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Ruffling Feathers Chapter 14 - The Truth Bites and Stings
Roland Wolfe, head of the Vail ski school, prided himself on his handpicked stable of ski instructors and he groomed them as carefully as the Snow Cats groomed Vail's famous slopes. The short, wiry Austrian insisted on instructors with world-class skiing resumes as well as world-class charm; Vail instructors must flatter without fawning; looking good and skiing great were only slightly less important when it came to keeping the customers happy. Roland and his wife Isabel were the only people at the final Donovan dinner party who were actually in Vail when Amy and Paul uncovered the list. Although the rest were a phone call away, Amy and Paul paid Roland a personal call to get the ball rolling. True to his word, Paul had phoned Dennis Brown and filled him in on their findings in the condo. To Amy's surprise, Paul reported that Dennis was interested in the new theory and eager to check out the details of the party. Amy and Paul agreed that it wouldn't hurt for them to follow up with each guest as well. While Isabel fluttered around her Vail townhouse preparing refreshments for the unexpected coffee klatch on Friday morning, Roland answered Amy's and Paul's questions. He had been head of the ski school for twenty years and Anne and George Donovan were well-known in town. Roland remembered attending the dinner party with Isabel two days before the plane went down. It wasn't the first he had heard of George Donovan's proposal for a new ski resort. George had wanted Roland to expand his Vail school to include the new resort. Roland had decided to turn him down. He had wanted to run the best ski school in the world, he explained to Paul, not the biggest. Apparently the enthusiasm for a new resort had died with George Donovan. Roland hadn't heard a word of the proposal since the plane crash. Relentless ambition and restless energy dominated Roland's memory of George Donovan. Roland remembered him as a man who always seemed to be building or developing something, expanding or growing what he already had. "I've worked with men like your father my whole life, the ski industry depends on them, but I've never seen them find happiness. Your father came the closest." Roland paused, his eyes betrayed a softness that contradicted his brusque manner. "And that was because of your mother." Amy softly squeezed Paul's shoulder, then excused herself and found her way to Isabel's kitchen. Isabel looked up with a bright hostess smile as she put the finishing touches on trays laden with espresso, latte, chai, and strudel. "I love your kitchen, Isabel." Amy said admiringly. "Do you spend a lot of time here?" "When I miss my family in Austria, I cook until I'm not homesick anymore." Isabel smiled and saluted the magnificent view her kitchen windows framed. "This too helps me feel better. I can see most of the town as well as the main lodge from my kitchen." "It's beautiful," Amy replied as she gazed up at peaks that climbed directly out of the town. "Isabel, Paul is talking with your husband about the last dinner party his parents gave. I know this sounds far-fetched, but we think it might have something to do with the plane crash. Do you think many people knew about his idea to develop a new resort that would rival Vail?" "My dear, everyone in the business knew George Donovan wanted his own resort. He wanted World Cup racing, he wanted Governor's Cup pro-am events, he wanted deeper powder, bigger bowls, and faster gondolas than anyone else in the world." Isabel picked up a tray and headed for the living room. "Anne didn't want George to have his own resort, though. I knew Anne well. She was not happy that George was starting to put together a team to develop another area." Amy put her hand on Isabel's arm. "Did she tell you that?" Isabel put down the tray, "She didn't have to. Anne Donovan was the life of every party, but not that night. She was quiet—not sullen, just pensive. I caught her looking at George a few times with a very worried expression. There were rumors..." Isabel picked up her tray again and looked Amy dead on in the eyes. "I'm not going to start gossiping now. Let's join the men." A sense of dread washed over Amy as she followed Isabel into the living room with the second tray. Amy knew Paul wasn't expecting to discover discord between his parents. And she didn't know him well enough to know how he would take it. He was willing to acknowledge that his father was a ruthless businessman, hell bent on winning at whatever game he was playing. That was okay. But over the past couple of weeks, Amy had come to realize that Paul saw his mother and her relationship with his father as pure and true and good. As Amy and Paul were leaving, the interview with Roland over, Isabel gently pressed a scrap of paper into Amy's hand. Amy pocketed the note and while Paul was opening car doors, she glanced at it. The note contained two words—"Drew Dawson." Amy sort of knew a Drew Dawson. He had been Richard Clayton's college roommate. She knew that Richard and Drew had remained in touch though not close. She also knew that Greg Hansen hated him, called him "The Iceman." Drew was good looking—ice blue eyes, Nordic build, white-blond hair. Drew and Greg Hansen were both ski instructors and had known each other for years, but now Drew had his own school—Breckenridge or Copper Mountain or Keystone, Amy couldn't remember which—while Greg was still just on the staff at Winter Park and assistant coach for the Courtland team. What on earth could Drew Dawson have to do with this mess, and why didn't Isabel want Roland to see the note? "Paul, did you ever hear about your father's plans for a new ski resort?" Amy asked as they sat on a restaurant deck having lunch, rehashing their visit with the Wolfes. Amy had she showed Paul the note. He was even more puzzled than Amy over this latest twist—what did his cousin's college roommate have to do with his parents? He called Richard Clayton, got voicemail, and left a message asking whether he had Drew Dawson's phone number. "Not explicitly. I didn't know there was an actual plan. I knew that my father thought Colorado was a gold mine—literally. He bought some of the abandoned mines in Cripple Creek when I was a kid. I probably still own them, I guess. Then, of course, there was the Two Forks fiasco. The thing is, he really loved Colorado. He didn't see himself as exploiting it, and he never could understand why people like your father fought against him so much." Paul shrugged, unaware of the bitterness that had crept into his eyes. For the first time, he could empathize with his father. Although he had never intended to follow through with the Project and actually divert South Platte water for a hunting resort, he did know first-hand what it was like to get hate-mail and death threats from eco-terrorists. "I guess he took it personally when Coloradoans didn't thank him for helping develop their state," he added. Amy stopped picking at her salad to glance at Paul. It hadn't registered that maybe he took the hate-mail personally. He had told her he was just playing a role. Was there some of his father's chauvinism lingering in his blood after all? Her throat suddenly felt dry and she pushed the thought from her mind. "How did your mother feel about his Colorado projects?" she asked, changing the subject as she took a sip of water. Paul thought for a minute, then replied, "I have no idea. Honestly. She wasn't shy about her opinions, but I don't remember her either supporting or running down what he was doing in Colorado. But then I was at school and in Europe during a lot of this time. Why?" Amy told him what Isabel Wolfe had said about his mother's mood the night of the dinner party. Paul shook his head. "That doesn't sound like Mother at all. If she was upset with Dad, she generally let him have it with both barrels. I don't know, maybe she was feeling sick, coming down with the flu or something. We ought to just call Isabel and ask her what the note means." "But she already told me that she doesn't want to gossip. And she didn't want Roland to see that note, so calling her on it won't get us anywhere." "What do you mean, 'She doesn't want to gossip'? Are you insinuating that there was something hush-hush going on between my mother and this Dawson guy? My mother adored my father and her worshiped her…" "I don't know what it means…" And then all of a sudden, she did. "Call Roland. Ask him whether your parents took any ski lessons during their last stay in Vail." "Ski lessons during opening week? Lousy snow and packed lift lines. I don't think so." "Just call." He called. Isabel answered. He asked for Roland. Roland said he couldn't remember who took lessons from one week to the next let alone ten years ago. Amy mouthed to Paul to ask him whether he had records from that long ago. He did. They were in his office. He would go check if Paul wanted him to. Paul did. Paul and Amy finished their lunch, paid their bill, and waited for Roland to call back. While they waited, they window shopped their way through town, holding hands, carefully examining priceless junk in gallery storefronts, rolling their eyes at thousand dollar bathing suits, reading every poster in the real estate office window. Killing time. Paul's phone rang. It was Richard. He gave Paul Drew Dawson's number. Before he could ask why his cousin needed his college roommate's phone number, Paul interrupted him to say that he would call back to explain but he didn't have time to go into it now. Paul started to dial Drew. Amy stopped him. "Let's wait until we hear from Roland. We don't know what to ask Drew yet." They walked to a park. Paul argued that they should just camp out in Roland's office until Roland came up with the information. Amy didn't want to crowd him. Isabel had passed her a note rather than saying what was on her mind. They should respect Isabel's judgment. Paul's phone rang again. It was Dennis Brown, calling from Pińon. He hadn't seen Gina since last night. Could Paul please beep her and tell her to stop playing games with the security men who were trying to keep her safe. Paul dialed Gina's beeper. He hung up and waited for her call. Five minutes passed. Amy bit her lip. Paul's lips tightened into a hard line and he balled his fists into the pockets of his shorts. Amy broke the silence. "Paul, it's the Friday afternoon of a wedding weekend. I'm sure Annie has Gina working like crazy. She's with Annie, Paul. She's okay. I'm sure of it." Paul's phone rang again. It was Roland. George Donovan hadn't taken a lesson with the ski school since 1988. Anne had taken lessons on the Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday after Thanksgiving ten years ago. Paul was incredulous. Three lessons in one week. Wasn't that weird? His mother was already a black-diamond skier. Roland agreed. It was weird. Amy mouthed to Paul to ask who the instructor was. Paul thanked Roland for his trouble. He looked at Amy blankly and said, "Greg Hansen." "No way. No way." Amy said deliberately, incredulously, her eyes widening as her stomach knotted, her intuition taking over. "Greg never worked at Vail. He's always worked at Winter Park. That's where I met him. He couldn't even get an interview at Vail. He told me that." And then she remembered why Greg hated Drew Dawson. "He blamed it on Drew Dawson. He said Drew bad-mouthed him to the head of the Vail school, which must have been Roland. Call Drew." "I'm calling Gina first. I've been on the phone. She might have tried to call while I was on the phone. I'm calling Gina. You call Drew and then call Dennis." Paul's voice was cracking and his hands were shaking as he dialed Gina's beeper. Amy dug in her fanny pack and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed the number Richard had given them. Mercifully, a real person answered. She identified herself and asked to speak to Drew. Then she listened, with widening eyes as Drew Dawson, in his calm, iceman voice told her what he knew about Greg Hansen and Anne Donovan and George Donovan and the first week of December ten years ago. She hung up and punched in Dennis' number. And while Paul listened, she told Dennis that Greg Hansen had worked at Vail ten years ago for three weeks. Roland Wolfe had fired him just before Christmas because female clients were complaining that he was coming on to them. What he hadn't told anybody, because nobody had asked, was that he had seen George Donovan beat the shit out of Greg Hansen one afternoon in the parking lot of the Donovan's condo. The Donovan plane went down on the next day. Paul grabbed the phone out of Amy's hand and shouted to Dennis, "You find my sister. You find her now. Find her even if it takes every goddamned cop in the state. I knew he was stalking her. I was never the target. It was Gina all along."
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