Free Death of a PTA Goddess by Leslie O'Kane Page B

around, and I tumbled head over skis.
    My head jerked back, smacking the ice. One ski came off. I was sliding toward the evergreens at a terrifying rate. I managed to dig the heel of my ski boot into a soft patch in the ice. Thankfully, my slide toward the tree trunks stopped just in time.
    I lay on the ground for a moment, waiting for a hideous pain to overtake me. None was forthcoming. I wiggled my fingers and toes and breathed a sigh of relief, glad to discover that I still had control of my extremities.
    A skier stopped right beside me. “Lady, are you all right?” he asked.
    “I think so.”
    “Oh, it’s you, er . . . Mona.”
    I looked up to recognize Chad Martinez. His black, rectangular mustache had frost at the ends and resembled a toothbrush.
    “Did you know that maniac?” he asked.
    “Which maniac?” I automatically joked and tried to sit up.
    “That other skier deliberately elbowed you.”
    “I figured he or she was just trying to clear a wide swath down the mountain.”
    He shook his head. “No, I saw the whole thing. I think it was a woman. Or maybe a short man. Looked about your size. Had a ski mask on. And she was just standing there looking up at the other skiers, and when she saw you, she took off after you and threw her elbow into you.”
    That was the impression I’d had, too, but really would have greatly preferred otherwise. I managed, with great effort, to get to my feet.
    Two other skiers, who both appeared to be eighth graders from Carlton, asked if I was all right and helped me retrieve my ski, then took off again. Though it was a struggle at this angle, I eventually got my ski back on, with Chad’s help.
    “I’d better report this,” I said to him. “What color outfit was the skier wearing?”
    He shook his head. “She was pretty far away from any of the lights. I just couldn’t tell, other than that she had a dark jacket and ski pants, and a dark mask on.”
    “I guess I’ll report that much to the ski patrol.”
    “Lucky you didn’t get knocked clear into the trees. You could’ve gotten killed.”
    “Yeah. Thanks. I think I’m calling it a night as far as the skiing goes. I’m not doing much good as a chaperone, anyway. I think I’ll keep an eye on things down at the lodge instead.”
    “Okay. Take care, Mona.”
    I decided not to correct him. At least he could get the first letters of my name right.
    By the time I got down, Karen and Nathan were already well on their way back up. I heard Karen yell, “Mom!” and I managed what I hoped was a happy-looking wave. No sense in putting scary ideas in their heads, or mine. They would be fine. They were better skiers than I was and were shorter and therefore closer to the ground.
    I removed my skis and set them against the rack, thinking I could count on their never being stolen. Unfortunately. I found one of the men in red ski-patrol suits and told him about my “accident,” and he said he’d be on the lookout and revoke the skier’s pass if he could find the person.
    The crash had to have been a coincidence—a case of road rage on the slopes. It couldn’t have anything to do with the murder. Nonetheless, a fear niggled at me. I
could
have been killed, had I hit a tree trunk at that speed.
    I entered the lodge and searched for Kelly. I finally spotted her in the corner, sitting alone at the long, picnic-table style of seating. She was sipping from a Styrofoam cup. “Hi, Kelly. Can I get you another hot chocolate?”
    “No, thanks, Mrs. Masters. I’ve already had three.”
    “I meant to get down here and check on you sooner. I had a slight fall, though.”
    “I’m okay now. At least my mom didn’t see me. She’d have been humiliated.”
    I didn’t know what to say to that. She must have meant her stepmother, who Kelly thought would have been humiliated to have a stepdaughter with a severe fear of heights.
    Just then, Amber Birch entered—her face flushed, her gait taking on that exaggerated lurch that skiers