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

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.

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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