Snow Place to Die : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

“Do something!”

“I never went to ’Nam,” Russell said, quaking in his chair.

“I was assigned to NATO in West Germany.”

“Ohhh…!” Margo gave him a hard shake. “Do something

anyway, you little twerp! You’re still a medic!”

“I was discharged in ‘sixty-nine,” Russell insisted. “I can

barely find the Band-Aids in the official OTIOSE first-aid

kit.”

“No wonder you didn’t know what CPR is,” Margo railed.

“You’re the most worthless, futile…”

But Frank Killegrew didn’t appear to need medical help.

He had lifted his head and was beginning to sputter.

“Oh, my,” Ava remarked, “he’s not dead after all. What a

relief.”

Judith thought Ava sounded more sarcastic than re 193

194 / Mary Daheim

lieved, but the CEO was now sitting up and blustering

mightily while Nadia wiped white and wild rice stuffing from

his face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he asserted. “It’s just another damned

shock I didn’t need.” As Nadia finished her task and resumed

her seat, Killegrew glowered at Ava. “Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

Looking weary and wan, Ava hesitated before replying. “I

tried to, Frank, when we were alone after the first session

yesterday. But somehow, I never got the chance.” She lowered

her eyes and folded her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“WaCom can’t do this,” Killegrew declared. “The state

utilities commission won’t allow it. Gene, you jump on this

first thing when we get back. Alert our public affairs people,

have them get the lobbyists in gear. It’s one thing for WaCom

to gobble up other computer companies, but they won’t get

their greedy mitts on us.”

Max, who was feeling his bald head to see if Margo’s plate

had left a lump, turned to Ava. “Who runs WaCom since

Jim Clevenger’s out of the picture?”

Briefly, Ava’s dark eyes met Max’s gaze. “Dick Freitas, the

second-in-command, took over as acting president and CEO.

WaCom’s been on a year-long talent search. They want

someone new, a fresh face, an outsider. I don’t know if

they’ve made a final decision yet or not.”

“They have.” Margo looked smug. “On Tuesday, they’ll

announce that their new chief is Alan Roth.”

Judith and Renie couldn’t stand the clamor that ensued

after Margo Chang’s announcement. After the first five

minutes of incredulous shrieks and outraged wails, the

cousins retreated to the kitchen.

“Andrea’s husband?” Judith was as disbelieving as the

OTIOSE executives. “Does that make sense?”

“Maybe he really is a computer genius,” Renie said, clearing

her plate into the garbage. “Just because he didn’t have an

official job doesn’t mean he wasn’t working. He

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 195

might have been some kind of consultant to WaCom.”

Judith sat down on one of the tall stools. “I don’t get it.

Shouldn’t a CEO have organizational and administrative

skills?”

Renie smirked. “Look at Frank. Does he strike you as a

managerial wizard? His strength is delegating. Maybe Alan

can do that, too.”

“You know,” Judith said, still looking perplexed, “if OTIOSE is an example of how the world of commerce runs, I’m

beginning to wonder how any companies or businesses keep

from going belly-up.”

“You’d wonder more if you had to deal with them like I

do,” Renie said. “Management has no loyalty to employees

and employees have no loyalty to the workplace. Common

sense seems to have gone out the window years ago. Everybody spends more time in useless meetings than getting

things done. And everybody brings their private lives to the

office, which becomes a group therapy session. Boy, am I

glad I work for myself. I’m a lousy boss, but I know how to

take criticism. I just tell myself to shut up and get down to

business.”

“Hillside Manor is such a quiet, nonpolitical, uncomplicated place,” Judith sighed. “Sure, I get crazy guests and my

mother drives me nuts and it’s hard work, but compared

with what goes on downtown, I’ve got it made.”

“Me, too,” Renie agreed. “Working for yourself is the only

way to go. I’m sure that’s why Bill and Joe are anxious to

retire. They can’t be their own bosses. Joe’s got a tough chain

of command with the police department, and even though

people who don’t know any better think professors live in

an ivory tower, it’s covered with thorns. There’s a hierarchy,

politics galore, and all kinds of budget crises, especially at a

state university.”

“At least Joe and Bill accomplish something,” Judith pointed out. “Joe may get frustrated, but he does protect and

serve. If you save only one life in the course of a year, that’s

a huge contribution.”

196 / Mary Daheim

Renie nodded. “You bet. And Bill may feel as if most of

his students are only slightly smarter than your average artichoke, but every so often he realizes that he’s made a big

impression on someone that will last a lifetime. How many

other people can say that about their so-called careers?”

Judith blinked at Renie. “Yes,” she said in an odd voice.

“How many people can?”

“What?” Renie regarded Judith with curiosity, but there

was no chance for an explanation. Ava entered the kitchen,

looking somewhat sheepish.

“My bombshell has sent everyone back to the bar,” she

said. “Margo didn’t help things, either. I had to get away.

Let me help clean up.”

“Go ahead, coz, take a breather,” Judith responded, still

sounding unlike herself.

Renie looked uncertain, but headed for the lobby. Judith

and Ava returned to the dining room. It was a shambles,

with overturned chairs, spilled wine, and scattered food littering the tablecloth and floor.

“They were very upset,” Ava said in apology. “No one who

knows Alan Roth—except Margo—can believe he’s qualified

to run WaCom.”

Judith began collecting dirty plates. “Andrea must have

known about this, don’t you think?”

“Probably,” Ava agreed, picking up silverware. “She and

Alan had their problems, but they were still married. If he

was about to be given a big job like the one at WaCom, he

must have discussed it with her.”

“But Andrea didn’t tell Frank,” Judith pointed out, heading

back to the kitchen.

“Obviously not.” Ava had grown thoughtful. “Nadia was

right—a merger will mean cutbacks and layoffs and all the

rest of it. Andrea would know that, which means…” She

stopped, staring at the silverware she’d just put into the

dishwasher.

“What?” Judith asked.

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 197

Ava’s expression was wry. “Where did Nadia get all that

information she was spouting at the dinner table? Especially

the old stuff about Gene and Max and Russell? She was

about to start in on me, as well. Where did she get her data,

and why bring it up now?”

Judith thought back to the conversation, though the word

was only a euphemism for wrangling. “Frank was needling

people, too. Surely military records would be common

knowledge.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Ava said. “People lie on their

resumes, they omit things they’d rather not have in their files,

they add accomplishments that didn’t happen. But somewhere along the way, particularly when someone is being

considered for a big promotion, a company will do a background check. It’s usually done by the security people who

fall under human resources at OTIOSE.” Ava gave Judith a

meaningful look.

“So Andrea would have been privy to all the dirt?” Judith

asked.

Ava nodded. “That, and what she’d pick up from rumor

scavengers like Barry Newcombe. But my point is, why now?

Did Andrea bring her files with her? Did Nadia get a look

at them and pass the information on to Frank?”

Judith tried to recall what she and Renie had found in

Andrea’s room. There had been personnel files, but they had

been so thick that the cousins hadn’t taken time to peruse

them. Judith, however, couldn’t admit as much to Ava; no

one must know they’d searched Andrea’s belongings.

“If that’s true,” Judith temporized, “Nadia must have found

those files after Andrea died.”

Ava gave a single nod. “The question is, how soon after

she died?”

Judith’s eyes widened. “You think Nadia is the killer?”

Ava made a helpless gesture with her hands. “No. Not

really. Unless…” She bit her lower lip.

“Unless what?”

198 / Mary Daheim

“Nothing. It’s all so…difficult.” Ava started for the dining

room. “Let’s finish cleaning up this mess.”

Judith decided she might as well change topics. “You

started in on Nadia’s background,” she remarked, removing

glassware from the table. “I take it you weren’t referring to

the personnel files.”

“I wasn’t,” Ava responded. “The story I’ve heard is that

Frank met Nadia when he went back for his tour of duty at

AT&T. It used to be that anyone from the associated companies who was on the rise spent a couple of years at

headquarters in New York. Nadia was a clerk-typist in what

they called the plant department then. Frank was already

married, but his wife didn’t move to New York with him.

Patrice Killegrew came from a wealthy family, and could afford to fly back and forth to join him for long weekends.

They had children in school, and she didn’t see any point in

uprooting them and moving back east for what would be a

relatively short time. As you might guess, the inevitable

happened.”

Judith kept pace with Ava as they walked back to the kitchen. “Frank and Nadia had an affair.”

“Exactly. It wasn’t a mere fling, it was serious,” Ava continued. “But as I said, Frank and Patrice had small children,

and she was rich. Not only that, but in those days, divorce

was frowned on by the upper echelon. Potential officer candidates were supposed to be solid citizens, untouched by

scandal. Frank couldn’t possibly dump Patrice.”

“So he brought Nadia with him when he was sent back to

the West Coast,” Judith said.

“That’s right. He promoted her every time he moved on,

and eventually she became his administrative assistant.” Ava

turned rueful. “I’ve often wondered if he did her any real favor. She might have been a bigger success on her own.”

Judith didn’t understand. “Meaning—what?”

Ava turned on the dishwasher, then leaned against it.

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 199

“Nadia came along at a time when women were beginning

to rise in the Bell System. Oh, sure, there’s still a glass ceiling

and all that, but she’s smart, she has drive, she’s got the

makings of a good manager. Sometimes I feel she really runs

the company instead of Frank.”

“That crossed my mind, but I don’t know much about the

corporate world. Tell me,” Judith went on, recalling how

frantic Nadia had been when she thought Frank had had a

heart attack, “are they still…intimate?”

“Define intimate.” Ava laughed, a faintly jarring sound.

“Let’s put it this way—Nadia is more of a wife to him than

Patrice ever was. You can see that from the way they behave.

She does everything for him. And if you’re referring to sex,

my guess is that they still have that, too. Patrice is a very

cold woman.”

“Nadia’s not exactly warm and fuzzy,” Judith noted.

“You haven’t met Patrice. She could give those icicles

outside a run for their money.”

“But…Frank and Patrice stay married?” Judith couldn’t

keep the question out of her voice.

“Of course.” Ava’s manner was ironic. “If Patrice knows

about the relationship between Frank and Nadia, she ignores

it. Mrs. Killegrew—and it is definitely Mrs.—enjoys being

the wife of a CEO. Money and status are her substitutes for

love and sex. Besides, Frank could never risk a divorce.”

“Times have changed, though. Unfortunately,” Judith added.

“Not so much in the old boy network,” Ava said. “For the

most part, Frank’s peer group is still extremely conservative

and old-fashioned.”

“Well.” Judith tried to absorb everything Ava had told her.

The folded piece of paper with the notation about Hukle,

Hukle, & Huff didn’t necessarily indicate that a Killegrew

divorce was in the offing. And while Ava’s account of Frank’s

domestic triangle was interesting, Andrea’s personnel files

might have a more immediate bearing on the week- 200 / Mary Daheim

end’s events. Had Max been looking for them? How and

when had Nadia slipped away to Andrea’s room?

The folded piece of paper. It suddenly dawned on Judith

why it was important. “Ava,” she said as the other woman

started back for the dining room, “how long were you in the

bathroom with Nadia this afternoon?”

“What?” Ava looked at Judith as if she were crazy.

Judith felt embarrassed. “I don’t mean…It sounds stupid,

but…Really, I have a very good reason to ask.”

Ava’s expression grew serious. “Are you talking about the

time period when Ward was killed?”

“More or less, yes.”

“Oh, let me think.” Ava cocked her head to one side. “Five

minutes? I don’t know. However long it takes. I’m not much

for primping.”

“Are you sure it didn’t take longer than five minutes?” Judith persisted.

“Yes.” Ava now seemed more definite. “Ask Nadia. She

was with me. We were chatting between the stalls. I suppose

we each wanted to make sure the other one was okay.”

Judith’s bright idea was dashed. “Before that, you were

with Gene in the library, right?”

Ava was starting to look vexed. “Yes, I was. And no, I

won’t answer any more questions about that.”

Judith gave up. In silence, the two women cleared away

the dirty tablecloth, swept the floor, and finished tidying the

kitchen. As Ava was about to leave, Judith apologized.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be impertinent. I was only

trying to figure out who was where when Ward was

murdered.”

Ava gave Judith a tired smile. “We’re all trying to figure

that out. Frankly, it’s impossible.”

Judith frowned. “Why do you say that?”

Ava began ticking off the names on her fingers. “Margo

and Russell had gone to the basement with you and your

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 201

cousin. But after they came back to the lobby, Margo went

to find Frank. Nobody knows where Russell was at that

point, though he claims to have stayed put. But how long

did it take before Margo met up with Frank? What was he

doing while Nadia was heading for the restroom? What was

Nadia doing after she left Frank? And what took Max so

long to figure out that Ward was taking forever to change?

Don’t you see? Only Gene and I can alibi each other.”

Given what appeared to be a romantic relationship

between Ava and Gene, Judith didn’t think that was much

of an alibi. “You can’t alibi Gene while you were in the restroom,” Judith said.

Ava’s face fell. “You’re right. I can’t.”

As far as Judith could see, nobody had an alibi.

Ava obviously agreed. “You were with your cousin?”

“Yes, in the kitchen.”

“See what I mean?” Ava said with an ironic smile.

She was right, Judith thought. The cousins didn’t have

much of an alibi, either.

No one seemed inclined to stay up late that night. Russell

and Ava were the first to announce that they were headed

for bed. Gene and Margo followed. Nadia badgered Frank

to get his rest; he’d had a very trying day, she said.

“Is she kidding?” Max snarled after the pair had gone upstairs in the elevator. “This is worse than ’Nam! At least over

there you knew who the enemy was. Well,” he added, staring

at the floor, “most of the time you did.”

“How’s your head?” Judith asked.

Max fingered his smooth pate. “Okay. Margo didn’t hit

me very hard. I suppose it was only fair after I whacked

Russell with that damned carving.”

Judith had decided that a frontal attack was best. “Were

you looking for Andrea’s personnel files this afternoon?”

Max’s chin jutted, then he slumped against the sofa. “Yes,

but I never even saw them. Everything had been

202 / Mary Daheim

cleaned out except her notes and a daily planner.”

“Does the phrase ‘Scandinavian wheat-thrasher’ mean

anything to you?” Judith inquired.

At first, Max looked puzzled. Then he held his head. “It

means my ass,” he said, then peered at Judith between his

fingers. “How did you know?”

Renie edged forward on the footstool. “We found the

folder in the conference room yesterday. We put it here, on

the coffee table. Somebody must have picked it up.”

“It’s not mine,” Max said, his long arms dropping to his

sides. “It’s got to be somebody in my department, so I’ll take

the fall. That damned file’s been missing for over a year.”

Judith sat up very straight. “How do you know if it’s not

yours?”

“Because,” Max explained, cracking his knuckles, “I found

it back then when I was going through some year-end stuff

for the annual report. I’d guessed something like that was

going on, but I wasn’t sure who was responsible. In marketing, we entertain a lot of outsiders. Somebody wanted to go

beyond wining and dining to win new clients. I left the file

where I found it with a note to see me, ASAP. All these

months, nothing happened. Then, last night, Andrea started

making hints about ‘prostituting ourselves’ and ‘women who

took things lying down.’ She kept looking at me, and I realized she must know. There was no chance to talk to her

alone, so I went to her room last night. She wasn’t there. I

had no idea she was waiting for Leon in his room. That’s

when you must have seen me in the corridor.”

Judith felt surprise register, but desperately tried not to let

it show. “Last night. Yes, that’s what we must have seen.”

She flashed a warning glance at Renie.

Max stretched his long legs out towards the hearth. “I

suppose she was going to show the file to Frank. Or maybe

she was just going to hold it over my head. Blackmail comes

in some weird forms.”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 203

“Why would Andrea want to blackmail you?” Renie asked.

“Well…” Max seemed genuinely puzzled. “I honestly don’t

know. Like everybody else in the company, she felt marketing

types aren’t real telecommunications people. We’re mavericks, and as vice president, I get to wear the black sheep label.

Plus, my wife, Carrie, and I’ve been having some problems.

We fight a lot, we always have. Carrie hates company functions. She’s a master gardener and has her own career.

Playing the part of corporate helpmate makes her puke. As

you might guess, a wife with an attitude really pisses off

women like Patrice Killegrew. It pissed off Andrea, too. She

liked to fit everybody into their own little niche.”

“What about Mrs. Haugland?” Judith inquired. “I understand she’s too sickly to take part in company social gatherings.”

Max waved a big hand. “That’s different. Helen Haugland

thrives on sympathy. She got plenty of it from poor Ward,

and most of the others. Oh, some of them saw through her,

but Helen can pull the wool over lots of eyes. I wonder

what’ll happen now that Ward’s dead. She might have to

get off her dead butt and do something.”

While Judith was interested in Max’s assessment of his

colleagues and their spouses, she realized he hadn’t answered

the original question. “You mentioned blackmail,” Judith

said. “Do you mean that Andrea would have used the

hooker ring files to make you do something you otherwise

wouldn’t do?”

Max seemed to consider Judith’s somewhat garbled suggestion. “Maybe originally. She and Alan have a couple of

kids. One of them is out of high school, I think. It might be

that she wanted me to hire him. Anyway, that can’t be true

now. I mean, Alan’s going to run WaCom, right? And WaCom wants to merge with OTIOSE. So now I figure that

Andrea was going to use that file to get me canned.”

204 / Mary Daheim

Renie leaned forward on the footstool. “And replace you

with someone hand-picked by Alan? That makes sense.”

“I’m afraid so.” Max assumed a brooding expression as

the lobby grew silent.

The silence was short-lived. A sound came from somewhere, unexpected and distant. Judith, Renie, and Max all

tensed.

“That’s an engine,” Max said, getting up and inclining his

bald head. “Where’s it coming from?”

“The basement?” Renie offered.

“I don’t think so,” Judith said, straining to hear. “It seems

to be coming from outside.”

The sound grew fainter. Max jumped off the sofa. “Come

on! We’re going upstairs! Maybe we can see something from

the second-floor windows!”

They raced from the elevator to Max’s room, which was

closer than the cousins’. But once inside, they could see

nothing. It was dark, and the snow, which now consisted of

big, wet flakes, obliterated the landscape.

“Damn!” Max tugged the window open and leaned out.

“Listen!”

Judith and Renie practically fell over each other trying to

get close to the open window. Sure enough, they heard the

sound again.

“An engine, a motor,” Judith breathed.

“Look!” Renie was halfway over the sill, snow soaking her

sweatshirt. “A light!”

Judith and Max barely glimpsed the faint amber glow before it disappeared. The sound died away, too. The trio

continued to watch and listen. Close to five minutes passed

before anyone spoke.

“Damn!” Max swore again. “I don’t get it.” He gestured in

the direction where they’d seen the light, then closed the

window with a rattling bang.

Judith recalled where she and Renie had seen the light the

previous night. Their room was down the hall from Max’s,

at the end of the corridor. “We saw a light on this

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 205

side of the lodge last night,” said Judith. “Is there a road in

that direction?”

Max looked thoughtful. “I think so, to the caretaker’s place.

But it’s got to be impassable. The only way you could get

through is with a snowmobile. They can go in just about

any conditions.”

“You wouldn’t need a road,” Renie said, more to herself

than the others.

“That’s right,” Max agreed. “If there’d been one here in

the lodge, we could have gotten out by now.”

Judith was wearing a curious expression. “There are skis

and all sorts of other winter sports equipment in the basement. I assume they’re rentals. Why isn’t there a snow-mobile?”

Max shrugged. “Liability, maybe. They can be dangerous

if you don’t know how to handle them. Some models go up

to a hundred and ten miles per hour.”

Judith took one last look out the window. All she could

see were the big, white flakes, falling softly onto the drifted

snow. It was very quiet.

But someone was out there. Judith’s logical mind told her

it couldn’t be the killer. The lodge had been locked up the

entire weekend. The blizzard had cut off access to all but the

highest windows. Yet nothing was impossible, not to

someone with murder in mind.

With a sudden jarring tremor, Judith wondered if they had

been looking for the killer in the wrong place.

FIFTEEN

“WHO ELSE WAS in the corridor last night?” Judith asked

Renie some two hours later after the cousins had done their

laundry and retired to their room. “Did you catch the part

about Max seeing someone when he tried to talk to Andrea

last night?”

Renie nodded. “You, of course, never saw him or anyone

else, you big fibber. Are you thinking Max may have seen

the mysterious stranger?”

“I’m not sure who—or what—Max saw,” Judith replied.

“Andrea’s room is at the far end of the hall. The lighting’s

pretty dim. Max seemed uncertain. I got the impression that

maybe he sensed rather than saw someone. It might have

been anyone, including the alleged outsider.”

“It could be done,” Renie asserted. “If someone climbed

up the side of the lodge, they could get in through one of

the second-or third-floor windows. A ladder, snowshoes,

ropes—whatever. If someone was determined to get in, they

could probably do it.”

Judith was sitting on the bed, chin on fists. “What’s the

risk factor? If seen inside the lodge, a stranger would automatically become the prime suspect.”

“But no one’s seen this phantom,” Renie pointed out. “This

is a big place, and for the most part, we’ve all

206

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 207

tended to congregate together in two or three rooms. Look,”

Renie continued, perched on the edge of her twin bed, “Leon

and Andrea were probably killed within a couple of hours

of each other last night. Ward was murdered this afternoon.

Why couldn’t the killer have come in late last night, hidden

on the third floor or in the basement, and committed all

three murders before heading out again? The first time we

saw the light was early evening yesterday. We all heard the

laugh this afternoon, after Ward was killed. Now, midevening, we see another light, but not in the same place.

During the time the murders were committed, nobody—that

we know of—heard or saw anything outside. What does that

suggest?”

“I see your point,” Judith agreed. “Which is reassuring in

that it means the murderer may have finished his—or

her—grisly business. However,” she added on a heavy sigh,

“it also means that if the killer is an outsider, you and I don’t

have the foggiest notion of who it might be.”

Renie made a face. “Better to have an unknown homicidal

maniac wandering around the mountains than one of the

OTIOSE gang prowling the halls. I like outside; I really hate

inside.”

Judith got up and went to the honor bar where she removed a Pepsi for Renie and a diet 7-Up for herself. “I understand your reaction. But it doesn’t work for me.”

Renie looked mildly offended. “Why not?”

“Because,” Judith said, sitting back down on the bed, “it

doesn’t fit. I’ve been thinking this through for the last couple

of hours, and much as the outsider theory appeals to me,

the rest of the pieces don’t mesh. Barry was killed a year ago,

during the retreat. We find Barry, and suddenly other people

start dying. I’m convinced there’s a connection. Except for

the conferees, who could know we’d found his body?”

“Whoever is out there,” Renie replied.

“I don’t think so,” Judith said, though there was a tinge of

doubt in her voice. “We didn’t see any tracks in the

208 / Mary Daheim

snow when we went back the second time. And after that,

it started to snow pretty hard. I’m sure that little cave has

been covered up again. No, coz,” Judith said with a sad shake

of her head, “it doesn’t wash. I still think the killer is in the

lodge.”

“You want the killer to be inside,” Renie accused. “Otherwise, you couldn’t figure out whodunit.”

“Don’t say that, coz!” Judith shot Renie an angry look.

“I’m trying to use logic. Does it make sense that somebody

follows the OTIOSE conferees to Mountain Goat Lodge two

years in a row and starts killing them?” She didn’t wait for

Renie’s response. “Of course it doesn’t—it would be easier

and safer to do away with them in the city. If we knew why

Barry was killed in the first place, then we’d know why the

discovery of his body meant that Leon, Andrea, and Ward

also had to die. What is the common link between the four

of them? That’s what we should concentrate on.”

Renie sipped her Pepsi and considered. “First link—OTIOSE. They all worked for the same company, never mind at

what level. Second link—each other. They knew each other.”

“Hold it.” Judith gestured with her soda can. “That’s not

precisely true. Barry worked for two different departments,

human resources and public relations. Except for his occasional catering jobs and driving the conferees to the lodge

last year, how would the others have known him? Russell

doesn’t even seem to remember Barry.”

“Russell’s a dreamer,” Renie responded. “People aren’t

important to him, only ideas matter. A week from now,

Russell won’t remember us. As for the others, Barry would

have had contact with all of them. Human resources and p.r.

deal with all the other departments. He certainly knew Nadia,

and therefore, no doubt came into contact with Frank and

Ward.”

“The files,” Judith murmured. “Andrea’s personnel files

have disappeared—according to Max—and there must be

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 209

a reason.” She set down the soda can and clapped her hands.

“That’s it! That’s the link! Barry and Andrea worked in human resources. Andrea had all the dirt. Barry loved dirt, he

traded bits of gossip. As a staff assistant, wouldn’t he have

access to her files?”

Renie nodded. “To her official files, yes. But Andrea may

have had CYOA files, too. She may have kept them in a safe

place.”

Judith looked blank. “What’s a CYOA file?”

Renie grinned. “It stands for ‘Cover Your Own Ass,’ excuse

my French. It’s anything you keep that you can use to protect

yourself or hold over someone else. It can be as simple as a

phone message you received from somebody who might later

deny they called you. Or it can be photographs of your CEO

in bed with a donkey.”

Judith’s excitement returned. “That’s good. That’s great.

Like I said, the files are the link.”

“Maybe.” Renie was definitely dubious. “How do they link

up with Ward and Leon?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but they must,” Judith insisted.

Renie finished her Pepsi. “Sleep on it. I’m tired, let’s turn

out the lights.”

Judith regarded Renie with wonderment. “You’re not

afraid?”

“You’re the one who dreamed up our insurance policy.”

She glanced at Judith with alarm. “Don’t tell me you think

it lapsed?”

“So far, so good.” But Judith got up and started moving

one of the two armchairs to the door. “Just in case the policy

expires,” she said with a sickly smile. “And to make sure that

we don’t.”

“What about the windows?” Renie asked.

Judith glanced across the room. “They’re latched from the

inside. We’re okay. Oh!” She put a hand to her head. “Which

is another reason why an outsider couldn’t have gotten in.”

210 / Mary Daheim

Renie went to one of the windows and jiggled the catch.

“It wouldn’t take much to break this. Besides, we don’t know

what the third-floor windows are like.”

“Forget it,” Judith said with finality. “It’s after eleven, you’re

right, we’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

Renie was still fiddling with the window catch. “Let’s take

turns sleeping.”

“Fine. You stay up first. Wake me around eight.” Judith

got into bed.

“To hell with it.” Renie got into bed, too.

The cousins slept.

They were awakened by an explosion. Judith jumped up,

got entangled in the bedclothes, and struggled to free herself.

Had someone set off a bomb? She panicked, but finally

managed to extricate herself and looked in every direction.

Renie was wrestling with the pillow, trying to cover her

head. “Stupid Bulgarians,” she muttered. “Why are they always working on their damned condos across the street?

Why don’t they build something back home in Blagoevgrad?”

Judith was at the door, shoving the armchair out of the

way. “Wake up, you’re not on Heraldsgate Hill, you’re at

Mountain Goat Lodge.” As she cautiously opened the door,

another explosion sounded. “It’s outside. What now?” She

rushed to the windows, then gaped. “It’s raining! Maybe that

was thunder!”

“It’s the Bulgarians,” Renie repeated, her voice muffled by

the pillow. “Ignore them and go back to sleep.”

Judith ignored Renie. A glance at her watch told her it was

just after seven-thirty. The morning was very gray, with rain

pelting the snow. Judith waited for a flash of lightning, but

heard only another loud, shuddering noise.

“That’s not thunder,” she said. “What could it be?”

Renie finally removed the pillow and struggled to sit up.

“Damn. You’re determined to annoy me.” She rubbed her

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 211

eyes, yawned, and stretched. “Okay, you win. What explosions?”

Judith turned away from the window. “Didn’t you hear

them?”

Renie yawned again. “I heard something, or else I wouldn’t

be awake. I told you, it sounds like the Bulgarians across the

street from our house. They’re always renovating or adding

on or digging up or tearing…”

A fourth explosion interrupted Renie. “That’s not the

Bulgarians,” Judith declared.

“Probably not,” Renie agreed, cocking her head. “It’s the

avalanche crew.”

Judith was startled. “What avalanche crew?”

“You said it’s raining?” Renie yanked back the covers and

sat on the edge of the bed. “Then it’s gotten much warmer

during the night, which, after a heavy snowfall, means there’s

an avalanche danger. To prevent disasters, the crews set off

explosions to break up the snow. I thought everybody knew

that.”

“If I did, I’d forgotten,” Judith murmured, moving away

from the windows. “Great—now the roof will cave in. What

next, plague and locusts?”

“Floods,” Renie responded. “Maybe fires.” She reached for

a cigarette.

“Oh, no! Not this early!” Judith railed. “Haven’t you run

out of those things yet?”

Renie shook her head. “I brought a whole carton with me.

Why do you care? Your mother still smokes. Joe has his cigars. What’s wrong with Little Renie’s little weedies?”

“They stink,” Judith retorted, waving away a cloud of

smoke. “Mother shouldn’t smoke. She’s so forgetful, but

when I try to talk to her about it, she gets ornery. The last

time I caught her putting a lighted cigarette in her housecoat

pocket, she pulled it out and tried to stick it in Sweetums’s

mouth. I swear I saw Sweetums inhale.”

212 / Mary Daheim

“Ghastly,” Renie remarked, puffing away. “Are we doing

breakfast?”

“Not for them,” Judith said, jerking a thumb in the direction

of the corridor. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m tired of waiting

on those spoiled brats.”

“There might be fewer of them this morning,” Renie noted

with an ominous look.

“Don’t say that,” Judith shot back. Suddenly she went back

to the window. “Look,” she called to Renie, “the snow outside

the sill has melted a good four or five inches. Do you think

we might get out of here today?”

“Not if there are avalanche warnings,” Renie replied,

stubbing out her cigarette and heading for the bathroom.

“They’ll close the pass. They always do.”

As soon as Renie disappeared, Judith opened both windows to air out the room. The explosions had stopped. Judith

wondered where the blasts had been set off. Perhaps at the

summit, where the main ski areas and the private chalets

were located. Though loud, the booms hadn’t sounded very

close. Maybe there was no danger around the lodge.

But there was danger inside, Judith reminded herself

grimly. Half an hour later, she and Renie were in the kitchen.

It was a shambles. Coffee had been spilled all over the

counter, egg yolk dripped down the front of the stove, there

was burned toast in the sink, and a broken cereal bowl lay

in several pieces on the floor.

“Pigs!” Judith cried. “Look at this mess!”

“It’s not our mess,” Renie pointed out. “Shall I tell Frank

Killegrew to come in here and clean up?”

“Yes.” Judith folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, I’d

like to see that. I’m sick of these jerks.”

Renie started to shake her head, then straightened her

shoulders and marched out to the dining room. Vaguely astonished, Judith followed.

“Okay,” Renie barked, “we’re padlocking the kitchen

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 213

unless you lazy swine get off your dead butts. You have five

minutes.”

Judith saw the seven disbelieving faces stare at Renie.

Seven, she thought. They’re all still alive and eating breakfast.

Why am I surprised?

Nadia got to her feet. “Of course we’ll tidy up. I always

tidy up. Ava, Margo, let’s all pitch in.”

Margo held onto the edge of the table as if she thought it

might levitate. “Screw it, Nadia. One of the men can help.

Why should Ava and I get stuck with so-called women’s

work? Why should you, for that matter? Stand up for yourself for once.”

Nadia looked shocked. “It’s no trouble. Really, Margo…”

“I can wash dishes,” Russell offered with a sheepish expression. “I do it whenever I run out of plates.”

Margo snapped her fingers at Russell. “Then do it here.

Get going.” Russell scurried away, while Nadia started to

follow him. Margo, however, put out a restraining arm. “No,

you don’t. Let one of these bozos go with Russell.” Her

withering glance took in Killegrew, Max, and Gene.

“Why not?” Gene said with a shrug. “I’m single, like Russell. I have to fend for myself sometimes.”

Margo dropped her arm but kept her attention on Nadia.

“What are you going to do when Frank retires? You’re not

yet fifty, you’re too young to retire. Are you going to hang

on with OTIOSE and be a slave for the next CEO?”

Nadia lifted her pointed chin. “Frank’s not going to retire.

How can he, after all this?”

“Isn’t that up to the board of directors?” Max’s expression

was puzzled as he regarded his chief.

Killegrew held his head. “Of course it is. I’ll be sixty-five

in June, which is the mandatory retirement age. Of course,”

he continued in a thoughtful voice, “the board could change

the by-laws.”

“Maybe they will.” Ava’s tone was bland. “Why not,

Frank?”

214 / Mary Daheim

“Well…” Killegrew scowled at Ava, then brushed toast

crumbs from his plaid shirt. “If WaCom really plans to attempt a merger with us, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep

the same skipper at the helm of the S.S. OTIOSE.”

Max was now looking more worried than puzzled. “Are

you saying you won’t fight the merger, Frank? Hell, you

won’t officially retire until June. This deal’s supposed to

come down next week.”

“I haven’t charted our course yet,” Killegrew replied. “How

can I, without a first mate? Ward’s…gone.”

“Name someone to fill his spot,” Margo said, finally sitting

down again. “The board can ratify the appointment later.

You can exercise emergency powers. If,” she added dryly,

“there ever was an emergency, this weekend is it.”

Judith thought that was an understatement. Still standing

by the door, she peeked into the kitchen. Somewhat to her

surprise, Russell and Gene were hard at work. The vice

president—research and development was scrubbing the

stove; the company’s legal counsel was sweeping the floor.

Judith quietly closed the door.

“We should discuss this,” Killegrew said. “Formally, I

mean. Nadia, bring my coffee into the game room. We’ll

take a meeting there. Get Gene and Russell out of the kitchen.”

Five minutes later, the OTIOSE contingent had adjourned

to the game room. Renie surveyed the mess they had left

behind in the dining room. “So much for my big mouth,”

she said. “Now I suppose I won’t get the graphic design

consulting contract.”

“Do you still want it?” Judith asked, forcing herself not to

start clearing away the table.

“Sure,” Renie answered, heading for the kitchen. “If I

turned down jobs from all the corporate types I thought were

unethical or arrogant or even criminal, I’d go broke. As long

as their money doesn’t have pictures of Bugs Bunny on it,

I’ll take it straight to the bank.”

The kitchen, at least, looked almost clean. Judith and

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 215

Renie made toast, fixed bowls of cereal, and poured coffee.

“I guess we won’t be going to church this Sunday,” Judith

said in a wry voice.

“I guess not,” Renie agreed. “I wonder if Father Hoyle has

ever heard an excuse like ours for missing Mass?”

“You mean, ‘I didn’t attend church last Sunday because I

was trapped inside a mountain lodge during a blizzard and

possible avalanches with three dead bodies and a homicidal

maniac?’” Judith laughed, a slightly bitter sound. “As excuses

go, it’s not bad. Let’s hope Father Hoyle believes us.”

“He will,” Renie said, opening a jar of boysenberry jam.

“I’m sure he recalls a rather lethal Easter Bunny a few years

ago at Our Lady, Star of the Sea.”

“Don’t remind me,” Judith said. Given their current situation, she wasn’t in the mood to think back to the deadly

doings in her home parish. “Hey,” she burst out, knocking

the spoon out of her cereal, “let’s go exploring.”

Renie’s eyes widened. “Where? Not the third floor—I

don’t need to see any more bodies.”

“The files,” Judith said. “Somebody must have them. What

do you bet that most of these people don’t lock their doors

after they leave their rooms? We didn’t.”

“They would if they had the files,” Renie countered. “If

they haven’t destroyed them, they’d stash them somewhere

no one else would think to look.”

“Good point.” Judith was momentarily subdued. “Do you

really think they’ll talk Frank into not retiring?”

Renie narrowed her eyes. “What do you think?”

“He doesn’t sound like a man who wants to retire,” Judith

said after a brief pause. “I’ve never heard him mention a

single thing about what he plans to do. Joe’s already sending

away for information on fishing trips.”

“He should have asked Bill,” Renie said. “My husband’s

got a suitcase full of fishing brochures, not to mention cruises,

Amtrak trips, and half the hotel-casinos in Vegas.”

216 / Mary Daheim

Abruptly, Judith stood up. “Let’s go.”

“You’re serious.” Reluctantly, Renie set her coffee mug on

the counter.

Judith nodded. “Two points—first, would whoever stole

the files keep them or burn them? Second, whoever didn’t

take them might not lock their doors. We can get rid of some

suspects.”

“Somebody’s already doing that,” Renie remarked, but she

followed Judith to the back stairs.

Andrea’s room wore a desolate air. But it had definitely

been disturbed since the cousins had searched it. The daily

planner was lying on the spare bed and the personnel files

were gone.

Max’s room was also unlocked. It looked virtually the

same as it had when Judith and Renie had gone with him to

look out the windows. There were no items of interest, and

it appeared that nothing had been burned in the grate except

logs and kindling.

The same was true of Russell’s room. Indeed, it was so

Spartan that it might never have been occupied. The cousins

moved on to Ava, who, they recalled was staying next door

to Russell. Somewhat to their surprise, Ava hadn’t locked

her door, either.

“I suppose there’s no point,” Judith mused. “They’re all

together during the day, or at least in pairs.”

“True,” Renie agreed. “If they don’t have anything to hide,

why bother?”

Judith scanned the top of the bureau where Ava kept her

personal items. There was a hairbrush, a mascara wand, an

emery board, and a packet of birth control pills.

“Maintenance or prevention?” Judith inquired with a sly

smile.

“Either one. Both. Lots of women take the pill for reasons

other than contraception,” Renie noted.

“That’s so.” Judith opened the small closet. The only items

hanging there were a yellow flannel nightgown, a black

bathrobe edged with white piping, and the red jewel- SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 217

necked sweater and woolen slacks Judith had borrowed.

“Odd,” Judith said under her breath.

“What’s odd?” Renie came to stand next to Judith.

“Why hasn’t Ava worn that red outfit? All three days, she’s

had on either the blue or the green ensemble. Wouldn’t you

change clothes if you had any?”

“Sure,” Renie responded. “Maybe Ava doesn’t want to wear

that one because you did. No offense, coz,” she went on,

poking Judith in the ribs, “but some people are funny about

things like that. Besides, Ava said she didn’t care much about

clothes.”

“Yes, she did,” Judith said, giving the red outfit one last

curious look.

They moved on, but the next room they checked was

locked. “Who is it?” Renie asked. “Gene?”

“I think so. I’m trying to remember who came out of where

when we brought the latest gloomy news.”

“Gene would lock up,” Renie said. “He’s a lawyer.”

Judith pointed to the damaged door across the hall. “That’s

Ward’s room. Shall we?”

“Well…” Renie hesitated.

Judith didn’t. She opened the door, but everything seemed

the same as it had been when she’d accompanied the others

in their futile search for OTIOSE’s executive vice president.

“No sign of a struggle,” Judith murmured. “Do you realize

that Ward must have been lying outside those windows while

we looked around for him in here?”

Renie grimaced. “Why didn’t anybody look outside?”

“It never occurred to any of us, I guess. Besides, Ward’s

body must have sunk into the snow before it slid inside the

lobby.” Judith checked the grate, the closet, the bathroom,

then went to the windows. The rain was still pouring down

and the snow had melted another two inches. The dull, gray

morning light cast a pall over the landscape.

“At least we can see something out there,” Renie noted.

“Not that there’s much to see except melting snow.”

218 / Mary Daheim

Judith, however, wasn’t looking at the gloomy scenery.

She opened one of the windows which, like the others in the

guest rooms, swung inward. “Stand here, coz. I’m going to

try to kill you.”

“Oh, goody,” Renie said, but complied.

Judith approached Renie from behind. “Lean out over the

sill, as if you were looking for something.”

“Okay.” Renie leaned, bracing herself on the window

frame.

Judith contemplated her cousin’s bent-over form. “This

isn’t working. I can’t kill you because you’re too short. Let’s

change places. You sneak up behind me and put a garrote

around my neck.”

“I don’t have a garrote.” Renie gazed around the small

room. “Wasn’t Ward killed with a belt?”

“Yes. His own, presumably.” Judith sighed. “I’m getting

soaked. Use a towel.”

Renie grabbed a bath towel. “Here I come,” she said.

“Ooof!” Her assault on Judith went awry. Renie collapsed

on top of Judith. “I can’t reach your neck,” she complained.

“I may be too short, but you’re too tall.”

Judith backed up, sending Renie into the bureau. “My

point exactly,” she said, closing the window. “I’m five inches

taller than you are. Ward was about six-one. Maybe we can

eliminate Russell and Nadia. She’s not as tall as you are, and

Russell can’t be much over five-eight.”

“Margo’s no taller than that,” Renie noted, regaining her

balance. “What if Ward was sitting down?”

“Where?” Judith looked around. The armchairs were at

the other side of the room.

Renie pointed to the space between the windows. “On the

honor bar. Heck, anywhere. Whoever killed him must have

had to push him out the window.”

“That indicates strength,” Judith said, running her hands

through her hair which had gotten quite wet while she hung

out of the window. “Oh, shoot—we’ve been through all

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 219

this. An adrenaline rush can accomplish just about anything.”

Renie was heading for the door. “I’ve had a good time,

but this wasn’t it,” she said. “Let’s finish our fruitless search.”

“Okay,” sighed Judith, then stopped next to the bureau.

“Did you see this?”

“What?” Renie sounded impatient.

Judith bent down. “It’s some kind of pin. You must have

knocked it loose when you fell against the bureau. It says,

‘Bell System—twenty-five years service.’”

Renie examined the pin and nodded. “So who has twentyfive years of service before coming to OTIOSE? Ward comes

to mind. It’s probably his.”

Judith’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. “Oh, well. I

was hoping it would point to somebody else.” She took the

pin from Renie and placed it on the bureau.

It didn’t surprise the cousins to find that Margo had locked

her door. Nadia’s was open, however. Unlike the other

rooms, hers was cluttered. Clothes, cosmetics, notebooks,

paperbacks, perfume, and enough lingerie to last through an

arctic winter filled every nook and cranny. But none of it

seemed pertinent to the murders.

“This must be Frank’s room,” Judith said, nodding at the

door next to Nadia’s.

It was also unlocked, and if not cluttered, it was messy.

Frank Killegrew was obviously not a man who was used to

looking after himself. The bed was unmade, the cap was off

the toothpaste tube, the sink was full of whiskers. But except

for evidence of being spoiled, the cousins found nothing.

“That’s it,” Renie declared. “We flunked. I think I’ll go

downstairs and smoke a lot.”

Judith started to trudge after Renie to the elevator, then

called to her cousin to wait up. “Leon—we forgot about him.”

220 / Mary Daheim

“He’s eminently forgettable,” Renie responded. “Alas, poor

Leon.”

The room was unlocked. The bed, where Andrea had

waited for the man who never came to share his angel food

cake, was still in disarray. The extra pillow, which Judith

had put behind Andrea’s head, remained in place.

The only difference was that Nadia Weiss was lying on

the spare bed, and she was obviously quite dead.

SIXTEEN

“THIS…CAN’T…BE…happening,” Judith gasped.

Renie was stunned. She neither spoke nor moved, but

simply stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Nadia with

unblinking eyes.

“Coz…” Judith began, but also found herself at a loss for

words.

Nadia Weiss lay on her side, the right arm extended, the

left curled around her stomach. Her face was contorted and

her stockinged feet dangled over the edge of the bed. She

was fully clothed, though her large-rimmed glasses lay carefully folded on the nightstand.

Judith knew it was useless, but she finally moved closer

and tried to take Nadia’s pulse. “She’s still warm.” Judith let

Nadia’s right arm fall away.

“Of course she’s still warm,” Renie murmured. “We saw

her downstairs not more than an hour ago.”

Judith gazed at the spectacles, then noticed the glass and

the pill bottle. “Good grief! It’s the old sleeping pill trick,

just like Andrea. Or almost,” she added on a more thoughtful

note. “Look, coz.”

Edging closer, Renie’s foot struck something under the

bed. “Hold it—what’s this?” With her toe, she nudged the

obstacle into plain view.

221

222 / Mary Daheim

It was an empty pint of gin. “An added attraction?” Judith

remarked, then turned her attention back to the pill bottle.

“Triclos. ‘Take one capsule before bedtime. Do not mix with

alcohol.’ The prescription is dated last week and made out

by a Dr. Robert Winslow for Nadia Weiss. The pharmacy

is located above downtown, in the hospital district.”

Renie nodded. “Nadia mentioned having her own sleeping

pills, and she told me once that she’s lived forever in one of

those elegant older apartments within walking distance of

downtown. But this time the killer was more thorough.”

Renie pointed to the empty water glass, then to the gin bottle.

“Maybe the stuff’s more lethal if you mix it with booze. The

killer might have known that and added the gin for effect.”

“Maybe.” Judith seemed distracted as she gestured at the

fireplace. “Why light a fire? No one’s staying in this room.”

Renie turned. “That is odd. It’s not much of a blaze,

though. It’s practically out.”

Rushing to the hearth, Judith all but shoved Renie out of

the way. “Look! There’s no sign of a log in the grate. Kindling, maybe—and paper.” She gazed at Renie, who had joined

her in front of the fireplace. “What do you think got burned

in here? Andrea’s files?”

Renie grabbed the poker and leaned down. “There’s not

much left, but I see some charred paper clips and those

metal fasteners that hold files together.” She stood up. “You’re

right, maybe Nadia burned the files.”

“Why?” Judith’s dark eyes scanned the room. “Did she

take them from Andrea’s room? Did they include the socalled hooker files? Look, coz,” she continued, pointing back

to the grate, “there’s not a lot of paper in there. Andrea’s

files were two, three inches thick, which is why we didn’t

take time to go through them.”

“Maybe Nadia only wanted to burn certain incriminating

data,” Renie suggested.

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 223

“Incriminating to whom?” Judith asked, beginning to pace

the small room.

Renie shrugged. “I don’t know. Herself, maybe. Or whoever killed her.”

“This is wrong,” Judith declared, making a slashing motion

with her hand. “This seems all out of kilter.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renie admitted.

“I don’t either. That’s the problem.” Judith bit her lower

lip and scowled.

Renie started for the door. “Shall we go break the latest

bad news?”

Judith shook her head. “Not this time.”

“What?” Renie was flabbergasted.

“No. We’ll go back downstairs, as if nothing’s happened.

Let’s see how the rest of them—what’s left of them—react.”

Renie gritted her teeth. “Okay—if you say so. I’m not much

of an actress.”

“You’ll manage,” Judith said dryly. “Just play dumb. I know

you can do that.”

Upon reaching the game room, the cousins discovered a

fragmented contingent. Max Agasias was furiously hurling

darts at a board on the far wall. Ava Aunuu was lying on

the pool table, crying her eyes out. Gene Jarman, Jr., stood

under mounted elk antlers, chewing on his knuckles. The

rest were nowhere in sight. The big windows that ran along

most of one wall showed nothing but snow, a bleak, suffocating sight.

Of the three who remained in the game room, Gene

seemed the most approachable. “What’s going on?” Judith

asked in a hushed voice.

Gene recoiled as if Judith had slapped him. “Nothing,” he

said sharply. “Nothing you need to know.”

Judith backed off. Renie had gone to Ava, gently prodding

her heaving shoulders.

“Go away,” Ava blubbered. “Leave me alone.”

224 / Mary Daheim

With a puzzled glance for Judith, Renie withdrew. Max

was still throwing darts, going dangerously wide of the target.

Margo entered the lobby from the direction of the women’s

restroom. She looked absolutely furious.

“I hate everybody,” she announced. “I wish I could shoot

you all.” For good measure, she jiggled her suede bag, then

glanced at the elk antlers, as if she were envisioning one of

her co-worker’s heads in the same place.

“There must be a reason for your hostility,” said Renie in

a strange, strangled voice. “You might feel better if you talked

about it.” She turned to Judith, speaking in a whisper. “Do

I sound like Bill?”

“You sound like hell,” Judith shot back. “But go for it.”

Ignoring Renie, Margo stalked past the cousins and went

to the near wall which was decorated with Haida masks and

jewelry. With her back to the others, Margo stood rigidly,

one hand clenching at her side, the other clutching her suede

bag.

“What happened to the buddy system?” Judith murmured.

Renie shook her head. “I don’t know. Who’s missing?

Frank and Russell?”

She’d hardly finished speaking when both men entered

the game room. Frank Killegrew looked distraught and

Russell Craven appeared miserable. Max whirled around,

unleashing a dart that sailed between the two men’s heads.

“We’ve got to calm down!” Killegrew cried, jerking around

to watch the dart land out in the hall. “A mutinous crew can

cause a shipwreck.”

“Sorry,” Max mumbled. “That was an accident.”

Margo turned her head. “The ship has sunk, Frank. Glub,

glub, glub. That was my point. That’s why I’m quitting.

Don’t you get it? I’m not going down with your stupid S.S.

OTIOSE.”

“Now, now,” Killegrew began, “you’re considering just the

short term…”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 225

“Don’t start again!” Ava cried. “I can’t stand it!” She buried

her face against a side pocket.

“I’m confused,” Russell said in a disconsolate voice.

“Margo, I thought you liked Alan Roth. I’m the one who

should be upset. I am upset. My career is over.”

“Now, now,” Killegrew repeated, “you don’t know that for

sure, Russell. If the board agrees to change the by-laws and

I stay on as CEO, it won’t matter if we merge with WaCom.

I’ll still have an oar in the water.”

“But you won’t!” Ava declared, attempting to sit up on the

pool table. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! That’s why

it doesn’t matter if you name me as Ward’s successor. Do

you think Alan Roth will want any of us working for him

after what happened to his wife this weekend?”

Judith and Renie glanced at each other. “Ava as executive

vice president?” Judith said under her breath.

“Why not?” Renie whispered. “She’s very capable.”

Killegrew had assumed an authoritative stance in front of

the dart board. Max’s homely face was belligerent, but he

set the last two darts down on the wet bar. Gene moved out

from under the antlers while Margo finally turned all the way

around to face the others.

“It may be,” Killegrew said, hooking his thumbs in his

suspenders, “that this weekend—as tragic as it’s been—could

work in our favor.” Seeing the dismay and even horror on

the faces of his employees, Killegrew held up a hand. “Now,

now—don’t get me wrong. Nobody is more upset by what’s

happened here than I am. But there’s always an upside. Ava’s

got the right idea about Alan Roth. He may not want anything to do with us now that Andrea’s…passed away. But

that might mean WaCom will scrap the whole merger idea.

This crew has scurvy, right? We’re contaminated. There are

other telecommunications companies out there to merge

with.” Killegrew looked at Gene. “What about Alien Tel?

Settle the damned suit out of court and let WaCom gobble

them up.”

Gene Jarman stiffened. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that.

226 / Mary Daheim

It’s a point of…It’s a legal point.” Gene turned away.

Killegrew jabbed a finger at his legal counsel. “You’ll do

it if I tell you to! We can’t afford a personal…” The CEO

swung around to Margo. “Well? What can’t we afford?”

Margo sighed. “The word’s ‘vendetta,’ Frank.”

“Vendetta?” Killegrew wrinkled his blunt nose. “Okay, we

can’t afford that. So drop it, first thing.”

Gene said nothing; his face was expressionless.

Max picked up a pool cue and broke it in two. “So where

the hell does that leave me?”

“Right where you belong,” Killegrew shot back. “You and

Russell both. If we can get out of this WaCom deal, your

departments stay as they are.”

“If,” growled Max. “That’s a damned big word, Frank.”

“We’ll see.” Killegrew moved toward the wet bar, which

someone had stocked with the dwindling number of liquor

bottles. “It’s almost eleven. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to run

up the cocktail flag a little early. Nadia, mix me a Scotch and

soda, will you?”

The request seemed to echo off the plate glass windows

and disappear among the high polished beams of the ceiling.

Judith and Renie had moved close together, scrutinizing each

of the six remaining conferees. Ava, who had dried her eyes,

glanced behind her; Gene’s stance became less rigid as he

looked around the room; Margo moved closer to the group

and frowned; Max, looking curious, rested the broken pool

cue pieces against his thigh; Russell sat on a chessboard,

oblivious to the pieces he had knocked over, including the

bishop that was poking into his backside. It was only Frank

Killegrew who showed immediate dismay, and for all the

wrong reasons.

“Where’d Nadia go? I said I could use a drink. What’s

wrong with that woman? Doesn’t she know who signs her

checks?”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 227

“Leon used to,” Margo said. “As chief financial officer, he

signed all our checks.”

Killegrew glowered at Margo. “You know what I mean.

Didn’t Nadia go with you to the restroom a while ago?”

Margo shook her head. “She left the game room before I

did, Frank. You asked her to get you a coffee refill.”

“Which,” Killegrew declared with great umbrage, “she did

not do. Where’s her sense of loyalty?”

Ava struggled to get off the pool table, while Gene began

to shift nervously from foot to foot. Margo swung the suede

bag in an ominous gesture and Max started for the dining

room.

“She may still be in the kitchen,” Max said over his

shoulder. “I’ll check.”

“Not without a bodyguard,” Gene called out, and hurried

to join Max.

Russell swerved on the chessboard, sending several pawns

and a rook onto the floor. “Where’s Nadia?” he asked in a

vague, bewildered voice.

“Russell…” Margo began, but she sounded weary and went

mute.

Ava was hugging herself, her chin sunk into the high rolled

neck of her navy sweater. “I can’t…she couldn’t…Oh, God!”

Max and Gene returned via the corridor that led through

the laundry room to the kitchen. “She’s not anywhere we

could see,” Gene announced in a tense voice. “Should we

look in the basement?”

“Why,” Killegrew demanded, “would Nadia be in the

basement? There’s no coffee pot down there.” But the usual

bluster had gone out of him; he sounded frightened and unsure.

Judith was beginning to doubt the wisdom of keeping the

others in the dark. She plucked at the sleeve of Renie’s

sweatshirt and drew her back towards the lobby entrance.

“Maybe we should tell them,” she whispered.

228 / Mary Daheim

Renie shook her head. “It’s too late. Let it slide.”

Margo was staring at her watch. “How long has Nadia

been gone? Half an hour?”

“More than that,” Killegrew responded. “It wasn’t quite

ten when I asked her to get me some more coffee. It’s bangup

eleven now. Six bells,” he added, but his voice broke on the

nautical reference.

Taking in Killegrew’s obvious distress, Gene Jarman joined

his chief on the hearth. “Let’s divide ourselves into threes,”

he said, then apparently remembered Judith and Renie. “I

mean, fours. Half of us will search the rest of this floor and

the basement. The other half will go up to the second and

third floors. Ava, Margo, Max—will you come with me?”

Max stepped forward at once, but neither woman seemed

anxious to take part. Briefly, they stared at each other, and

some sort of understanding must have passed between them.

Margo actually gave Ava a hand to help her down from the

pool table.

“Why,” Margo murmured, “didn’t I resign last week?”

“You had no reason then,” Ava said.

“Yes, I did.” Margo trooped out of the lobby with Ava,

Gene, and Max.

The cousins were left with Frank Killegrew and Russell

Craven. “I don’t think I can do this,” Killegrew declared in

a weak voice. As he reached for the Scotch, his hand shook.

“I never dreamed it would come to this.”

“To what?” asked Russell, who was still sitting on the chess

board.

But Killegrew. didn’t reply. He sloshed Scotch into a glass

and drank it down in one gulp. “Okay,” he said, squaring

his shoulders, “let’s go.”

The foursome took the elevator to the second floor, which

meant that they would begin their search at the opposite end

from Leon’s room. Judith tried to think of a way to curtail

the suspense, but nothing came to mind. Renie

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 229

was right. It was too late to admit they’d found another body.

Judith didn’t dare tip her hand.

They started with the cousins’ room, checking the bathroom and under the beds. This time, they remembered to

look out the windows. It was still raining hard, and the snow

had melted another three inches. Through the steady downpour, Judith could see into the distance. There was nothing

but the tops of trees, some of which now showed bare

branches. The wet, drooping evergreens look dejected in the

rain.

Down the hall they went, finding everything the same as

when Judith and Renie had made their search earlier in the

morning. Or so it appeared until they reached Gene’s room.

It was now unlocked. Killegrew strode inside, calling Nadia’s

name.

Judith glanced around. There was an open briefcase on

the bed, a cardigan sweater hanging on the back of one of

the ubiquitous armchairs, an empty glass on the nightstand,

and a half-filled laundry bag on the floor. There was, of

course, no sign of Nadia.

Margo’s room was still locked. Killegrew swore under his

breath, then knocked hard three times and again called for

Nadia. With a shake of his head, he led them on.

As before, Leon’s was the last room they checked. Killegrew turned the knob, opened the door, started to mouth

Nadia’s name, and staggered.

“No! No! Nadia!” he cried in anguish. “Oh, my God!” He

fell to his knees, leaning against the side of the bed where

Nadia’s stockinged foot still dangled. Lifting his head, Killegrew grabbed Nadia by the shoulders in a futile attempt to

rouse her. “Wake up, Nadia! Wake up! It’s me, Frank! Please,

please, wake up!” He collapsed on top of her lifeless body.

“Oh, dear!” Russell exclaimed. “Is she…? Oh, dear!”

Killegrew’s shoulders were heaving. Russell, with a hand

over his mouth, rushed into the bathroom. The cousins

230 / Mary Daheim

could hear him being sick, but their concern was focused on

Frank Killegrew.

“Mr. Killegrew,” Judith said softly, “come away. There’s

nothing you can do.”

He continued to sob for several seconds. Then, suddenly,

he turned his head and stared at Judith. “I can do…I can

do…I can do…” His entire body sagged as he slipped off the

bed. “I can’t do,” he breathed in an incredulous voice. “I can’t

do.”

For Frank Killegrew, it appeared to be a revelation.

It took a great deal of coaxing and soothing for the cousins

to get Killegrew and Russell out of Leon’s room. The bereaved CEO rejected Judith’s suggestion that Max and Gene

carry Nadia up to the third floor where the other bodies lay

at rest. Killegrew adamantly refused to have Nadia moved.

Judith understood, and backed off.

The others had already returned to the lobby from the

basement. Since Killegrew appeared to be in shock and

Russell still claimed to feel sick, the burden of making the

tragic announcement fell on Renie, who hurriedly consulted

with Judith.

“The four of us found Nadia Weiss dead in Leon Mooney’s

room. Cause of death can’t be determined without an

autopsy.”

Ava began to cry again, Margo collapsed in a side chair,

Gene held his head in his hands, and Max exploded with a

stream of obscenities. It was clear that the OTIOSE contingent had completely fallen apart.

“There’s no logic to this!” Gene exclaimed. “It’s irrational,

insane, beyond understanding! I can’t deal with it anymore!”

He whirled around, looking as if he were trying to escape.

Ava stopped crying and raised her head. “It’s not a cutand-dried legal issue you can find in one of your RCW law

books,” she said, compassion evident in her voice. “But it

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 231

is real, Gene. What’s so horrible is that I can’t see beyond

the next few minutes. It’s like the future has been canceled

for all of us.”

“It sure as hell has for some of us,” Max declared savagely.

“Who’s next?” His homely face was a mixture of fury and

fear.

“Not me,” Margo averred, gripping her suede bag. But for

once, she didn’t sound very confident.

Killegrew, who was now drinking straight from a bottle

of Scotch, turned bleary eyes on the others. “It had to be

suicide,” he mumbled.

“Can it, Frank,” Margo said wearily. “We know better.

Stop kidding yourself.”

“I don’t blame her,” Killegrew said, as if he hadn’t heard

Margo. “I feel like jumping off a cliff.”

“Oh, please don’t!” Russell begged. “Really, this is all so…”

Slumped on the footstool, he ran a hand through his

disheveled fair hair. “It’s exactly what Ava just mentioned—it’s real. I don’t know much about real things, only

ideas and theories and concepts. But,” he continued, hiking

himself up to a full sitting position, “I do know how to conjecture, it’s part of my job. I saw that pill bottle on the

nightstand in Leon’s room. It was given to Nadia by the

company physician, Dr. Winslow, who is somewhat oldfashioned. Triclos—or triclofos or chloral hydrate, to call it

by its more common name—is not often prescribed any more.

I recall this from my days as an army medic. It can be lethal,

of course, especially if it’s taken with an alcoholic beverage.

There was also an empty gin bottle on the floor by the bed.

I must assume—or conjecture, if you will—that whoever

murdered poor dear Nadia must have put the chloral hydrate

tablets into the gin.”

A little gasp went up around the lobby, but the usually

reticent Russell Craven hadn’t finished. “You see, I have been

thinking. It’s what I do. And I’ve come to one unalterable

conclusion. The deaths have not been caused by any

232 / Mary Daheim

of us. We’ve wondered a great deal about an outsider committing these crimes. That can be the only answer.” From

behind his round, rimless glasses, Russell stared at Judith

and Renie. “It must be those two women. They are the killers,

and we must act at once.”

SEVENTEEN

JUDITH AND RENIE both started to protest, meanwhile

backpedaling across the lobby. But no one actually came

after them. The OTIOSE executives appeared depleted, as if

the latest horror had sapped their collective will.

“We can’t stop them,” Killegrew finally said in a lethargic

voice. “It’s inevitable. We’ve come here to die.”

“It’s like the Nazis with the concentration camps,” Ava

said in wonder. “You get on a bus, you think you’re simply

being sent to some harmless place, but you never come back.”

“My grandparents were slaughtered by Mao’s henchmen,”

Margo said, her grip slackened on the suede bag. “They

thought they were being taken to a political meeting in another village.”

“My family fled Armenia during the First World War,”

Max said in a toneless voice, “but some of our relatives were

massacred by the Turks. It was a bloodbath.”

“I had two great-grandfathers who were lynched,” Gene

said, staring into space. “One in Alabama, the other in South

Carolina. My uncle was almost beaten to death during the

freedom marches in Mississippi. In Oakland, two white cops

gave my father a concussion

233

234 / Mary Daheim

for no reason. Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.”

“Really,” Russell said in a huffy tone, “none of you are

showing much spunk. All we have to do is lock them in their

room. Then we’ll be safe until we can get out of here.”

The suggestion was met with apathy. Slowly, the cousins

moved back towards the others.

“Russell,” Judith began in what she hoped was a reasonable

tone, “you’re off base. If you’re relying on logic, let’s put it

to the test. For openers, we weren’t here last year, which is

when all this may have started. We have nothing to do with

OTIOSE or any other telecommunications outfit except for

my cousin’s tenuous connection through her freelance design

business. I was asked to fill in for some other caterer at the

last minute, as at least some of you may know. Why on earth

would either of us come to Mountain Goat Lodge and start

killing people? It makes absolutely no sense.”

Russell adjusted his rimless glasses. “Killing often doesn’t.

People go on rampages.”

“We don’t,” Renie declared. “Margo, I’ve worked with you

before. Have you ever had any reason to doubt who and

what I am?”

Margo’s expression was unusually vague. “No—I guess

not. But then I never pay much attention to consultants as

individuals. They come in, do their job, and leave.”

Renie sighed. “Yes, I understand that part. But if we’d

wanted to kill you, we’ve had ample opportunity. Why didn’t

we poison your food?”

“Too obvious,” Max responded.

“Poison can be extremely subtle,” declared Judith, who’d

had experience with its cleverly disguised lethal effects. When

the others regarded her with wide-eyed alarm, she hastened

to explain. “I read a lot of mysteries. There are poisons that

can’t be detected, poisons with delayed reactions, poisons

that can be masked in various ways.”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 235

“That’s true,” Margo said glumly. “I read mysteries, too.”

“So what do we do?” Max asked, automatically turning to

Killegrew.

The CEO scratched an ear. “I don’t know. Eat lunch, I

suppose.” Somehow the callousness of his remark was diluted

by his desolate manner.

Margo got to her feet. “Ava and I’ll make lunch.” Seeing

the startled expressions on the men’s faces, she waved an

impatient hand. “Okay, so it’s women’s work, but this is

different. It’s like…a safety precaution.”

Russell pointed a bony finger at Judith and Renie. “What

about them?”

“Lock them in the library,” Margo retorted as she and Ava

started for the kitchen. “Let them read some more mystery

novels. If they’re so smart, maybe they can figure all this

out.”

The cousins didn’t protest their incarceration. “What a

morning,” Renie sighed as she and Judith sank into the library’s wing-back armchairs. “So much for gratitude. I guess

Russell forgot about that hot tea you made for him.” She

sighed again, gazing at one of the two tall windows which

were flanked by muted plaid drapes. “I wonder how long it

will be until the snow has melted enough that we really can

get out of here?”

Judith shook her head. “It’ll take a while. And don’t forget

the avalanche danger.”

Looking glum, Renie didn’t respond right away. “Somebody out there knows we didn’t do it,” she finally said.

“That’s right,” Judith agreed in a strange voice.

Renie’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know who it is?”

Now it was Judith who didn’t answer immediately. “I’ve

got a hunch,” she admitted at last. “Do you?”

Renie nodded slowly. “I think so, yes.”

“We have no proof,” Judith remarked bleakly. “Those files

might help us, if we could find them.”

236 / Mary Daheim

“You don’t think they’ve been destroyed?”

Judith shook her head. “I don’t think the killer has found

them. Damn,” she cursed under her breath, “I have to go to

the bathroom. Do you think they’ll let us out?”

“Pick the lock,” Renie said. “You can do it.”

Judith brightened. “Maybe I can. It’s worth a try.” Just as

she fished into her shoulder bag for something that would

trip the lock, the pager went off again. “How annoying! I

don’t need that thing bothering me right now. I feel like

throwing it out the window.”

“Stop worrying about something you can’t help,” Renie

advised. “We’ve got more urgent problems here.”

“You’re right.” Judith hauled an oversized paper clip out

of her purse and began straightening it. “Let’s hope these

locks aren’t as daunting as they look. The ones on this floor

are obviously much newer than the ones on the guest room

doors.”

Renie watched while Judith plied the paper clip. The library door had a sophisticated lock, and presented a serious

challenge. After almost five minutes, Judith was forced to

give up.

“We’ll have to knock and yell to get out of here,” she said,

tossing the now useless paper clip into a wastebasket made

of woven branches. “I hope they can hear us.”

Renie began pounding on the door and shouting. Nothing

happened. “I don’t hear any hurrying feet,” she said.

The cousins suddenly heard something else.

The library telephone was ringing.

Judith snatched up the receiver. “Hello? Hello?” she virtually yelled into the mouthpiece.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Arlene Rankers. “Why are you

shouting, Judith? You practically broke my eardrum!”

“Arlene!” Judith collapsed into one of the armchairs.

“What’s wrong, Arlene?”

Renie hovered over Judith, who held the phone away from

her ear just enough so that her cousin could hear, too.

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 237

“I’ve been paging you for two days,” Arlene said in an irritated voice. “I found your pager number on the bulletin board

in the kitchen. I didn’t even know you had a pager, Judith.”

“Ah…Neither did I. I mean, I forgot. But the phones have

been out up here at the lodge and…Never mind, what’s the

problem? Is it Mother?”

“Your mother?” Arlene laughed. “Of course not! Your

mother is wonderful, as always. She had such a nice time

going to Mass and out to breakfast with us. She said you

never took her for rides in the snow any more.”

Judith’s head was spinning. Gertrude hadn’t attended Mass

for almost three years, claiming that she was too feeble. She

managed, however, to get to her bridge club meetings around

the hill and occasionally, to the church itself for a bingo

session. Judith considered her mother a fraud.

“It’s snowing at home?” Judith inquired. “I don’t usually

drive in the snow.”

“It doesn’t bother Carl,” Arlene declared. “But of course

we’re midwesterners and know how to handle it. Now tell

me, Judith, how do I get into your computer program for

future reservations? I’ve been doing them all by hand.”

“The computer!” Judith felt giddy. “That’s all?”

“All?” Arlene sounded irked. “I can’t get into the cancellation program, either, and there have been several of those,

what with this bad weather and people being so timid about

getting around in it. Honestly, you’d think that just because

the planes have been grounded and some of the roads are

closed and the metro buses have been taken off their runs…”

Judith and Renie exchanged startled looks. “How much

snow is there, Arlene?” Judith interrupted.

“Mm…Two feet? Your statue of St. Francis in the backyard

is completely covered. The poor birds have nowhere to land.”

“Oh, my. That’s quite a lot of snow for us in town,”

238 / Mary Daheim

Judith said. “Okay, let me tell you how to get into those

programs…” She jiggled a bit in the chair, fighting off nature’s

urges. When she had finished her instructions, most of which

required questions from Arlene, Judith asked if Joe was home.

“Poor Joe.” Arlene’s voice dropped a notch. “Poor man.

Poor soul. He’s fine,” she added on a far more chipper note.

Accustomed to her friend and neighbor’s peculiar contradictions, Judith grimaced only slightly. “Is he home? Can I

talk to him?”

“No. Yes. I must run, Judith. I’ve got a million things to

do, since Carl and I are leaving next week for…”

“Wait! Do you mean he’s home but I can’t talk to him or

he’s not home and I can…That is, I can’t…”

“He’s at work,” Arlene broke in. “He’s been at work since

the snow started Saturday during the night. He got called in

late Friday on a very big case. Then he got stuck downtown.

It’s really terrible here, Judith. We’re completely marooned.”

“But…you said…” Realizing it was pointless to argue, Judith sighed. “Okay, Arlene. Thanks for all your help. We

may be able to get out of here by tomorrow. It’s melting

fairly fast.”

“Not here,” Arlene said. “The wind changed last night,

coming from the south. We got another four inches, with

more coming tonight. Take care, and say hello to Serena.”

Arlene rang off.

Judith stared at Renie. “The phone works. Who shall we

call?”

“The bathroom?” Renie said with a quirky little smile.

“I forgot about that,” Judith admitted. “I can wait. Let’s

start with the police.”

“Which police? As I recall,” Renie said dryly, “that was

our first obstacle.”

“My police,” Judith responded, punching in digits. “At least

Joe will be able to tell us who we should contact.”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 239

“Oh, God!” Renie cried. “Are you going to tell him about

our body count?”

“I have to,” Judith said, then held up a hand as someone

answered at the other end. “Joe Flynn, please…He’s not?

But I thought…Oh…Oh, I see. All right. Yes, please have

him call me at this number. This is his wife.” Judith replaced

the receiver. “Joe didn’t get stuck downtown,” she said to

Renie. “He and Woody are out in that snazzy neighborhood

between downtown and the lake. That’s where their victim

was found.”

Renie recognized the neighborhood. “They’ve got tons of

little hills and short, narrow streets,” she said. “It’s not as

steep as Heraldsgate Hill, but it’d be really difficult navigating

in the snow.”

“At least Joe’s in a classy part of town,” said Judith, and

then she laughed, a rueful sound. “I guess he’s stuck with a

stiff, too.” Suddenly, she jumped out of her chair. “The

bathroom! We’ve got to get to the bathroom!”

“So you mentioned,” Renie smirked. “How about using

that wastebasket?”

Judith stared at Renie. “I don’t mean that,” she responded,

going to the door. “Help!” she screamed. “Help! Help!”

“What in the…?” But Renie was at her side, pounding on

the heavy pine panels.

The cousins were almost hoarse by the time Margo and

Gene came to the rescue. “We thought the yelling came from

outside,” Margo said. “What’s wrong?”

“Outside?” Judith blinked at Margo. “No, it was us.”

Their captors didn’t argue when Judith and Renie asked

to be locked up in their own room. They needed access to a

bathroom and also wouldn’t mind if someone brought them

a couple of sandwiches. After escorting the cousins upstairs,

Margo and Gene promised to deliver food.

“You didn’t tell them the phone worked,” Renie said after

the cousins were alone. “How come?”

“Because,” Judith explained, scurrying into the bath- 240 / Mary Daheim

room, “I wanted to stall for time. Obviously, the OTIOSE

gang was in the dining room when the phone rang and they

didn’t hear the kitchen extension.”

“So what good does it do us?” asked Renie. “Now we’re

shut up in here.”

“With a much simpler lock,” Judith called out over the

flushing of the toilet. “The only problem is, we don’t have

access to a phone on this floor. I forgot about that.”

“Crazy,” Renie muttered. “What did you mean when you

said ‘bathroom’?”

Judith was washing her hands. “What? I can’t hear you.”

“Never mind.” Renie collapsed onto the bed and lit a cigarette. “I’m sure I’ll find out.”

Judith entered the bedroom. “I’m glad Mother is okay. It

sounds as if I’ll lose some money with the cancellations, but

I can’t do anything about that. And, as usual, Arlene is

coping very well.”

“It’s a good thing this is a three-day weekend,” Renie

pointed out. “Bill doesn’t have to teach and nobody has to

work. Maybe by Tuesday, things will get back to normal.”

A knock sounded at the door. Ava and Max had arrived

with chicken salad sandwiches, chips, and the carrot and

celery sticks Judith had cut up early Friday morning. Only

two days had passed since then, but to Judith, it felt like

much more.

The cousins thanked Max and Ava, who both seemed extremely subdued. “How’s everyone doing?” Judith asked, her

usual compassion surfacing.

“Lousy,” Max retorted. “Honest to God, we have this sense

of impending doom.”

“But Max,” Ava said, giving his sleeve a little tug, “it is

melting. By tomorrow morning, I’ll bet we can get out of

here.”

“Tomorrow’s a long way off,” Max replied in a grim voice.

“I won’t go to my room tonight. I’ll stay up, and insist that

everybody else does, too. We can take turns

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 241

sleeping on those sofas in the lobby. Three on guard duty,

three catching some Z’s. The buddy system was a bust.”

“That’s because we’re not used to doing things in pairs,”

Ava pointed out, then turned to the cousins. “I mean, we’re

executives, we’re used to being independent and going our

separate ways.”

“No teamwork, huh?” said Renie. “Every man—sorry, every

person—for him or herself.”

“Well,” Ava said lamely, “we do tend to think mostly in

terms of our own departments. You have to. Otherwise,

you’d get shortchanged on personnel, budget, even floor

space and office equipment.”

“Don’t I know it?” Max muttered, starting back into the

corridor. “As Frank would say, you have to chart your own

course.”

“But he also says we have to row together,” Ava countered,

following Max down the hall. “When you’re at the top, like

Frank is, you can see the big…”

Renie closed the door. “I can’t stand another word of that

crap,” she declared. “They’ve got dead bodies all over the

place, the company may be in ruins, they’re all scared out

of their wits—and they still talk the corporate line. It’s sickening.”

Judith wasn’t really listening to Renie. After taking a couple

of bites of her sandwich, she asked her cousin to make sure

the coast was clear in the corridor.

Renie opened the door again. “They’re gone. So what?”

Judith gave Renie a baleful look. “They didn’t lock the

door. Either Max and Ava don’t think we’re dangerous, or

they know we’re not. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Renie was looking blank.

“The bathroom, remember?” Judith breezed past her

cousin.

“What bathroom? I thought you—oh, never mind.” Renie

trotted behind Judith as they covered the length of the corridor until they reached Leon’s room.

In the struggle to get Killegrew and Russell out of the

242 / Mary Daheim

room and away from Nadia’s corpse, no one had thought

to lock Leon’s door, either. Judith marched right inside,

though Renie lingered briefly on the threshold.

“How many times do we have to view the body?” Renie

asked.

“Avert your eyes,” Judith called over her shoulder as she

went into the bathroom. “At least they already moved Andrea

upstairs.”

With a sigh of resignation, Renie followed. Judith was

pushing back the nylon shower curtain.

“Don’t tell me…” Renie began with a gasp.

Judith shook her head. “No body. Just…the files.”

Several folders covered the empty tub. Judith picked them

up, handing the first batch to Renie. “They had to be somewhere,” Judith said. “It dawned on me that along with Andrea, Nadia knew Barry Newcombe fairly well. Let’s say that

Barry was privy to some of the items in Andrea’s private

files. He worked for her, didn’t he?”

Renie nodded. “Barry might have snooped. Clerks often

do.”

“Okay. So Barry might have passed something juicy on to

someone else. Why not Nadia? Since he was in the business

of bartering gossip, she’d be a likely client because she’d

know what was happening on the executive floor. Let’s say

Nadia got an inkling that more was to come—except Barry

never got the chance to pass the rest of it on. In the normal

course of events at work, Nadia couldn’t get at Andrea’s

private files. But once Andrea was dead, Nadia seized an

opportunity. That must be who Max saw in the corridor

Friday night. Nadia must have beaten him to the punch by

just a few minutes.”

Renie was looking skeptical. “How did Nadia know Andrea

had those files with her?”

Judith waved a hand. “Andrea was dropping hints, especially about the hooker files. I suspect she was passing tidbits

on to the others as well. Gene and Russell and even

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 243

Nadia were being clobbered with some of that data. It had

to come from somewhere.”

The files were somewhat damp, but otherwise appeared

to be intact. The cousins gathered up the folders and hurried

back to their own room, and this time, they locked the door

from the inside.

“The hooker file!” Renie cried. “It’s right on top!”

“Good,” Judith responded, fingering the tabs on the other

folders. “There are files for each of the conferees, including

Andrea. Does that strike you as odd?”

Renie, however, shook her head. “I’ll bet it’s full of stuff

she heard people say about her. Not true necessarily, but

potentially damaging.”

“Corporate paranoia and skullduggery never cease to amaze

me,” Judith marveled. “Shall we start with Ward? He’s first.”

On a gray, wet January afternoon, what little light there

was began to die away shortly after three o’clock. The cousins

had to turn on the bedside lamps before they completed the

dossiers on Ward, Gene, Nadia, Russell, Max, Margo, Leon,

Ava, and Andrea’s own much slimmer folder. Judith and

Renie had learned very little that they hadn’t already heard.

“So what if Ava had had a youthful, unhappy marriage

before she left Samoa?” Renie shrugged. “Russell collects

dead bugs. Big deal. Margo supposedly slept with everybody.

Naturally, Andrea would want to believe that. Ward’s wife

was an albatross. Andrea had fingered Max for running the

hooker ring. No surprise there, either. I’m getting bored.”

“Leon was devoted to his mother,” Judith said, flipping

through the chief financial officer’s file. “He was very secretive

about his personal and his professional life. Obviously, the

latter was a sore point with Andrea. She’s written a note on

this one page that says, ‘Why can’t he tell me?’ ‘Me’ is underlined three times.”

“They were sleeping together,” Renie said. “Like most

244 / Mary Daheim

women, she probably felt they shouldn’t have secrets from

each other. Like most men, Leon may not have agreed.”

Judith looked up from the file. “There’s a page missing.”

“How can you tell?” Renie inquired. “Most of the entries

are fragmentary.”

“Not all of them.” Judith tapped what appeared to be the

last page in the folder. “Andrea has written what must have

been the equivalent of a teenaged girl’s diary. She goes on

at length about some staff meeting and an independent audit

and how Leon stood up to Frank and refused to be badgered

and acted like—I quote—‘ a real man.’ Then she writes that

Frank brought up the audit later…and that’s it. The sentence

stops, and the last page starts in mid-sentence about how

much Leon liked the annual report cover with the photo of

the sun setting behind the microwave tower.”

“It was a cliché shot, though,” Renie said. “I did some of

the interior graphics for that report and…Whoa! That’s the

end of Leon’s file?”

Judith nodded. “That’s it. Why?”

“Because that was last year’s annual report.” Renie

frowned, then started looking through some of the other

files. “Coz, this is weird. Check the last pages of the other

folders. See if you can tell when the final entries were made.”

Surprisingly, Andrea had been haphazard about dating

her material. Still, Judith could find nothing more recent than

the previous January.

“That’s very strange,” Judith remarked. “Why would she

stop keeping her personal files a year ago?”

Renie had no explanation. “We haven’t gone through

Frank’s,” she pointed out. “Let’s see if his file ends abruptly,

too.”

Frank Killegrew’s file was thicker than the others. He’d

been born in Molt, Montana, served as a U.S. Army Ranger

in Korea, attended Montana School of Mines in Butte, and

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 245

gone to work for Mountain States Telephone Company in

Helena. His mother’s name was given as Kate Killegrew; no

father was listed. Instead, there was a picture of a cat sitting

on the roof of a house, and a notation that read, “Ha Ha!”

“What does that mean?” Renie demanded.

Judith smirked. “What it shows.” Her dark eyes glittered.

“Frank was born in a cat house. No wonder he’s ashamed

of his origins.”

“Woo-woo,” Renie said under her breath. “That’s funny.”

“No, it’s not.” Judith, who had flipped through the rest of

the pages, suddenly turned serious. “Well, maybe it is, but

the unfunny part is that Frank’s file stops long before last

year. There’s nothing after his years with the Bell System.”

Renie grabbed the folder out of Judith’s lap. “You’re right,”

she said in wonder. “There’s no mention of OTIOSE.”

Rubbing at her temples, Judith got up from the bed and

looked out the window. The rain continued to come down,

a steady sheet with no hint of wind to shift the dark clouds.

“The snow’s still melting…”

Judith screamed. Renie ran to join her cousin.

There was a man at the window, and he was holding a

high-powered rifle.

EIGHTEEN

JUDITH AND RENIE flattened themselves against the wall,

hopefully out of the line of fire. “What do you want?” Judith

cried, finally finding both her courage and her voice.

In answer, the man slammed the butt of the rifle into one

of the smaller panes. Glass shattered onto the floor. Judith

and Renie held onto each other, both shaking like leaves.

The man, who was on the top rung of a tall aluminum extension ladder, reached through the broken pane and tried to

unlatch the window. Judith looked around for something to

hit at his fumbling fingers, but there was nothing within

reach. The window opened, and the man scrambled into the

room. Raindrops and wet snow flew in every direction.

“What’s going on?” he demanded in a rough voice.

Judith blinked several times. The man wore a heavy parka

over ski pants, and rested the rifle butt on the floor next to

his all-weather boots. He had a gray beard and a weathered

face, but wasn’t much taller than Judith.

“Who are you?” Judith asked in a faint voice.

The intruder’s initial reaction was hostile, then he frowned

at the cousins. “Mannheimer, who else?”

“Mannheimer?” Judith echoed the name. “Do we know

you?”

246

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 247

“Hell, no.” Mannheimer shook off the moisture that had

accumulated on his person. “Rudy Mannheimer, Mountain

Goat Lodge caretaker. Who the hell are you?”

“The caterers,” Judith replied, stretching the truth a bit.

“We got marooned. Where have you been?”

Mannheimer gestured with his head, causing the hood of

his parka to slip down and reveal overlong gray hair. “Back

at my place. Where else?”

“Um…Nowhere,” Judith said. “That is, the weather’s been

terrible. Ah…Why are you here now? I thought you had

orders to stay away.”

Mannheimer lowered his head, as if to charge the cousins.

Instead, he answered the question in his ragged, jerky voice.

“It’s my job, dammit. Orders can change. Like when a blizzard hits. Guests are still my responsibility. Safety first.

Couldn’t get through since Friday. The first floor’s still

snowed in. I saw a light up here. I thought I’d give it a try.”

“You might have asked first,” said Renie, her usual spunk

returning. “You didn’t have to break the blasted window.”

Mannheimer snorted. “You’re not real friendly. So tell me.

Is everything okay?”

“Oh, brother!” Renie twirled around, holding her head.

“Actually, it’s not,” Judith said with regret. “There’s been

some…trouble.”

“Trouble?” Mannheimer’s close-set blue eyes bulged. “What

kind of trouble? Frank doesn’t like trouble.”

“You know Mr. Killegrew?” Judith asked in surprise.

Mannheimer flipped the rifle from one hand to the other.

“Sure. We go way back. To Korea. Same platoon. So what’s

up?” Mannheimer glowered at the cousins.

“I think,” Judith said in an unusually high voice, “you ought

to talk to Frank. He’ll tell you.”

“So where is he?” Mannheimer’s head swiveled, as if he

expected Killegrew to pop out from behind the bathroom

door.

248 / Mary Daheim

“Downstairs,” Judith answered promptly. “Go ahead, we’ll

stay here.” She gave Mannheimer a phony smile.

“Okay.” The caretaker headed for the door, the rifle now

cradled in his arms. He paused on the threshold, unlocking

the door the cousins had secured behind them. “Don’t worry.

I’ll fix that window. It’s my job.” Mannheimer left.

Renie sat back down on the bed. “I wouldn’t mind hearing

what happens when Frank tells Mannheimer what’s been

going on.”

“And so you shall,” Judith said, moving to the door. “Give

him a minute to get downstairs.”

The cousins used the back stairs. They tiptoed through the

kitchen, down the hall, and edged toward the lobby. Judging

from the sound of Frank Killegrew’s voice, the OTIOSE

contingent had regrouped in the game room.

“…real brave of you, Rudy,” Judith heard Killegrew say to

the caretaker. “What are our chances of getting out of here?”

Mannheimer must have been standing further away. His

response was muffled. “Melting…trouble…what…?”

Killegrew’s laugh was forced. “You might say we’ve had

some nasty accidents. The blizzard, the heavy rains, the

avalanche warnings.” He laughed again. “Then you get into

stress and tensions and all sorts of heavy seas that can rock

the boat. Not to worry, Rudy, old man, we’re managing.”

“Frank!” Judith recognized Margo’s anguished cry.

“He has to know.” Gene’s voice could barely be distinguished.

“I don’t like this,” Russell muttered. “He has a gun.”

“What Rudy needs is a drink,” Killegrew declared. “Come

on, let’s adjourn to the lobby. I wouldn’t pass up a stiff shot

of Scotch myself.”

Judith heard voices muttering and feet shuffling. The

sounds died away. “Let’s cut back through the kitchen and

listen from the dining room,” Judith whispered.

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 249

Just as they entered the kitchen, the phone rang. Renie

sprang for it, catching the receiver before the final “brrng”

stopped.

“Joe!” Renie cried. “Thank God! Here, I’ll let you talk to

Judith!”

Judith suddenly felt close to tears. “Where are you? Arlene

said…Never mind, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it is now,” Joe replied, though he sounded harried.

“Woody and I finally got somebody with a four-wheel drive

to get us out of that place by the lake. What’s going on with

you? Are you stranded up there?”

“Yes,” Judith answered. “It’s raining, though. Maybe we

can get out tomorrow.” She took a deep breath. “Meanwhile,

there’s something you should know.”

“If it’s about that body you found, forget it,” Joe said,

sounding increasingly irritable. “The deputy chief talked to

some bozo or some bimbo up there Friday, and that accidental death you mentioned isn’t our problem. Have them call

the park service. They have jurisdiction.”

“Oh. That’s good. I’ll tell them right away.” Judith took

another deep breath. “While we’re on the subject, I should

come clean about…”

“Clean? Sorry, somebody’s trying to talk to me at this end.

Hold on.” Joe must have put his hand over the receiver; Judith could hear only muffled voices. “Yeah, I need clean underwear,” he said, coming back on the line. “Your goofy

cleaning woman didn’t come Friday because she was afraid

it would snow. I couldn’t find any dark socks yesterday.

Where does she put the clean stuff after it comes out of the

dryer?”

Judith always marveled at her husband’s inability to find

any of his belongings, even when they were right under his

nose. Or, as had occasionally happened, in his hands.

“Phyliss,” she said, referring to her daily help, “keeps three

separate baskets in the basement. The blue one is for the

B&B laundry, the green is for our personal linens and tow- 250 / Mary Daheim

els, and she puts our clothes in the yellow one. They should

all be lined up by the washer and dryer, which, in case you’ve

forgotten, is in the basement laundry room.”

“Hey!” Joe barked. “What’s with the sarcasm? I not only

get called in on a weekend, I get stuck with a stiff in a house

that hardly has any food in it. Plus, I have to share a bed

with the M.E. who snores like a steam engine and smells

like…well, like an M.E. Woody was smart—he grabbed one

of the twin beds in the master bedroom.”

“Why didn’t you take the other one?” Judith asked.

“Because the stiff was lying on it.” Joe sounded as if he

were gnashing his teeth.

“Oh.” Judith’s urge to tell Joe about the other murders

faded. “I’m sorry about that. Really. Will you be able to get

home?”

“I don’t know.” Joe now sounded glum. “Even with fourwheel drive, it’s almost impossible to get up Heraldsgate

Hill in snow this deep.”

“Maybe we’ll both be home by tomorrow,” Judith said

with what she hoped was optimism.

“Maybe.” Joe obviously wasn’t convinced. “I’ve got to go.

There’s a pile of paperwork on my desk.”

“Okay. Be careful. Please.”

“Right. You, too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” Joe rang off.

“He’s in a bad mood,” Judith said, replacing the receiver

and looking for the telephone directory, which he finally

found under a turkey roaster.

“He’d be in a worse one if you’d told him about the other

bodies,” Renie pointed out. “Who’d he say to call?”

“The park service.” Judith ran her finger down the listings

under federal government. “Here’s the number.”

Renie’s round face was troubled. “Why you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s their problem.” Renie jerked a thumb over her

shoulder. “Tell them to call. Why get involved?”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 251

“We are involved,” Judith countered. “We’ll be questioned,

we’ll have to give statements.”

“So? Deal with that when the time comes. But for now,

have one of the survivors out there call. Better yet, tell Mannheimer. He’s the caretaker, it’s his job.”

Judith put the receiver back in its cradle. “Okay, I will.

Let’s see how the rest of them are faring.”

They weren’t faring particularly well. Having reopened

the liquor bottles, the distraught OTIOSE executives had

now degenerated into a maudlin state. Frank Killegrew was

feeling very sentimental and was exchanging old war stories

with Rudy Mannheimer, who appeared to have gotten drunk

rather quickly.

“…out on patrol…cold as a well-digger’s…then these gooks

came…” Killegrew’s voice was lost in a maundering mumble.

“Gooks?” Margo sounded indignant, though she lacked her

usual fire. “What kind of language is that?”

“Slopes,” Mannheimer said, his voice thick with whiskey.

“North Korean S.O.B.s. Hell, honey, you’re too young. You

don’t know nothin’.”

Judith and Renie were hiding next to the French doors

that led to the lobby. They could hear, but not see the

speakers.

“Screw Korea,” Max declared. “That was a picnic compared

to ’Nam. Jungle, heat, bugs, civilians loaded with grenades…”

“Bull,” Mannheimer retorted. “You ain’t fought a war till

you freeze your nummies off at Pyongyang.”

“War’s horrible,” Ava said, her voice shaking with conviction. “Killing is horrible. Death is horrible. Life is…horrible.”

The cousins heard footsteps hurrying from the lobby.

“Ava,” Judith breathed. “Let’s head her off.”

Judith and Renie ran back through the dining room, the

kitchen and the laundry room. Down the hall, they could

see Ava getting into the elevator. The cousins raced up the

252 / Mary Daheim

backstairs, arriving just as Ava stepped out onto the second

floor.

“Don’t!” Judith yelled. “Wait!”

Ava ran, too, heading for her room which was two doors

down from the elevator. She nipped inside, but couldn’t close

the door before Judith put a shoulder against the solid pine.

“Stop it, Ava!” Judith commanded. “Let us in! Please! Don’t

do anything else foolish!”

Ava and Judith were about the same size and build. As

each woman put her weight on opposite sides of the door,

it appeared that the younger and more physically fit Ava had

the advantage. But Judith had Renie. The cousins finally

managed to triumph.

Ava turned a ravaged face on her pursuers. “Why do you

want to stop me? It’s none of your business!”

“Yes, it is.” Judith spoke through taut lips. “Unlike the rest

of you, we’re not indifferent to the sufferings of other people.

Besides, OTIOSE got us mixed up in all this. We couldn’t

get out of here free and clear if we wanted to.”

Ava, who had been backing away from the cousins, shook

her head. “I don’t care. It still has nothing to do with you.

Not really. Leave me alone.”

“No.” For emphasis, Judith sat down on one of the twin

beds while Renie closed the door. “Why waste your life? It’s

not worth it. OTIOSE isn’t worth it, and,” Judith went on,

raising her voice, “neither is Frank Killegrew.”

Ava’s dark eyes widened. “It’s not about Frank!” she

shouted.

“Oh, yes it is,” Judith said. “You know it is. It’s always

been about Frank. Given what I’ve come to understand about

the corporate world, it couldn’t be about anybody or anything else.”

“You know?” The words were whispered as Ava collapsed

into one of the armchairs.

Judith nodded. “I didn’t really figure it out until today,

when I saw how Frank reacted to Nadia’s death. He was

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 253

truly devastated. I realized then that Nadia had in fact killed

herself. She’d taken the sleeping pills along with the gin and

committed suicide.”

“No!” Ava covered her face with her hands.

“Yes.” Judith nodded solemnly. “And you were about to

do the same thing. How, Ava? With a broken glass to slash

your wrists?”

Slowly, Ava’s hands fell away. “How did you guess?”

“There aren’t any more lethal medications around—that I

know of—and I didn’t think you could wrest Margo’s gun

away from her. You might have had better luck with Mannheimer’s rifle, though it would have caused a scene.” Judith

paused, waiting for Ava to regain some measure of calm.

“Do me a favor, will you? May I see your neck?”

Ava’s hands flew to the big collar of her blue sweater. “Oh!

How…? You couldn’t have…” She saw the determination

on Judith’s face and slowly pulled the collar down to reveal

dark bruises.

Judith nodded. “When you loaned me your clothes, you

insisted that I take the red outfit, which had a much lowercut neckline than either the blue one you’re wearing now or

the green one you wore earlier. It was a small but curious

point. Then I remembered that Friday, in the conference

room, Renie and I overheard something. We thought it was

lovemaking, but that was far from the truth. You were being

strangled by the same person who killed the others. At that

point, you suspected that Barry Newcombe was dead even

though we hadn’t yet found the body. You had a good idea

about who had killed him. Tell me, Ava, how did you get

Frank Killegrew to stop?”

For a long, tense moment Ava didn’t answer. At last she

got up and went to the honor bar where she took out a can

of fruit juice. “I told him OTIOSE couldn’t survive without

me. That meant he couldn’t survive, either.” Ava turned a

dreary face to the cousins, then sat down again. “I had my

informants, I not only knew the changes OTIOSE would

254 / Mary Daheim

have to make in the future, but what WaCom and many of

the other companies planned to do to beat the competition.

Most of all, I could accomplish these goals for OTIOSE. I’d

also learned about the pending WaCom merger, and while

I didn’t tell him outright then, I’d hinted that it might come

up soon. Frank realized I was indispensable.” Ava made a

rueful face.

“None of the old-line telephone types have my background

in computers,” she continued. “Russell deals with ideas for

applications and products, what customers need and want,

rather than the actual means of making these things possible

through technology. Frank’s never understood the whole

computer concept—he’s still living in the sixties. Anyway,

he tried to pass off his attack as a fit of temper. Maybe he

heard you outside the conference room—I had no idea anyone was there, I was too horrified. But something suddenly

stopped him. That was when he promised me Ward’s job.”

Renie, who had settled into the other armchair, nodded.

“A bribe. But what about Ward?”

Ava leaned her head back in the chair. “The implication

was that Ward would succeed to the corner office. But I knew

better. Frank wasn’t going anywhere, he had no intention

of retiring. His whole scheme was to get the by-laws changed

and stay on for at least another five years. Frank, you see,

couldn’t let go of OTIOSE. It was his company, he’d founded

it, he’d staked everything he had on its survival.”

“And something he didn’t have,” Judith said wryly. “Money.

He’d used his wife’s fortune to bankroll OTIOSE, hadn’t

he? Is that why Patrice was going to divorce him?”

Ava sighed. “I’m not sure about that. Andrea and Patrice

were rather close. They’d gotten together several times lately,

apparently so Patrice could vent her rage.”

Judith thought back to Andrea’s daily planner noting the

luncheon and dinner dates with the boss’s wife. Though

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 255

Patrice Killegrew was a shadowy figure, Judith could imagine

the woman’s fury.

Ava continued. “Andrea told me that Patrice only recently

discovered how little money she had left. Mrs. Killegrew was

the kind of corporate wife who did nothing for herself. A

housekeeper, cook, maid, chauffeur—the whole bit, including,

of course, financial advisors to handle her fortune. The Killegrews could afford all the help they wanted, because in the

beginning, they relied on her wealth, and later, when Frank

became a CEO, his base salary was around three hundred

thousand a year. But Patrice’s mistake was letting Frank hire

the advisors in the first place. In effect, he handled her

money, and ended up robbing her blind. When she found

out—I think it was at the end of the year when she actually

got off her elegant behind to talk to their accountant—she

went crazy. Patrice couldn’t bear to be poor. It was one thing

to have Frank be unfaithful to their marriage, it was something else for him to steal from her. I guess she threw him

out.”

“I guess she did,” Judith said. “We found some notes Nadia

had written to herself. There were references to someone

moving. It wasn’t her—she’d lived forever in an apartment

above downtown, and still did, according to the address on

the sleeping pill prescription. Thus, I assumed that Frank

was the one who was moving, and the logical conclusion

was that his wife had given him the thumb. He also had an

appointment with a law firm that specializes in divorce. Gene

knew about that, didn’t he?”

Ava, who had taken a sip of her juice, looked startled.

“Yes, I told him. How did you guess?”

Judith gave a modest shrug. “The slip of paper I mentioned

that belonged to Nadia had been left in the women’s restroom on purpose. I thought at first it was used to jam your

stall. You recall that I asked how long you were in the bathroom?” Seeing Ava nod, Judith went on. “Then it occurred

to me that someone had purposely put the note on

256 / Mary Daheim

the floor of the restroom. It needn’t have been a woman. My

guess was Gene, because he’s an attorney and would realize

the significance of Frank’s appointment with Hukle, Hukle,

and Huff. Gene wanted everyone to know that Frank’s marriage was on the rocks, but because he’s such a cautious man,

he felt compelled to act in a covert manner.”

Ava looked impressed. “My God, I didn’t realize we’d

hired a sleuth as a caterer!”

Judith eschewed the compliment—if indeed that was what

had been intended. “Identifying the killer shouldn’t have

been too hard. In fact, I’m kicking myself for being so slow.

Everything pointed to Frank all along. But so many bits and

pieces only fell into place in the past few hours. Like Rudy

Mannheimer.”

“Rudy?” Renie and Ava both echoed the name, like a shrill

Greek chorus.

“That’s right,” Judith replied. “Frank’s personnel records

showed he was a Ranger in Korea. That was the old name

for Special Forces, which utilizes all sorts of dirty tricks, including a garrote. Sad to say, the Rangers were trained to

be ruthless killers. In fact, if I recall correctly, they themselves

suffered tremendous casualties in Korea. I suppose some of

them never quite got over the killer instinct—and the fear of

being killed.”

“Paranoia?” Renie put in. “Or self-defense? Bill would say

that in cases like Frank’s, where killing is not only legal, but

condoned by…”

“A bit of both,” Judith interrupted hastily before Renie

could go off on one of her tangents. “But we digress. Frank

used to be in partnership with the previous owners of

Mountain Goat Lodge. He and Rudy go back to Korea. Rudy

seems like an odd duck, and I can’t help but wonder if Frank

didn’t get him the job up here. If so, Rudy’s in his debt. I

also wonder if Rudy knew about Barry Newcombe but kept

his mouth shut. It wouldn’t surprise me if Rudy Mannheimer

helped hide Barry’s body. Still, I don’t

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 257

think it will be easy to get Rudy to open up.”

“Barry,” Ava murmured. “It’s strange how we keep forgetting him.”

“Not really,” Judith said with a touch of irony. “Barry

wasn’t in upper management. That made him a nonperson.

But last year when he was hired as caterer, this whole series

of tragic events was set in motion. Barry must have swiped

Andrea’s private personnel files. I’ve no idea what he intended to do with them—blackmail, perhaps? Or just a bit of

clout to get some financial support to start his own catering

business?”

“I don’t know.” Ava’s response seemed candid. “I wasn’t

lying when I said I didn’t know Barry very well.”

“Whatever the reason,” Judith continued, “it was a terrible

mistake on his part. He must have told Frank, who looked

at the files and saw certain things that could never be made

public. Barry might not have recognized their significance,

but Frank did, especially the part—which has turned up

missing—about using Patrice’s personal funds to help set up

the company. Leon Mooney knew all about it, he had to as

chief financial officer, and no doubt altered the books under

duress. But Barry had signed his own death warrant. Everyone knew he was a notorious gossip and wouldn’t hesitate

to barter his juicy tidbits. Unlike Andrea and Leon and the

rest of you, Barry couldn’t be manipulated by threats of losing a prestigious position. So Frank killed Barry and hid his

body by the creek. He also hid the files there.”

Renie’s head swiveled. “What? You never told me that!”

Judith gave her cousin an apologetic look. “Sorry. It didn’t

dawn on me until you mentioned that I should piddle in the

library wastebasket. Then I remembered you found an empty

plastic garbage bag in Andrea’s wastebasket. Why would

she have such a thing? It was incongruous. Andrea wasn’t

the type to carry her belongings in a garbage bag. But more

to the point—why had we uncovered Barry’s

258 / Mary Daheim

body so easily? The answer had to be because someone had

already been rooting around in the snow by the ice cave.

Frank had disturbed the hiding place earlier in the day when

he went to retrieve the files.” Judith gazed at Ava. “But you

already knew that. That’s why Frank tried to strangle you.”

Ava nodded. “I saw him go out to the creek. I couldn’t

figure out what he was doing, so I followed him partway.

He was digging around in the snow, and then he had

something in his hands—the garbage bag—and I kept

watching while he tried to cover up the place where he’d

been searching. Suddenly I had this sinking feeling. Since

we’d only arrived an hour earlier, I knew whatever Frank

had found must have been there much longer. Like from last

year. I thought about Barry, and after our afternoon meeting,

I confronted Frank. That’s when he tried to kill me.”

Renie looked stunned. “That was terribly risky, Ava. Why

didn’t you wait until you were back in town?”

Ava’s fingers twisted around the juice can. “I don’t know.

I felt compelled to act. Maybe I thought Frank would confess

and turn himself in and that would be that. In retrospect, it

was a very stupid thing to do.”

“You’re right.” Renie grew thoughtful. “I suppose Frank

originally intended to leave the files there with the body, but

realized he could use them against the others. That’s why

there were no entries for an entire year.”

“That’s right,” Judith agreed. “Those files took on a life of

their own. I suspect Frank planted them in Andrea’s room

after he killed her. Then Nadia stole them—or Frank did

later. Either way, they were meant to be found. Ward and

Leon’s vacancies on the board would have to be filled,

probably by Gene—and you.” Judith inclined her head at

Ava.

Ava gingerly touched the bruises on her neck. “So any dirt

about us could be used to coerce us into changing the bylaws. And Leon was killed because he knew how Frank had

bankrolled the company. But Ward…He was so loyal

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 259

to Frank. Surely he’d have gone along with Frank’s wishes

not to retire.”

Judith offered Ava a sad little smile. “Maybe so. But Frank

had promised you Ward’s job. Ward had to go.”

In distress, Ava ran her fingers through her long black

hair. “That’s what I was afraid of. Everything suddenly

crashed in on me this afternoon. I couldn’t work for a murderer. And I felt guilty, too. You’re right—Ward’s blood is

on my hands.”

“You put your career ahead of justice,” Renie said quietly.

“I’m afraid it’s true—lives might have been saved if you’d

acted sooner.”

Ava dropped her hands into her lap. “It’s like tunnel vision

up there on the executive floor. They talk about career

pathing. It’s literal. You travel down that path and you never

look left or right. All you see is that title or that salary or

those perks at the end of the tunnel. Nothing else matters.

It’s horrible when you stop to think about it.”

A silence followed, as Ava wrestled with her special

demons. Renie finally spoke up, breaking the tension. “What

about Andrea? Why kill her?”

“Because,” Judith said, “she not only knew he’d fleeced

Mrs. Killegrew, but that Leon had been forced to juggle the

books. There was a missing page in her private files that

followed a discussion of an independent audit. I suspect that

page—which Frank destroyed—contained incriminating information about Frank’s financial dealings. He burned that

page—probably along with Leon’s own records—in Leon’s

room. He couldn’t do it right after he killed Leon in the kitchen because Andrea was waiting in Leon’s room. When we

noticed the fire in the grate this afternoon, at first we thought

the entire set of folders had been destroyed. Then we realized

there weren’t enough ashes. So what else had to go? The

phrase Mooney’s money came to mind. Someone had mentioned it, and it stuck. Money is always a serious motive

when it comes to murder. It dawned on me that the real

financial records had been burned, as op- 260 / Mary Daheim

posed to the fraudulent ones that Leon had been forced to

make public.”

“Good grief.” Ava had paled and was holding her head.

“How did Frank think he could get away with it?”

Judith uttered a bitter little laugh. “Frank thought he could

get away with anything. His corner office mentality made

him believe he was different from other people, that he was

above the law, that he could do anything he wanted because

he was a CEO. Oh, I realize not all powerful people go on

a homicide spree. But they kill in other ways—they demean

their subordinates, they stifle them, they control them—and

often, they fire them. You can destroy other human beings

without violence. In the isolated corner office, someone like

Frank becomes so disassociated that he lives in a different

world, a false world where the only values are the ones he

makes up.”

Renie nodded slowly in agreement. “Not only that, but

he’d invested his entire life in OTIOSE. Oh, he may have

had a boat and played golf, but those were just extensions

of his executive persona. Unlike other people—like my husband and my cousin’s husband—he had nothing outside of

his exalted position. He was a shell of a man, hollow inside,

and incapable of living anywhere but in the corporate world.

When reality touched him in the form of retirement, he went

over the edge. As my psychologist husband would say, Frank

Killegrew…went nuts.”

“My God!” Ava clapped a hand to her cheek. “Will I be

like that? Am I already there?”

“Let’s hope not,” said Renie. “You’re still young. This

weekend, you’ve seen how corporate thinking can cause total

devastation. Follow Margo’s example—get out before it’s

too late.”

Ava didn’t respond. She seemed to sink into deep thought,

her eyes on the brightly striped rug beneath her feet.

“My cousin’s right,” Judith chimed in. “It was too late for

Nadia, which is why she killed herself. She had nothing

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 261

but Frank—and OTIOSE. That was her family, her gang,

where she belonged. She was utterly devoted to him, as much

as any wife is to a husband. In fact, she acted just like an

old-fashioned wife, waiting on him, fetching and carrying,

soothing, selfless. If his horrible schemes were uncovered—as

Nadia knew they would be—he’d face disgrace and ruin.

He’d go to prison, and she’d lose him. Nadia couldn’t bear

that. Nor could she face what might happen to OTIOSE,

which was her real home. Don’t make the same mistake as

Nadia did, Ava. Find a life—a real life—while you still have

the chance.”

Ava was still staring at the carpet. “I have no family here.

Everyone is in Samoa. But I have some friends outside the

company. Maybe I could start to…” Her voice trailed off.

“We need your help,” Judith said abruptly. “We have to

trap Frank.”

Ava’s head jerked up. “What are you saying? There’s no

evidence? I thought you had…”

Judith slowly shook her head. “We have next to nothing.

These were virtually bloodless crimes. There will be fingerprints, yes, but not just Frank’s. We’ve all been in and out

of the guest rooms, either in groups or as individuals. For

all we know, Frank wore gloves. There may have been a

struggle with Ward—I suspect there was. We found a Bell

System service pin on the floor in his room, which may have

come loose when he tried to fight Frank off. But that doesn’t

prove anything. None of it does. All of his victims trusted

him—he was the boss. I imagine Andrea drank whatever

Frank gave her without a qualm. No doubt he told her it

would be good for her. Whatever Frank said was law. It’s

the way you corporate people think.”

“Good Lord.” Ava took another sip of juice, then rose from

the chair. “What do you want me to do?”

“First,” Judith said, also standing up, “we’re going to call

the park service. Their law enforcement personnel have jurisdiction at Mountain Goat. Then we’re going to restage

262 / Mary Daheim

that little scene with you and Frank in the conference room.

Are you game?”

Ava grasped her throat. “I…I don’t know. It was terrifying

at the time. Just now, before you stopped me, I was about

to…But I really…” She lowered her face into her hands and

began to sob.

Judith bit her lip. Ava, like the rest of the OTIOSE executives, had been stripped of all surface emotions. The weekend

had pared them down to the bone. Judith saw the bruises

on Ava’s throat, and understood how deeply the young woman had been wounded.

“Never mind,” Judith said. “I’ll do it.”

“Whoa!” Renie grabbed her cousin by the arm. “Don’t

you dare! It’s not your fight!”

“Yes, it is,” Judith said grimly. “I threw down the gauntlet.

Let’s go.”

Renie was still arguing when the three women reached the

kitchen. Judith, however, had made up her mind. “I know,

I know. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s…”

“Why you?” Renie demanded. “What about me? I’ve got

the corporate connection. Let me stick my neck out for once.

Literally.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Judith picked up the phone and

dialed the park service number. “Let’s see how fast they can

get here.”

A woman, instead of a recording, answered the park service

phone this time. She sounded flabbergasted when Judith informed her what had happened at Mountain Goat Lodge. It

was clear that she initially thought Judith was playing a

practical joke.

“Look,” Judith said, at her most earnest, “if you send some

of your police personnel, they’ll be able to see the bodies for

themselves. Or is it impossible to get someone into Mountain

Goat until the snow melts some more?”

“Of course it’s not impossible,” the woman huffed. “We

can have someone there within the hour.”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 263

Judith frowned into the receiver. “You can? But the first

floor here is still mostly snowed in.”

“Drifts,” the woman said, not sounding quite as suspicious.

“The lodge is out in the open. There’s no real wind-break.

It’s a problem, all right, but the caretaker and the staff should

have seen to it.”

It was pointless to try to explain that the lodge was offlimits to anyone but the conferees. “So the roads are passable?” Judith inquired.

“For the most part,” the woman responded. “The highway

crews have been working through the weekend. How else,”

she added on a note of exasperation, “do you think the phone

company got through?”

“The phone company?” Judith echoed.

“Yes. I understand they restored telephone service late

yesterday. Didn’t you see or hear them?”

Judith had. Noise. Lights. Laughter. Real phone company

people doing real work. The outsiders had been insiders.

Even as the highly paid OTIOSE executives had created

mayhem at Mountain Goat Lodge, the humble craft technicians had come through. Maybe, Judith thought, the spirit

of service was still alive, even if some of the officers weren’t.

Judith finally convinced the woman to send at least two

park service police officers and a couple of rangers to the

lodge. While still dubious, the woman had finally allowed

that it wouldn’t hurt to check on the situation, but it might

be up to an hour before the personnel arrived at the scene

of the alleged crimes.

“We’ll have to stall a bit,” Judith said to Renie and Ava,

then glanced at the digital clock. It was going on five. “Maybe

we should get dinner.”

“I can’t cook,” Ava declared. “Shall I set the table?”

Before Judith could answer, Margo charged into the kitchen. “Ava! Where have you been? We’ve been worried

sick!”

264 / Mary Daheim

“I’ve been with them,” Ava replied, gesturing at Judith and

Renie. “How’s…everything?”

Margo blinked at the cousins but didn’t question their

liberation. “Awful,” she replied, making a face. “Frank and

that horrid Mannheimer are drunk as skunks. If you ask me,

that caretaker is an alcoholic. Gene and Max have hardly

said a word in the last half-hour, and Russell just stares off

into space.”

Judith frowned. The last thing she wanted was to have

Frank pass out. “We’ll make coffee,” she said quickly. “Ava,

Margo, you start pouring it down all of those men as soon

as it’s ready. And keep them away from the liquor.”

By five-thirty, Margo reported that Frank and Rudy were

still drunk, but in upright positions. Refilling the men’s coffee

mugs, she hurried back to the lobby.

Grimly, Judith turned to Renie. “You’re going to have to

let the park personnel in through the second floor. They can

use Mannheimer’s ladder. I’ll be with Frank in his room.

Remember, it’s opposite ours—the other corner room.”

Renie nodded. “I don’t like this. What if they don’t come?”

Judith grimaced. “Then you’ll have to rescue me.”

“Oh, swell!” Renie twirled around the kitchen, hands

clasped to her head. “How do I do that?”

“With Margo’s gun,” Judith said, pointing to the suede bag

that Margo had left on the counter before carrying out the

coffee refills. “Take it now.”

“Oh, good grief!” Renie reeled some more.

“Do it quick, before she comes back.”

With a big sigh, Renie opened the suede bag and removed

the handgun. “I haven’t fired a gun since my dad took me

target shooting forty-odd years ago. It was up at the family

cabin, and I blew a hole through Uncle Corky’s picnic ham.”

“Better than blowing a hole through Uncle Corky.” Ju- SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 265

dith gazed at the gun. “Is it really loaded?”

Renie checked the chambers. “Yes, ma’am. And so’s Frank.

Now what?”

Judith squared her shoulders. “Now we nail him. This may

be our finest hour.”

She didn’t say that it could also be their last.

NINETEEN

FRANK KILLEGREW WAS sulking. “Sh’almost shix,” he

mumbled. “Who drinksh coffee at shix? Time for martoonis

and shotch. Cocktail time, cockroach hour, cock-a-doodledoo!”

“Chicken if you don’t,” Judith said with forced cheer.

“Frank, I’d like to talk to you for a minute. Do you mind?

Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’m the cock of the walk,” Killegrew declared, trying to

get up off the sofa. “I can do anything I damned well…” He

fell back, but was given a hand by Max.

“There you go, Frank,” Max said. “I think you’ve got a

customer with a complaint. Turn on the service-is-us charm,

okay? You big dumb moron,” Max added under his breath.

“Customer? Complaint?” Glassy-eyed, Killegrew gazed at

Judith. “So what’s the problem, little lady? Not enough lines?

Interference on toll calls? Equipment not up to Western

Electric standards? Well, let me tell you, ever since we started

letting those little yellow people over there in Chinkville build

phones, we’ve had…”

“Frank!” Margo screamed right into the CEO’s ear. “Stop

it! You’re the most bigoted man I ever met!”

“Hey!” Killegrew whirled on Margo. “I hired you, didn’t

I? And Gene and Ava and…and a bunch of

266

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 267

other ethnic types. Get off my back before I fire your scrawny

Asian ass!”

“I already quit!” Margo yelled back. “You’re a disgrace,

Frank! You embarrass everyone, especially yourself!”

“Awww…” Killegrew waved a hand in disgust. “Got to see

what this little lady wants. Need to set things straight. Service, that’s what counts. Where’s m’ slide rule?”

Judith finally got Killegrew into the elevator. She was filled

with doubts about her proposed plan. In the CEO’s current

inebriated state, she wondered if he’d even remember his

terrible crimes, let alone be incited to act in a manner that

would incriminate him.

“I thought,” Judith said in an uncertain voice as they moved

slowly down the second-floor corridor, “we might speak

privately in your room. I’d prefer not to have anyone overhear what I have to say.”

“Privacy,” Killegrew murmured, his speech no longer

slurred. “Confidential. No letters to the editor, no complaints

to the state utilities commission, no calls to the FCC. That’s

the way it ought to be, just one-on-one, as if you were a real

person.”

“Yes,” Judith agreed, though Killegrew’s ramblings weren’t

uppermost in her mind. “Here we go—your room, right?”

“My room. My corner room. My beds. My…stuff.” He

staggered inside, allowing Judith to close the door behind

them.

“Well.” Judith put her hands together in a prayerful attitude. “Do you remember when my cousin and I told you

about our insurance?”

“Insurance?” Killegrew’s expression was puzzled. “Wait a

minute—are you selling insurance?”

Judith shook her head. This wasn’t going to be easy, she

thought. Maybe she had miscalculated. “I’m speaking of the

insurance we have regarding the killer. We know who has

killed all these people, Mr. Killegrew.” She paused,

268 / Mary Daheim

taking a deep breath. “We know it was you.”

Frank Killegrew’s gray eyes narrowed. And then he

laughed. It was a hearty sound, full-bodied and rich. “That’s

good! I killed Andrea and Leon and Ward! That’s damned

good! Ha-ha!”

“You left out Barry.” Judith’s tone was solemn.

“Barry?” Briefly, Killegrew again looked puzzled. “Oh, that

clerk. He was queer. I don’t get it. Why do people want to

be queer?”

Judith wasn’t about to explain homosexuality to Frank

Killegrew. Indeed, she was beginning to think she couldn’t

explain anything to him. “You didn’t kill Nadia,” she said,

hoping to strike close to the heart. “She killed herself because

she couldn’t bear to see what would happen to you when

you were found out. She really loved you, Frank. And, in

your own weird way, I think you loved her.”

“Nadia.” Killegrew spoke the name with a certain reverence.

“What’ll I do without her?”

“Life, with no possibility of parole,” Judith retorted. “You’re

crazy, Frank, drunk on power and prestige.”

Killegrew tipped his head to one side. “Well…I am a little

drunk. But you’re the crazy one.” He held the slide rule in

one hand and tapped it against his leg as his gray eyes

hardened. “Your insurance isn’t worth ten cents. Where’s

your proof?”

With a flash of insight, Judith glanced at the slide rule. “In

your hand. You used that stupid slide rule to garrote Barry

and Ward by twisting the leather thong and the belt around

their necks. Oh, I’ll admit it would be impossible to prove

in court. But circumstantial evidence is admissible, Frank.

You’ll be charged and brought to trial. Any hope you’ve had

of staying on as CEO is doomed. The other members of the

board will vote you out even before you’re due to retire. It’s

over, Frank. You’re cooked.”

“Uh-uh.” Killegrew swung his head from side to side, and

suddenly he looked quite sober. It dawned on Judith

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 269

that maybe the wily CEO hadn’t been drunk in the first place.

“You’re cooked,” Killegrew roared, raising the slide rule and

starting to bring it down on Judith’s head.

Judith ducked, feeling the slide rule cut into the air above

her. Killegrew was a big, powerful man in more ways than

one. Judith knew she couldn’t elude him for very long. Where

were the park rangers?

“Coz!” she yelled as Killegrew swung again and she felt

her hair being ruffled.

The door burst open. Two national park service rangers

stood on the threshold, their weapons drawn. Killegrew

turned around, then dropped the slide rule. “Thank God!”

he shouted. “This woman was trying to kill me!”

“Let’s all calm down,” said the older and taller of the

rangers. “What’s going on here?”

Killegrew moved swiftly to the two men, putting a hand

on each of their shoulders. “Frank Killegrew, president and

CEO of OTIOSE. By God, I’m glad to see you! This woman

is a crazed customer who thinks that Martians have invaded

her telephone system. It happens all the time. Take her away,

boys!”

The taller officer, whose name tag read “R. Westervelt,”

stared at Judith. “Who are you?” Westervelt asked.

“Judith Flynn, the caterer. But I…”

“The caterer!” Killegrew roared with laughter. “You

see—these people will use any excuse to come after the phone

company! My God, we’ve been a target of every crank and

crackpot for years! If your life is all screwed up and you’re

playing with a half a deck, go after the phone company! It’s

an easy target, we’re under government scrutiny! Would you

like to see our nut file? It’s full of people like her!”

Westervelt turned to his partner, a square-built young man

with crinkly red hair. “Nunnally, we’ve got a situation.”

Nunnally nodded. “Didn’t somebody mention bodies?”

270 / Mary Daheim

Returning his gun to its holster, Westervelt looked at Judith. “On the phone, someone referred to possible homicides.

Where are the victims?”

“All over the…” Judith began, but was interrupted by Killegrew.

“Victims? Now, now,” he bellowed, shaking a finger at

Judith who was trying to peer into the hall in hopes of

catching sight of Renie, “that’s an exaggeration, isn’t it?

We’ve had a couple of nasty accidents. Look, fellows,” he

continued, putting an arm around each of the officers, “you

don’t have to get mixed up in this. I’ve already got a call in

to the chief of police in town. He’s flying back from Hawaii,

and he’ll get everything straightened out. We may be on

your turf, but it isn’t really your responsibility. Why make

trouble for yourselves? Eh?” He gave each of the officers a

nudge.

“Well…” Westervelt looked again at Nunnally. “This is

our jurisdiction.”

“So?” Killegrew seemed amused. “You’re in the business

of stolen skis and drunken picnickers and people who pick

wildflowers and attacks by bad-tempered bears. This is phone

company business, big city stuff, and we’ll sort it out with

the chief.” Killegrew winked. “He’s a pal—know what I

mean?”

Westervelt’s long face was a mask of uncertainty.

“That’s…fine, but we still need to check out any complaints…”

“Complaints!” Killegrew threw his head back and roared

with laughter. “That’s it! Complaints! You can’t get half as

many as I do! See here, fellows, we’ll turn this poor soul

over to our p.r. vice president and get everything squared

away. Ms. Chang knows how to handle these people. Now

how about coming down to the lobby and having an adult

beverage or two?”

Westervelt cleared his throat. “Well…sorry, we can’t do

that, sir. We’re on duty. But maybe we should talk to the

others.”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 271

Killegrew slapped Westervelt on the back. “Good idea!

They’ll set you straight.” Halfway to the door he stopped

and turned back to Judith. “What about her? Shouldn’t you

arrest her now before she does something really dangerous?”

The officers exchanged dubious glances. “Well…” Westervelt scratched an ear. “We really should search the lodge

in case the homicide story is true. Meanwhile, are you

pressing charges against this woman, sir?”

“You bet!” Killegrew snapped his fingers. “Assault, attempted murder, whatever it takes! My God, I’m lucky to be

alive!”

Judith bridled. “Wait a minute! This is absurd! He’s the

one who tried to attack me! He’s the one who murdered four

people and caused the death of another one! He’s a maniac,

a psychotic, a man without a conscience!” Frantically, Judith

tried to look out into the hall. Where the hell was Renie?

Killegrew was chuckling indulgently. “You see? She’s raving. They always do. Come on fellows, let’s put this plane

in the hangar. Haul her away, and we’ll keep in touch.”

Killegrew started to leave the room, but Westervelt detained him. “Sir,” Westervelt said in a deferential tone, “hold

on just a minute. We have two other rangers downstairs.

Let’s wait here for them. They can take the prisoner to our

vehicle.”

The CEO rocked impatiently on his heels, the slide rule

protruding from his back pocket. “What?” Killegrew frowned.

“Oh, yes, why not? If there’s been any trouble around here,

she caused it.”

“Shall I cuff her?” Nunnally asked, reaching for his belt

where a pair of handcuffs dangled.

“Well…Okay, that sounds right.” Westervelt gave an ambiguous nod.

“Hey!” Judith put both hands behind her back and re- 272 / Mary Daheim

treated to the window. “This is a terrible mistake! How can

you believe him and not me?”

The officers again looked at each other, but it was Killegrew who spoke. “Because you’re nobody. And I’m OTIOSE!”

“Well…He’s right, you know,” Westervelt said to Judith.

“Mr. Killegrew is a well-known businessman. I’ve even seen

him on TV.”

“You’re darn tootin’,” Killegrew said. “Come on, come on,

let’s get going.”

“But…” Judith felt miserable, frustrated, depleted. Was it

really impossible to combat Frank Killegrew’s corporate

reputation and civic image? Was he actually above the law?

Was Judith really a nobody?

Though Nunnally looked vaguely apologetic, he grasped

Judith by the forearms and forced her to turn around. She

flinched, hearing the click of the handcuffs. But before the

officer could lock them in place, she heard an unexpected,

yet familiar voice call to her.

“Mom!”

“Mike!” Surprise and shock made Judith limp. She gaped

at her son, then turned to the others. “You see?” she said in

a voice that shook with emotion. “I am somebody after all.

I’m his mother.”

Renie, who had been hiding Margo’s gun under a dishtowel to prevent the rightful owner from attacking her, was

right behind Mike. “He’d been told to stay in the lobby with

the others because he’s not a law enforcement ranger,” Renie

explained, tossing the towel aside. “When none of you came

downstairs, I had a heck of a time convincing his partner

that we ought to see what was happening.”

While mother and son embraced, Frank Killegrew

blustered. Judith’s newly found cachet of giving birth to a

park ranger lent her credibility. Nunnally went up to the third

floor to see if there really were bodies stashed in the dormer

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 273

rooms. Westervelt found Nadia lying on Leon’s bed, then

called for backup and several ambulances. Killegrew continued to bluster.

Mike, who had been filled in on the situation by his aunt,

spoke sharply to the CEO. “The less you say, mister, the

better. I may not be a police officer, but at least I know that

much. Stick it, will you? You’re getting on my nerves.”

Killegrew looked astonished. “You! You’re just a punk

kid! Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Mike turned to Renie. “Who’d you say this guy was?”

Judith regarded Killegrew with unconcealed loathing. “He’s

a captain whose ship has been torpedoed. He may not admit

it, but he’s just about to hit rock bottom.”

Renie started to say something, but Killegrew hurled

himself between her and Mike. Wrenching the gun out of

Renie’s hand, he flew into the bathroom. Mike started after

him, but it was too late. A sharp report and a flash of light

stunned them all. Killegrew’s body fell to the floor with a

sickening thud.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Renie whispered, crossing

herself.

“Don’t look,” Mike ordered, and kicked the bathroom door

shut.

Judith had slumped onto one of the twin beds. “I’m…sick,”

she said in a weak voice.

Westervelt and Nunnally came rushing in from the corridor

where they’d been conferring about the carnage the younger

officer had found upstairs. Mike assumed responsibility,

succinctly explaining what had just occurred.

“Maybe he was guilty,” Westervelt said in amazement. “My

God!”

Nunnally offered Judith his apologies. “I’m kind of new

on the job, ma’am, and when you run into some big, important guy like Mr. Killegrew, you tend to…ah…um…”

Judith was trying to pull herself together. “I know, I

274 / Mary Daheim

know. You tend to think he’s right because he’s got a corner

office. Don’t worry, you’ll learn better as you get older.

Power and privilege have absolutely nothing to do with virtue

and goodness.” She turned a wan face to Mike. “Can we get

out of here?”

“Sure.” Mike gave his mother a hand and raised her from

the bed. “You’ll probably have to answer a bunch of questions, though.”

“Not here,” Judith said with a definite shake of her head.

“Anywhere but here. Park headquarters, the ski lodge at the

summit, a gopher hole—I don’t care, just so it’s not here. I

don’t ever want to see this place or what’s left of these people

again.”

Mike grinned, the slightly off-center, engaging expression

that Judith loved so well. “I don’t blame you. It must have

been quite a weekend. Hey, Aunt Renie, would you really

have used that gun if you’d…”

The caterer, the graphic designer, and the park ranger

quickly cleared the cousins’ belongings out of the guest room

across the hall. Ten minutes later, they were in Mike’s official

park service four-by-four, heading for the pass. Judith never

looked back.

Joe was soaking his feet in a galvanized tub and watching

the eleven o’clock news when Judith finally arrived home

that Sunday night. He barely looked up when she came into

the third-floor den.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound cheerful despite her state

of exhaustion.

“Hi.” Joe’s gaze was riveted to the TV screen.

Judith leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I got back

sooner than I…”

“Shh!” Gesturing at the TV, Joe cut her off.

“…Leading national park service law enforcement officials

believe that Killegrew may have killed at least three of his

employees in an attempt to retain his position as

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 275

president and CEO of OTIOSE.” The pert Asian anchorwoman was shown against a stock shot of Mountain Goat

Lodge and an inset black-and-white photo of a smiling, benign Frank Killegrew. “While rumors spread this weekend

that WaCom plans to merge with OTIOSE, it is not known

how the tragedy in the mountains will affect the independent

telecommunications company’s future. An unidentified

spokesperson told KINE-TV this evening that customer service should not be affected, however.”

The screen changed to highway footage, showing

snowplows working along the interstate. Joe hit the mute

button.

“Good Lord,” he said, staring at Judith. “Why didn’t you

tell me?”

Judith sank down next to him on the couch. “I started to,

then I lost my nerve. You sounded so grumpy.”

“I was.” Joe put an arm around Judith. “It was a rough

weekend. But not as rough as yours.”

“They forgot Barry.” Judith bit her lip and pointed at the

silent TV.

“Barry?”

“The staff clerk, the body we found by the creek. Killegrew

killed him, too.”

“Jeez.” Joe shook his head. “Want to make us a couple of

drinks and tell me all about it?” He indicated his soaking

feet. “I’d do it, but…”

Judith grinned. “Yes, you would. You’re not like some

men, who have to be waited on.” She got up to fetch their

nightcaps.

They had finished their drinks by the time Judith got to

the part about Mike’s unexpected arrival. Naturally, Joe was

astonished.

“Mike and Kristin got their transfer midweek,” Judith explained. “Because of all the snow and avalanche danger in

the pass, they were shipped out of Idaho right away. They’ll

both be working in the national park, just an hour away.

Isn’t that wonderful?”

“It’s great,” Joe enthused. “You see, Jude-Girl? You

276 / Mary Daheim

worry about all kinds of things that don’t happen.”

“I know.” Judith snuggled against Joe. “I worried tonight

I wouldn’t get home, but the driving wasn’t bad at all. Of

course the rangers who brought us home knew what they

were doing. The worst part was when we got to Heraldsgate

Hill. We came up on the north side, to drop Renie off first.

That’s much easier than coming up the south side. It’s so

steep. The only problem is, Renie tried to drive the Chev.”

“I thought she didn’t drive in snow,” Joe said.

“She doesn’t. The Chev’s piled into a gas station pump at

the summit. I’m afraid it’s totaled. Bill will be awfully upset.”

Joe grimaced. “I don’t blame him. I remember when you

ran your Nissan into the wall at Falstaff’s Grocery.”

“Maybe Bill won’t retire, now that they have to get a new

car,” Judith mused. “Have you thought any more about it?”

Joe gave a single nod. “Sure. I’m not changing my mind.

Bill won’t either. Hell, we’ve both earned retirement. Why

not?”

Judith started to say something, nebulous thoughts about

financial uncertainty, changes in lifestyle, the future of the

B&B—but she kept silent. Joe and Bill looked forward to

retirement. Frank Killegrew had feared it, hated it, fought

it—and left a path of death and destruction behind him.

Retirement wasn’t a dirty word, it was a new experience.

For men like Joe and Bill, who had paid their dues and invested not in corporations but in family, the work place was no

magic kingdom.

“You could cook,” Judith said suddenly. “You’ve always

been a good cook.”

Joe moved away just enough to look into Judith’s face.

“Cook what?”

“You know—some of the meals for the B&B guests.

Breakfast, of course. You do wonderful eggs.”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 277

Joe laughed. “Only to serve you in bed. Which sounds like

a good idea.”

“What? Eggs?”

Joe shook his head. “No. Bed.” He clicked off the TV where

the weatherman was showing lingering snow clouds.

“Bed.” Judith repeated the word and smiled. “You’re right,

it’s a good idea.”

“Shall we?” Joe got up, stepping out of the tub.

Judith’s dark eyes danced. “Shall we what?” she asked

coyly.

“You know what,” said Joe.

They retired.

About the Author

Seattle native MARY DAHEIM began telling stories

with pictures when she was four. Since she could

neither read nor write, and her artistic talent was

questionable, her narratives were sometimes hard to

follow. By second grade, she had learned how to string

together both subjects and predicates, and hasn’t

stopped writing since. A former newspaper reporter

and public relations consultant, Daheim’s first of seven

historical romances was published in 1983. In addition

to Avon Books’ Bed-and-Breakfast series featuring Judith McMonigle Flynn, Daheim also pens the Alpine

mysteries for Ballantine. She is married to David Daheim, a retired college instructor, and has three

daughters—Barbara, Katherine and Magdalen.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Bed-and-Breakfast Mysteries by

Mary Daheim

from Avon Books

DEAD MAN DOCKING

THIS OLD SOUSE

HOCUS CROAKUS

SILVER SCREAM

SUTURE SELF

A STREETCAR NAMED EXPIRE

CREEPS SUZETTE

HOLY TERRORS

JUST DESSERTS

LEGS BENEDICT

SNOW PLACE TO DIE

WED AND BURIED

SEPTEMBER MOURN

NUTTY AS A FRUITCAKE

AUNTIE MAYHEM

MURDER, MY SUITE

MAJOR VICES

A FIT OF TEMPERA

BANTAM OF THE OPERA

DUNE TO DEATH

FOWL PREY

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any

resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SNOW PLACE TO DIE. Copyright © 2007 by Mary Daheim.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American

Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees,

you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable

right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No

part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in

or introduced into any information storage and retrieval

system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or

mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the

express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Adobe Acrobat eBook Reader February 2007

ISBN 978-0-06-135775-6

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

About the Publisher

Australia

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http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au

Canada

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

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United Kingdom

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http://www.uk.harpercollinsebooks.com

United States

HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

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New York, NY 10022

http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com

Document Outline

Title Page

Dedication Page

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

About the Author

Bed-and-Breakfast Mysteries by Mary Daheim

Copyright Notice

About the Publisher

Table of Contents

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