It was on the return walk to the climbing area that they saw him. Jerome Shipton was standing behind a tree and Dean caught sight of his maroon jacket just before he stepped out into the sunlight. He strolled up to them as if he was on a city street, not alone in the Colorado woods.
"Nice day for a walk in the forest," he said with a smile, looking directly at Cynthia. "You must be the innkeeper's wife. How did he get so lucky?"
"Did you find a room?" Dean asked, not in a friendly tone.
"Just for last night. But I intend to stay at Bird Song. That's where all the pretty women are. That's where you go to sleep with someone else's wife."
Dean ignored the comment. "Bird Song is full."
"So you told me," he answered, still smiling at Cynthia. He turned to Dean. "Why aren't you down there climbing up the icicles with the big boys?"
"Because he has more sense," Cynthia answered, squeezing her husband's arm and turning away.
"Oh? I thought it might be because you're scared shitless you might fall down, boom, and break something."
Dean bit his lip but had enough sense not to take the bait. "I guess your gear is back in your car."
Shipton laughed, never taking his eyes from Cynthia. "No, I don't have any of those little playthings, at least not yet. But it rather looks like fun, doesn't it? Perhaps I'll stop in town and buy a couple of those tomahawks gadgets and pointy-toe shoes and give it a try." He motioned down the pathway toward where Donald Ryland and the others were climbing. "If that pansy Ryland can ice climb, it can't be much of a challenge now can it?" He turned and walked off before waiting for an answer.