The Body in the Snowdrift (Faith Fairchild Series #15) by Katherine Hall Page
When caterer Faith Fairchild learns of her father-in-law's plan to celebrate his seventieth birthday by treating his children, their spouses, and his grandchildren to a weeklong stay at the Pine Slopes resort, her reaction is mixed. Yes, she likes to ski and yes, she loves the kin of her husband, the Reverend Thomas Fairchild, but both in smaller and shorter doses.
The Fairchilds have been coming to the ski area since Tom and his siblings were toddlers and are old friends of the owners, the Staffords. All starts well as the family settles into neighboring condos, until Faith discovers a body on one of the cross-country trails - the apparent victim of a heart attack. Then Pine Slopes' star chef vanishes without a trace. One catastrophe follows another: a malicious prank at the sports center, a break-in at the Fairchild condo, and one of the chairlifts is sabotaged. Who is the mysterious woman living in the "gingerbread cottage" deep in the woods? And what are adolescents Ophelia Stafford and Faith's nephew Scott - filled with angst and anger - up to? Family secrets abound and family dynamics explode.
Then one morning skiers arrive and are horror-stricken to find the slopes covered with patches of red snow, the result of a body falling, or being pushed, into the water supply for the snow-making guns. Faith must get to the bottom of the crime spree if she wants to salvage the reunion, prevent the closing of Pine Slopes -and save her own life.
Katherine Hall Page is the author of twenty-three previous Faith Fairchild mysteries, the first of which received the Agatha Award for best first mystery. The Body in the Snowdrift was honored with the Agatha Award for best novel of 2006. Page also won an Agatha for her short story “The Would-Be Widower.” The recipient of the Malice Domestic Award for Lifetime Achievement, she has been nominated for the Edgar, the Mary Higgins Clark, the Maine Literary, and the Macavity Awards. She lives in Massachusetts and Maine with her husband.
The curtains at the window didn't quite meet in the middle, and a sliver of gray winter dawn cut across the bedclothes like a dull kitchen knife. Boyd crept out of bed, groping for his slippers as his feet touched the cold floor. At the door, he stopped and fondly looked back at the motionless figure under the bedclothes, aware that he was alone in his belief that the early hours of each day were the most precious. He closed the door to the adjoining bath noiselessly, turned on the ceiling heat lamps to take the chill off, and dressed quickly. He'd laid his clothes out the night before, even his parka. Holding his boots in one hand, he went back into the bedroom and then out into the hallway. The bedclothes hadn't stirred, but the shaft piercing them was brighter. It was time to go.
In the kitchen, he put on his boots, fed the cats, and stuffed some Clif Bars, an apple, and a bottle of water into his fanny pack. He'd eat breakfast on the trail. His skis and poles were in the mudroom, where he'd left them the previous day. Reaching for the rest of his gear from one of the shelves, he noticed a pair of boots that had been kicked off and left sprawled next to a heap of outerwear. The untidymess was crowned by one of those Polartec court-jester hats in Day-Glo orange and blue. So, the guest room was occupied. He was tempted to pitch the stuff into the snow.
Instead, he grabbed his things, pulled the door open, and stepped outside. The cold air almost took his breath away. His annoyance vanished into the clouds of vapor from his breath. Hastily, he pulled his neck gaiter up, knowing that as soon as he got moving, he'd be peeling it off.
It was quiet. Too cold for birds. No sound except the steady schuss of his skis as he made his way through the woods, heading toward the resort. He moved effortlessly, rhythmically poling, side to side, a graceful Nordic dance. He passed the base lodge. The lifts didn't open until 9:00 a.m., and not even the ski patrol was up at this hour. He glanced toward the employee parking lot. Pete, the head of maintenance, was pulling in. It was a toss-up as to whether his truck outdated him or the other way around. He'd managed to keep the ski resort going since the1960s with, as he put it, "mostly baling wire and duct tape, plus the odd piece of chewing gum." Boyd was tempted to stop for a chat, but the mountain beckoned, so he continued on his way, climbing high up into the backcountry.
They'd had about ten inches of much-needed new snow overnight, and he soon paused for some water, stripping off his gaiter. He'd reach the groomed Nordic trails soon. This shortcut was his secret, and even though it meant striking a trail through the powder, he wouldn't skip it for the world. The sun was rising higher in the sky. Soon it would be one of those picture-perfect Vermont snow-scene days -- the sky so blue that it looked dyed like an Easter egg and, beneath it, Christmas trees dusted with frosting. No holiday could compete with the everyday sights on the mountain as far as Boyd was concerned. He'd been skiing here all his life, even before it was a resort. He and his father would ski up the mountain, pushing themselves to the limit; then there would be that long, mad, glorious run down. In some museum in Norway, he'd heard, there was a pair of skis over four thousand years old. What he and Dad had used seemed just as ancient, Boyd realized, looking down at the new Fischers he'd treated himself to in December. But what held true for those early Norsemen, and their descendants everywhere, was their addiction to the sport. Speed, endurance. It was a kick. Endorphins, adrenaline, call it what you will.
Boyd liked to ski fast, straight up or straight down. It didn't matter. That was the beauty of it. All you needed was snow. No chairlifts. No technology, unless you counted the skis, Salomon boots, carbon-fiber poles, Swix waxes, even clothing. He laughed to himself. He was wearing Craft underwear -- the self-proclaimed "Apple computer of underwear" -- made of some kind of miracle fiber.
Global warming was shrinking winter, and these last few years, he'd hungered for skiing to the point of taking summer vacations in New Zealand and Australia, trying to sustain the feeling, sustain the pace.
Last March, he'd gone to Norway to ski in the Birkebeiner, a fiftyeight- kilometer race from Rena to Lillehammer. He'd wanted to do it for years, attracted as much by the story behind it as the event itself. During a period of civil unrest in Norway in the thirteenth century, the Birkebeiners, the "birch leggers," were the underdogs and so poorly equipped that they used the bark from birch trees for boots. To keep Haakon Haakonsson, the tiny heir of the dying king, safe from the rival faction, the Baglers, two Birkebeiners took him far across the mountains to safety. It was a perilous journey to make in the winter, freezing cold, but the skiers, with the boy strapped to one of their backs, made it. He grew up to become King Haakon and defeated the Baglers, bringing the country to new heights of glory. During the annual race to commemorate the event, each skier carryied an eight-pound pack to simulate the little prince. Boyd had thought he would be the oldest, but he found many far older -- and in better shape -- among the nine thousand entrants. It had been one of the happiest days of his life. The route was lined with cheering crowds; the skiers constituted a community unlike any other he had experienced. In Norway, skiing was as natural as breathing -- and started almost at the same time. He'd go back next year.
The Body in the Snowdrift 2.7 out of 5based on
More than 1 year ago
More than 1 year ago
Caterer Faith Fairchild is not looking forward to all the Fairchilds getting together at Pine Slopes, a Vermont ski resort. Her husband¿s family threatens to emotionally overwhelm her and on her first day at the resort she finds the body of local lawyer Boyd Harrison who invested quite a sum of money in Pine Slopes. --- Everyone thinks he had a heart attack since Boyd felt chest pains and reached into his pocket for his medicine. However, someone substituted the nitroglycerin with mints. Shortly after his death, the head chef John Forester disappears without giving anyone advance notice. Faith thinks it is strange because he has been at the resort for years and loved his job. Malicious pranks like a lifelike blow up doll painted in red to look like blood floating in the pool and the sabotage of the ski lift convince Faith someone wants to bankrupt the resort. When John¿s body is splattered all over the mountain because someone pushed him into the snow making machine, Faith investigates only to walk into a trap set by the killer. --- Though the fifteenth Faith Fairchild mystery, the series retains the freshness and originality of the very first book which won the Agatha Award. The heroine is drawn into the Fairchilds¿ problems, getting into arguments with her sister-in-laws and trying to keep her nieces and nephews safe and happy in spite of their mother¿s obsessive compulsion need to regiment their lives. There are many people who could have killed the victims but Faith has to find a motive compelling enough for someone to eliminate the chef and the investor. Katherine Hall Page has written an exciting down to earth amateur sleuth mystery.--- Harriet Klausner
More than 1 year ago
This is the fifteenth mystery in the Faith Fairchild series. This time the entire clan goes to the Pine Slopes Ski Resort in Vermont. The trip is to celebrate Faith's father-in-law's birthday. ........................................... Faith stumbles upon Boyd Harrison's body early on and the resort's chef disappears shortly afterward. Since Faith is a caterer, she happily steps in as the resort's chef until a replacement can be found. Things get worse as the week goes on. Someone falls (or is pushed) into the water supply for the snow-making machine. The body is all over the slopes. Pranks and vandalism are happening every time Faith turns around. ........................................ All is not quiet within the Fairchild family either. Faith is amazed at the things she is learning about her family members. Things she really did NOT want to know. ............................................ ** This novel is not nearly as good as all the previous books in this mystery series. I found this case very easy to solve. The first half of the novel is extremely slow. The only good parts during the first half is the recipes that the author goes into details on how to make. Of course for those who are interested, the recipes can be found either in the back of this novel or in the back of previous novels. There are too many flash backs as well. Often as I read, Faith would find something or have something happen in the first paragraph of a new chapter and then flashes back to the day before. I must read almost the entire chapter before even knowing what is going on. I felt as if I was left suspended somewhere. In my opinion, the story would have been much better had it just been written in the order things happened. As a fan, I can only hope the next mystery in this series is better. **
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