by Mary Daheim
“What about Mrs. Haugland?” Judith inquired. “I understand she’s too sickly to take part in company social gatherings.”
Max waved a big hand. “That’s different. Helen Haugland
thrives on sympathy. She got plenty of it from poor Ward,
and most of the others. Oh, some of them saw through her,
but Helen can pull the wool over lots of eyes. I wonder
what’ll happen now that Ward’s dead. She might have to
get off her dead butt and do something.”
While Judith was interested in Max’s assessment of his
colleagues and their spouses, she realized he hadn’t answered
the original question. “You mentioned blackmail,” Judith
said. “Do you mean that Andrea would have used the
hooker ring files to make you do something you otherwise
wouldn’t do?”
Max seemed to consider Judith’s somewhat garbled suggestion. “Maybe originally. She and Alan have a couple of
kids. One of them is out of high school, I think. It might be
that she wanted me to hire him. Anyway, that can’t be true
now. I mean, Alan’s going to run WaCom, right? And WaCom wants to merge with OTIOSE. So now I figure that
Andrea was going to use that file to get me canned.”
204 / Mary Daheim
Renie leaned forward on the footstool. “And replace you
with someone hand-picked by Alan? That makes sense.”
“I’m afraid so.” Max assumed a brooding expression as
the lobby grew silent.
The silence was short-lived. A sound came from somewhere, unexpected and distant. Judith, Renie, and Max all
tensed.
“That’s an engine,” Max said, getting up and inclining his
bald head. “Where’s it coming from?”
“The basement?” Renie offered.
“I don’t think so,” Judith said, straining to hear. “It seems
to be coming from outside.”
The sound grew fainter. Max jumped off the sofa. “Come
on! We’re going upstairs! Maybe we can see something from
the second-floor windows!”
They raced from the elevator to Max’s room, which was
closer than the cousins’. But once inside, they could see
nothing. It was dark, and the snow, which now consisted of
big, wet flakes, obliterated the landscape.
“Damn!” Max tugged the window open and leaned out.
“Listen!”
Judith and Renie practically fell over each other trying to
get close to the open window. Sure enough, they heard the
sound again.
“An engine, a motor,” Judith breathed.
“Look!” Renie was halfway over the sill, snow soaking her
sweatshirt. “A light!”
Judith and Max barely glimpsed the faint amber glow before it disappeared. The sound died away, too. The trio
continued to watch and listen. Close to five minutes passed
before anyone spoke.
“Damn!” Max swore again. “I don’t get it.” He gestured in
the direction where they’d seen the light, then closed the
window with a rattling bang.
Judith recalled where she and Renie had seen the light the
previous night. Their room was down the hall from Max’s,
at the end of the corridor. “We saw a light on this
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side of the lodge last night,” said Judith. “Is there a road in
that direction?”
Max looked thoughtful. “I think so, to the caretaker’s place.
But it’s got to be impassable. The only way you could get
through is with a snowmobile. They can go in just about
any conditions.”
“You wouldn’t need a road,” Renie said, more to herself
than the others.
“That’s right,” Max agreed. “If there’d been one here in
the lodge, we could have gotten out by now.”
Judith was wearing a curious expression. “There are skis
and all sorts of other winter sports equipment in the basement. I assume they’re rentals. Why isn’t there a snow-mobile?”
Max shrugged. “Liability, maybe. They can be dangerous
if you don’t know how to handle them. Some models go up
to a hundred and ten miles per hour.”
Judith took one last look out the window. All she could
see were the big, white flakes, falling softly onto the drifted
snow. It was very quiet.
But someone was out there. Judith’s logical mind told her
it couldn’t be the killer. The lodge had been locked up the
entire weekend. The blizzard had cut off access to all but the
highest windows. Yet nothing was impossible, not to
someone with murder in mind.
With a sudden jarring tremor, Judith wondered if they had
been looking for the killer in the wrong place.
FIFTEEN
“WHO ELSE WAS in the corridor last night?” Judith asked
Renie some two hours later after the cousins had done their
laundry and retired to their room. “Did you catch the part
about Max seeing someone when he tried to talk to Andrea
last night?”
Renie nodded. “You, of course, never saw him or anyone
else, you big fibber. Are you thinking Max may have seen
the mysterious stranger?”
“I’m not sure who—or what—Max saw,” Judith replied.
“Andrea’s room is at the far end of the hall. The lighting’s
pretty dim. Max seemed uncertain. I got the impression that
maybe he sensed rather than saw someone. It might have
been anyone, including the alleged outsider.”
“It could be done,” Renie asserted. “If someone climbed
up the side of the lodge, they could get in through one of
the second-or third-floor windows. A ladder, snowshoes,
ropes—whatever. If someone was determined to get in, they
could probably do it.”
Judith was sitting on the bed, chin on fists. “What’s the
risk factor? If seen inside the lodge, a stranger would automatically become the prime suspect.”
“But no one’s seen this phantom,” Renie pointed out. “This
is a big place, and for the most part, we’ve all
206
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tended to congregate together in two or three rooms. Look,”
Renie continued, perched on the edge of her twin bed, “Leon
and Andrea were probably killed within a couple of hours
of each other last night. Ward was murdered this afternoon.
Why couldn’t the killer have come in late last night, hidden
on the third floor or in the basement, and committed all
three murders before heading out again? The first time we
saw the light was early evening yesterday. We all heard the
laugh this afternoon, after Ward was killed. Now, midevening, we see another light, but not in the same place.
During the time the murders were committed, nobody—that
we know of—heard or saw anything outside. What does that
suggest?”
“I see your point,” Judith agreed. “Which is reassuring in
that it means the murderer may have finished his—or
her—grisly business. However,” she added on a heavy sigh,
“it also means that if the killer is an outsider, you and I don’t
have the foggiest notion of who it might be.”
Renie made a face. “Better to have an unknown ho
micidal
maniac wandering around the mountains than one of the
OTIOSE gang prowling the halls. I like outside; I really hate
inside.”
Judith got up and went to the honor bar where she removed a Pepsi for Renie and a diet 7-Up for herself. “I understand your reaction. But it doesn’t work for me.”
Renie looked mildly offended. “Why not?”
“Because,” Judith said, sitting back down on the bed, “it
doesn’t fit. I’ve been thinking this through for the last couple
of hours, and much as the outsider theory appeals to me,
the rest of the pieces don’t mesh. Barry was killed a year ago,
during the retreat. We find Barry, and suddenly other people
start dying. I’m convinced there’s a connection. Except for
the conferees, who could know we’d found his body?”
“Whoever is out there,” Renie replied.
“I don’t think so,” Judith said, though there was a tinge of
doubt in her voice. “We didn’t see any tracks in the
208 / Mary Daheim
snow when we went back the second time. And after that,
it started to snow pretty hard. I’m sure that little cave has
been covered up again. No, coz,” Judith said with a sad shake
of her head, “it doesn’t wash. I still think the killer is in the
lodge.”
“You want the killer to be inside,” Renie accused. “Otherwise, you couldn’t figure out whodunit.”
“Don’t say that, coz!” Judith shot Renie an angry look.
“I’m trying to use logic. Does it make sense that somebody
follows the OTIOSE conferees to Mountain Goat Lodge two
years in a row and starts killing them?” She didn’t wait for
Renie’s response. “Of course it doesn’t—it would be easier
and safer to do away with them in the city. If we knew why
Barry was killed in the first place, then we’d know why the
discovery of his body meant that Leon, Andrea, and Ward
also had to die. What is the common link between the four
of them? That’s what we should concentrate on.”
Renie sipped her Pepsi and considered. “First link—OTIOSE. They all worked for the same company, never mind at
what level. Second link—each other. They knew each other.”
“Hold it.” Judith gestured with her soda can. “That’s not
precisely true. Barry worked for two different departments,
human resources and public relations. Except for his occasional catering jobs and driving the conferees to the lodge
last year, how would the others have known him? Russell
doesn’t even seem to remember Barry.”
“Russell’s a dreamer,” Renie responded. “People aren’t
important to him, only ideas matter. A week from now,
Russell won’t remember us. As for the others, Barry would
have had contact with all of them. Human resources and p.r.
deal with all the other departments. He certainly knew Nadia,
and therefore, no doubt came into contact with Frank and
Ward.”
“The files,” Judith murmured. “Andrea’s personnel files
have disappeared—according to Max—and there must be
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a reason.” She set down the soda can and clapped her hands.
“That’s it! That’s the link! Barry and Andrea worked in human resources. Andrea had all the dirt. Barry loved dirt, he
traded bits of gossip. As a staff assistant, wouldn’t he have
access to her files?”
Renie nodded. “To her official files, yes. But Andrea may
have had CYOA files, too. She may have kept them in a safe
place.”
Judith looked blank. “What’s a CYOA file?”
Renie grinned. “It stands for ‘Cover Your Own Ass,’ excuse
my French. It’s anything you keep that you can use to protect
yourself or hold over someone else. It can be as simple as a
phone message you received from somebody who might later
deny they called you. Or it can be photographs of your CEO
in bed with a donkey.”
Judith’s excitement returned. “That’s good. That’s great.
Like I said, the files are the link.”
“Maybe.” Renie was definitely dubious. “How do they link
up with Ward and Leon?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but they must,” Judith insisted.
Renie finished her Pepsi. “Sleep on it. I’m tired, let’s turn
out the lights.”
Judith regarded Renie with wonderment. “You’re not
afraid?”
“You’re the one who dreamed up our insurance policy.”
She glanced at Judith with alarm. “Don’t tell me you think
it lapsed?”
“So far, so good.” But Judith got up and started moving
one of the two armchairs to the door. “Just in case the policy
expires,” she said with a sickly smile. “And to make sure that
we don’t.”
“What about the windows?” Renie asked.
Judith glanced across the room. “They’re latched from the
inside. We’re okay. Oh!” She put a hand to her head. “Which
is another reason why an outsider couldn’t have gotten in.”
210 / Mary Daheim
Renie went to one of the windows and jiggled the catch.
“It wouldn’t take much to break this. Besides, we don’t know
what the third-floor windows are like.”
“Forget it,” Judith said with finality. “It’s after eleven, you’re
right, we’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”
Renie was still fiddling with the window catch. “Let’s take
turns sleeping.”
“Fine. You stay up first. Wake me around eight.” Judith
got into bed.
“To hell with it.” Renie got into bed, too.
The cousins slept.
They were awakened by an explosion. Judith jumped up,
got entangled in the bedclothes, and struggled to free herself.
Had someone set off a bomb? She panicked, but finally
managed to extricate herself and looked in every direction.
Renie was wrestling with the pillow, trying to cover her
head. “Stupid Bulgarians,” she muttered. “Why are they always working on their damned condos across the street?
Why don’t they build something back home in Blagoevgrad?”
Judith was at the door, shoving the armchair out of the
way. “Wake up, you’re not on Heraldsgate Hill, you’re at
Mountain Goat Lodge.” As she cautiously opened the door,
another explosion sounded. “It’s outside. What now?” She
rushed to the windows, then gaped. “It’s raining! Maybe that
was thunder!”
“It’s the Bulgarians,” Renie repeated, her voice muffled by
the pillow. “Ignore them and go back to sleep.”
Judith ignored Renie. A glance at her watch told her it was
just after seven-thirty. The morning was very gray, with rain
pelting the snow. Judith waited for a flash of lightning, but
heard only another loud, shuddering noise.
“That’s not thunder,” she said. “What could it be?”
Renie finally removed the pillow and struggled to sit up.
“Damn. You’re determined to annoy me.” She rubbed her
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 211
eyes, yawned, and stretched. “Okay, you win. What explosions?”
Judith turned away from the
window. “Didn’t you hear
them?”
Renie yawned again. “I heard something, or else I wouldn’t
be awake. I told you, it sounds like the Bulgarians across the
street from our house. They’re always renovating or adding
on or digging up or tearing…”
A fourth explosion interrupted Renie. “That’s not the
Bulgarians,” Judith declared.
“Probably not,” Renie agreed, cocking her head. “It’s the
avalanche crew.”
Judith was startled. “What avalanche crew?”
“You said it’s raining?” Renie yanked back the covers and
sat on the edge of the bed. “Then it’s gotten much warmer
during the night, which, after a heavy snowfall, means there’s
an avalanche danger. To prevent disasters, the crews set off
explosions to break up the snow. I thought everybody knew
that.”
“If I did, I’d forgotten,” Judith murmured, moving away
from the windows. “Great—now the roof will cave in. What
next, plague and locusts?”
“Floods,” Renie responded. “Maybe fires.” She reached for
a cigarette.
“Oh, no! Not this early!” Judith railed. “Haven’t you run
out of those things yet?”
Renie shook her head. “I brought a whole carton with me.
Why do you care? Your mother still smokes. Joe has his cigars. What’s wrong with Little Renie’s little weedies?”
“They stink,” Judith retorted, waving away a cloud of
smoke. “Mother shouldn’t smoke. She’s so forgetful, but
when I try to talk to her about it, she gets ornery. The last
time I caught her putting a lighted cigarette in her housecoat
pocket, she pulled it out and tried to stick it in Sweetums’s
mouth. I swear I saw Sweetums inhale.”
212 / Mary Daheim
“Ghastly,” Renie remarked, puffing away. “Are we doing
breakfast?”
“Not for them,” Judith said, jerking a thumb in the direction
of the corridor. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m tired of waiting
on those spoiled brats.”
“There might be fewer of them this morning,” Renie noted
with an ominous look.
“Don’t say that,” Judith shot back. Suddenly she went back
to the window. “Look,” she called to Renie, “the snow outside
the sill has melted a good four or five inches. Do you think
we might get out of here today?”
“Not if there are avalanche warnings,” Renie replied,