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

by Mary Daheim

  other sofas. “Brandy would be in order,” he said to no one

  in particular.

  Judith started to bolt out of the room, then looked at

  Margo. “May I?” she asked, feeling childlike and stupid.

  Margo lowered the gun. “Go ahead. But don’t anybody

  forget I won’t hesitate to use this.” She patted the weapon,

  then slipped it back into her suede bag.

  Renie went into the dining room with Judith, where they

  found two half-empty bottles of brandy. “I don’t blame

  Margo,” Renie said in a tense voice. “This is absolutely horrible.”

  “It sure is,” Judith agreed, gathering up some of the other

  liquor bottles and motioning for Renie to get some glasses.

  “I’m beginning to feel as anxious to get out of here as Margo

  is.”

  “At least she’s armed,” Renie said. “I wouldn’t mind having

  an AK-47 about now.”

  Judith gave a little snort. “You’d be lucky not to shoot

  yourself. Or me.”

  Giving Judith a hapless look, Renie led the way back into

  the lobby. Once again, Gene had taken over the questioning,

  but his manner had become slightly more deferential.

  No one refused the brandy. Indeed, Killegrew swallowed

  his in a gulp, and Nadia inhaled the fumes for such a long

  time that Judith thought she’d suck the liquor right up her

  nose.

  “Let’s begin,” Gene said calmly, “with you, Ava. You

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  mentioned that Andrea’s door was unlocked?”

  “It was.” Ava gave a short, grim nod. “We knocked, of

  course, but she didn’t respond. We thought maybe she was

  in the bathroom, so we went in.” Ava hesitated, lifted her

  chin, and continued. “Andrea was in bed, and we assumed

  she was asleep.”

  “What did you do then?” Gene asked quietly.

  Ava glanced at Nadia, as if for confirmation. “I called to

  her. Nadia had stayed in the doorway.”

  “And?” Gene prompted.

  “Nothing. I knew Andrea was upset about Leon,” Ava went

  on, speaking more rapidly, “so I thought maybe she’d taken

  something to help her sleep and was really out of it. Frank

  was anxious to start the meeting, so I went to the bed and

  gave Andrea a little shake. I couldn’t rouse her. Then I saw

  the pill bottle and the note.”

  Gene cleared his throat. “Let’s back up a moment, please.”

  He turned to Nadia, whose eyes seemed to have grown as

  large as the big glasses she wore over them. “Does this account agree with what you recall so far?”

  “Yes.” Nadia’s voice was toneless.

  “All right.” Gene offered Ava a slight smile of encouragement. “Do you have the note with you?”

  Ava shook her head. “I remembered what you said last

  night about not touching anything. I left it on the nightstand.”

  “What did it say?”

  Ava swallowed hard. “It said, ‘Leon, I’m coming to join

  you.’”

  “Did you recognize Andrea’s handwriting?”

  “Not really,” Ava admitted, “but Nadia did. She’d come

  all the way into the room when she saw I had trouble waking

  Andrea.”

  Gene turned again to Nadia. “You’re certain it was Andrea’s writing?”

  “Yes,” Nadia answered, still without inflection. “I’ve

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  seen it many times. She often sent Frank handwritten notes.”

  “What did you do next?” Gene asked Ava.

  Ava put a hand to her forehead. “I’m not sure. I think we

  both realized at the same time that Andrea was dead. We

  ran out of the room and came down here.”

  Gene sought corroboration from Nadia, who nodded. “We

  may have screamed,” she said. “It was so…ghastly.” Nadia

  shuddered at the memory.

  “In other words,” Gene mused, “Andrea is still lying up

  there in bed…dead.”

  “I haven’t heard her walking around,” Margo snapped.

  “What’s wrong with everybody? Can’t this crew accept the

  facts? ”

  “Sleeping pills,” murmured Russell. “Did you say Andrea

  took sleeping pills?”

  “Sometimes she did,” Nadia said. “Last night she offered

  me one, but I have my own prescription. I can hardly blame

  Andrea for taking something to help her sleep. She was so

  upset.”

  Ward stretched out his long legs. “Could it have been an

  accident?” he asked.

  “Not with that note,” Killegrew put in. “My God, I had no

  idea she and Leon were…so close. Sometimes,” he added

  darkly, “I wonder what really goes on behind my back in

  this company. Sometimes I think the caboose is running this

  ship.”

  “I think you mean ‘train.’” Margo’s tone was mocking.

  Killegrew glowered at her, but said nothing. Indeed, no

  one responded until Gene spoke again. “Someone will have

  to go up there and check things out. I suppose I should do

  it, since I’m the legal counsel.” He grimaced, then uttered a

  choked little laugh. “Max, would you come along? We’d

  better stick to the buddy system.”

  Max, however, demurred. “I already helped cart Leon upstairs, for which the cops are going to jump me. Count me

  out on this one.”

  118 / Mary Daheim

  “Remember,” said Russell in a small voice, “I’m squeamish.”

  “I wouldn’t go near that room for a billion dollars,” Margo

  declared.

  “I’ll go.” Judith was so surprised by her impulsive announcement that she hardly recognized her own voice.

  “I don’t think that’s a…” Ward began.

  “Good idea,” interrupted Killegrew. “It’s probably smart

  to have an outsider on hand for something like this.”

  In other words, Judith thought with a sinking feeling,

  there’d be someone else to blame. But she’d opened her mouth

  and put her foot into it. As a flummoxed Renie watched,

  Judith accompanied Gene to the elevator.

  “This might not be pleasant,” Gene said as they moved up

  to the second floor.

  “I’ve done it before,” Judith said without thinking.

  “Of course. Leon. And Barry.” Mournfully, Gene shook

  his head.

  “Yes,” Judith agreed hastily. “Leon and Barry.” It wouldn’t

  do to enumerate a few other corpses she’d stumbled across

  in the past.

  The door to Andrea’s room was wide open. Judith quickly

  calculated that it was the same room she and Renie had first

  tried the previous night. As they had guessed, Andrea had

  been waiting for Leon in his room.

  Gene stepped aside to let Judith enter first. She found

  herself tiptoeing, but stopped abruptly when she saw Andrea

  lying peacefully on the bed. The dead woman could have

  been asleep; only her head and shoulders were exposed.

  Andrea was on her back, with the silver hair splayed out on

  the pillow. Her plump face seemed blotchy, perhaps bruised.

  Remembering that Andrea was a fellow Catholic, Judith

  crossed herself and said a silent prayer.

  “Poor woman,” Gene sa
id softly. “Suicide’s such a desperate act.”

  Judith turned sharply. “It is. Andrea didn’t strike me as a

  desperate woman.”

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  “You never know what people are really like,” Gene remarked, coming around to study the nightstand that stood

  between the twin beds. “Ah—here’s the note and the empty

  pill bottle. Halcion, made out to Andrea Piccoloni-Roth last

  month. It’s a popular prescription sleeping drug, I believe.”

  “Yes.” Judith’s mind was racing. On the other bed lay the

  extra pillow, which had been removed from under the spread.

  “What do you think of that note?” Judith asked, coming

  around to join Gene.

  The company attorney kept his hands carefully pressed

  against his sides. “It’s clear, isn’t it?”

  “In what way?” Judith queried.

  Judging from the scowl on Gene’s face, he didn’t like being

  on the other end of questions. “Andrea couldn’t live without

  Leon. What else could it mean?”

  Judith said nothing. She stared again at the pillow on the

  empty bed. “Where’s the water glass?” she asked.

  “What water glass?” Gene sounded annoyed.

  Judith pointed to the pill bottle. “There’s no sign of a glass

  on the nightstand. Why would anyone take a bunch of

  sleeping tablets without water?” Judith didn’t wait for a response, but went into the bathroom. “The glass is in here,”

  she called. “Two glasses, in fact. One’s clean, the other has

  a bit of water in the bottom.”

  Gene had moved to the bathroom door. The scowl was

  gone, but he looked puzzled. “What’s your point?”

  A sudden, paralyzing fear gripped Judith. She didn’t know

  Gene Jarman. He seemed like a diligent, somewhat stiffnecked man who had brought himself up by the bootstraps.

  Yet his very success was evidence of not just ambition and

  determination, but perhaps ruthlessness as well. The same

  might be said of all the OTIOSE executives. And one of them

  was a killer. It could be Eugene Jarman, Jr.

  “Nothing,” Judith said in a careless voice. “I was just

  speculating.”

  120 / Mary Daheim

  “Is there anything unusual in the bathroom?” he inquired,

  gazing around the small but economical space.

  “No.” Judith started to come back into the other room;

  Gene stepped aside. “Have you noticed anything we should

  report on?” Judith asked in an unusually meek voice.

  Gene didn’t answer right away. He was standing at the

  foot of the bed, staring morosely at Andrea. “She was a nice

  woman, if you didn’t cross swords with her. Then she could

  be a real tiger.” He moved between the beds. “I shouldn’t do

  this, but I feel I must.” Carefully, he lifted the sheet and pulled

  it over Andrea’s face.

  “That’s…better,” Judith said, relieved that Gene hadn’t

  suggested they move Andrea upstairs with Leon. “Finished?”

  Gene said he was. In silence, they returned to the lobby.

  The brandy bottles had been emptied, replaced by gin,

  rum, vodka, and whiskey. The mood, however, was scarcely

  festive. When Judith got out of the elevator, she noticed the

  look of relief on Renie’s face.

  “I think we should make more coffee,” Renie whispered.

  “These people are going to need it once they kill all the

  booze.”

  “Don’t use that term,” Judith urged, but was quick to follow Renie out of the lobby. “Did anything happen in my

  absence?” she asked when they reached the dining room.

  “No, just a lot of maundering about poor Andrea,” Renie

  replied, unplugging the big urn on the buffet table. “Her

  husband was a lazy dreamer, she was the breadwinner, all

  Alan Roth ever wanted was a meal ticket, she wouldn’t divorce him because she was Catholic.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Judith murmured, heading for the kitchen. “After nineteen years of marriage to Dan, I can sympathize with Andrea.”

  “I’ll bet you can,” Renie said as Judith firmly shut the door

  behind them.

  “That’s not all,” Judith said, pressing her back against

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  the door. “Much as I hate to say this, coz, I think Andrea

  was murdered.”

  Renie winced. “I hate to hear you say that,” she breathed,

  “but why am I not surprised?”

  “Because we’re in the middle of a bloodbath, that’s why.”

  Judith closed her eyes for a moment, then squared her

  shoulders and walked over to the counter where she sat down

  on one of the tall stools. “First of all, Andrea wasn’t the type

  to commit suicide. Even if she was in love with Leon

  Mooney—and we don’t know that for sure—the Andrea

  Piccoloni-Roths of this world do not kill themselves.”

  Renie perched on one of the other stools. “It didn’t sound

  right to me from the start.”

  “This isn’t just amateur psychology,” Judith went on.

  “I hope not. Bill hates competition,” Renie said, referring

  to her husband’s staff position at the university. “Bill says

  that besides being simplistic and superficial, most non-professionals…”

  Judith held up both hands. “Stop! Your husband’s brilliant,

  but this isn’t the time for one of your long-winded wifely

  essays. I’m talking facts here, coz. As in fact number

  one—there was an empty Halcion bottle on the nightstand

  next to the bed. Fact number two—the water glass, which

  you gave Andrea last night, was in the bathroom. Now who

  swallows pills in the bathroom with the water glass, and

  then takes the bottle with them into the bedroom?”

  “Is ‘nobody’ the right answer?” Renie had assumed her

  middle-aged ingenue’s air.

  “Right. Fact number three,” Judith continued. “The note

  said what Ava told us—‘Leon, I’m coming to join you.’ Andrea undoubtedly wrote that, but I’ll bet she wrote it last

  night to slip under Leon’s door. It simply meant that she

  was going to meet him in his room, which is where we found

  her when we went to tell her about Leon. But now she’s in

  her own room, next door. My guess is that the killer found

  that note—probably on Leon—and used it to fake a suicide.”

  122 / Mary Daheim

  “Clever,” Renie remarked. “And fortuitous.”

  “Exactly. Then we get to fact number four—which isn’t

  really a fact, but a conjecture.” Judith gave Renie an apologetic look. “The extra pillow that I’d put under Andrea was

  lying on the empty twin bed. Now it’s possible that she removed the pillow herself. But I’m thinking that she came

  back to her room and simply flopped onto the bed. Under

  the circumstances, wouldn’t you? She was worn out, she

  was upset, she very well may have taken Halcion to help

  herself sleep. Why remove the pillow?”

  “She didn’t.” Renie’s face was expressionless.

  “Of course she didn’t,” Judith continued, “because…”

  “Because she wasn’t in Leon’s room.”

  “What?” Judith made a face at Renie.

  “You said so yourself.” R
enie lifted her hands, palms up.

  “The water glass and the pillow you’re talking about were

  in Leon’s room, not Andrea’s. So what are you trying to

  say?”

  Judith looked blank, then exhilarated. “What I was saying

  all along. Except that now I’m sure I’m right. The killer removed the extra pillow from under the spread of the other

  twin bed. Andrea didn’t die from an overdose of sleeping

  pills. She was smothered.”

  Judith and Renie weren’t sure how to break the news to

  the others. It hadn’t seemed to Judith that Gene Jarman was

  suspicious. On the other hand, he wasn’t the type to reveal

  what he was thinking. As the cousins made fresh coffee, they

  mulled over the problem.

  “Andrea must have let in whoever killed her,” Renie pointed out, running water from the tap into the urn.

  “Of course she would,” Judith agreed. “Despite Leon’s

  death, she must have trusted whoever came to her door.”

  “Which could be anybody,” Renie noted. “The only person

  she really seemed on the outs with was Margo.”

  “Andrea had probably already taken the Halcion,” Ju- SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 123

  dith said, opening the kitchen door for Renie, who was carrying the urn back to the dining room. “She was probably

  drowsy. Maybe whoever called on her offered to sit with her

  until she nodded off. Then he—or she—applied the pillow.”

  Judith winced. “I thought her face looked sort of bruised, but

  then I don’t know what effects an overdose of Halcion has

  on a person.”

  “I don’t know, either,” Renie admitted, plugging in the

  urn. “Didn’t somebody say they heard noises during the

  night?”

  Judith stared at Renie. “You’re right. It was Margo. She

  thought someone was trying to get into her room. I’ll bet

  Leon was on one side of Andrea’s room and Margo was on

  the other.”

  “That’s right,” Renie responded. “I saw Margo come from

  that room last night when everybody heard the commotion.”

  The cousins gazed at each other. “Shall we?” Judith finally

  said.

  “I suppose,” Renie said reluctantly. “Our popularity is

  about to plummet to minus zero.”

  “Our popularity isn’t the issue,” Judith said bluntly. “Trying

  to stop a killer from striking again is what matters.”

  While not exactly drunk, the OTIOSE crew wasn’t quite

  sober, either. Ava was curled up against Gene; Nadia appeared to be asleep; Ward and Max were arguing goodnaturedly; Russell was talking to himself; Margo was sitting