by Mary Daheim
“Cut the sexist remarks,” Margo demanded in a shrill voice. “At least one of our lobbyists is a woman.”
“So?” Max sneered at Margo. “If you ask me, she’d like to get in the sack with some cute little…”
“Now, now,” reprimanded Killegrew, “let’s keep our plane in its landing pattern. We’ll skip all these local folks. I mean, persons. I’m calling the chief of police back in the city.”
“Good idea,” said Ward.
“You’re damned right,” agreed Max.
“Could somebody describe Barry Newcombe?” asked Russell.
“Call the chief,” Killegrew ordered Nadia. “Explain everything. He’ll know what we ought to do.”
Judith knew what she had to do. It was after six, and she had to set up the buffet. Though no one heard her, she excused herself and headed for the kitchen. Renie followed.
“It serves the chief right,” Judith said, getting a big ham out of the refrigerator. “He ought to have to put up with these self-centered morons. Joe says that under all that public bonhomie the chief is a stuffed shirt.”
“I’ll carve the turkey breast,” Renie volunteered. “I gather you’ve had enough of the OTIOSE crowd.”
“You bet. I don’t see how you can work with people—or should I say persons?—like them.”
“You get used to it. They’re all alike.” Renie selected a knife from the wooden cutlery holder. “The problem is that they get into these executive slots and they become distanced from reality. They’re pampered, protected—and isolated. The same thing happens in government. They’re all out of touch.”
“So’s the chief, according to Joe.” Judith piled ham onto a platter. “I suspect this crew is going to get a dose of reality when they start investigating Barry Newcombe’s murder.”
“It’ll serve them right, too,” said Renie, aggressively slicing the turkey. She suddenly paused. “As long as it doesn’t screw up their acceptance of my presentation.”
Judith shot her cousin a baleful glance. “Stop it. You sound like one of them.”
“I’m not,” Renie asserted. “I’m just a servile jobber who wants to suck at the teat of corporate excess.”
Twenty minutes later, the cousins had the buffet set up. The chafing dishes were lighted, the plates and utensils were stacked, and the makeshift sideboard looked fit for a king. Or a queen, or maybe even ten spoiled corporate executives.
In the laundry area, they found that their clothes were dry. Hastily changing, Judith and Renie felt a huge sense of relief as they put on their own garments.
“Let’s go,” Renie said. “We’ll leave Ava and Nadia’s stuff on an empty table in the dining room where they can’t miss it. I’m not sure I want to talk to any of these people again for a while.”
Judith had found a rear exit off the supply room. Feeling liberated, the cousins headed through the door and into the January night.
During the hour or more that they’d spent inside the lodge, the snow had been falling steadily and heavily. The wind from the north had now reached a high velocity. The blinding flakes whirled and swirled around the lodge, obliterating everything except the unsteady hands the cousins held before their faces to ward off the stinging cold.
“Jeez!” Renie cried. “It’s a damned blizzard! I can’t drive in this!”
“I can’t either,” Judith admitted in a stunned voice. “What shall we do?”
Renie stood stock-still, with the wind and snow blowing straight into her face. “We haven’t got much choice. We’re stuck, at least until the storm blows over and the roads get plowed. Let’s go back inside before we end up like Barry.”
“Don’t say that,” Judith cautioned. “The weather didn’t kill him.” She swallowed hard. “I’ve got a very ugly feeling that somebody inside that lodge that we are about to reenter was the person—yes, person—who killed Barry Newcombe.”
“You sure know how to terrify a person,” Renie retorted.
Judith gestured toward the lodge. “These people are risk takers, right?”
“Right. In one way or another.” Renie kept her head down; her voice came out muffled.
“It required a big risk to kill Barry with the others around,” Judith continued. “Whoever did it must have realized a storm was coming, but did you notice all those branches at the front of the little cave? I think the killer put them there to hide the body, just in case. Besides, when the snow melted—assuming there’s ever a big thaw at this elevation—the branches would still provide some concealment. But then, the snow finally broke them down, probably when you fell into the bank.”
“Lucky me,” Renie sighed. “I’m a regular walkin’, talkin’ corpse detector.”
“Lucky us,” Judith echoed. “It isn’t like it’s the first time.” Feeling bleak and bleary eyed, she entered the lodge.
They explained their forestalled departure plight to Nadia Weiss, who, surprisingly, was not without sympathy. “There are plenty of vacant rooms,” she said. “I’ve already moved Frank once. Naturally, he wanted a corner room. But Mountain Goat Lodge can accommodate two hundred guests. We’ll find you something in the main wing on the second floor, where the rest of us are staying.”
Judith and Renie didn’t find the idea particularly reassuring. But again, there wasn’t much choice. “We’ll share,” Renie blurted. “We wouldn’t want to mess up two rooms,” she added hastily.
The arrangement was fine with Nadia. She led the cousins to the elevator via a back corridor. While waiting for the car to arrive, Judith overheard Killegrew expostulating on the deficiencies of the municipal police department.
“Lack of personal contact…city employees, not used to the bottom line…boondoggles…civil service…political pork barrel…favoritism…” The litany of complaints went on.
The three women got into the elevator. “Did you talk to the police chief?” Judith asked innocently.
Nadia leaned her slight frame against the upholstered padding of the elevator. “No! It’s after six, he’d gone home. Frank had me call him there, but I reached his answering machine. We haven’t heard back yet.”
“Ah.” Judith didn’t know what else to say. She recalled how often Joe had tried to see the chief when he and his partner, Woody Price, were working a case. Unless the investigation was high profile, the chief usually shunted Joe and Woody off to his deputy or some other underling.
“This whole thing is very peculiar,” Nadia said as they got out on the second floor. “I cannot—I simply cannot—imagine anything as seedy as murder being linked to OTIOSE. Whatever will our board of directors think? And our shareholders will be up in arms! This is simply terrible!”
“It’s rough, all right,” Renie agreed.
“It had to be some lunatic,” Nadia declared. “Someone wandering around the mountains. I’ve heard there are all sorts of strange types who live in the forest. Hermits, and other kinds of eccentrics. They often kill people. That’s what must have happened to Barry.”
They had reached a door at the far end of the hall. Nadia sorted through a large key ring. “Two-thirty-nine,” she said under her breath. “Here we are.”
There were twin beds, a small fireplace, a bathroom, and a wet bar. There were also two hooded bathrobes hanging on wooden pegs. Matching terrycloth slippers sat side by side on the polished hardwood floor. Judith and Renie both sighed with relief.
“Nice,” Renie remarked. “Thanks, Nadia. We’re sorry to impose, but that storm out there is really something.”
Nadia’s smile was tense. “It should blow out in a few hours. That’s what happened last year when we were at Mountain Goat.”
“You had a storm just like this one?” Judith asked, setting her purse down on one of the twin beds.
“Oh, yes,” Nadia replied. “It was terrible. We weren’t sure if we could get out by Monday afternoon. But it finally broke that morning, and we were able to leave.”
“Who drove?” Renie had uttered the question from the fireplace where
she was putting a match to the pile of wood and kindling.
“I did,” Nadia replied. “Barry had driven us up here, but when he…disappeared, it was up to me to get us back to the city. Fortunately, we were able to chain up at the summit.”
Judith sat down on the bed with its counterpane woven in a bright Native American design. “Nadia, weren’t you worried about what had happened to Barry?”
Nadia hung her head and clasped her hands. “Not terribly,” she replied in a sheepish tone. “You see, Barry was gay. He was given to…following his special star.” She paused, her thin face very earnest. “It had happened before. Two summers ago at the company picnic, Barry was in charge of the food. About halfway through, he suddenly disappeared. He’d met someone on the adjacent tennis courts. Then at the Christmas party a year ago, he went off with Santa Claus.”
“I see.” Judith took a deep breath. “So you thought—what? That he’d met someone outside of the lodge or at the summit or down in the next town—or what?”
“Any of those things.” Nadia now appeared to be on surer ground. “Even here at the lodge, there are cross-country skiers who pass through. Not to mention snow-mobilers and hikers. It may seem isolated, but it really isn’t, not when the weather is decent.”
“Except that you had a big storm last January,” Judith pointed out. “That would have cut down on the sports enthusiasts.”
“Y-e-s,” Nadia said slowly. “I suppose it did.” She glanced around the room, her practiced mind taking inventory. “I hope this will do. Everything seems to be in order. Now I should get back downstairs. I must see what’s happening with Frank and the police chief.”
Judith locked the door behind Nadia and slid the dead-bolt. “We ought to be safe in here,” she said, then gritted her teeth as Renie lighted yet another cigarette. “Coz—must you? This is a small room, and it’s too cold to open a window.”
Renie waved the cigarette. “It’s either this or we raid the buffet.”
Judith sniffed at the trail of smoke. “That’s not a bad idea. It just dawned on me that I’m starved. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Then let’s forage after they’ve finished. Meanwhile, we can check out the honor bar.” She nodded at the compartment built between the room’s two small windows.
The little refrigerator contained soda pop, sample-sized bottles of liquor, and water, both plain and flavored. There were also packets of various snack foods. The cousins opened a bag of chips and a bag of pretzels before making themselves a drink.
Sitting in a wooden chair with a comfortable padded back and seat, Judith gazed around the room. “There’s no TV. Or radio. How are we going to hear about what’s happening with the weather?”
Renie also studied their surroundings. “No phone, either. I guess this is one of those places where you’re supposed to get back to nature or in touch with yourself or some damned thing. Bill and I stayed at a lodge like this in Oregon a few years ago. After an hour and a half, we were ready to kill each other.”
Judith got up and went to one of the windows. “All we can do is watch what’s happening outside. Once the storm dies down, I suppose we could use the phone in the kitchen to check on highway conditions.”
Renie uttered a terse laugh. “Assuming we can reach the right part of the state and don’t end up with a report on the ocean beaches.”
“I’ve got a feeling that this blizzard is going to last well into the night,” Judith said, still peering through one of the window’s six small panes that were trimmed in bright red. “I vaguely recall hearing a weather report at home yesterday that said we might get some snow in the city by Sunday, but of course I didn’t worry about it because…” She stopped, cupping her hands around her eyes. “What in…? I just saw a light.”
Renie, who had been reclining on one of the twin beds, went to the other window. “Where? I don’t see anything.”
“It’s gone. Which way are we facing?”
Renie considered. “We’re at the end of the hall, which runs the width of the lodge. I’d guess that we’re looking out from the east, opposite from the parking lot and the creek.”
“That makes sense. The wind is from the north, and it’s blowing the snow right by us.” Judith remained at the window, but the light didn’t reappear. “Did you say there was a caretaker?”
Renie had returned to the bed. “Right, but he’s at least half a mile away. I doubt he’d come out in this storm. Besides, he’s under orders to keep away. The OTIOSE gang is very set on privacy.”
“Where’d the staff go?” Judith asked, finally deserting her post and sitting down again.
“Home?” Renie gave little shrug. “I understand some of them usually sleep over, up in dormer rooms on the third floor. But during the conference, they were all sent away. It is a three-day weekend, and they were probably delighted to have the time off.”
Judith finished her bag of chips and sipped at her Scotch; Renie ate three pretzels, lighted another cigarette, and drank her bourbon. The fire, which Judith had lighted a few minutes earlier, burned in the small grate. They could hear the wind howl in the chimney, causing the flames to waver and dance.
“I should have mentioned to Nadia that we left her clothes—and Ava’s—in the dining room,” Renie said, breaking the sudden silence between them.
“They’ll find the stuff,” Judith replied, her eyes still on the storm that raged outside the window. She sat up straight and looked at Renie. “The folder was gone.”
“Folder?” Renie was momentarily puzzled. “Oh, the one I found on the podium.” She nodded once. “You’re right. Somebody had picked it up off the coffee table in the lobby where we set up the bar.”
Judith’s high forehead was puckered in a frown. “I thought Ava acted kind of odd about which clothes she wanted to lend me.”
“Maybe. So what? The blue outfit might be her favorite.”
“Then why wasn’t she wearing it?”
“I don’t know,” Renie replied, slightly impatient. “What difference does it make?”
Judith didn’t reply immediately. “Would you know how to fashion a garrote?” she asked after another brief silence.
“I think I could learn,” Renie said darkly. “Like about now. Forget it, coz. This isn’t our problem.”
“If you knew how, I don’t imagine it would take much strength.”
“I hope not. I’m feeling a little weak.” Renie glowered at her cousin.
“But you need a stick or something, don’t you? Where was the stick? I didn’t see anything like that.”
“If I had a stick, I know where I’d put it,” Renie said between clenched teeth.
“What do you know about Barry Newcombe? Did you ever meet him?”
“Good God.” Renie rubbed at one eye. “You’re hopeless.” She tossed her cigarette butt into the fireplace and regarded Judith with an indulgent expression. “Okay, I’ll play the game if only because we can’t amuse ourselves by watching Crusader Rabbit reruns on TV. Yes, I met Barry a couple of times, a year ago last December, when I got called in on the annual report. He seemed very nice, quite efficient, and otherwise utterly unremarkable. I also talked to him on the phone.”
“Who did he work for?” Judith asked, adding more ice to her glass.
“He was assigned to Margo in p.r. then, as a staff assistant. But I think he’d been in human resources before that.”
“Andrea Piccoloni-Roth?” Judith was finally beginning to put titles and departments with faces and names.
“That’s right. But I honestly don’t know much more about him,” Renie admitted. “It appears that he didn’t intend to make a career out of working at OTIOSE, or he wouldn’t have started up the catering business on the side.”
Judith grew thoughtful. “How old was he?”
“Mid-twenties, blond, medium height, nice-looking. I didn’t know until today that he was gay, but then I wouldn’t have given it a thought if I had,” Renie said, slipping one mo
re pretzel out of the little paper sack. “Quite a few of the guys who are employed at lower management levels in corporations are gay.”
“So Barry wasn’t in a power position?” Judith asked as the wind rattled the windows.
Renie ruffled her short hair. “Well—that depends. The salaries at that level aren’t much, but somehow staff assistants, at least at OTIOSE, have some kind of abstruse clout. They answer the phones, they run personal errands for the bosses, they handle correspondence, they know all the gossip. They can be a great source of information, which means their importance goes far beyond their lowly titles and puny paychecks.”
“Interesting,” Judith murmured. “Maybe that’s what got Barry killed.”
Renie shuddered. “I hope not. I kind of like Nadia’s hermit theory.”
“It’s comforting,” Judith allowed, then turned a dour face to Renie. “The only problem is, I don’t believe it.”
FIVE
A FEW MINUTES before eight, the cousins went downstairs to get some food. They had snooped around on the second floor until they found a staircase that led from the west end of the main corridor to a small hallway off the laundry room and the rear entrance. A quick peek into the dining room told them that the conferees had finished eating. Judging from the hum of conversation, they had regrouped in the lobby.
“Who tidied up?” Judith inquired, noting that the big round table had been cleared away and the sideboard swept clean.
“Nadia, I suppose,” Renie replied, opening the refrigerator. “Maybe someone was kind enough to help her.”
The cousins loaded plates with ham and turkey sandwiches, raw vegetables, and what was left of the potato salad Judith had made from Gertrude’s legendary recipe. They were about to return upstairs when Ward Haugland entered the kitchen.
“You’re still here, huh?” His smile was off-center and self-conscious. “I guess you can’t get out in this storm.”
“That’s right,” Renie replied. “We’re marooned. I don’t suppose you’ve heard a weather forecast?”
Ward shook his head. “Nope. There’s no radio or TV at Mountain Goat. That’s one of the reasons we pick this place for the retreats. Frank doesn’t want any pleasurecraft bobbing around our corporate ship of state. Or something like that,” he added with an uncertain frown.