Snow Place to Die

by Mary Daheim

  “Well,” Judith said, tossing the mussels into a bowl of vermicelli and rice, “it’s your decision.” She gave her husband a quick, keen look. The red hair had more gray in it, the forehead was growing higher, the laugh and worry lines were etched more deeply. Joe was still the most attractive man in the world to Judith, but he was getting older. She’d hardly noticed. After a twenty-five-year separation, their time together had seemed so brief. “You’ll know when it’s time to quit,” she added a bit lamely.

  “Hmm.” Joe sipped more Scotch. “The retirement package is fairly good, all things considered.”

  Which, Judith realized, Joe had considered. “Medical, dental?”

  “Right. I’d have Social Security, too.”

  There had been no security with Dan, social or otherwise. At over four hundred pounds, her first husband had offered only verbal abuse and demands for more vodka, Ding-Dongs, apple fritters, and whatever else he could stuff into his fat, lazy face.

  “I guess we’ll have to think about it,” Judith said, sounding slightly wistful.

  Joe didn’t reply. He has thought about it. Plenty. Why hasn’t he mentioned it to me? Judith felt betrayed.

  Maybe this wasn’t the time to discuss the three grand for the OTIOSE conference. Maybe Judith should start building her own little nest egg. Certainly she wasn’t prepared to give up the B&B. She’d worked too hard to turn it into a successful venture.

  “Did you hear me say I’ll be gone most of Friday?” she asked, spooning green beans onto a plate for Gertrude. “I’m catering a phone company conference for Renie.”

  Joe had picked up the evening paper and was reading the sports page. “Since when did Renie go to work for the phone company?”

  “She’s freelancing, as usual.” Judith was getting exasperated.

  “Bill’s retiring next year.” Joe turned a page of the newspaper.

  “What?” Judith gaped at her husband.

  He nodded, but didn’t look up. “Thirty-one years in the university system. Why shouldn’t he?”

  “Renie hasn’t said a thing!” Now Judith’s annoyance spread to her cousin.

  “Maybe Bill hasn’t told Renie. Where the hell is the Hot Stove League news? I heard there was a big trade brewing.” Joe riffled the pages, in search of baseball reports.

  “Bill wouldn’t not tell Renie,” Judith seethed. “Bill and Renie communicate.”

  “Maybe she forgot to mention it to you. Ah, here we are…” Joe disappeared behind the paper.

  Judith marched out to the toolshed with Gertrude’s dinner. For once, she put the covered plate outside the door, knocked twice, and raced back to the house. Gertrude hated mussels. Judith wasn’t in a mood to hear her mother gripe. Judith, in fact, was feeling mutinous. Joe wasn’t usually secretive, especially not when it came to making decisions that affected them as a couple. And Renie always told Judith everything. The cousins were as close as sisters, maybe closer, because they hadn’t been forced to grow up under the same roof. Judith felt like slugging Joe, shaking Renie, and giving Bill a boot just for the hell of it.

  Judith would never admit it, but she was in the mood for murder.

  TWO

  FRIDAY DAWNED COLD and cloudy. Renie was driving the Jones’s big blue Chev, which was fitted with snow tires, and carried chains in the trunk. The cousins set out at nine on the dot, heading east toward the mountain pass that was located about an hour outside of the city.

  “I made a list,” Renie said, patting an envelope that lay on the seat between them. “It’s on top. Take it out and go over the names. When—and if—I introduce you, it won’t be so confusing.”

  Judith perused the single sheet of typewritten paper as they crossed the floating bridge that led out of the city. “You should have included descriptions,” she complained. “These names and titles don’t mean much. The only one I’ve ever heard of is the CEO, Frank Killegrew. I’ve seen his name in the newspaper.”

  “Good, that leaves only nine, and four of them are women. Don’t worry about it,” Renie counseled. “With any luck, you won’t have much contact with them.”

  Judith scanned the names: After Franklin Killegrew, president and CEO, there was Ward Haugland, executive vice president–network and customer services. Judith made a face. “What’s with these complicated titles? Why can’t Haugland just be an executive vice president?”

  “Because telecommunications is complicated these days,” Renie replied. “It’s still in a state of flux. First came the big Bell System divestiture, sixteen, seventeen years ago, along with the revolution in technology. Independent companies like OTIOSE are still trying to find their niche.”

  “Is that why I get four phone bills instead of one?” Judith asked.

  “Yep. You’ve got your local carrier, your long distance company, your leased equipment, your…what?” Renie shot Judith an inquiring glance.

  “My pager,” Judith said. “It’s really Mike’s pager, but he doesn’t use it anymore. The problem is, neither do I. I only took it from him so Mother could get me in an emergency.”

  “Has she ever paged you?” Renie asked as they reached the mainland and flourishing suburbia.

  “Never. She swears she lost the number and wouldn’t use it if she found it.”

  “Then get rid of the thing. It must cost you twenty bucks a month.”

  “Arlene has the number,” Judith said. “Like now, she could page me if she has a problem taking over for the day at the B&B.”

  Renie shrugged. “Then maybe it’s worth it.”

  They drove the interstate past industrial complexes, car dealerships, fast-food chains, trendy restaurants, and gas stations the size of a mini-mall. It never ceased to amaze Judith that what used to be vacant rural areas where the family gathered hazelnuts, blackberries, and Christmas trees was now a thirty-mile stretch of commercialism. At last they began to climb, but even where tall trees still grew, there were large swaths of housing developments. The city had sprawled, almost to the pass itself.

  “Joe says Bill’s going to retire.” Judith finally broached the subject that had been on her mind since Tuesday night.

  “He’s talking about it.” Renie pulled into the fast lane, passing a big semi-truck.

  Judith noticed that some of the taller trees were dusted with fresh snow. “Really?” she remarked. “You haven’t said so to me.”

  Renie gave a little shrug. “It won’t be final—or real—until he hands in his retirement application to the university administration. I never anticipate, you know.”

  “Joe’s talking about it, too.” Judith tried to keep her tone light. “Of course he wouldn’t retire for another three years.”

  “Good for him,” Renie said, moving back into the right-hand lane. “Both of our husbands have had long careers. They need to kick back and enjoy themselves.”

  “Yes.” Judith’s tone was dubious. “Yes. I suppose they do.” A vision of Dan McMonigle, supine and blimplike on the sofa, rumbled through her mind’s eye. “It’s just that I’ve been through quite a bit of change lately. With Mike married and now being transferred, he and Kristin could end up in Alaska or Hawaii or Florida where I’d hardly ever see them.”

  “So Joe retires and you travel.” Renie shrugged. “That’s what people do. Frank Killegrew’s retiring, by the way,” she added as they drove further into the forest and away from civilization. “Haugland’s his heir apparent, but I’ve heard you can’t count on it.”

  Judith glanced at the list Renie had given her. She wasn’t terribly interested in OTIOSE’s career paths. All she could think of was trying to live on Joe’s retirement and Social Security. Would he insist she give up Hillside Manor and retire with him?

  “Doesn’t retirement make you feel old?” Judith finally asked.

  “Huh?” Renie seemed puzzled. “No, why should it? It’s a natural act, like eating or shopping for shoes. Besides, I won’t give up my graphic design business. I do it at home, we can use the extra m
oney, and I’d be bored stiff if I didn’t work.”

  “I agree,” Judith said as low clouds drifted across the divided six-lane highway. “I’d like to keep the B&B going for another ten years. But I’ll definitely dump the catering part in the next few months. Say,” she went on, changing gears, “speaking of caterers, what about the guy who disappeared last year?”

  Renie frowned. “I told you. He left on some errand and never came back. End of story.”

  Judith, who possessed a very logical mind, wanted details. “He never came back to the lodge? Or he never came back, period?”

  “Period.” Renie was exhibiting a touch of impatience. “This Barry…Newsom or Newsbaum or…Newcombe, I think it was, had forgotten something for his catering stockpile. He went off that Friday afternoon, presumably to the nearest store which is at the summit of the pass, and never came back. When he didn’t show up for work the following Tuesday after the long weekend, his co-workers back at the company weren’t concerned. They figured he was tired out from his catering duties. But later, one of the executives asked about Barry because they hadn’t seen him after he left the lodge Friday afternoon. I guess he was listed as a missing person, and that’s what he still is—missing.”

  “The executives didn’t miss him that Friday?” Judith was incredulous.

  “I guess not,” Renie replied, negotiating the wide, sweeping switchback turns. “They probably thought he hadn’t been able to find what he was looking for at the summit grocery and had gone all the way back into the nearest town. It had started to snow hard by then, so maybe they figured Barry couldn’t get back up the pass. Bear in mind, coz, these big business types are all wrapped up in themselves. They don’t pay much attention to underlings.”

  The executive suite was a world that Judith didn’t understand. The B&B, the Thurlow Street branch of the public library, and the Meat and Mingle hadn’t prepared her to face an officer corps. Renie, however, was accustomed to captains of industry. It seemed to Judith that her cousin regarded them much as she would observe animals at the zoo. They were interesting, they were different, they could even be amusing, and only upon rare occasions did they do something vulgar in public that would be better done in private.

  As they approached the summit, driving conditions worsened, with deep piles of snow alongside the road. Not once had they glimpsed the mountains. The clouds were low and heavy, creating a foglike atmosphere that kept the Chev down to a crawl.

  “We take a side road at the summit,” Renie said, again pointing to the envelope on the seat. “Check the map. I’ve never been there before, but the directions looked easy.”

  It was a few minutes after ten when they reached the turnoff. Renie pulled into a service station that also featured a small grocery store. “This is where Barry supposedly went,” she said. “As you can tell, they don’t carry much beyond the basics. That’s why he might have gone back down the pass. I’m going to fill up now because I didn’t take time to stop at the BP on Heraldsgate Hill.”

  While Renie pumped gas, Judith got out of the car and walked around the wet tarmac. The area around the station had been plowed, but there was snow everywhere, perhaps as much as twenty feet. Judith spotted the main ski lodge through the drifting clouds and managed to catch sight of some of the chalets utilized by winter sports buffs.

  Having used her credit card to pay at the pump, Renie got back in the car. “It can’t be more than a mile from here,” she said as Judith refastened her seatbelt. “Let me see that map.”

  The road was easy to find, not quite a quarter-mile from the service station, and on the north side of the interstate. It, too, had been recently plowed, and the going was relatively easy. Or seemed to be, for the first half-mile. Then the pavement suddenly ended. Renie found herself driving on bare gravel.

  “This is stupid,” she complained. “If they can pave half of the damned thing, why not the rest?”

  “Maybe it’s a matter of jurisdiction,” Judith suggested. “The state or county may keep up part of it and the rest is Forest Service. I’d guess this was originally a logging road.”

  “Probably.” Renie had dropped down to under ten miles an hour. “I wish Bill were here. I don’t like driving in snow.”

  “You’re not in snow. It’s plowed.”

  “So far. But who knows what’s up ahead?”

  The narrow road zigged and zagged, climbing higher into the mountains. During the brief intervals when the cousins could see more than a few feet, they noticed that the trees grew more sparsely, and were of a different variety than the evergreens below the snow line. Judith counted lodge-pole pine, western larch, Engelmann spruce, and Noble fir.

  “You should have let me drive,” Judith said. “I could have taken the Subaru. What if we get into a snowstorm on the way home this afternoon? You’ll panic and kill us.”

  “I’ll panic and let you drive,” Renie responded, already looking rather grim. “Bill said the Chev would hold the road better because it’s so big.”

  Heavy iron gates stood directly in front of them. Fortunately, they were open. Renie drove through, accelerated up a little rise, and hit pavement again. “Thank goodness,” she murmured.

  They were no longer on a road but in a sweeping drive which lead to the lodge and a large parking area. “Who owns this place?” Judith asked, peering through the foggy clouds at skimpy views of weathered logs and stone chimneys.

  “It’s privately owned,” Renie said, heading for the nearest parking spot. As far as the cousins could tell, no other vehicles were present. “It used to belong to the park service years ago, but it’s changed hands several times. Some group in the city owns it, and at one time, Frank Killegrew was involved in a partnership with other downtown investors. Now, it’s mostly doctors and dentists who rent it out to private parties. Not just conferences and retreats like the previous owners, I gather, but ski groups and church organizations and whoever else is willing to pay the freight. This new bunch shut it down last summer and did some renovations to bring everything up to speed. I don’t think the lodge rental comes cheap.”

  Judith understood why after they carried the first load of comestibles inside. The lobby was vast, with a high, arched ceiling hung with multicolored banners. Built entirely of pine logs, the old wood gleamed under the lights of a half-dozen cast-iron candelabra suspended from the rafters. Animal skins and stuffed heads decorated the walls, and the huge stone fireplace was filled with cedar and fir, awaiting the touch of a match.

  “It’s grand,” Judith said, smiling in appreciation. “Where’s the staff?”

  “I told you, nobody’s here but us and the OTIOSE gang,” Renie said, setting a carton of groceries down on the hardwood floor. “The staff was due to take off about nine this morning. The caretaker lives in a cabin about a half-mile from the lodge, but he won’t be around, either. I was told he’d leave the door open so we could get in. I don’t think the phone company folks will be here much before noon.”

  “Where’s the kitchen?” Judith turned every which way, taking in the rustic furnishings, all made of wood and covered in rich, dark nubby fabrics.

  Renie gestured to french doors on her left. “That looks like the dining room, so I assume the kitchen is off of that. Let’s finish unloading, and then we can snoop around.”

  Three more trips were required to deposit Judith’s weekend supplies. As Renie had guessed, the kitchen was at the far side of the dining room. While the lodge appeared to have been built during the thirties, the kitchen facilities were state of the art. Judith rubbed her hands in glee as she ogled the stainless-steel American range, the Belgian cook-ware, the German cutlery, and the French skillets.

  “This is wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to start right in on lunch. Ham-filled crepes, raddicchio salad, a fresh fruit medley, four kinds of cheese, and puff pastries with a blackberry and cream filling.”

  “Go for it,” Renie said, turning toward the door. “I’m going to the conference roo
m on the other side of the lobby to set up my stuff.”

  “Okay,” Judith replied, still distracted by all the latest appliances and gadgets. Then, as Renie exited, it dawned on Judith that something was out of kilter. “Coz!” she called. “What’s with you? Aren’t you hungry?”

  Renie turned in the doorway. “No. I’ve got work to do. That’s why I’m here.”

  Judith stared. Renie was always ravenous. She ate often and in large amounts. It never ceased to amaze Judith how her cousin could consume so much food and stay slim. Metabolism, Judith told herself, and envied Renie’s gene pool. All her life, Judith had fought to keep weight off, and only now, in her fifties, did she feel comfortable with a couple of extra pounds on her tall, statuesque figure.

  “Do you feel okay?” Judith finally asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I feel fine.” Renie sounded cross. “It’s going on eleven. I’ve got to get organized. Good luck.” She disappeared from sight.

  Judith didn’t have time to worry about her cousin’s sudden lack of appetite. For the next hour, she immersed herself in making crepes, dicing ham, rolling out puff pastry, and cutting up fruit. It was a joy to work under such splendid conditions, and best of all, with no interruptions from guests, the telephone, or her mother.

  The bus arrived at ten to twelve. Judith didn’t hear it pull in, but Renie came to alert her. “It’s actually a big van,” she told Judith from the doorway. “The driver won’t stay, of course. He’s already headed back to the city.”

  Judith, who was in the middle of fashioning her puff pastries, merely nodded. “Lunch at twelve-thirty, right?”

  “Right.” Renie left again.

  The lodge’s staff had already set up a large round table for ten in the dining room. Judith checked the table settings, admired the centerpiece of yellow gladioli, purple freesia and white lilies, then returned to the kitchen. She was filling the industrial-size coffeemaker when a small woman with big glasses and a platinum blonde pageboy entered the kitchen.