by Mary Daheim
Nadia’s rummaging with curiosity. “Are you looking for
plates? They’re right here, on the counter. I’ve already unloaded the dishwasher.”
“Plates?” Nadia turned, pushing her big glasses up on her
nose. “No. I thought…I wondered if perhaps there was some
cooking sherry in the kitchen. I wouldn’t mind a little pickme-up.”
It seemed to Judith that Nadia had picked herself up so
often with the liquor in the lobby that she ought to be floating on air. But the administrative assistant’s drinking habits
were none of Judith’s business.
“I think there’s a bottle in that tall narrow cupboard on
your left,” Judith said. “It’s in with the various kinds of vinegar.”
“Ah.” Nadia had to stand on tiptoe to reach the sherry.
“As I was saying, Friday afternoons can be absolute hell. A
negative news story in the early edition of the evening paper.
A decision handed down by the state utilities commission.
A disaster with a member of the board. One of the worst
happened just recently. Do you recall the Santa Claus debacle?”
Judith’s interest was piqued. “You mean when Santa ran
off with Barry Newcombe?”
Pouring sherry into a juice glass, Nadia shook her head.
“No, no. That was over a year ago. This happened during
the recent holiday season. We’d offered a nine-hundred toll
number so that children could call Santa. Of course there’s
178 / Mary Daheim
a charge for nine-hundred numbers. Quite a few parents became upset because their children ran up rather large phone
bills. The story made the newspapers, and OTIOSE was referred to as a Grinch or a Scrooge or just plain greedy, when
in point of fact, those irresponsible parents should have exercised some control over their ill-behaved children. Some
of them actually made obscene calls to Santa, and we had
at least two adults who complained that he didn’t sound like
the real one. But the most unfortunate part was that when
the article came out that particular Friday in December, none
of the officers were around. I never could figure out where
they’d all gone, but I was the one who ended up having to
field the media’s questions. It was horrible.”
But not as horrible as murder, thought Judith. Or maybe
it was, to Nadia Weiss. “Tell me about the board,” Judith
said, picking up the silverware and indicating for Nadia to
bring the plates. “Do the members actually control the company?”
“There are twelve directors,” Nadia replied, following Judith
into the dining room. “Three are OTIOSE officers—Frank,
Leon, and Ward. It’s traditional that the president, the executive vice president, and the chief financial officer sit on the
board. The rest of the members come from throughout the
region. They include only the most prominent names in
business, education, and private endeavor.”
In other words, the usual stuffed shirts, Judith thought,
laying a fresh cloth on the table. “But you’re short two
members,” she pointed out.
“What?” Nadia looked up from the pile of dinner plates.
“Yes, yes, we are.” Her mouth, which seemed to accelerate
with every swig of sherry, turned down. “It’s incredible, isn’t
it? Two vacancies to fill. Four, really. Ray Nordquist of
Nordquist’s Department Stores is about to retire, and William
Boring Jr. of the Boring Airplane Company feels he’s overextended.”
“So,” Judith said slowly, “one-third of the board will
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 179
have to be replaced. Will Ward and Leon’s successors automatically become members?”
“Probably, though in the past sometimes the vice presidentlegal counsel has served instead of the chief financial officer.”
Nadia carefully set the plates down on the table.
“Does the board wield much power?” Judith asked as they
returned to the kitchen.
Nadia uttered a small laugh. “Some say they’re merely a
rubber stamp for Frank and the rest of the officers. But that’s
because our executives know what’s best for OTIOSE. Once
in a great while, however, the other members go off on a
tangent and become quite obstinate. Then it’s up to our
gang—if you want to call them that—it’s more like family—to
dissuade them.”
The term “family” struck Judith as wildly inappropriate;
“gang” was more like it. She recalled Joe’s despair over
teenagers who joined gangs. Maybe it wasn’t so different
with grownups. Everybody had to belong to something or
someone, and at the corporate level, co-workers could become like family. Maybe for someone like Nadia, who seemed
to be alone in the world, OTIOSE filled a deep need. Maybe
she wanted to be “one of the gang.”
Judith handed water glasses to Nadia, whose attitude about
the murders was disturbingly blasé. “It must be terribly hard
on you to have three of your co-workers die in your midst.
You seem to be holding up rather well.”
“Oh, no!” Suddenly, Nadia was aghast. “I’m utterly
shattered! Not to mention frightened out of my wits! But I
can’t let it show. Why do you think I feel so stupid when
my nerves give way? On the executive floor, someone has
to keep calm. A steady hand at the tiller, as Frank would say.
Often, it’s up to me.”
“I see,” said Judith, and for once she did. Frank Killegrew,
and perhaps the other officers, relied on Nadia. She was the
axle to their big wheels. “Like with the Santa Claus phone
calls.”
“Exactly.” Nadia drank deeply from the juice glass. “Of
180 / Mary Daheim
course that was by default. When the news story hit, the officers simply…disappeared.”
“Including Margo,” Judith said.
Nadia gave a nod of assent. “Including Margo. Even
though it was a situation that fell into her shop. I ended up
coordinating the p.r. effort.”
“Speaking of disappearing,” Judith said, jumping at the
chance to change topics, “have you any idea how one of your
group could have gotten cut off from his or her buddy at the
time Ward was killed?”
The implication made Nadia wince. “Are you suggesting
that…?”
“Yes, of course. Aren’t we all in agreement that somebody
in this lodge is a killer?”
“I’m not sure.” Nadia turned sulky. “What about that person laughing outside the lodge? We’ve all tried to look from
the upper windows to see if anyone is there, but it’s impossible to see very far. Yet we all heard that awful laugh.
Surely that could have been the killer.”
“It’s possible,” Judith admitted, “but I don’t see how. Of
course if we could be sure that each person inside the lodge
was with someone else, then we’d know we’re all innocent.”
Behind the big glasses, Nadia’s eyes narrowed. “I thought
you and your cousin knew the killer’s identity.”
“What I said was that we have evidence pointing to the
killer. That’s not quite the same,” Judith hedged. “It will take
a forensics expert
to actually pin the murders on this…person.”
Nadia took a moment to sort through Judith’s ambiguous
statement. “You haven’t eliminated me,” she finally said. “I
don’t have your note or your evidence.”
Judith said nothing. Nadia drank more sherry. In silence,
the two women carried the remainder of the table settings
out to the dining room. When they were back in the kitchen,
Judith rephrased her original question.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 181
“Do you know where everyone was around the time that
Ward must have been killed?”
“Frank and I were in the lobby,” Nadia replied, not looking
at Judith. “Then we went to check on the smaller conference
rooms. I had to use the restroom, so I asked Margo to stay
with Frank. Ava accompanied me to the bathroom. I wasn’t
alone—nor was Frank—for more than a minute.” At last, she
gave Judith a defiant stare.
There was no way to prove or disprove Nadia’s story. It
seemed to mesh with Margo’s account. Perhaps Frank Killegrew would have a different version.
Nadia finished her sherry while Judith checked on the game
hens and the bean dish. Then the two women returned to
the lobby. The interrogation of Ava would have to wait until
after dinner.
Renie and Gene had removed enough snow so that the
door could be shut. They were just turning the lock when
Judith joined them. Renie was panting from exertion and
Gene was mopping his brow.
“We had to pour all the melted water down the restroom
toilets,” he explained, then pointed to the wet-dry vacuum.
“We filled that thing eight times.”
“Good work,” Judith remarked before turning to Renie. “I
could use your help in serving.”
“I’m pooped,” Renie said, then caught the meaningful glint
in Judith’s eyes. “But so what? I’m a glutton for punishment.”
She took a cigarette from her purse and lighted up.
“I think I liked it better when you were just a glutton,” Judith murmured, leading Renie not to the kitchen, but to the
restroom. “Let’s stop in here first.”
“I’ve been here a lot,” Renie said, but followed Judith.
“Gene and I were so buddy-buddy that he came with me into
the women’s restroom to empty the water.”
Judith made a quick check of the six stalls; they were vacant. “So what did you find out from Gene?” she asked, entering the stall at the near end of the row.
182 / Mary Daheim
“He knows we have the pillowcase.”
Judith blinked several times at the closed door. “He does?
And how did he learn that?”
“I don’t know,” Renie responded over the sound of running
tap water. “It was a slip on his part. He said something to
the effect that, ‘Physical evidence consists of more than proof
of foul play.’ Thus, I deduced that he was alluding to the
pillowcase—which you had mentioned to him when you
were in Andrea’s room—and to the fact that we had removed
it.”
Judith emerged from the stall. “Was he guessing? Or did
he know?”
“I don’t think Gene Jarman guesses,” Renie said, drying
her hands on a paper towel. “It’s not his style.”
“Coz,” Judith began, dispensing liquid soap into her palm,
“do you see what that means?”
“Of course. Gene has been in Andrea’s room since you
were there with him. Either he went with someone—or he
went alone,” Renie said with an impish expression.
“Brilliant deduction,” Judith remarked. “So which was it?”
Renie was in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. “I tried
to get a run-down on who he was with at the time of Ward’s
murder. Gene had gone into the library with Ava, but he
was very evasive about how long they were there. It made
me wonder what they were doing. Do you remember yesterday afternoon when we thought we heard somebody in one
of the smaller conference rooms? I’ve noticed a certain intimacy between Gene and Ava. How about you?”
Digging a lipstick out of her shoulder bag, Judith gave
Renie a bemused look. “Why not? They’re single, they make
a good-looking couple. It’s nobody’s business but theirs.
However,” she went on, waving the lipstick at Renie, “they
didn’t stay in the library during that whole critical time
period. Ava came in here with Nadia, and Gene and Russell
were seen talking outside the library. At some
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 183
point, they separated, if only for a very brief…”
The pager went off again. Startled, Judith dropped the
lipstick which rolled across the floor and under the fourth
stall. Renie chased the lipstick while Judith checked the pager.
“My number,” she sighed. “Do you suppose Mother is
dead?”
“Not a chance,” Renie replied, crawling around on the
floor. “My guess is that she wants you to go to the store and
bring back a fifty-pound bag of Goo-Goo Clusters. She’s
probably forgotten you’re out of town. Meanwhile, my
mother is…” Renie stopped, the lipstick in one hand and
something else in the other. “It’s a note someone dropped,”
she said, standing up.
The note had been folded several times into a quarter-inch
thickness. Renie smoothed the paper and held it so that Judith could read over her shoulder. It appeared to have come
out of a daybook and was a list of things to do for Thursday,
January 11.
Take Frank’s suit to cleaners—grease spot on left lapel
Stop at post office to get change of address forms
Change Frank’s appointment with Hukle, Hukle, and Huff
Call cable company re Frank
Go to liquor store
“Nadia,” Judith breathed.
“Dogsbody,” Renie said. “Which, some might say, is another word for wife.”
“But she’s not,” Judith noted. “On the other hand, she acts
like one.”
“Interesting,” Renie remarked, and pointed to the notation
about Hukle, Hukle, and Huff. “Roland Huff is the city’s
leading divorce attorney.”
Judith respected Renie’s knowledge when it came to lo- 184 / Mary Daheim
cal law firms. Her mother, Deborah Grover, had been a
legal secretary for almost fifty years. Still, Judith had a
quibble.
“So what kind of law do the Hukles practice?”
“Mostly estate and insurance.” Renie held up a hand before
Judith could interrupt. “I know what you’re thinking—Frank
Killegrew’s appointment could have been with Burton or
Kay Hukle. Still, it’s intriguing.”
“Maybe.” Judith, however, was gazing not at the items on
the list but at the paper itself. “What intrigues me is why this
was folded so small and ended up on the restroom floor.
What do you do with memos to yourself after you’ve polished them off?”
“I toss them,” Renie replied. “But this came out of a daybook. People don’t usually rip out the pages, they just move
on to the next one. I write my reminders on whatever spare
piece of paper I
can find.”
“Good point.” Judith refolded the list and put it in her
shoulder bag. “I think I’ll hang on to this. Maybe something
will come to me.”
The cousins entered the kitchen from the back way,
through the laundry room. “We should wash our clothes
after dinner,” Renie said. “I don’t think we’re getting out of
here tonight. It’s still snowing, but not as hard.”
Dolefully, Judith shook her head. “Meanwhile, Mother is
dangling by her thumbs from one of the coat hangers Aunt
Ellen made out of macaroni for Christmas presents.”
“Macaroni?” Renie frowned. “The ones my mother got
were fusilli. They’re kind of brittle.”
Judith opened the oven. “I got a wreath shaped from
manicotti.”
“Mine was a lampshade of egg noodles. It melted when
Bill screwed in a hundred-and-fifty-watt bulb.”
“Joe took the wreath to work and hung it in the deputy
chief’s office. He ate it.”
Renie giggled. “He did not!”
“I only know what Joe tells me. Aunt Ellen’s a dear, but
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 185
she does send the strangest presents.” Judith removed the
bean dish and set it on the counter. “Speaking of Joe’s coworkers, I wonder if anyone from the department has tried
to get hold of Frank Killegrew.”
“We wouldn’t know if they had,” Renie pointed out.
The cousins busied themselves with dishing up dinner. It
was almost six-thirty when they announced that the meal
was served. Ava suggested that Judith and Renie join them.
“There’s plenty of room at the table,” Ava said in a sardonic tone.
Judith felt like asking if she could charge for overtime, but
thought better of it. Getting out in one piece seemed like her
greatest priority. She exchanged questioning glances with
Renie, then decided they might as well sit with the others.
At first, there was little conversation except for requests to
pass the salt and pepper.
Judith chose to enliven the atmosphere. “Have any of you
ever met the lodge’s caretaker?”
All eyes regarded her with curiosity, but it was Margo who
responded. “How could we? This place is off-limits during
the retreat.”
“I heard he was an odd duck,” Max put in.
“Who told you that?” Killegrew demanded.
Max looked blank. “Ward? I think he mentioned it when