Life wasn’t like the movies. In fact life in Silver over the last week had been real bad.

Two ski patrollers killed in a freak explosion, and now Joe. He would, of course, have to tell Estelle that Joe’s death hadn’t been an accident, but not now. Time for that later, and time was going to bring her more pain. She would have to suffer the wait before they could lay Joe in the ground, while an autopsy was performed on the grisly remains.

From what they recovered in the gorge, there wasn’t much left to fit in a coffin, and after the forensics had been at him, Craig suspected a Safeway’s bag would probably be big enough to bury his ex-sergeant decently.

He waited with the moaning shell of Estelle Reader until her sister got there, then left and headed back to work.

Half a mile from the office, Craig McGee pulled off the highway into a back road, stopped the engine and cried like a baby. He would be all right in half an hour. Right now, he was broken up.

‘No kidding? Well if it’s a problem we can send a car to the airport to bring her luggage separately.’

Pasqual Weaver watched her own reflection in the office window as she spoke. An elegant, if angular, woman in her thirties looked back, the grey fleece zippered top with the Silver Ski Company logo embroidered on the left breast doing its best to undermine her executive status.

The hand unoccupied by the telephone played with the zipper at her neck.

‘Sure, we want her to be real comfortable. And can I say we’re already over the moon she’s even considering it.’

Eric entered the room and Pasqual mimed at him to sit down.

‘Okay James, you put those things to her and get back to us when you have an answer, but please tell her from us that we’re all huge fans and are really hoping she can make it. Okay, you too. Take care.’ She hung up, and gave the phone her middle finger. ‘Jesus. The fucking old bitch is acting like she’s still a star. Make my day, Eric. Tell me you’ve come to persuade me this celebrity ski week idea is a crock of shit.’

Eric Sindon had not come to say any such thing. ‘You’ve heard about the accident?’

Pasqual’s body changed shape. No longer lounging in her leather chair, it was now sitting forward like a cat watching its prey before striking.

‘Tell me.’

‘Craig’s side-kick. His truck went over the gorge on Wolf’s Pass last night.’

Pasqual sat back in her chair with relief. ‘Fuck. Don’t give me scares like that. I thought we’d had a fatality on the slopes. I think we can live with a cop in an auto accident.’