"What sort of questions?" Jane asked.
"I don't know what they asked in 1930, but in the previous ones they asked things like where and when you were born, where each of your parents was born, when you came to this country if you weren't born here, whether and when you took your citizenship. Things like that."
"So in 2000 they can find out more about him."
Jane mused. "But would he have answered the questions the census people asked him? Or told the truth if he did?"
"Good point," Tenny said.
"The class I took yesterday talked about the census a little bit," Shelley put in. "The teacher said it wasn't always very reliable. Apparently they hired somebody — practically anybody who was available — to go around and ask the questions. If the census taker got sick of it, or drunk, or was a little hard of hearing, the answers might be pretty erroneous, even if they were given truthfully. And a lot of people always got missed. If they weren't home to answer that day, the census taker would often just ask the next-door neighbor."
"Oh, my God," Tenny said, glancing at her watch. "I've got a ton of things to do. Sorry for horning in on your breakfast. If you see Uncle Bill before I do, would you tell him I'm looking for him?"
Mel watched her leave. "I don't like it," he said softly.
"What don't you like?" Jane asked.
"Anybody who goes missing right after hearing about a mysterious death."
Chapter 11
"So you've never skied before, either," Jane said.
They were bundled up and on their way to the bunny slope to take a ski lesson.
Shelley shook her head. "No, and I don't know why I let you talk me into it this time. A couple of grown women getting ready to tie sticks to their feet and slide down a hill! We've gone mad."
"Come on, Shelley. We're nineties-type women. We can do anything."
"That's what you said about that step-aerobics class, and you didn't last through one session."
"Well, it was stupid and boring."
"And hard! And remember the 'Drawing on the Right Side of Your Brain' class you talked me into going to with you?"
"That teacher should have been fired. Imagine telling us we didn't have right sides to our brains," Jane said with a grin. "We must. Otherwise our heads would be lopsided."
"I think this is going to be worse," Shelley predicted. "I can see this going right off the top of the humiliation scale."
"But, Shelley, everybody skis. Celebrities ski. We might run into Cher or some Kennedys or Bob Denver—"
"I think you mean John Denver. And I don't imagine you'll be brushing elbows with any of them on the bunny slope of this resort. Why isn't Mel coming along to help us?"
"He's still crippled from yesterday. Besides, he's asking around about Bill. It's really galling him being an outsider with no authority, especially since the sheriff is such a casual good ol' boy. I keep telling him to look at it as a valuable learning experience, and he just growls."
"You ladies here for a little practice?" a handsome young man asked.
"No, lessons. We've never skied before," Jane replied.
"Then you've come to exactly the right place," he said. "I'm an instructor and I'm just putting a little class together. Sit down right here while I fit some other folks with their boots and skis, and I'll be back to you in a minute."
"You don't think somebody ought to be worried about Bill disappearing?" Shelley asked as they sat down on a bench next to the little equipment shop.
"Tenny doesn't seem too worried. More irritated than concerned, I'd say. And she certainly knows him best. I can't imagine anybody simply taking off like that in the midst of trying to sell this place, but he's clearly a pretty strange individual. Say, I've been wondering about something that's probably none of my business…"
"Don't let that stop you from asking," Shelley said, smiling.
"Well, if Paul and his group of investors buy this place, will that put Tenny out of work?"
"Good Lord, no! Paul says it looks like the place is run wonderfully. It really comes down to purely financial considerations: taxes, interest rates on various financing options, consolidation of some old improvement loans. Boring stuff like that. Dreadful Pete wouldn't even be out of a job."
"Okay, Bunnies, are you ready?"
The handsome young man was back.
"Let's get you fitted out and ready to turn into Olympic material!"
"Does he have to be so damned perky?" Shelley said under her breath.
"Shelley, we need all the help we can get, and if Perky Power will do any good, I'm all for it."
The instructor, who claimed his name was Gavin ("A likely story!" Shelley huffed), asked them their height, weight, and experience. They gave their height, lied about their weight, and admitted to no experience whatsoever. "In skiing, that is," Jane added. "I'm a world-class roller skater."
He stared at her.
"It was a joke," she said. "I don't think humor is his strong suit," she whispered to Shelley.
"Nor yours," Shelley whispered back.
Pseudo-Gavin got them fitted with ski boots and skis as well as poles the sizes of which were based on their height and fictional weight. Then he half dragged, half shoved them into line with four other beginners, two men and two women, all of whom looked faintly familiar. Jane suspected they were escapees from the genealogy convention.
"Listen up, Bunnies," Gavin said. "I want to explain your equipment to you. First, your poles. Put your wrist through the thong. That way, if you let go by accident, the pole won't go flying off and hit somebody else or get lost in the snow. Second, don't hook your thumb through the thong. Very important."
Jane shuddered, remembering the other instructor yesterday talking about broken thumbs.
"Since you're all beginners, I've set the latches on your boots to release the skis very easily. As you get better, we'll tighten that up. If you need to unlatch them, press your pole onto this latch at the back of your heel." He demonstrated.
"Now, to skiing, Bunnies!" he continued. "The first thing you need to learn is how to fall down."
One of the men said, "That's the one thing I'm afraid I know how to do! Har, har!"
Gavin's expression was the strained smile of a man who had heard this hilarious line too many times to count. "With respect, sir, you probably don't."
Then, to the whole group: "Until you learn a bit about skiing, you'll probably go out of control a couple times and at first you won't be able to regain control, so you need to know how to stop. The first way to stop, if you're not going very fast and are just a little wobbly, is to toe-in." He demonstrated. "This looks like it will just run your skis across each other, so you also want to ankle-in so you're digging into the surface. Remember that: toe-in, ankle-in."
They all nodded and tried to ankle-in wearing boots that felt like they were made from discarded iron frying pans.
"Now, I'm going to go up the hill just a little ways and demonstrate. And while I'm doing that, I'm going to show you the two ways of going uphill. You're in position for the first way." They were all standing in a line with their skis parallel to the slope. "You just step sideways. Try a step or two."
Gingerly, Jane took a tiny step up the hill with her right foot, then followed with her left. Ah, not so hard, she was thinking. She was ready to try another step when the man at the front of their little line started to lose his balance. He leaned forward. Pitched backward. Forward again. And backward as if he'd been pushed. He crashed into Shelley, who crashed into Jane, who crashed into the woman behind her. Amid shrieks and startled yelps, they all went down like a row of dominoes. Skis and poles flew everywhere.