by Mary Daheim
back, looking unsettled.
“Now, now, Andrea, I don’t see what we can do.” Killegrew’s glance of appeal fell on Gene Jarman, who had returned from the kitchen and was cradling a towel that contained the freezer bag with the soapstone carving. “What’s
your considered opinion, counselor?”
“For now, I want somebody to open the safe. I don’t much
like holding on to evidence like this,” Gene replied.
Killegrew went behind the registration desk. The safe was
in a recessed area below the room slots. “Damn,” he
muttered. “It’s locked. We don’t know the combination.”
Judith felt herself wince. In years gone by, she had become
adept at figuring out combination locks. It had begun with
necessity, when Dan McMonigle would hide his occasional
earnings as a bartender and leave Judith holding the bag for
the household bills. Later, the knack had served her well
when on the sleuthing trail. She preferred not revealing how
she’d acquired her skills. Fortunately, no one asked.
The combination proved remarkably simple. Judith wrote
it down on a piece of lodge stationery and passed it around
to the others. There was safety in numbers, she decided.
With a scowl, Gene handed the towel and the carving over
to Killegrew, who put the items inside the safe after only a
brief, awkward juggling act. “There we go,” he said, dusting
off his hands as if he’d accomplished a feat of derring-do.
“Lock it up.”
Judith complied. The group reassembled around the
hearth. Killegrew again turned to Gene Jarman. “That’s that.
Safe as houses. Now let’s hear your words of wisdom on
what we do next.”
88 / Mary Daheim
Gene sat back on the sofa, his brown eyes lifted to the
rafters. “I’ll have to think this over,” he said after a long
pause.
“We don’t have time for that,” Killegrew retorted. “Come
on, Gene, for once, forget about all that due caution and
deliberate care bunk.”
Gene uttered a heavy sigh. “We can do one of two things.
We can all keep our mouths shut and not discuss what’s
happened today. That’s what I’d advise. Or,” he went on,
with a sardonic look for Killegrew, “we can start asking each
other a lot of embarrassing questions and try to get to the
bottom of this. If we do that—and again, I’m not advising
it from a legal standpoint—we might at least get our stories
straight before we have to answer to the authorities.”
Nadia, who had been mixing Russell Craven a rum and
Coca-Cola, stared at Gene. “Are you suggesting that we lie?”
“Of course not.” Gene’s dark-skinned forehead creased.
“I’m saying we pool our knowledge—such as it is—so that
we don’t end up looking like babbling idiots when we finally
talk to outsiders.”
Killegrew gave a brief nod. “That makes sense. Okay,
Gene, you’re in charge.”
Max and Ward returned at that moment. They had removed Leon Mooney, not to the basement, but to a room
on the third floor. “More homeylike,” Ward said. Andrea
began to weep again.
After Killegrew had filled Max and Ward in on Gene’s alternative plan, Judith noted that the mood shifted. The group
was getting down to business, a grisly business perhaps, but
they were tackling it in a style they understood. Despite the
bathrobes and slippers and cocktails and subject matter, the
OTIOSE executives were taking a meeting, and the atmosphere seemed to relax. Even Andrea dried her eyes and reasserted her iron grip.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 89
Judith poked Renie. “We’re still here,” she whispered.
“How come?”
Renie gave a little shrug and a shake of her head, but said
nothing. It didn’t take long for the question to be answered.
Gene Jarman, who had traded places with Frank Killegrew,
addressed the cousins. “It’s unfortunate that the two of you
had to be present during such a tragic time for OTIOSE,” he
said gravely. “But we can’t change that, and what’s even
more unfortunate, is that you both seemed to have played
big parts in that you found the bodies. We’d better start by
going over what happened this afternoon and now tonight.
Nadia, would you take notes, please?”
Nadia picked up a notebook and a pen from the coffee
table, then slipped her glasses from her bathrobe pocket.
“I’m ready,” she said through pursed lips.
“Good.” Gene turned back to Judith and Renie. “One word
of caution—you must never speak of what went on in this
room tonight. If you do, the gravest of consequences will
follow.”
Given what had already happened at Mountain Goat
Lodge, Judith could guess that such consequences might be
fatal.
SEVEN
IT WAS ALMOST midnight before Judith and Renie finished
recounting their stories. Being questioned by Eugene Jarman
Jr. was like being on the witness stand. He was precise, exacting, and relentless. The hardest part came when he asked
about the items Judith had found at the bottom of the ice
cave.
“You actually went inside the cave?”
“Yes. There wasn’t much room because of the broken
branches, but…”
“Why did you go inside the cave?”
“To get a better look.”
“At what?”
“The body. And to see if there was anything that might
tell us who…”
“Aren’t you aware that a crime scene should never be
touched?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know it was a crime scene.”
If Gene was taken aback by Judith’s response, he didn’t
show it. “So you went ahead and disturbed the area around
the body?”
“I didn’t disturb it. I just picked up some things that were
lying on the ground. If I hadn’t, we would never have known
who…”
“Come now, Ms. Flynn, surely you realized that the
90
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 91
authorities would eventually search the cave. Why did you
feel compelled to do it yourself?”
Because I was freezing to death and my brain wasn’t
working. Because I was bursting with curiosity. Because I’ve
done it before. But Judith only voiced these thoughts to herself. To Gene and the others, she merely said, “It seemed
right at the time.”
Gene’s tone reeked of disapproval. “Your heedless actions
may cause serious legal problems. Tampering with evidence
is a crime. On the other hand, we have only your word for
it that Barry Newcombe met with foul play.”
“Oh, come on, Gene,” said Margo. “If somebody finds a
dead body with something tied around its neck, what do you
think happened? I doubt that Barry was making a fashion
statement.”
“He did dress well,” Andrea noted. “And his shoes were
always so nicely shined.”
Gene frowned at both women. “Let’s skip the sidebar
comments.” He turned back to Judith. “Tell us exactly what
>
you found near the body.”
Judith listed the items. “That’s how we knew who it was.”
Suddenly she gazed around the room with a dumb-founded
expression on her face. “I still have those things in my purse.
Why didn’t any of you ask about them?”
“I thought we did,” Killegrew said. “Nadia, didn’t I tell
you to recover them?”
Nadia gave a little start. “Did you? Goodness, I must have
forgotten. I was so upset.”
“Do you want me to get them now?” Judith asked. “They’re
in my room.”
“Later,” said Killegrew. “Let’s get on with it.”
Gene Jarman did, posing another thirty or so questions,
most of which Judith didn’t find relevant to the case. At last,
he moved on to the discovery of Leon Mooney’s body. There
was much less to tell, and Jarman concluded by asking Renie
why she’d turned on the kitchen lights.
Renie was miffed. “The better to see him with? Jeez, it
92 / Mary Daheim
was pretty dark in there. Did you want us tripping over poor
old Leon?”
“My point,” Gene said painstakingly, “is that the killer
might have turned the lights off. It’s very likely that you
smudged important fingerprints.”
Renie’s face fell. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.”
Ava had gotten to her feet. “Are we done?” she asked in
a tired voice. “It’s late, and I don’t know about the rest of
you, but I’m beat.”
Gene didn’t look pleased. “We haven’t gone over any of
our whereabouts after the meeting tonight. I think we should
get that down while everything is fresh in our minds.” He
glanced at Nadia. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Nadia replied, though she appeared haggard. “I’m
certainly glad I haven’t forgotten my shorthand.”
“All right,” Killegrew sighed. “Let’s go around the room.
It shouldn’t take long.”
“Let’s start,” Gene began a bit ponderously, “by asking
who saw Leon last.”
No one spoke. Glances were exchanged, throats were
cleared, and drinks were sipped, but nobody responded. Finally, Max Agasias broke the silence.
“He was sitting on that ottoman, the last I remember,”
Max said, pointing to the empty green leather footstool near
the hearth.
Everyone followed his gaze, fixated on the spot as if they
could see the ghost of Leon Mooney.
“He went up in the elevator with me,” Margo finally said.
“You were there, too, Russell. Don’t you remember?”
“Was I? Did he?” Russell stared vaguely at the fireplace.
“Yes,” Margo continued. “We were the last to leave the
lobby. Leon’s so quiet that sometimes we don’t notice him.
Or didn’t,” she added in a softer tone.
“I saw him last.” Andrea held her head high. “We’d
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 93
decided to share another piece of that delicious angel food
cake.”
Everyone stared, and someone snickered. Judith thought
it was Margo. “He went back down almost immediately,”
Andrea said, ignoring the stares and the snicker. “I suppose
that was around ten-thirty-five.”
Another silence followed. The wind no longer howled in
the chimney, and the room was very still. Judith turned to
look outside. She could see nothing but blackness. Perhaps
the storm was finally passing.
“I went right to bed,” Max finally said.
“So did I,” Margo asserted.
“Me, too,” Ward chimed in.
“What else was there to do?” Nadia asked, though she
darted a quick look at Andrea.
“It’d been a long day,” Gene allowed. “I headed straight
for the tub.”
“I read for a few minutes,” Ava said, pulling up the high
collar of her flannel nightgown. “Then I watched the storm
through the window.”
“I went over my notes for tomorrow’s session,” Killegrew
recalled. “We start at nine, with breakfast at eight.”
To Judith’s surprise, no one protested the announcement.
Nadia, however, sagged in her place on the sofa. “I haven’t
checked the food supplies,” she said in apology. “I’m not
sure what…”
“We’ll do the meals,” Judith volunteered. “We might as
well make ourselves useful.”
“Thank you!” Nadia’s slim shoulders slumped in relief.
“Ordinarily, it would be no problem, but so much has
happened, and it’s getting so late, and I…”
“Now, now,” Killegrew said, “don’t be so hard on yourself.
Even I can put a piece of toast in the breader. I mean, bread
in the toaster. Ha-ha!”
The few responding laughs were feeble. As before, Killegrew led the first elevator flight, with Ward, Gene, and
94 / Mary Daheim
this time, Margo. Ava had held back, taking Nadia by the
arm. The two women spoke briefly, then Nadia joined the
others by the elevator.
“She’s worn out,” Ava said in a low voice. “I told her I’d
clean this stuff up. I’m kind of wired anyway.”
“I thought you were tired,” Renie said.
Ava watched Russell, Nadia, Andrea, and Max get into
the elevator. “I am, but I don’t think I could sleep. It just
didn’t seem to me that we were getting anywhere. Gene’s
first idea was better. What’s the point in asking all these
questions? This isn’t a game of Clue, it’s real life.”
“You’re right,” Judith noted as the three women began
collecting the dirty glasses. “Nobody has a real alibi. But of
course they didn’t mention what happened a year ago. Do
you remember much about it?”
Ava used her shoulder to open the dining room door. “You
mean that Friday afternoon when we presume Barry must
have been killed? I’ve certainly been thinking about it. The
problem is, it didn’t seem important at the time. It’s all kind
of fuzzy now.”
Entering the kitchen, Ava stopped on the threshold. Her
face tightened, the strong, handsome features locked in what
might have been grief or horror or both.
“Damn!” she breathed. “You say you found Leon slumped
against that counter?”
“That’s right.” Judith gestured at the dessert plate where
angel food cake crumbs lay scattered on the cold marble
counter.
“Horrible.” Ava took a couple of slow, deliberate steps into
the kitchen. “How ruthless—and reckless—can a killer get?
It’s absolutely terrifying.” Her smooth, nut-brown skin took
on a sallow tinge as she clutched at her throat. “Sometimes
I wonder why I ever went to work for OTIOSE.”
“Where were you before this?” Judith inquired, wondering
if she dared sweep up the cake crumbs.
“WaCom,” Ava replied, making an obvious effort to
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 95
calm herself. “I’d been there since it was founded back in the
mid-’80s by Jim Clevenger, one of the computer boy wonders. Four years ag
o Frank Killegrew made me an offer I
couldn’t refuse.” Ava’s expression was cynical. “If I’d stayed
at WaCom, I’d probably be president now. As you may
know, Jim died in a skiing accident last winter.”
Judith vaguely recalled the news story, which had made
page one of the local papers. Renie, however, was more
aware of what went on in the world of commerce. She tipped
her head to one side and looked rueful.
“Clevenger was really sharp,” she said. “I’m surprised you
left him to work for OTIOSE.”
“Jim Clevenger was also a jerk,” Ava declared. “He was
extremely hard to work for, not just demanding, but unreasonable and erratic. It was a relief to come to OTIOSE. And
the money was better. At the time.”
Judith made up her mind. She and Renie couldn’t work
on a counter that was covered with cake crumbs. It wasn’t
like blood splatter or gunpowder tattooing. As long as the
body had been moved, there was no evidence to preserve.
She rinsed off the glass plate, brushed the bigger pieces of
cake into a garbage bag, and wiped the counter clean. If
there’d been fingerprints, more were to come. People, even
corporate executives, tended to congregate in the kitchen.
The crime scene was bound to be disturbed. This was a
working kitchen, and Judith had mouths to feed.
“…So much competition in the industry these days,” she
overheard Renie say to Ava. “Which reminds me, what’s
going on with the Alien Tel lawsuit? I did a project for them
last October, and I heard their suits were going up against
your suits in court.”
Ava shook her head, a despairing gesture that sent her
long, dark hair rippling around her shoulders. “I’m keeping
my mouth shut on that one. But you’re right. It’s a matter
of record. The case comes up in superior court next month.”
“It sounded kind of cut-and-dried,” Renie remarked,
96 / Mary Daheim
loading dirty cocktail glasses into the dishwasher. “Alien Tel
likes to call itself ‘An Out of This World Telecommunications
Company,’ but they got caught poaching off of some of
OTIOSE’s microwave towers. Maybe they should have
launched a space satellite instead.”
“They’re small, they’re new, they thought they could get
away with it.” Ava shrugged.
“I heard from one of their p.r. types,” Renie continued,
unwilling to let the topic rest, “that Alien Tel agreed to pay