B.J. Daniels - Cardwell Christmas Crime Scene

Not that she hadn’t left a storm in her wake. And now Marietta had to clean it up.

“Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Pisani?” asked a deep, elderly voice behind her.

She glanced past her reflection in the mirror to Ester, who’d been with her for almost fifty years. Ester had grayed since she’d begun working here as a teen. Sometimes Marietta mixed her up with her mother, Inez, who’d been her first housekeeper right after her marriage.

“No, Ester, I don’t need anything.”

“What about you, Mr. Douglas?” Ester asked Marietta’s solicitor.

Roger shook his head. “I’ll be leaving shortly.”

“You can turn in,” Marietta told the housekeeper.

“Just ring.” The sixty-seven-year-old woman turned to leave. “Sleep well.” She’d said the same thing every night for the past fifty years.

As Ester closed the door behind her, Marietta focused again on her own reflection. Nothing had changed except now her brows were knit into a deep frown. Ester hadn’t been herself lately.

The thought caused Marietta a moment of alarm. Was the woman sick? Marietta was too old to train another housekeeper. Not that Ester kept house anymore. A housecleaning crew came in once a week, and she employed a full-time cook, as well. Ester’s only job now was to see to her mistress.

Of course, Ester didn’t see it that way. She resented the housekeeping crew and the cook and often sent the cook home early so she could take over the kitchen. She would then make Marietta’s favorite meals, just as her mother had done.

The thought that Ester might leave her for any reason was more than she could stand. Ester was the only person in the world Marietta trusted—other than her granddaughter Bianca. She tried to put her worries aside, assuring herself that she’d be dead before Ester went anywhere.

Still, it nagged at her. Not that Ester had said anything. It was more of a...feeling that something was wrong. Unfortunately she knew nothing about the woman’s personal life—or if she even had one. Ester had married some worthless man years ago, but she’d had the good sense to get rid of him early on. Since then, as far as Marietta knew, there was no one else in her life. Ester had doted on her and Carlotta and thought that the sun rose and set with Bianca.

When Carlotta had died a few months ago, Ester had taken it harder than Marietta. The housekeeper had loved that child as if she were her own. She’d helped raise her and was the first to make excuses when Carlotta got into trouble, which was often.

But the one Ester loved even more than life itself was Bianca.

It was her thirty-four-year-old granddaughter Marietta worried about now because of Carlotta’s deathbed confession.

She clenched her gnarled hands into fists at the memory. The stupid, stupid girl. The secret she’d kept from them all could destroy the legacy Marietta had preserved for so many years—not to mention what it could do to the family fortune.

That was why the mess her daughter had left behind had to be cleaned up. For the family’s sake. For Bianca’s sake and the generations to come.

“I should go,” Roger said.

She’d forgotten he was even still in the room. A slight man with an unmemorable face, he practically disappeared into the wallpaper. “You’re sure you can handle this properly?” she asked as she looked past her own image to his.

He sighed. “Yes.”

“I don’t want Bianca ever to know. If that means paying this woman to keep quiet—”

“I told you I would take care of it. But it is going to cost you. Your daughter left us little choice unless you want to see your family’s reputation destroyed by a complete stranger.”

A complete stranger. That was what Dee Anna Justice was to her. Marietta had never laid eyes on this...granddaughter, hadn’t even known she existed until her daughter’s deathbed confession. “Just see that it’s done and spare me the sordid details.”

“Don’t I always?” As he started to leave, she heard a rustling sound and looked up in time to see Ester skittering away.

* * *

DANA WAS TELLING her about the “canyon,” as the locals called the Gallatin Canyon. It ran from just south of Gallatin Gateway almost to West Yellowstone, some fifty miles of twisting road that cut through the mountains. Sheer rock cliffs overlooked the highway and the Gallatin River.

The drive was breathtaking, especially for DJ, who’d never been in the mountains before—let alone in winter. The winding highway followed the river, a blue-ribbon trout stream, up over the Continental Divide.

“There used to be just a few places in the canyon, mostly ranches or dude ranches, a few summer cabins, but that was before Big Sky,” Dana was saying.

DJ could see that luxury houses had sprouted up along the highway as they got closer to the ski resort and community that had grown around it.

“Our ranch was one of the first,” her cousin said with obvious pride. “It is home. The only one I’ve known. And I have no intention of ever leaving it.”

DJ couldn’t imagine what it must have been like living her whole life in one place.

Dana slowed and turned not far past the sign for Big Sky Resort. Across the river and a half mile back up a wide valley, the Cardwell Ranch house sat against a backdrop of granite cliffs, towering snow-filled pines and bare-limbed aspens. The house was a big, two-story rambling affair with a wide front porch and a brick red metal roof. Behind it stood a huge new barn and some older outbuildings and corrals.

“Hud, my husband, keeps saying we need to build a bigger house, since we have four children now. But...well...”

“It’s wonderful,” DJ said and tried to imagine herself growing up here.

“You’ll be staying in one of our guest cabins,” her cousin said and pointed to some log buildings up on the side of the mountain. “I think you’ll be comfortable there, and you’ll have your privacy.”

DJ was overwhelmed by all of it, so much so that she couldn’t speak. As Dana parked, a dark-haired woman came out on the porch to greet them.

“Stacy,” Dana called. “Come meet our cousin.”

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