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

by Mary Daheim

  “Stop sounding like a corporate clone,” Judith said, more

  severely than she intended. “Wouldn’t it be better to go to

  Frank Killegrew?”

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 79

  Renie considered. “Maybe. Yes, you’re right. Let’s do it.”

  But the cousins had no idea which room belonged to Killegrew. Bewildered, they stood in the dimly lit second-floor

  corridor and scanned the various doors.

  “To hell with it,” Renie finally said, and knocked at the

  one in front of her. There was no response; she knocked

  again.

  “Maybe,” Judith whispered, “that was Leon Mooney’s

  room.”

  Renie grimaced. “You might be right.” She moved on to

  the next door on the right.

  Only a single knock was required before the cousins heard

  noises inside. Then Andrea Piccoloni-Roth, attired in a lavender satin robe, opened the door. Seeing the cousins, she

  blinked twice and gave a little start.

  “What is it?” she asked in a low voice.

  Renie swallowed hard. “It’s Leon Mooney. I’m afraid—I’m

  really sorry, Andrea—but he’s dead.”

  In a flurry of lavender satin, Andrea Piccoloni-Roth collapsed onto the brightly colored Navajo rug.

  “It would have been nice,” Renie said as Judith tried to

  rouse Andrea, “if they’d included the company medical chief

  on this trek. Not to mention their head of security.”

  Judith didn’t respond. Her concern was for Andrea, who

  was beginning to move, though her eyes were still shut. At

  last, the heavy lids fluttered open.

  “Oh,” Andrea said in a lifeless voice. “It’s you.”

  “Do you want to sit up?” Judith inquired.

  Andrea’s eyes, which were a light brown with flecks of

  green, wandered around the room “I don’t know. I don’t

  care.” She pressed a plump fist to her carefully made-up

  cheek. “What happened?” Her voice was hollow.

  “We’re not sure,” Judith temporized.

  As usual, Renie was less tactful. “Somebody hit Leon

  80 / Mary Daheim

  on the back of the head with that soapstone carving. I’m

  sorry, Andrea, but it looks like he was murdered, too.”

  Andrea’s mouth fell open, her eyes bulged, and then she

  began to hiccup. It was a struggle, but Judith managed to

  raise her to a sitting position.

  “Get some water,” she said to Renie.

  Renie went off to the bathroom. Andrea’s wide shoulders

  were heaving; the hiccups continued. Judith fought to keep

  the other woman upright.

  Renie, wearing a curious expression, returned with the

  water. Andrea tried to drink, sputtered, hiccuped, and finally

  choked. The hiccups stopped. “Lord have mercy,” she

  whispered, and crossed herself.

  The cousins automatically followed suit. “Was Leon a

  Catholic?” Judith asked.

  Andrea shook her head. The upswept silver hair had come

  loose, and strands trailed down her back. “No. But I am.”

  “So are we,” Judith replied, hoping the religious affinity

  might somehow comfort Andrea. “Would you like to lie

  down?”

  Together, Judith and Renie got Andrea to her feet and

  guided her to the nearest of the twin beds. The room was

  almost identical to the one shared by the cousins, except that

  the painting was of an alpine meadow, and the photograph

  showed the completed lodge.

  “What’s happening?” Andrea asked in a frantic voice as

  Judith propped an extra pillow from the other twin bed behind her. “Could there be a serial killer loose in these

  mountains?”

  “I don’t know,” Judith replied in all honesty. “I think we’d

  all better watch out for ourselves from now on.”

  “Oh, my.” Andrea covered her face with her hands. “I can’t

  believe this!” she wailed. “Who would kill a decent little man

  like Leon? Or Barry, for that matter. It’s insane!”

  Judith sat down on the other twin bed. “If you have an

  idea—any idea at all—who’d want to harm them, you

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 81

  ought to say so. This situation is getting more than ugly.”

  “But I don’t!” Andrea removed her hands, revealing a face

  drained of color except for a touch of blush on each cheek.

  “This isn’t the Mafia, this is the phone company!”

  Neither Judith nor Renie responded immediately. Finally,

  Renie spoke up. “The others have to be told. Are you up to

  it, Andrea?”

  Andrea frowned, appeared to concentrate, then slumped

  back against the pillows. “No. In fact, I’d like to be left

  alone.”

  There was no choice. Judith and Renie went back into the

  corridor. They had barely shut the door behind them when

  Renie grabbed Judith by the arm. “Coz! That’s not Andrea’s

  room! Didn’t you notice that there were no female-type items

  anywhere? When I went into the bathroom, there was a

  man’s shaving kit.” In her excitement, Renie’s voice had

  started to rise. She quickly lowered her tone, and glanced

  around to make sure no one had heard her. “There was also

  a prescription for allergies,” she whispered. “It was made out

  to Leon Mooney.”

  Judith usually wasn’t so unobservant. But between the

  shock of finding Leon’s body and trying to cope with Andrea,

  she simply hadn’t noticed the absence of feminine articles.

  “She was wearing makeup,” Judith said, then grimaced.

  “You think she was having an affair with Leon? ”

  “It’s possible. Men and women possess strange attractions

  for each other that are sometimes hard for the rest of us to

  fathom.” Renie pointed to the door where they’d gotten no

  response. “I’ll bet that’s Andrea’s room. She was in his,

  waiting for him. Maybe…” Renie paused and swallowed

  hard. “Maybe he was bringing them both a piece of cake.”

  “Is Andrea married or divorced?” Judith asked, still marveling at the thought of an amorous Leon Mooney.

  “Married,” Renie responded, beginning to pace the corridor. “Her husband, Alan Roth, is an unemployed com- 82 / Mary Daheim

  puter genius. You know the type.” Renie raised her eyebrows.

  “I know the unemployed part, but the genius eludes me,”

  Judith replied just as Ward Haugland poked his head out of

  the door directly across from them.

  “What’s going on out here?” he demanded, exhibiting

  uncharacteristic testiness. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

  Renie, who disliked being snapped at under any circumstances, turned sharply. “Leon Mooney’s been murdered.

  Pleasant dreams, Ward.”

  “What?” Ward’s usual drawl was swallowed up in a single

  bellow.

  Renie had turned her back on the executive vice president,

  but perceiving what appeared to be both shock and horror

  on his face, Judith took pity. “It’s true, Mr. Haugland. We

  found his body in the kitchen about half an hour ago. Do

  you think you could tell the others?”

  There was no need. Doors were now opening on both

  sides of the corridor. Margo, Max, G
ene, Russell, Ava, Nadia,

  and finally Frank Killegrew all peered out of their respective

  rooms.

  Ward delivered the bad news, then waited for the cousins

  to elaborate. This time, Renie deferred to Judith. “She saw

  him first,” Renie declared in a slightly sulky voice.

  Judith explained, briefly, if a bit haltingly. The circle of

  faces ranged from a distraught Nadia Weiss to a stoic Gene

  Jarman. Naturally, Frank Killegrew assumed command.

  “Let’s go down to the lobby,” he said, his usually broad

  shoulders slumped under a bright blue bathrobe. “Nadia,

  call the police. Again.”

  “It seems the phone lines are down,” Renie said, not

  without a trace of satisfaction. “It’s too bad you don’t have

  underground wiring up here.”

  Killegrew scowled, then stepped into the elevator, along

  with Ward, Gene, and Ava. The others waited. Apparently,

  thought Judith, there was a pecking order even when it came

  to elevator riding.

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 83

  “Why the hell would someone kill Leon Mooney?” Max

  muttered. “That little guy wouldn’t step on a bug.”

  “Mooney’s money,” Margo said softly. “That’s what we’ve

  always called the comptroller’s shop, isn’t it? Maybe he was

  juggling the books.”

  “Not Leon,” Max responded. “What would be the point?

  The man had no life outside of the job.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Russell said, on the

  defensive. “Some of us love our work. Usually.” He shot Max

  a dark glance and rubbed the bump on his head.

  Judith hadn’t mentioned anything about the weapon that

  had presumably killed Leon. With a sidelong look at Max,

  she wondered if he’d used it again, and for a more lethal

  purpose. But anyone could have used the carving to deliver

  a death blow. The last time Judith had seen the soapstone

  Eskimo, it had been in the hands of Margo Chang.

  The elevator returned; Russell, Margo, Max, and Nadia

  got in. The cousins were left alone in the hallway.

  “I guess we know where we fit into the scheme of things,”

  Judith remarked. “Dead last.”

  Renie elbowed Judith. “Don’t say things like that.”

  Judith gave a nod. “Okay. I’ll stick to conjecture, guesswork, and speculation. I take it Leon wasn’t married?”

  “I don’t think so,” Renie replied as the elevator doors slid

  open. “Somewhere along the line I heard he lived with his

  mother until she died a year or so ago.”

  The doors were about to close when a frantic voice called

  from down the hall. Judith quickly pressed the “open” button.

  Andrea dashed inside, still in her robe, but with her hair

  swept back up on top of her head.

  “I heard all the commotion in the corridor,” she said in a

  breathless voice. “I decided I’d better not miss out on what

  was happening. Did anyone ask where I was?”

  No one had, at least not as far as the cousins could recall.

  Andrea looked relieved, then disappointed. Judith wondered

  if being overlooked was worse than being chastised.

  84 / Mary Daheim

  “How are you feeling?” Renie asked as the car glided to

  the first floor.

  “I’ll survive,” Andrea replied, but her voice was listless.

  The bar had been reopened in the lobby. Nadia, in fact,

  was carrying more bottles in from the dining room.

  “I won’t go in the kitchen,” she declared, looking mulish.

  “You’ll have to reuse your glasses.”

  “I’ll go in the kitchen,” Max volunteered. “I was in ’Nam.

  Stiffs don’t scare me.” He stalked out of the lobby, his short

  plaid robe flapping around his pajama-clad legs.

  “I was in Korea,” Killegrew said in a troubled voice, “but

  I don’t think I want to see poor Leon.” He made a faint gesture in the direction of the kitchen. “The only thing is, we

  can’t leave him there. We have to eat.”

  But Gene Jarman shook his head. “We can’t move the

  body. We have to wait for the authorities.” He turned to Judith and Renie, who had managed to squeeze onto one of

  the sofas next to Ava. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

  “Only the light switch,” Judith said.

  Ward leaned forward from his place on one of the other

  sofas that ringed the big coffee table. “Did you say you knew

  the chief of police?”

  “Ah…” Judith hesitated. “Not personally.” It was more or

  less true. Judith had met the chief at various departmental

  functions, but she doubted that he would recall to whom

  she was attached.

  “See here,” Killegrew said, ignoring both Ward’s question

  and Judith’s response, “we can’t have a dead body underfoot,

  Gene. I don’t care what the rules and regulations are. We’ve

  got to keep this ship afloat.”

  “Frank,” Gene began, “we can’t take the law into our

  own…”

  “The law!” Killegrew made a dismissive gesture. “This is

  jungle law around here! Some maniac is on the loose, we

  can’t get through to the authorities—though I’m sure that

  this is only a temporary lapse and service will be re- SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 85

  stored promptly—and there’s no way out until the storm

  breaks. I’m perfectly willing to take responsibility.”

  “I’d like that in writing,” Gene murmured.

  “What I propose,” Killegrew continued, “is that we move

  poor old Leon down to the basement. There’s a safe behind

  the desk here in the lobby. We’ll lock up the so-called

  weapon in there. I’ll do it myself, you can watch me. Then

  we can restore some semblance of order to this retreat.”

  “Oh, Frank!” It was Andrea, bursting into tears. “How can

  you? This isn’t normal! This is horrible!”

  “Now, now,” urged Killegrew, coming over to pat Andrea’s

  heaving shoulders, “there’s no point in going to pieces. The

  telecommunications industry has gone through more terrible

  times than this—the great blizzard of 1888, the Johnstown

  flood, the San Francisco earthquake and fire, the Depression,

  a bunch of wars, strikes, antitrust suits, Judge Harold Greene,

  and the breakup of the Bell System. It’s just that what’s

  happened to us here hits close to home. But bear up, the

  train’s still on track. We have to show our mettle. After all,

  we’re OTIOSE.”

  The rallying cry did not go unheeded. “Here, here!” Ward

  Haugland shouted, clapping his hands. “You’re darned

  tootin’, Frank. What happened to Barry and now what’s

  happened to Leon is pretty danged bad, but let’s face it,

  we’ve got a business to run.” Somewhat clumsily, Ward got

  to his feet. “Come on, Gene, let’s get Leon out of the way.”

  OTIOSE’s corporate counsel held up both hands. “Sorry,

  Ward. I won’t be a party to this. It’s not legal.”

  Exasperated, Ward turned to Russell. “How about you?”

  Russell grimaced. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but

  I’m rather…squeam
ish. I’d rather remember Leon as he was.”

  “He was one pretty darned homely little bugger, if you ask

  me,” Ward muttered. “I don’t reckon that being dead has

  made him look much worse.”

  86 / Mary Daheim

  Andrea’s sobs grew louder. “I can’t bear it! Shut up, Ward!

  I hate you!”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Ward threw up his hands. “I’ll get

  Max. He won’t weasel out on me.”

  Reluctantly, Gene got to his feet. “I’ll get the weapon. I’ll

  wrap it in a towel.”

  Killegrew’s expression was uneasy as he watched his

  second-in-command and his legal counsel depart. “Did anybody bring a laptop?” he asked.

  Margo sneered. “You told us to leave everything at the office except our fertile brains. No distractions, remember?”

  “Yes, well…hmm.” Killegrew fingered his jutting chin.

  “Maybe that was a mistake. In retrospect, of course. We

  might have faxed somebody for help.”

  “Using what?” put in Ava. “If the phone lines are down,

  so are the fax lines. In case you’ve forgotten, Frank, they use

  the same wire.”

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten,” Killegrew snapped, though

  his face turned red. “I just thought that with all your gee-whiz

  expertise, there might be another way.” He glared at Ava.

  She gave the CEO an arch little smile. “I’m afraid not.

  We’re helpless. We might as well be living in the nineteenth

  century.”

  Killegrew turned to Margo. “I hope you’re coming up with

  some ideas about how to keep this from the media. I don’t

  want a scandal. OTIOSE can’t afford bad press right now.”

  “It’s a murder case,” Margo said. “Two murders. There’ll

  be an investigation. You can’t hush that up.”

  “You damned well better try,” Killegrew growled. “It’s your

  job.” It wasn’t just a reminder; it sounded to Judith more like

  a threat.

  Andrea’s sobs had finally subsided. She raised a haggard

  face and spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. “We’ve got

  another, more important job, if you ask me. In case it

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 87

  slipped everybody’s mind, I’m vice president-human resources. We’ve lost two of those human resources, in a most

  inhumane manner. I want something done about it, and I

  want to start now.”

  The motherly velvet glove had been thrown down; the

  plump iron fist was shaking at Frank Killegrew. He drew