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

by Mary Daheim

  “You bet. I don’t see how you can work with people—or

  should I say persons?—like them.”

  “You get used to it. They’re all alike.” Renie selected a knife

  from the wooden cutlery holder. “The problem is that they

  get into these executive slots and they become distanced from

  reality. They’re pampered, protected—and isolated. The same

  thing happens in government. They’re all out of touch.”

  “So’s the chief, according to Joe.” Judith piled ham onto

  a platter. “I suspect this crew is going to get a dose of reality

  when they start investigating Barry Newcombe’s murder.”

  “It’ll serve them right, too,” said Renie, aggressively slicing

  the turkey. She suddenly paused. “As long as it doesn’t screw

  up their acceptance of my presentation.”

  Judith shot her cousin a baleful glance. “Stop it. You sound

  like one of them.”

  “I’m not,” Renie asserted. “I’m just a servile jobber who

  wants to suck at the teat of corporate excess.”

  Twenty minutes later, the cousins had the buffet set up.

  The chafing dishes were lighted, the plates and utensils were

  stacked, and the makeshift sideboard looked fit for a king.

  Or a queen, or maybe even ten spoiled corporate executives.

  In the laundry area, they found that their clothes were dry.

  Hastily changing, Judith and Renie felt a huge sense of relief

  as they put on their own garments.

  “Let’s go,” Renie said. “We’ll leave Ava and Nadia’s stuff

  on an empty table in the dining room where they can’t miss

  it. I’m not sure I want to talk to any of these people again

  for a while.”

  Judith had found a rear exit off the supply room. Feeling

  liberated, the cousins headed through the door and into the

  January night.

  During the hour or more that they’d spent inside the lodge,

  the snow had been falling steadily and heavily. The

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 53

  wind from the north had now reached a high velocity. The

  blinding flakes whirled and swirled around the lodge, obliterating everything except the unsteady hands the cousins

  held before their faces to ward off the stinging cold.

  “Jeez!” Renie cried. “It’s a damned blizzard! I can’t drive

  in this!”

  “I can’t either,” Judith admitted in a stunned voice. “What

  shall we do?”

  Renie stood stock-still, with the wind and snow blowing

  straight into her face. “We haven’t got much choice. We’re

  stuck, at least until the storm blows over and the roads get

  plowed. Let’s go back inside before we end up like Barry.”

  “Don’t say that,” Judith cautioned. “The weather didn’t

  kill him.” She swallowed hard. “I’ve got a very ugly feeling

  that somebody inside that lodge that we are about to reenter

  was the person—yes, person—who killed Barry Newcombe.”

  “You sure know how to terrify a person,” Renie retorted.

  Judith gestured toward the lodge. “These people are risk

  takers, right?”

  “Right. In one way or another.” Renie kept her head down;

  her voice came out muffled.

  “It required a big risk to kill Barry with the others around,”

  Judith continued. “Whoever did it must have realized a storm

  was coming, but did you notice all those branches at the

  front of the little cave? I think the killer put them there to

  hide the body, just in case. Besides, when the snow

  melted—assuming there’s ever a big thaw at this elevation—the branches would still provide some concealment.

  But then, the snow finally broke them down, probably when

  you fell into the bank.”

  “Lucky me,” Renie sighed. “I’m a regular walkin’, talkin’

  corpse detector.”

  “Lucky us,” Judith echoed. “It isn’t like it’s the first time.”

  Feeling bleak and bleary eyed, she entered the lodge.

  54 / Mary Daheim

  They explained their forestalled departure plight to Nadia

  Weiss, who, surprisingly, was not without sympathy. “There

  are plenty of vacant rooms,” she said. “I’ve already moved

  Frank once. Naturally, he wanted a corner room. But

  Mountain Goat Lodge can accommodate two hundred guests.

  We’ll find you something in the main wing on the second

  floor, where the rest of us are staying.”

  Judith and Renie didn’t find the idea particularly reassuring. But again, there wasn’t much choice. “We’ll share,”

  Renie blurted. “We wouldn’t want to mess up two rooms,”

  she added hastily.

  The arrangement was fine with Nadia. She led the cousins

  to the elevator via a back corridor. While waiting for the car

  to arrive, Judith overheard Killegrew expostulating on the

  deficiencies of the municipal police department.

  “Lack of personal contact…city employees, not used to the

  bottom line…boondoggles…civil service…political pork

  barrel…favoritism…” The litany of complaints went on.

  The three women got into the elevator. “Did you talk to

  the police chief?” Judith asked innocently.

  Nadia leaned her slight frame against the upholstered

  padding of the elevator. “No! It’s after six, he’d gone home.

  Frank had me call him there, but I reached his answering

  machine. We haven’t heard back yet.”

  “Ah.” Judith didn’t know what else to say. She recalled

  how often Joe had tried to see the chief when he and his

  partner, Woody Price, were working a case. Unless the investigation was high profile, the chief usually shunted Joe

  and Woody off to his deputy or some other underling.

  “This whole thing is very peculiar,” Nadia said as they got

  out on the second floor. “I cannot—I simply cannot—imagine

  anything as seedy as murder being linked to OTIOSE.

  Whatever will our board of directors think? And our shareholders will be up in arms! This is simply terrible!”

  “It’s rough, all right,” Renie agreed.

  “It had to be some lunatic,” Nadia declared. “Someone

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 55

  wandering around the mountains. I’ve heard there are all

  sorts of strange types who live in the forest. Hermits, and

  other kinds of eccentrics. They often kill people. That’s what

  must have happened to Barry.”

  They had reached a door at the far end of the hall. Nadia

  sorted through a large key ring. “Two-thirty-nine,” she said

  under her breath. “Here we are.”

  There were twin beds, a small fireplace, a bathroom, and

  a wet bar. There were also two hooded bathrobes hanging

  on wooden pegs. Matching terrycloth slippers sat side by

  side on the polished hardwood floor. Judith and Renie both

  sighed with relief.

  “Nice,” Renie remarked. “Thanks, Nadia. We’re sorry to

  impose, but that storm out there is really something.”

  Nadia’s smile was tense. “It should blow out in a few

  hours. That’s what happened last year when we were at

  Mountain Goat.”

  “You had a storm just like this one?” Judith asked, setting

  her pur
se down on one of the twin beds.

  “Oh, yes,” Nadia replied. “It was terrible. We weren’t sure

  if we could get out by Monday afternoon. But it finally broke

  that morning, and we were able to leave.”

  “Who drove?” Renie had uttered the question from the

  fireplace where she was putting a match to the pile of wood

  and kindling.

  “I did,” Nadia replied. “Barry had driven us up here, but

  when he…disappeared, it was up to me to get us back to the

  city. Fortunately, we were able to chain up at the summit.”

  Judith sat down on the bed with its counterpane woven

  in a bright Native American design. “Nadia, weren’t you

  worried about what had happened to Barry?”

  Nadia hung her head and clasped her hands. “Not terribly,”

  she replied in a sheepish tone. “You see, Barry was gay. He

  was given to…following his special star.” She paused, her

  thin face very earnest. “It had happened before. Two summers

  ago at the company picnic, Barry was in

  56 / Mary Daheim

  charge of the food. About halfway through, he suddenly

  disappeared. He’d met someone on the adjacent tennis

  courts. Then at the Christmas party a year ago, he went off

  with Santa Claus.”

  “I see.” Judith took a deep breath. “So you thought—what?

  That he’d met someone outside of the lodge or at the summit

  or down in the next town—or what?”

  “Any of those things.” Nadia now appeared to be on surer

  ground. “Even here at the lodge, there are cross-country skiers

  who pass through. Not to mention snow-mobilers and hikers.

  It may seem isolated, but it really isn’t, not when the

  weather is decent.”

  “Except that you had a big storm last January,” Judith

  pointed out. “That would have cut down on the sports enthusiasts.”

  “Y-e-s,” Nadia said slowly. “I suppose it did.” She glanced

  around the room, her practiced mind taking inventory. “I

  hope this will do. Everything seems to be in order. Now I

  should get back downstairs. I must see what’s happening

  with Frank and the police chief.”

  Judith locked the door behind Nadia and slid the deadbolt. “We ought to be safe in here,” she said, then gritted her

  teeth as Renie lighted yet another cigarette. “Coz—must you?

  This is a small room, and it’s too cold to open a window.”

  Renie waved the cigarette. “It’s either this or we raid the

  buffet.”

  Judith sniffed at the trail of smoke. “That’s not a bad idea.

  It just dawned on me that I’m starved. I haven’t eaten since

  breakfast.”

  “Then let’s forage after they’ve finished. Meanwhile, we

  can check out the honor bar.” She nodded at the compartment built between the room’s two small windows.

  The little refrigerator contained soda pop, sample-sized

  bottles of liquor, and water, both plain and flavored. There

  were also packets of various snack foods. The cousins

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 57

  opened a bag of chips and a bag of pretzels before making

  themselves a drink.

  Sitting in a wooden chair with a comfortable padded back

  and seat, Judith gazed around the room. “There’s no TV. Or

  radio. How are we going to hear about what’s happening

  with the weather?”

  Renie also studied their surroundings. “No phone, either.

  I guess this is one of those places where you’re supposed to

  get back to nature or in touch with yourself or some damned

  thing. Bill and I stayed at a lodge like this in Oregon a few

  years ago. After an hour and a half, we were ready to kill

  each other.”

  Judith got up and went to one of the windows. “All we

  can do is watch what’s happening outside. Once the storm

  dies down, I suppose we could use the phone in the kitchen

  to check on highway conditions.”

  Renie uttered a terse laugh. “Assuming we can reach the

  right part of the state and don’t end up with a report on the

  ocean beaches.”

  “I’ve got a feeling that this blizzard is going to last well

  into the night,” Judith said, still peering through one of the

  window’s six small panes that were trimmed in bright red.

  “I vaguely recall hearing a weather report at home yesterday

  that said we might get some snow in the city by Sunday, but

  of course I didn’t worry about it because…” She stopped,

  cupping her hands around her eyes. “What in…? I just saw

  a light.”

  Renie, who had been reclining on one of the twin beds,

  went to the other window. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

  “It’s gone. Which way are we facing?”

  Renie considered. “We’re at the end of the hall, which

  runs the width of the lodge. I’d guess that we’re looking out

  from the east, opposite from the parking lot and the creek.”

  “That makes sense. The wind is from the north, and it’s

  blowing the snow right by us.” Judith remained at the win- 58 / Mary Daheim

  dow, but the light didn’t reappear. “Did you say there was

  a caretaker?”

  Renie had returned to the bed. “Right, but he’s at least

  half a mile away. I doubt he’d come out in this storm. Besides, he’s under orders to keep away. The OTIOSE gang is

  very set on privacy.”

  “Where’d the staff go?” Judith asked, finally deserting her

  post and sitting down again.

  “Home?” Renie gave little shrug. “I understand some of

  them usually sleep over, up in dormer rooms on the third

  floor. But during the conference, they were all sent away. It

  is a three-day weekend, and they were probably delighted

  to have the time off.”

  Judith finished her bag of chips and sipped at her Scotch;

  Renie ate three pretzels, lighted another cigarette, and drank

  her bourbon. The fire, which Judith had lighted a few minutes

  earlier, burned in the small grate. They could hear the wind

  howl in the chimney, causing the flames to waver and dance.

  “I should have mentioned to Nadia that we left her

  clothes—and Ava’s—in the dining room,” Renie said,

  breaking the sudden silence between them.

  “They’ll find the stuff,” Judith replied, her eyes still on the

  storm that raged outside the window. She sat up straight

  and looked at Renie. “The folder was gone.”

  “Folder?” Renie was momentarily puzzled. “Oh, the one

  I found on the podium.” She nodded once. “You’re right.

  Somebody had picked it up off the coffee table in the lobby

  where we set up the bar.”

  Judith’s high forehead was puckered in a frown. “I thought

  Ava acted kind of odd about which clothes she wanted to

  lend me.”

  “Maybe. So what? The blue outfit might be her favorite.”

  “Then why wasn’t she wearing it?”

  “I don’t know,” Renie replied, slightly impatient. “What

  difference does it make?”

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 59

  Judith didn’t reply immediately. “Would you know how

  to fashion a garrote?” she asked
after another brief silence.

  “I think I could learn,” Renie said darkly. “Like about now.

  Forget it, coz. This isn’t our problem.”

  “If you knew how, I don’t imagine it would take much

  strength.”

  “I hope not. I’m feeling a little weak.” Renie glowered at

  her cousin.

  “But you need a stick or something, don’t you? Where

  was the stick? I didn’t see anything like that.”

  “If I had a stick, I know where I’d put it,” Renie said

  between clenched teeth.

  “What do you know about Barry Newcombe? Did you

  ever meet him?”

  “Good God.” Renie rubbed at one eye. “You’re hopeless.”

  She tossed her cigarette butt into the fireplace and regarded

  Judith with an indulgent expression. “Okay, I’ll play the game

  if only because we can’t amuse ourselves by watching Cru-

  sader Rabbit reruns on TV. Yes, I met Barry a couple of times,

  a year ago last December, when I got called in on the annual

  report. He seemed very nice, quite efficient, and otherwise

  utterly unremarkable. I also talked to him on the phone.”

  “Who did he work for?” Judith asked, adding more ice to

  her glass.

  “He was assigned to Margo in p.r. then, as a staff assistant.

  But I think he’d been in human resources before that.”

  “Andrea Piccoloni-Roth?” Judith was finally beginning to

  put titles and departments with faces and names.

  “That’s right. But I honestly don’t know much more about

  him,” Renie admitted. “It appears that he didn’t intend to

  make a career out of working at OTIOSE, or he wouldn’t

  have started up the catering business on the side.”

  Judith grew thoughtful. “How old was he?”

  “Mid-twenties, blond, medium height, nice-looking. I didn’t

  know until today that he was gay, but then I wouldn’t have

  given it a thought if I had,” Renie said, slipping one

  60 / Mary Daheim

  more pretzel out of the little paper sack. “Quite a few of the

  guys who are employed at lower management levels in corporations are gay.”

  “So Barry wasn’t in a power position?” Judith asked as the

  wind rattled the windows.

  Renie ruffled her short hair. “Well—that depends. The

  salaries at that level aren’t much, but somehow staff assistants, at least at OTIOSE, have some kind of abstruse clout.

  They answer the phones, they run personal errands for the