"Why not? Let's finish lunch, and I'll take you up myself."
They drove in a Jeep to the two-story lodge at the base of the mountain.
Bruce Bowler told Dana, "This building is where we meet to make our search-and-rescue plans. We carry ski-rental equipment here and we have ski instructors for those who want them. We'll take this lift up to the top of the mountain."
They slid onto the Ptarmigan chairlift, heading for the top of Eaglecrest. Dana was shivering.
"I should have warned you. For this kind of weather, you need propylene clothing, long underwear, and you have to dress in layers."
Dana shivered. "I'll r-remember."
"This is the chairlift Julie Winthrop came up in. She had her backpack with her."
"Her backpack?"
"Yes. They contain an avalanche shovel, a beacon that transmits up to fifty yards, and a probe pole." He sighed. "Of course, that doesn't help any when you slam into a tree."
They were nearing the summit. As they reached the platform and they gingerly stepped off the chairs, a man at the top greeted them.
"What brings you up here, Bruce? Someone lost?"
"No. I'm just showing a friend the sights. This is Miss Evans."
They exchanged hellos. Dana looked around. There was a warming hut that was almost lost in the heavy clouds. Had Julie Winthrop gone in there before she went skiing? And was someone following her? Someone who was planning to kill her?
Bruce Bowler turned to Dana. "Ptarmigan here is top of the mountain. It's all downhill from here."
Dana turned and looked at the unforgiving ground far, far below and shuddered.
"You look chilly, Miss Evans. I'd better take you down."
"Thank you."
Dana had just returned to the Inn at the Waterfront when there was a knock at her door. Dana opened it. A large, pale-faced man stood there.
"Miss Evans?"
"Yes."
"Hi. My name is Nicholas Verdun. I'm from theJuneau Empire newspaper."
"Yes?"
"I understand you're investigating the Julie Winthrop death? We'd like to do a story on that."
An alarm sounded in Dana's mind. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. I'm not doing any investigation."
The man looked at her skeptically. "I heard - "
"We're doing a show on around-the-world skiing. This is just one stop."
He stood there a moment. "I see. Sorry to have bothered you."
Dana watched him leave. How would he know what I'm doing here? Dana telephoned theJuneau Empire. "Hello. I wanted to talk to one of your reporters, Nicholas Verdun..." She listened a moment. "You don't have anyone there by that name? I see. Thank you."
It took Dana ten minutes to pack. I've got to get out of here and find another place. She suddenly remembered. Aren't you asking about Cozy Log, our bed-and-breakfast inn? You're in luck. We have one room available. Dana went down to the lobby to check out. The clerk gave her directions to the inn and drew a small map.
In the basement of the government building, the man looking at the digital map on the computer said, "The subject is leaving the downtown area, heading west."
The Cozy Log Bed-and-Breakfast Inn was a neat one-story Alaskan log house, half an hour away from downtown Juneau. Perfect. Dana rang the front doorbell and the door was opened by an attractive, cheerful woman in her thirties.
"Hello. Can I help you?"
"Yes. I met your husband, and he mentioned that you had a room available."
"Indeed we do. I'm Judy Bowler."
"Dana Evans."
"Come in."
Dana stepped inside and looked around. The inn consisted of a large, comfortable living room with a stone fireplace, a dining room where the boarders ate, and two bedrooms with bathrooms.
"I do all the cooking here," Judy Bowler said. "It's pretty good."
Dana smiled warmly. "I'm looking forward to it."
Judy Bowler showed Dana to her room. It was clean and homey looking. Dana unpacked.
There was one other couple boarding there, and the conversation was casual. Neither of them recognized Dana.
After lunch, Dana drove back into town. She walked into the bar of the Cliff House and ordered a drink. All the employees looked tan and healthy. Of course.
"Beautiful weather," Dana said to the young blond bartender.
"Yeah. Great skiing weather."
"Do you ski a lot?"
He smiled. "Whenever I can steal time off."
"Too dangerous for me." Dana sighed. "A friend of mine got killed here a few months ago."
He put down the glass he was polishing. "Killed?"
"Yes. Julie Winthrop."
His expression clouded. "She used to come in here. Nice lady."
Dana leaned forward. "I heard it wasn't an accident."
His eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"I heard she was murdered."
"Murdered?" he said incredulously. "Not a chance. It was an accident."
Twenty minutes later Dana was talking to the bartender at the Prospector Hotel.
"Beautiful weather."
"Good skiing weather," the bartender said.
Dana shook her head. "Too dangerous for me. A friend of mine got killed here skiing. You might have met her. Julie Winthrop."
"Oh, sure. I liked her a lot. I mean, she didn't put on airs, like some people. She was real down-to-earth."
Dana leaned forward. "I heard her death wasn't an accident."
The expression on the bartender's face changed. He lowered his voice. "I know damn well it wasn't."