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

by Mary Daheim

  Shouldn’t a CEO have organizational and administrative

  skills?”

  Renie smirked. “Look at Frank. Does he strike you as a

  managerial wizard? His strength is delegating. Maybe Alan

  can do that, too.”

  “You know,” Judith said, still looking perplexed, “if OTIOSE is an example of how the world of commerce runs, I’m

  beginning to wonder how any companies or businesses keep

  from going belly-up.”

  “You’d wonder more if you had to deal with them like I

  do,” Renie said. “Management has no loyalty to employees

  and employees have no loyalty to the workplace. Common

  sense seems to have gone out the window years ago. Everybody spends more time in useless meetings than getting

  things done. And everybody brings their private lives to the

  office, which becomes a group therapy session. Boy, am I

  glad I work for myself. I’m a lousy boss, but I know how to

  take criticism. I just tell myself to shut up and get down to

  business.”

  “Hillside Manor is such a quiet, nonpolitical, uncomplicated place,” Judith sighed. “Sure, I get crazy guests and my

  mother drives me nuts and it’s hard work, but compared

  with what goes on downtown, I’ve got it made.”

  “Me, too,” Renie agreed. “Working for yourself is the only

  way to go. I’m sure that’s why Bill and Joe are anxious to

  retire. They can’t be their own bosses. Joe’s got a tough chain

  of command with the police department, and even though

  people who don’t know any better think professors live in

  an ivory tower, it’s covered with thorns. There’s a hierarchy,

  politics galore, and all kinds of budget crises, especially at a

  state university.”

  “At least Joe and Bill accomplish something,” Judith pointed out. “Joe may get frustrated, but he does protect and

  serve. If you save only one life in the course of a year, that’s

  a huge contribution.”

  196 / Mary Daheim

  Renie nodded. “You bet. And Bill may feel as if most of

  his students are only slightly smarter than your average artichoke, but every so often he realizes that he’s made a big

  impression on someone that will last a lifetime. How many

  other people can say that about their so-called careers?”

  Judith blinked at Renie. “Yes,” she said in an odd voice.

  “How many people can?”

  “What?” Renie regarded Judith with curiosity, but there

  was no chance for an explanation. Ava entered the kitchen,

  looking somewhat sheepish.

  “My bombshell has sent everyone back to the bar,” she

  said. “Margo didn’t help things, either. I had to get away.

  Let me help clean up.”

  “Go ahead, coz, take a breather,” Judith responded, still

  sounding unlike herself.

  Renie looked uncertain, but headed for the lobby. Judith

  and Ava returned to the dining room. It was a shambles,

  with overturned chairs, spilled wine, and scattered food littering the tablecloth and floor.

  “They were very upset,” Ava said in apology. “No one who

  knows Alan Roth—except Margo—can believe he’s qualified

  to run WaCom.”

  Judith began collecting dirty plates. “Andrea must have

  known about this, don’t you think?”

  “Probably,” Ava agreed, picking up silverware. “She and

  Alan had their problems, but they were still married. If he

  was about to be given a big job like the one at WaCom, he

  must have discussed it with her.”

  “But Andrea didn’t tell Frank,” Judith pointed out, heading

  back to the kitchen.

  “Obviously not.” Ava had grown thoughtful. “Nadia was

  right—a merger will mean cutbacks and layoffs and all the

  rest of it. Andrea would know that, which means…” She

  stopped, staring at the silverware she’d just put into the

  dishwasher.

  “What?” Judith asked.

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 197

  Ava’s expression was wry. “Where did Nadia get all that

  information she was spouting at the dinner table? Especially

  the old stuff about Gene and Max and Russell? She was

  about to start in on me, as well. Where did she get her data,

  and why bring it up now?”

  Judith thought back to the conversation, though the word

  was only a euphemism for wrangling. “Frank was needling

  people, too. Surely military records would be common

  knowledge.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Ava said. “People lie on their

  resumes, they omit things they’d rather not have in their files,

  they add accomplishments that didn’t happen. But somewhere along the way, particularly when someone is being

  considered for a big promotion, a company will do a background check. It’s usually done by the security people who

  fall under human resources at OTIOSE.” Ava gave Judith a

  meaningful look.

  “So Andrea would have been privy to all the dirt?” Judith

  asked.

  Ava nodded. “That, and what she’d pick up from rumor

  scavengers like Barry Newcombe. But my point is, why now?

  Did Andrea bring her files with her? Did Nadia get a look

  at them and pass the information on to Frank?”

  Judith tried to recall what she and Renie had found in

  Andrea’s room. There had been personnel files, but they had

  been so thick that the cousins hadn’t taken time to peruse

  them. Judith, however, couldn’t admit as much to Ava; no

  one must know they’d searched Andrea’s belongings.

  “If that’s true,” Judith temporized, “Nadia must have found

  those files after Andrea died.”

  Ava gave a single nod. “The question is, how soon after

  she died?”

  Judith’s eyes widened. “You think Nadia is the killer?”

  Ava made a helpless gesture with her hands. “No. Not

  really. Unless…” She bit her lower lip.

  “Unless what?”

  198 / Mary Daheim

  “Nothing. It’s all so…difficult.” Ava started for the dining

  room. “Let’s finish cleaning up this mess.”

  Judith decided she might as well change topics. “You

  started in on Nadia’s background,” she remarked, removing

  glassware from the table. “I take it you weren’t referring to

  the personnel files.”

  “I wasn’t,” Ava responded. “The story I’ve heard is that

  Frank met Nadia when he went back for his tour of duty at

  AT&T. It used to be that anyone from the associated companies who was on the rise spent a couple of years at

  headquarters in New York. Nadia was a clerk-typist in what

  they called the plant department then. Frank was already

  married, but his wife didn’t move to New York with him.

  Patrice Killegrew came from a wealthy family, and could afford to fly back and forth to join him for long weekends.

  They had children in school, and she didn’t see any point in

  uprooting them and moving back east for what would be a

  relatively short time. As you might guess, the inevitable

  happened.”

  Judith kept pace with Ava as they walked back to the kitchen. “Frank and Nadia had an affair.”

  “Exactly. It wasn’t a mere f
ling, it was serious,” Ava continued. “But as I said, Frank and Patrice had small children,

  and she was rich. Not only that, but in those days, divorce

  was frowned on by the upper echelon. Potential officer candidates were supposed to be solid citizens, untouched by

  scandal. Frank couldn’t possibly dump Patrice.”

  “So he brought Nadia with him when he was sent back to

  the West Coast,” Judith said.

  “That’s right. He promoted her every time he moved on,

  and eventually she became his administrative assistant.” Ava

  turned rueful. “I’ve often wondered if he did her any real favor. She might have been a bigger success on her own.”

  Judith didn’t understand. “Meaning—what?”

  Ava turned on the dishwasher, then leaned against it.

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 199

  “Nadia came along at a time when women were beginning

  to rise in the Bell System. Oh, sure, there’s still a glass ceiling

  and all that, but she’s smart, she has drive, she’s got the

  makings of a good manager. Sometimes I feel she really runs

  the company instead of Frank.”

  “That crossed my mind, but I don’t know much about the

  corporate world. Tell me,” Judith went on, recalling how

  frantic Nadia had been when she thought Frank had had a

  heart attack, “are they still…intimate?”

  “Define intimate.” Ava laughed, a faintly jarring sound.

  “Let’s put it this way—Nadia is more of a wife to him than

  Patrice ever was. You can see that from the way they behave.

  She does everything for him. And if you’re referring to sex,

  my guess is that they still have that, too. Patrice is a very

  cold woman.”

  “Nadia’s not exactly warm and fuzzy,” Judith noted.

  “You haven’t met Patrice. She could give those icicles

  outside a run for their money.”

  “But…Frank and Patrice stay married?” Judith couldn’t

  keep the question out of her voice.

  “Of course.” Ava’s manner was ironic. “If Patrice knows

  about the relationship between Frank and Nadia, she ignores

  it. Mrs. Killegrew—and it is definitely Mrs.—enjoys being

  the wife of a CEO. Money and status are her substitutes for

  love and sex. Besides, Frank could never risk a divorce.”

  “Times have changed, though. Unfortunately,” Judith added.

  “Not so much in the old boy network,” Ava said. “For the

  most part, Frank’s peer group is still extremely conservative

  and old-fashioned.”

  “Well.” Judith tried to absorb everything Ava had told her.

  The folded piece of paper with the notation about Hukle,

  Hukle, & Huff didn’t necessarily indicate that a Killegrew

  divorce was in the offing. And while Ava’s account of Frank’s

  domestic triangle was interesting, Andrea’s personnel files

  might have a more immediate bearing on the week- 200 / Mary Daheim

  end’s events. Had Max been looking for them? How and

  when had Nadia slipped away to Andrea’s room?

  The folded piece of paper. It suddenly dawned on Judith

  why it was important. “Ava,” she said as the other woman

  started back for the dining room, “how long were you in the

  bathroom with Nadia this afternoon?”

  “What?” Ava looked at Judith as if she were crazy.

  Judith felt embarrassed. “I don’t mean…It sounds stupid,

  but…Really, I have a very good reason to ask.”

  Ava’s expression grew serious. “Are you talking about the

  time period when Ward was killed?”

  “More or less, yes.”

  “Oh, let me think.” Ava cocked her head to one side. “Five

  minutes? I don’t know. However long it takes. I’m not much

  for primping.”

  “Are you sure it didn’t take longer than five minutes?” Judith persisted.

  “Yes.” Ava now seemed more definite. “Ask Nadia. She

  was with me. We were chatting between the stalls. I suppose

  we each wanted to make sure the other one was okay.”

  Judith’s bright idea was dashed. “Before that, you were

  with Gene in the library, right?”

  Ava was starting to look vexed. “Yes, I was. And no, I

  won’t answer any more questions about that.”

  Judith gave up. In silence, the two women cleared away

  the dirty tablecloth, swept the floor, and finished tidying the

  kitchen. As Ava was about to leave, Judith apologized.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be impertinent. I was only

  trying to figure out who was where when Ward was

  murdered.”

  Ava gave Judith a tired smile. “We’re all trying to figure

  that out. Frankly, it’s impossible.”

  Judith frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  Ava began ticking off the names on her fingers. “Margo

  and Russell had gone to the basement with you and your

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 201

  cousin. But after they came back to the lobby, Margo went

  to find Frank. Nobody knows where Russell was at that

  point, though he claims to have stayed put. But how long

  did it take before Margo met up with Frank? What was he

  doing while Nadia was heading for the restroom? What was

  Nadia doing after she left Frank? And what took Max so

  long to figure out that Ward was taking forever to change?

  Don’t you see? Only Gene and I can alibi each other.”

  Given what appeared to be a romantic relationship

  between Ava and Gene, Judith didn’t think that was much

  of an alibi. “You can’t alibi Gene while you were in the restroom,” Judith said.

  Ava’s face fell. “You’re right. I can’t.”

  As far as Judith could see, nobody had an alibi.

  Ava obviously agreed. “You were with your cousin?”

  “Yes, in the kitchen.”

  “See what I mean?” Ava said with an ironic smile.

  She was right, Judith thought. The cousins didn’t have

  much of an alibi, either.

  No one seemed inclined to stay up late that night. Russell

  and Ava were the first to announce that they were headed

  for bed. Gene and Margo followed. Nadia badgered Frank

  to get his rest; he’d had a very trying day, she said.

  “Is she kidding?” Max snarled after the pair had gone upstairs in the elevator. “This is worse than ’Nam! At least over

  there you knew who the enemy was. Well,” he added, staring

  at the floor, “most of the time you did.”

  “How’s your head?” Judith asked.

  Max fingered his smooth pate. “Okay. Margo didn’t hit

  me very hard. I suppose it was only fair after I whacked

  Russell with that damned carving.”

  Judith had decided that a frontal attack was best. “Were

  you looking for Andrea’s personnel files this afternoon?”

  Max’s chin jutted, then he slumped against the sofa. “Yes,

  but I never even saw them. Everything had been

  202 / Mary Daheim

  cleaned out except her notes and a daily planner.”

  “Does the phrase ‘Scandinavian wheat-thrasher’ mean

  anything to you?” Judith inquired.

  At first, Max looked puzzled. Then he held his head. “It

  means my ass,” he said, then peered at Judith between his

  fingers
. “How did you know?”

  Renie edged forward on the footstool. “We found the

  folder in the conference room yesterday. We put it here, on

  the coffee table. Somebody must have picked it up.”

  “It’s not mine,” Max said, his long arms dropping to his

  sides. “It’s got to be somebody in my department, so I’ll take

  the fall. That damned file’s been missing for over a year.”

  Judith sat up very straight. “How do you know if it’s not

  yours?”

  “Because,” Max explained, cracking his knuckles, “I found

  it back then when I was going through some year-end stuff

  for the annual report. I’d guessed something like that was

  going on, but I wasn’t sure who was responsible. In marketing, we entertain a lot of outsiders. Somebody wanted to go

  beyond wining and dining to win new clients. I left the file

  where I found it with a note to see me, ASAP. All these

  months, nothing happened. Then, last night, Andrea started

  making hints about ‘prostituting ourselves’ and ‘women who

  took things lying down.’ She kept looking at me, and I realized she must know. There was no chance to talk to her

  alone, so I went to her room last night. She wasn’t there. I

  had no idea she was waiting for Leon in his room. That’s

  when you must have seen me in the corridor.”

  Judith felt surprise register, but desperately tried not to let

  it show. “Last night. Yes, that’s what we must have seen.”

  She flashed a warning glance at Renie.

  Max stretched his long legs out towards the hearth. “I

  suppose she was going to show the file to Frank. Or maybe

  she was just going to hold it over my head. Blackmail comes

  in some weird forms.”

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 203

  “Why would Andrea want to blackmail you?” Renie asked.

  “Well…” Max seemed genuinely puzzled. “I honestly don’t

  know. Like everybody else in the company, she felt marketing

  types aren’t real telecommunications people. We’re mavericks, and as vice president, I get to wear the black sheep label.

  Plus, my wife, Carrie, and I’ve been having some problems.

  We fight a lot, we always have. Carrie hates company functions. She’s a master gardener and has her own career.

  Playing the part of corporate helpmate makes her puke. As

  you might guess, a wife with an attitude really pisses off

  women like Patrice Killegrew. It pissed off Andrea, too. She

  liked to fit everybody into their own little niche.”