Snow Place to Die : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery
Page 26
Nadia’s right arm fall away.
“Of course she’s still warm,” Renie murmured. “We saw
her downstairs not more than an hour ago.”
Judith gazed at the spectacles, then noticed the glass and
the pill bottle. “Good grief! It’s the old sleeping pill trick,
just like Andrea. Or almost,” she added on a more thoughtful
note. “Look, coz.”
Edging closer, Renie’s foot struck something under the
bed. “Hold it—what’s this?” With her toe, she nudged the
obstacle into plain view.
221
222 / Mary Daheim
It was an empty pint of gin. “An added attraction?” Judith
remarked, then turned her attention back to the pill bottle.
“Triclos. ‘Take one capsule before bedtime. Do not mix with
alcohol.’ The prescription is dated last week and made out
by a Dr. Robert Winslow for Nadia Weiss. The pharmacy
is located above downtown, in the hospital district.”
Renie nodded. “Nadia mentioned having her own sleeping
pills, and she told me once that she’s lived forever in one of
those elegant older apartments within walking distance of
downtown. But this time the killer was more thorough.”
Renie pointed to the empty water glass, then to the gin bottle.
“Maybe the stuff’s more lethal if you mix it with booze. The
killer might have known that and added the gin for effect.”
“Maybe.” Judith seemed distracted as she gestured at the
fireplace. “Why light a fire? No one’s staying in this room.”
Renie turned. “That is odd. It’s not much of a blaze,
though. It’s practically out.”
Rushing to the hearth, Judith all but shoved Renie out of
the way. “Look! There’s no sign of a log in the grate. Kindling, maybe—and paper.” She gazed at Renie, who had joined
her in front of the fireplace. “What do you think got burned
in here? Andrea’s files?”
Renie grabbed the poker and leaned down. “There’s not
much left, but I see some charred paper clips and those
metal fasteners that hold files together.” She stood up. “You’re
right, maybe Nadia burned the files.”
“Why?” Judith’s dark eyes scanned the room. “Did she
take them from Andrea’s room? Did they include the socalled hooker files? Look, coz,” she continued, pointing back
to the grate, “there’s not a lot of paper in there. Andrea’s
files were two, three inches thick, which is why we didn’t
take time to go through them.”
“Maybe Nadia only wanted to burn certain incriminating
data,” Renie suggested.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 223
“Incriminating to whom?” Judith asked, beginning to pace
the small room.
Renie shrugged. “I don’t know. Herself, maybe. Or whoever killed her.”
“This is wrong,” Judith declared, making a slashing motion
with her hand. “This seems all out of kilter.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renie admitted.
“I don’t either. That’s the problem.” Judith bit her lower
lip and scowled.
Renie started for the door. “Shall we go break the latest
bad news?”
Judith shook her head. “Not this time.”
“What?” Renie was flabbergasted.
“No. We’ll go back downstairs, as if nothing’s happened.
Let’s see how the rest of them—what’s left of them—react.”
Renie gritted her teeth. “Okay—if you say so. I’m not much
of an actress.”
“You’ll manage,” Judith said dryly. “Just play dumb. I know
you can do that.”
Upon reaching the game room, the cousins discovered a
fragmented contingent. Max Agasias was furiously hurling
darts at a board on the far wall. Ava Aunuu was lying on
the pool table, crying her eyes out. Gene Jarman, Jr., stood
under mounted elk antlers, chewing on his knuckles. The
rest were nowhere in sight. The big windows that ran along
most of one wall showed nothing but snow, a bleak, suffocating sight.
Of the three who remained in the game room, Gene
seemed the most approachable. “What’s going on?” Judith
asked in a hushed voice.
Gene recoiled as if Judith had slapped him. “Nothing,” he
said sharply. “Nothing you need to know.”
Judith backed off. Renie had gone to Ava, gently prodding
her heaving shoulders.
“Go away,” Ava blubbered. “Leave me alone.”
224 / Mary Daheim
With a puzzled glance for Judith, Renie withdrew. Max
was still throwing darts, going dangerously wide of the target.
Margo entered the lobby from the direction of the women’s
restroom. She looked absolutely furious.
“I hate everybody,” she announced. “I wish I could shoot
you all.” For good measure, she jiggled her suede bag, then
glanced at the elk antlers, as if she were envisioning one of
her co-worker’s heads in the same place.
“There must be a reason for your hostility,” said Renie in
a strange, strangled voice. “You might feel better if you talked
about it.” She turned to Judith, speaking in a whisper. “Do
I sound like Bill?”
“You sound like hell,” Judith shot back. “But go for it.”
Ignoring Renie, Margo stalked past the cousins and went
to the near wall which was decorated with Haida masks and
jewelry. With her back to the others, Margo stood rigidly,
one hand clenching at her side, the other clutching her suede
bag.
“What happened to the buddy system?” Judith murmured.
Renie shook her head. “I don’t know. Who’s missing?
Frank and Russell?”
She’d hardly finished speaking when both men entered
the game room. Frank Killegrew looked distraught and
Russell Craven appeared miserable. Max whirled around,
unleashing a dart that sailed between the two men’s heads.
“We’ve got to calm down!” Killegrew cried, jerking around
to watch the dart land out in the hall. “A mutinous crew can
cause a shipwreck.”
“Sorry,” Max mumbled. “That was an accident.”
Margo turned her head. “The ship has sunk, Frank. Glub,
glub, glub. That was my point. That’s why I’m quitting.
Don’t you get it? I’m not going down with your stupid S.S.
OTIOSE.”
“Now, now,” Killegrew began, “you’re considering just the
short term…”
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 225
“Don’t start again!” Ava cried. “I can’t stand it!” She buried
her face against a side pocket.
“I’m confused,” Russell said in a disconsolate voice.
“Margo, I thought you liked Alan Roth. I’m the one who
should be upset. I am upset. My career is over.”
“Now, now,” Killegrew repeated, “you don’t know that for
sure, Russell. If the board agrees to change the by-laws and
I stay on as CEO, it won’t matter if we merge with WaCom.
I’ll still have an oar in the water.”
“But you won’t!” Ava declared, attempting to sit up on the
pool table. “That’s what I’m t
rying to tell you! That’s why
it doesn’t matter if you name me as Ward’s successor. Do
you think Alan Roth will want any of us working for him
after what happened to his wife this weekend?”
Judith and Renie glanced at each other. “Ava as executive
vice president?” Judith said under her breath.
“Why not?” Renie whispered. “She’s very capable.”
Killegrew had assumed an authoritative stance in front of
the dart board. Max’s homely face was belligerent, but he
set the last two darts down on the wet bar. Gene moved out
from under the antlers while Margo finally turned all the way
around to face the others.
“It may be,” Killegrew said, hooking his thumbs in his
suspenders, “that this weekend—as tragic as it’s been—could
work in our favor.” Seeing the dismay and even horror on
the faces of his employees, Killegrew held up a hand. “Now,
now—don’t get me wrong. Nobody is more upset by what’s
happened here than I am. But there’s always an upside. Ava’s
got the right idea about Alan Roth. He may not want anything to do with us now that Andrea’s…passed away. But
that might mean WaCom will scrap the whole merger idea.
This crew has scurvy, right? We’re contaminated. There are
other telecommunications companies out there to merge
with.” Killegrew looked at Gene. “What about Alien Tel?
Settle the damned suit out of court and let WaCom gobble
them up.”
Gene Jarman stiffened. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that.
226 / Mary Daheim
It’s a point of…It’s a legal point.” Gene turned away.
Killegrew jabbed a finger at his legal counsel. “You’ll do
it if I tell you to! We can’t afford a personal…” The CEO
swung around to Margo. “Well? What can’t we afford?”
Margo sighed. “The word’s ‘vendetta,’ Frank.”
“Vendetta?” Killegrew wrinkled his blunt nose. “Okay, we
can’t afford that. So drop it, first thing.”
Gene said nothing; his face was expressionless.
Max picked up a pool cue and broke it in two. “So where
the hell does that leave me?”
“Right where you belong,” Killegrew shot back. “You and
Russell both. If we can get out of this WaCom deal, your
departments stay as they are.”
“If,” growled Max. “That’s a damned big word, Frank.”
“We’ll see.” Killegrew moved toward the wet bar, which
someone had stocked with the dwindling number of liquor
bottles. “It’s almost eleven. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to run
up the cocktail flag a little early. Nadia, mix me a Scotch and
soda, will you?”
The request seemed to echo off the plate glass windows
and disappear among the high polished beams of the ceiling.
Judith and Renie had moved close together, scrutinizing each
of the six remaining conferees. Ava, who had dried her eyes,
glanced behind her; Gene’s stance became less rigid as he
looked around the room; Margo moved closer to the group
and frowned; Max, looking curious, rested the broken pool
cue pieces against his thigh; Russell sat on a chessboard,
oblivious to the pieces he had knocked over, including the
bishop that was poking into his backside. It was only Frank
Killegrew who showed immediate dismay, and for all the
wrong reasons.
“Where’d Nadia go? I said I could use a drink. What’s
wrong with that woman? Doesn’t she know who signs her
checks?”
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 227
“Leon used to,” Margo said. “As chief financial officer, he
signed all our checks.”
Killegrew glowered at Margo. “You know what I mean.
Didn’t Nadia go with you to the restroom a while ago?”
Margo shook her head. “She left the game room before I
did, Frank. You asked her to get you a coffee refill.”
“Which,” Killegrew declared with great umbrage, “she did
not do. Where’s her sense of loyalty?”
Ava struggled to get off the pool table, while Gene began
to shift nervously from foot to foot. Margo swung the suede
bag in an ominous gesture and Max started for the dining
room.
“She may still be in the kitchen,” Max said over his
shoulder. “I’ll check.”
“Not without a bodyguard,” Gene called out, and hurried
to join Max.
Russell swerved on the chessboard, sending several pawns
and a rook onto the floor. “Where’s Nadia?” he asked in a
vague, bewildered voice.
“Russell…” Margo began, but she sounded weary and went
mute.
Ava was hugging herself, her chin sunk into the high rolled
neck of her navy sweater. “I can’t…she couldn’t…Oh, God!”
Max and Gene returned via the corridor that led through
the laundry room to the kitchen. “She’s not anywhere we
could see,” Gene announced in a tense voice. “Should we
look in the basement?”
“Why,” Killegrew demanded, “would Nadia be in the
basement? There’s no coffee pot down there.” But the usual
bluster had gone out of him; he sounded frightened and unsure.
Judith was beginning to doubt the wisdom of keeping the
others in the dark. She plucked at the sleeve of Renie’s
sweatshirt and drew her back towards the lobby entrance.
“Maybe we should tell them,” she whispered.
228 / Mary Daheim
Renie shook her head. “It’s too late. Let it slide.”
Margo was staring at her watch. “How long has Nadia
been gone? Half an hour?”
“More than that,” Killegrew responded. “It wasn’t quite
ten when I asked her to get me some more coffee. It’s bangup
eleven now. Six bells,” he added, but his voice broke on the
nautical reference.
Taking in Killegrew’s obvious distress, Gene Jarman joined
his chief on the hearth. “Let’s divide ourselves into threes,”
he said, then apparently remembered Judith and Renie. “I
mean, fours. Half of us will search the rest of this floor and
the basement. The other half will go up to the second and
third floors. Ava, Margo, Max—will you come with me?”
Max stepped forward at once, but neither woman seemed
anxious to take part. Briefly, they stared at each other, and
some sort of understanding must have passed between them.
Margo actually gave Ava a hand to help her down from the
pool table.
“Why,” Margo murmured, “didn’t I resign last week?”
“You had no reason then,” Ava said.
“Yes, I did.” Margo trooped out of the lobby with Ava,
Gene, and Max.
The cousins were left with Frank Killegrew and Russell
Craven. “I don’t think I can do this,” Killegrew declared in
a weak voice. As he reached for the Scotch, his hand shook.
“I never dreamed it would come to this.”
“To what?” asked Russell, who was still sitting on the chess
board.
But Killegrew. didn’t reply. He sloshed Scotch into a glass
and drank it down in one
gulp. “Okay,” he said, squaring
his shoulders, “let’s go.”
The foursome took the elevator to the second floor, which
meant that they would begin their search at the opposite end
from Leon’s room. Judith tried to think of a way to curtail
the suspense, but nothing came to mind. Renie
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 229
was right. It was too late to admit they’d found another body.
Judith didn’t dare tip her hand.
They started with the cousins’ room, checking the bathroom and under the beds. This time, they remembered to
look out the windows. It was still raining hard, and the snow
had melted another three inches. Through the steady downpour, Judith could see into the distance. There was nothing
but the tops of trees, some of which now showed bare
branches. The wet, drooping evergreens look dejected in the
rain.
Down the hall they went, finding everything the same as
when Judith and Renie had made their search earlier in the
morning. Or so it appeared until they reached Gene’s room.
It was now unlocked. Killegrew strode inside, calling Nadia’s
name.
Judith glanced around. There was an open briefcase on
the bed, a cardigan sweater hanging on the back of one of
the ubiquitous armchairs, an empty glass on the nightstand,
and a half-filled laundry bag on the floor. There was, of
course, no sign of Nadia.
Margo’s room was still locked. Killegrew swore under his
breath, then knocked hard three times and again called for
Nadia. With a shake of his head, he led them on.
As before, Leon’s was the last room they checked. Killegrew turned the knob, opened the door, started to mouth
Nadia’s name, and staggered.
“No! No! Nadia!” he cried in anguish. “Oh, my God!” He
fell to his knees, leaning against the side of the bed where
Nadia’s stockinged foot still dangled. Lifting his head, Killegrew grabbed Nadia by the shoulders in a futile attempt to
rouse her. “Wake up, Nadia! Wake up! It’s me, Frank! Please,
please, wake up!” He collapsed on top of her lifeless body.
“Oh, dear!” Russell exclaimed. “Is she…? Oh, dear!”
Killegrew’s shoulders were heaving. Russell, with a hand
over his mouth, rushed into the bathroom. The cousins
230 / Mary Daheim
could hear him being sick, but their concern was focused on
Frank Killegrew.
“Mr. Killegrew,” Judith said softly, “come away. There’s
nothing you can do.”