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

by Mary Daheim

“You said yourself she’s wiry.” Judith sat down at the

  banquet table reserved for the conferees. “If you know how

  to use a garrote—I gather there’s an art to it—you need surprise rather than strength. In fact, it would be easy if the

  killer somehow first rendered the victim helpless. As for

  pushing Ward out the window, that would depend on where

  he was standing when it happened.”

  “He was a fairly big guy,” Renie pointed out, sitting down

  next to Judith.

  “Tall, yes, but lean and lanky. A hundred and sixty pounds,

  I’d guess. It could be done, even by someone like Nadia.

  The real question is, who flunked the buddy system?”

  Renie’s eyes widened. “You’re right. Unless it was Max

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  who was also alone in his room upstairs, somebody got

  loose.”

  “I’ve been trying to think back to when we returned to the

  lobby after Max and Ward went upstairs to change. How

  long were we gone collecting towels in the supply room?

  Five, ten minutes at most?”

  “About that,” Renie agreed. “But before we went there,

  we’d been in the basement getting more liquor.”

  “That’s right.” Judith drummed her nails on the bare table.

  “Margo and Russell went with us. They took the bottles out

  to the lobby. Where we finally got there?”

  Renie’s face fell. “I don’t remember. Nadia and Ava were

  coming out of the restroom, though.”

  Judith nodded. “Have you ever noticed how long other

  women take to use a stall at a public restroom?”

  Renie chuckled. “I figure they must be completely dressing

  and undressing. Maybe they put their clothes on backwards,

  and then switch them around. It beats me, but I sure get tired

  of standing in long lines at the theater or the opera or a ball

  game.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Judith said. “It’s conceivable that a

  woman—let’s say Ava, just for the heck of it—could go into

  a stall at the same time as another woman—like Nadia—and

  come right out, leave the restroom, then return five, even ten

  minutes later, without the other woman knowing she was

  gone.”

  “It’s a stretch,” Renie said with a frown.

  “Try this—one of them says she forgot her purse. The

  other one is already in the stall. She waits, because she feels

  it’s safe, the other woman will be right back.”

  “Okay, I’ll mark ‘slim’ by that one,” Renie conceded.

  “What about the rest of them?”

  Judith concentrated on her memory of the lobby as she

  had seen it upon her return from the supply room. “Russell

  and Gene were talking by the library. But we know they

  170 / Mary Daheim

  hadn’t been together long because Russell had been with us

  in the basement. Who had been Gene’s buddy before that?

  Was he alone for a few minutes before Russell came along?”

  Renie snapped her fingers. “Frank and Margo had gone

  to check on one of the conference rooms. That’s why they

  weren’t there.”

  “You’re right, but nobody could see them. Did they stick

  together?” Judith made a face. “It’s impossible to figure out

  unless we interrogate them separately. That won’t be easy.”

  “How about impossible? The buddy system, remember?”

  Judith grimaced. “That’s true. You and I will have to be

  their buddies, I guess.”

  “Gack.” Renie finished her Canadian whiskey. “You mean,

  we each take one of them aside and pump away?”

  “You got it. It should be kind of subtle. I’ll take Margo,

  Ava, and Nadia. You get Frank, Max, and Gene. Russell’s

  up for grabs.”

  “Hey!” Renie wagged a finger in Judith’s face. “How come

  you get all the women?”

  “Because women can always talk to women, no matter

  what their backgrounds. On the other hand, men don’t open

  up so easily. But,” Judith went on in an attempt at flattery,

  “you’re used to corporate types. You have a knack.”

  “Twit,” said Renie. “Don’t pull your soft soap act on me.

  I get the tough ones. Thus, you get Russell. He likes you

  best. You made him tea.”

  “Fine.” Judith finished her Scotch and stood up. “Let’s go

  separate a couple of them from the herd.”

  “How do we manage that?” Renie asked with a dubious

  expression.

  Judith gazed in the direction of the kitchen. “I guess we’ll

  have to make dinner after all. I’ll cook, you mop.”

  “Jeez.” Renie wasn’t pleased. “So I get Frank to help me

  swab the decks while you and Margo peel potatoes.”

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  Grinning, Judith tipped her head to one side. “I like that.

  Frank will like that. It’s right up his cliché alley.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll ask Gene. Lawyers are used to cleaning

  up after other people.” Renie led the way back into the lobby.

  At first, Margo was reluctant to join Judith. But after some

  coaxing, the p.r. vice president patted her suede bag and

  agreed to accompany Judith to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Renie

  managed to secure Gene’s help with what was becoming a

  rather alarming situation in the entranceway. The water was

  edging toward the near walls and creeping up on the Navajo

  rugs in the sitting area. Russell suggested that they search

  for an indoor-outdoor vacuum in the basement.

  “Good thinking,” Renie said. “They must have something

  like that because of all the skiers trooping in and out. Come

  on, Gene, let’s go look.”

  A sense of trepidation stole over Judith as she watched her

  cousin and Gene Jarman head for the basement. But she

  herself had been alone with Gene earlier. Nothing alarming

  had happened. Surely Renie was safe. The cousins had issued

  their insurance policy.

  Margo seemed to be studying Judith closely. “I’m not much

  of a cook,” she said, still holding the suede bag. “Why me?

  Why not your cousin? Or Nadia?”

  “My cousin and I are getting a bit sick of each other’s

  faces,” Judith said glibly. “As for Nadia, it seems to me that

  she always gets stuck with the grunt work. Why not spread

  it around?”

  “Because I’m a vice president and Nadia’s not.” Abruptly,

  Margo looked contrite. “Sorry. That was arrogant. In any

  event, I don’t expect to be a vice president much longer.”

  Judith was removing a dozen stuffed Cornish game hens

  from the freezer. “Here,” she said to Margo as she placed the

  frozen birds one by one on the counter. “You can unwrap

  these and thaw them in the microwave. Dinner’s go- 172 / Mary Daheim

  ing to be a bit late.” She paused for just a fraction. “So you

  still plan to quit?”

  “You bet. Whatever’s going on in this company is too

  gruesome for my tastes.” Margo finally put the suede bag

  down, but kept it close at hand. “Besides, this scandal could

  ruin OTIOSE. I don’t intend to stick around for the fallout.”


  Judith shut the freezer. “You don’t think the company could

  survive if the story gets out?”

  Margo opened her mouth to give a quick reply, then hesitated. “I’m not sure. There have been other phone company

  scandals over the years involving just about any sin you could

  imagine. You wouldn’t believe some of the wild stories,

  despite the pristine, even dull, cachet associated with the

  phrase ‘phone company.’ But underneath, there were the

  same rampant human emotions that exist in more flamboyant, glamorous corporations. Greed, ambition, sex—the

  whole gamut. Once in awhile they played out in some highly

  unusual—and ghastly—ways.”

  Judith gave Margo a curious look. “I don’t ever recall

  reading about such things in the paper.”

  Margo’s expression was ironic. “You wouldn’t. That’s what

  people like me get paid to do—cover it up. Oh, I’m not

  saying that the old telecommunications industry was rife

  with scandal, but given the millions of people who worked

  in it during the glory years, there was plenty that had to be

  swept under the corporate rug. Now, with divestiture, and

  the sprouting up of new companies all over the place, you

  have a whole new breed of so-called phone company people.

  They’re smarter, tougher, and much more ruthless.” Margo

  glanced at her suede bag. “This weekend proves my point.”

  “Goodness,” said Judith, aghast. “Do you think power is

  what this is all about?”

  “Yes.” Margo tucked her bag under one arm and carried

  four game hens to the microwave. “What else?”

  Judith began uncovering the green bean and mushroom

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  dish she had prepared at Hillside Manor. “Yet there’s a

  chance OTIOSE might survive?”

  “It’s possible,” Margo allowed, waiting for the microwave

  to turn off. “But I don’t want to be the one who has to shuck

  and jive with the media. Not to mention that I couldn’t go

  on working for the company after all this. Good God,

  somebody on the executive floor is a killer!”

  Judith gave Margo a rueful smile. “Then you don’t think

  it’s my cousin or me?”

  “Hardly.” Margo removed the first four game hens and put

  the next batch in the microwave. “Unless you’re a couple of

  hired assassins, I don’t see the point.”

  The concept made Judith laugh. “We’re not. We’re exactly

  what we seem to be—a couple of Heraldsgate Hill housewives who run their own businesses on the side.”

  “Housewives,” Margo repeated. “What a quaint term.”

  Unexpectedly, she added, “I like it.”

  Involuntarily, Judith’s eyes strayed to the digital time display on the stove. It didn’t tick, but something did, and Judith

  guessed that it was Margo’s biological clock.

  “Has your career gotten sort of…redundant?” Judith

  couldn’t think of a better word.

  Margo sighed. “I’m virtually at the top of my profession.

  I make good money, I’m well respected, my life’s my own.”

  She stopped, staring gloomily at the microwave.

  “But it’s not enough.” There was no query in Judith’s

  words. “Everyone has holes in their lives, it’s part of human

  nature. But some of them can be filled.”

  Margo looked at Judith with something akin to awe. “You

  do understand. Somehow, I thought you were…” She

  fumbled for words; Judith thought Margo didn’t do that very

  often.

  “You thought I was a pinhead because I’m not in the

  business world,” Judith said with a little smile. “The real

  world is down on the ground, not on the thirtieth floor. I’ve

  spent my life with my feet planted firmly in the earth. Believe

  me, there’ve been many times when strong winds

  174 / Mary Daheim

  threatened to knock me over. But I’ve kept standing there,

  as if I’d grown roots. I may not have been a career woman,

  but I have worked—and it’s easier to leave your troubles

  behind you and head off to the job. On the other hand, except for the paycheck, there’s not much real payoff. At least

  not the kind that really counts.”

  Margo nodded gravely. “Success—even money and power

  and sex—aren’t enough. I want to make somebody happy.

  And I want one of those little people to rock in my arms.”

  She gave Judith an embarrassed, rueful look. “Have I made

  a complete fool of myself or should I go on?”

  All her life, Judith had been accustomed to people opening

  up to her. Maybe it was her sympathetic face, her friendly

  manner, or her innate understanding of human nature.

  Whatever the reason, she was never surprised when virtual

  strangers unburdened themselves.

  “If it hadn’t been for my son,” Judith said grimly, “I’d have

  probably poisoned my first husband in the first five years of

  our marriage.” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “I don’t

  really mean that,” Judith added lamely.

  Margo uttered a truncated laugh. “Life’s tough. I thought

  I was tough. I’m not. I found that out this weekend, but I

  have to pretend.”

  “We all do,” Judith said, opening one of the double ovens.

  “Tell me—who do you think is the killer?”

  “Oh, God.” Margo held her head. “I’ve tried to figure it

  out, especially now that Ward is dead. How did anybody—any of us—get upstairs to kill him?”

  “Good point.” Judith began lining up the game hens in a

  big roasting pan. “After you and Russell took the liquor

  bottles to the lobby, what did you do next?”

  Margo removed the last four game hens from the microwave. “I’ve thought about that. When Russell and I got

  to the lobby, Frank and Nadia had gone to check out the

  conference rooms. Ava came out of the library and asked if

  I’d go to the restroom with her, but I didn’t need to, and

  just then Nadia came back and said she’d go if I’d stay

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  with Frank. I tracked him down and we checked the mikes

  and rearranged the chairs and then we came back to the

  lobby. Max was there, wondering what had happened to

  Ward. I honestly don’t remember what the others were doing.”

  Judith did, having gone over the scene with Renie. “How

  long was Frank alone in the conference room?” Judith asked.

  Margo spread her hands. “A minute? Two minutes?”

  “Oh.” Judith was disappointed. Something Margo had said

  suddenly struck her. “If Ava was going to the restroom, where

  was Gene? They’d been in the library together.”

  “Gene?” Margo looked blank. “I don’t know. I didn’t see

  him after I came back from the basement.”

  The basement, thought Judith, panicking. Renie was in the

  basement with Gene. They’d been gone an awfully long time.

  “Let’s see how my cousin and Gene are doing,” Judith said,

  trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

  But just as the two women headed for the stairs, Renie

  and Gene appeared, wrestling with a large and cumbersome

  co
ntraption.

  “We found it,” Renie announced, short of breath. “It was

  in the heating room.”

  “Good.” Judith felt pale and drained. “I’m…glad.”

  Renie and Gene rolled the big dry-wet vacuum through

  the kitchen and out toward the lobby. Margo eyed Judith

  with an inquisitive expression.

  “You thought Gene had offed your cousin?”

  “Well…” Judith tried to evade the question, but finally

  gave in. “It crossed my mind.”

  Margo nodded. “Mine, too.”

  Judith stared at Margo. “You actually suspect Gene?”

  Margo gripped her suede bag. “I suspect everybody. Don’t

  you?”

  THIRTEEN

  AFTER THE GAME hens and the bean dish had been put in

  the oven, Judith and Margo returned to the lobby. Ava was

  next on her list of people to interrogate, and the easiest way

  to get her alone was to ask her to take over for Margo and

  help set the dining room table.

  Ava balked. “I’m tired,” she complained. “After dinner,

  maybe I’ll get my second wind and go on cleanup duty.”

  Cleanup of another kind was going on near the entrance.

  Renie and Gene had turned on the vacuum, which was

  sucking up the water. Killegrew shouted to them, saying that

  if they also sucked up some of the snow, maybe they could

  get the door closed. It was, he asserted, pretty damned cold.

  Interrupting Nadia’s attempts to soothe her CEO, Judith

  asked the administrative assistant to help get dinner on the

  table. Nadia started to demur, then grudgingly acquiesced.

  As Judith and Nadia left the lobby, Renie and Gene were

  attacking the encroaching snow. To Judith’s surprise, Killegrew’s suggestion seemed to be working. Bemused, she

  wondered if it was a seemingly lame-brained idea like this

  one which had sent Frank Killegrew to the top of his profession.

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  “I cannot think,” Nadia began as she randomly opened

  cupboards in the kitchen, “why I’m such a wreck. It isn’t as

  if this is the first crisis I’ve faced.”

  Judith was startled. “Including multiple murders?”

  “No, no, not murder,” Nadia said, still searching in the

  cupboards. “But especially at work on Friday afternoons. It

  seems as if there’s always a crisis that has to be resolved before five o’clock. You wouldn’t believe how stressful that can

  be.”

  Judith, who had been setting out silverware, observed