Mocha Mayhem

Chapter Seven

On the drive back to Eagle River, I used Sam's phone to look at the Crystal Clear Lake Resort's website and reviews. My phone had died the night before, and, anyway, it was super glitchy. I was remaining strong in my avoidance of a phone upgrade. Just say no to the man, I always say. Unless it was my man, Keith; I could tell that sexy bass guitarist all kinds of things that were the opposite of no.

"The resort is still new," I reminded both of us. "I'd be surprised if there are many reviews at all, true or falsified."

On the phone's small screen, I could only see about two reviews at a time. The first seemed pretty basic; the person commented on the clear quality of the lake as well as the positive service from the Johansen family. The second seemed very positive, as well, if a bit concerned with the style of some of the newer cabins.

"First two seem fine..." I updated Sam as she drove south on 45. I scrolled further, revealing two other reviews and then another two. All of these were fairly positive again, with the occasional complaint about something trivial like the hours that stand-up paddle board lessons were offered or the gravel road: "It would be much better and safer if they paved it. How much could that cost, really, anyway?" I gave a couple snickers at that one.

By the time I reached one of the questionable reviews, we were pulling into the police station's parking lot. "Ah!" I announced. "Here we go! A review from 'JohnJoeJon123', apparently." I began reading aloud, "'The Crystal Clear Lake Resort is a joke. We were disappointed by the poor quality of the renovation. Most people would try to recreate the beauty of the heyday of the resort era, but Elaine Johansen clearly didn't bother with this, making the resort a miss-match of over-the-top cabins that totally contrast with the older ones. Regardless, all of the cabins are filthy, hardly touched by housekeeping from one visitor to the next. The service is also abysmal. People have waited hours in the parking lot to check in because there isn't a night manager at the front desk. There are practically no employees visible. It seems that lots of dangerous things could happen at night with this blatant lack of supervision.'"

"Huh," Sam said as I finished. "That last sentence almost sounds like a threat."

"I was going to say the same thing...'lots of dangerous things could happen at night' here. Uh, like a 'ghost' stalking people—" I made quote marks with my fingers when I said "ghost" – "or somebody scratching up windows and leaving suspicious messages on bathroom mirrors?"

"I'll say." Sam had parked the car and it was idling next to Rheba, my stunning navy-blue Taurus. "So, Andrew didn't delete that review, apparently...Does it have a response of any sort?"

I returned my attention to the review. "It was posted three weeks ago. The resort opened—when? Did Elaine Johansen mention the date? Oh—wait—" I'd found the date on the website under the heading "About Us". "So..." I continued, "They opened the resort in May. This review was from June." I returned to the reviews again, scrolling down. "Ugh, computers are way more efficient for investigations. It takes forever to click all these buttons and go back and forth on this speck of a screen."

"Okay, Grandpa."

I made a huffing noise. "Okay, yes, so there is a response from 'Crystal Clear Lake Resort'. It reads, 'We are sorry to hear that you did not enjoy your experience with the resort. However, we have checked our records and we don't have records of anyone under this name having actually stayed at our resort. If you want to leave an accurate review from an actual stay, please do so. Thank you.'" I paused. "Hmm, seems like they handled it okay."

"True. Not bad." Sam frowned. "That review did have one good point, however."

"What's that?"