicker basket. They enjoyed a lunch of cheese and crackers, fresh fruit and vegetables, and cold fried chicken.

The Wild Goose Island overlook and Triple Divide Peak were their final stops before reaching the St. Mary Visitor Center, on the eastern border of the park. From St. Mary, they drove south toward East Glacier Park, where they would spend the night.

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