by Mary Daheim
Judith started to bolt out of the room, then looked at Margo. “May I?” she asked, feeling childlike and stupid.
Margo lowered the gun. “Go ahead. But don’t anybody forget I won’t hesitate to use this.” She patted the weapon, then slipped it back into her suede bag.
Renie went into the dining room with Judith, where they found two half-empty bottles of brandy. “I don’t blame Margo,” Renie said in a tense voice. “This is absolutely horrible.”
“It sure is,” Judith agreed, gathering up some of the other liquor bottles and motioning for Renie to get some glasses. “I’m beginning to feel as anxious to get out of here as Margo is.”
“At least she’s armed,” Renie said. “I wouldn’t mind having an AK-47 about now.”
Judith gave a little snort. “You’d be lucky not to shoot yourself. Or me.”
Giving Judith a hapless look, Renie led the way back into the lobby. Once again, Gene had taken over the questioning, but his manner had become slightly more deferential.
No one refused the brandy. Indeed, Killegrew swallowed his in a gulp, and Nadia inhaled the fumes for such a long time that Judith thought she’d suck the liquor right up her nose.
“Let’s begin,” Gene said calmly, “with you, Ava. You mentioned that Andrea’s door was unlocked?”
“It was.” Ava gave a short, grim nod. “We knocked, of course, but she didn’t respond. We thought maybe she was in the bathroom, so we went in.” Ava hesitated, lifted her chin, and continued. “Andrea was in bed, and we assumed she was asleep.”
“What did you do then?” Gene asked quietly.
Ava glanced at Nadia, as if for confirmation. “I called to her. Nadia had stayed in the doorway.”
“And?” Gene prompted.
“Nothing. I knew Andrea was upset about Leon,” Ava went on, speaking more rapidly, “so I thought maybe she’d taken something to help her sleep and was really out of it. Frank was anxious to start the meeting, so I went to the bed and gave Andrea a little shake. I couldn’t rouse her. Then I saw the pill bottle and the note.”
Gene cleared his throat. “Let’s back up a moment, please.” He turned to Nadia, whose eyes seemed to have grown as large as the big glasses she wore over them. “Does this account agree with what you recall so far?”
“Yes.” Nadia’s voice was toneless.
“All right.” Gene offered Ava a slight smile of encouragement. “Do you have the note with you?”
Ava shook her head. “I remembered what you said last night about not touching anything. I left it on the nightstand.”
“What did it say?”
Ava swallowed hard. “It said, ‘Leon, I’m coming to join you.’”
“Did you recognize Andrea’s handwriting?”
“Not really,” Ava admitted, “but Nadia did. She’d come all the way into the room when she saw I had trouble waking Andrea.”
Gene turned again to Nadia. “You’re certain it was Andrea’s writing?”
“Yes,” Nadia answered, still without inflection. “I’ve seen it many times. She often sent Frank handwritten notes.”
“What did you do next?” Gene asked Ava.
Ava put a hand to her forehead. “I’m not sure. I think we both realized at the same time that Andrea was dead. We ran out of the room and came down here.”
Gene sought corroboration from Nadia, who nodded. “We may have screamed,” she said. “It was so…ghastly.” Nadia shuddered at the memory.
“In other words,” Gene mused, “Andrea is still lying up there in bed…dead.”
“I haven’t heard her walking around,” Margo snapped. “What’s wrong with everybody? Can’t this crew accept the facts?”
“Sleeping pills,” murmured Russell. “Did you say Andrea took sleeping pills?”
“Sometimes she did,” Nadia said. “Last night she offered me one, but I have my own prescription. I can hardly blame Andrea for taking something to help her sleep. She was so upset.”
Ward stretched out his long legs. “Could it have been an accident?” he asked.
“Not with that note,” Killegrew put in. “My God, I had no idea she and Leon were…so close. Sometimes,” he added darkly, “I wonder what really goes on behind my back in this company. Sometimes I think the caboose is running this ship.”
“I think you mean ‘train.’” Margo’s tone was mocking.
Killegrew glowered at her, but said nothing. Indeed, no one responded until Gene spoke again. “Someone will have to go up there and check things out. I suppose I should do it, since I’m the legal counsel.” He grimaced, then uttered a choked little laugh. “Max, would you come along? We’d better stick to the buddy system.”
Max, however, demurred. “I already helped cart Leon upstairs, for which the cops are going to jump me. Count me out on this one.”
“Remember,” said Russell in a small voice, “I’m squeamish.”
“I wouldn’t go near that room for a billion dollars,” Margo declared.
“I’ll go.” Judith was so surprised by her impulsive announcement that she hardly recognized her own voice.
“I don’t think that’s a…” Ward began.
“Good idea,” interrupted Killegrew. “It’s probably smart to have an outsider on hand for something like this.”
In other words, Judith thought with a sinking feeling, there’d be someone else to blame. But she’d opened her mouth and put her foot into it. As a flummoxed Renie watched, Judith accompanied Gene to the elevator.
“This might not be pleasant,” Gene said as they moved up to the second floor.
“I’ve done it before,” Judith said without thinking.
“Of course. Leon. And Barry.” Mournfully, Gene shook his head.
“Yes,” Judith agreed hastily. “Leon and Barry.” It wouldn’t do to enumerate a few other corpses she’d stumbled across in the past.
The door to Andrea’s room was wide open. Judith quickly calculated that it was the same room she and Renie had first tried the previous night. As they had guessed, Andrea had been waiting for Leon in his room.
Gene stepped aside to let Judith enter first. She found herself tiptoeing, but stopped abruptly when she saw Andrea lying peacefully on the bed. The dead woman could have been asleep; only her head and shoulders were exposed. Andrea was on her back, with the silver hair splayed out on the pillow. Her plump face seemed blotchy, perhaps bruised. Remembering that Andrea was a fellow Catholic, Judith crossed herself and said a silent prayer.
“Poor woman,” Gene said softly. “Suicide’s such a desperate act.”
Judith turned sharply. “It is. Andrea didn’t strike me as a desperate woman.”
“You never know what people are really like,” Gene remarked, coming around to study the nightstand that stood between the twin beds. “Ah—here’s the note and the empty pill bottle. Halcion, made out to Andrea Piccoloni-Roth last month. It’s a popular prescription sleeping drug, I believe.”
“Yes.” Judith’s mind was racing. On the other bed lay the extra pillow, which had been removed from under the spread. “What do you think of that note?” Judith asked, coming around to join Gene.
The company attorney kept his hands carefully pressed against his sides. “It’s clear, isn’t it?”
“In what way?” Judith queried.
Judging from the scowl on Gene’s face, he didn’t like being on the other end of questions. “Andrea couldn’t live without Leon. What else could it mean?”
Judith said nothing. She stared again at the pillow on the empty bed. “Where’s the water glass?” she asked.
“What water glass?” Gene sounded annoyed.
Judith pointed to the pill bottle. “There’s no sign of a glass on the nightstand. Why would anyone take a bunch of sleeping tablets without water?” Judith didn’t wait for a response, but went into the bathroom. “The glass is in here,” she called. “Two glasses, in fact. One’s clean, the other has a bit of water in the bottom.”
; Gene had moved to the bathroom door. The scowl was gone, but he looked puzzled. “What’s your point?”
A sudden, paralyzing fear gripped Judith. She didn’t know Gene Jarman. He seemed like a diligent, somewhat stiff-necked man who had brought himself up by the bootstraps. Yet his very success was evidence of not just ambition and determination, but perhaps ruthlessness as well. The same might be said of all the OTIOSE executives. And one of them was a killer. It could be Eugene Jarman, Jr.
“Nothing,” Judith said in a careless voice. “I was just speculating.”
“Is there anything unusual in the bathroom?” he inquired, gazing around the small but economical space.
“No.” Judith started to come back into the other room; Gene stepped aside. “Have you noticed anything we should report on?” Judith asked in an unusually meek voice.
Gene didn’t answer right away. He was standing at the foot of the bed, staring morosely at Andrea. “She was a nice woman, if you didn’t cross swords with her. Then she could be a real tiger.” He moved between the beds. “I shouldn’t do this, but I feel I must.” Carefully, he lifted the sheet and pulled it over Andrea’s face.
“That’s…better,” Judith said, relieved that Gene hadn’t suggested they move Andrea upstairs with Leon. “Finished?”
Gene said he was. In silence, they returned to the lobby.
The brandy bottles had been emptied, replaced by gin, rum, vodka, and whiskey. The mood, however, was scarcely festive. When Judith got out of the elevator, she noticed the look of relief on Renie’s face.
“I think we should make more coffee,” Renie whispered. “These people are going to need it once they kill all the booze.”
“Don’t use that term,” Judith urged, but was quick to follow Renie out of the lobby. “Did anything happen in my absence?” she asked when they reached the dining room.
“No, just a lot of maundering about poor Andrea,” Renie replied, unplugging the big urn on the buffet table. “Her husband was a lazy dreamer, she was the breadwinner, all Alan Roth ever wanted was a meal ticket, she wouldn’t divorce him because she was Catholic.”
“Sounds familiar,” Judith murmured, heading for the kitchen. “After nineteen years of marriage to Dan, I can sympathize with Andrea.”
“I’ll bet you can,” Renie said as Judith firmly shut the door behind them.
“That’s not all,” Judith said, pressing her back against the door. “Much as I hate to say this, coz, I think Andrea was murdered.”
Renie winced. “I hate to hear you say that,” she breathed, “but why am I not surprised?”
“Because we’re in the middle of a bloodbath, that’s why.” Judith closed her eyes for a moment, then squared her shoulders and walked over to the counter where she sat down on one of the tall stools. “First of all, Andrea wasn’t the type to commit suicide. Even if she was in love with Leon Mooney—and we don’t know that for sure—the Andrea Piccoloni-Roths of this world do not kill themselves.”
Renie perched on one of the other stools. “It didn’t sound right to me from the start.”
“This isn’t just amateur psychology,” Judith went on.
“I hope not. Bill hates competition,” Renie said, referring to her husband’s staff position at the university. “Bill says that besides being simplistic and superficial, most non-professionals…”
Judith held up both hands. “Stop! Your husband’s brilliant, but this isn’t the time for one of your long-winded wifely essays. I’m talking facts here, coz. As in fact number one—there was an empty Halcion bottle on the nightstand next to the bed. Fact number two—the water glass, which you gave Andrea last night, was in the bathroom. Now who swallows pills in the bathroom with the water glass, and then takes the bottle with them into the bedroom?”
“Is ‘nobody’ the right answer?” Renie had assumed her middle-aged ingenue’s air.
“Right. Fact number three,” Judith continued. “The note said what Ava told us—‘Leon, I’m coming to join you.’ Andrea undoubtedly wrote that, but I’ll bet she wrote it last night to slip under Leon’s door. It simply meant that she was going to meet him in his room, which is where we found her when we went to tell her about Leon. But now she’s in her own room, next door. My guess is that the killer found that note—probably on Leon—and used it to fake a suicide.”
“Clever,” Renie remarked. “And fortuitous.”
“Exactly. Then we get to fact number four—which isn’t really a fact, but a conjecture.” Judith gave Renie an apologetic look. “The extra pillow that I’d put under Andrea was lying on the empty twin bed. Now it’s possible that she removed the pillow herself. But I’m thinking that she came back to her room and simply flopped onto the bed. Under the circumstances, wouldn’t you? She was worn out, she was upset, she very well may have taken Halcion to help herself sleep. Why remove the pillow?”
“She didn’t.” Renie’s face was expressionless.
“Of course she didn’t,” Judith continued, “because…”
“Because she wasn’t in Leon’s room.”
“What?” Judith made a face at Renie.
“You said so yourself.” Renie lifted her hands, palms up. “The water glass and the pillow you’re talking about were in Leon’s room, not Andrea’s. So what are you trying to say?”
Judith looked blank, then exhilarated. “What I was saying all along. Except that now I’m sure I’m right. The killer removed the extra pillow from under the spread of the other twin bed. Andrea didn’t die from an overdose of sleeping pills. She was smothered.”
Judith and Renie weren’t sure how to break the news to the others. It hadn’t seemed to Judith that Gene Jarman was suspicious. On the other hand, he wasn’t the type to reveal what he was thinking. As the cousins made fresh coffee, they mulled over the problem.
“Andrea must have let in whoever killed her,” Renie pointed out, running water from the tap into the urn.
“Of course she would,” Judith agreed. “Despite Leon’s death, she must have trusted whoever came to her door.”
“Which could be anybody,” Renie noted. “The only person she really seemed on the outs with was Margo.”
“Andrea had probably already taken the Halcion,” Judith said, opening the kitchen door for Renie, who was carrying the urn back to the dining room. “She was probably drowsy. Maybe whoever called on her offered to sit with her until she nodded off. Then he—or she—applied the pillow.” Judith winced. “I thought her face looked sort of bruised, but then I don’t know what effects an overdose of Halcion has on a person.”
“I don’t know, either,” Renie admitted, plugging in the urn. “Didn’t somebody say they heard noises during the night?”
Judith stared at Renie. “You’re right. It was Margo. She thought someone was trying to get into her room. I’ll bet Leon was on one side of Andrea’s room and Margo was on the other.”
“That’s right,” Renie responded. “I saw Margo come from that room last night when everybody heard the commotion.”
The cousins gazed at each other. “Shall we?” Judith finally said.
“I suppose,” Renie said reluctantly. “Our popularity is about to plummet to minus zero.”
“Our popularity isn’t the issue,” Judith said bluntly. “Trying to stop a killer from striking again is what matters.”
While not exactly drunk, the OTIOSE crew wasn’t quite sober, either. Ava was curled up against Gene; Nadia appeared to be asleep; Ward and Max were arguing good-naturedly; Russell was talking to himself; Margo was sitting with her suede bag—and Ladysmith .38 Special—in her lap; Frank Killegrew was clutching his slide rule and staring off into space.
“Well, well,” said Ward as the cousins entered the lobby, “here come the little ladies.”
“Persons,” Margo shouted, fingers digging into the suede bag.
“Lady persons,” Ward chuckled. “Hey, at least they’re still alive.”
“That is not funny,” Nadia declared, ope
ning her eyes and glaring at Ward.
Renie had been delegated by Judith to break the news. She lighted a cigarette, took a few puffs, blew smoke in Margo’s direction, remembered the gun, and apologized.
“Sorry, I’m kind of nervous. We don’t bring good news.”
“Oh, my God!” cried Margo. “Is someone else dead?” She glanced around the room, taking a head count. “We’re all here,” she announced on a sigh of relief.
“It’s about Andrea,” Renie began, nervously teetering on the flagstone hearth. “We don’t believe she committed suicide. We think she was smothered with a pillow.”
“My God!” Killegrew seemed incredulous.
“That’s ridiculous,” Gene said with a faint sneer.
“Don’t Catholics go to hell if they kill themselves?” Russell asked in a mild voice.
“Of course she didn’t kill herself,” Margo asserted. “Andrea was too tough for that kind of cowardly act. And even if she and Leon had something going, I wouldn’t exactly call it grand passion.”
“What would you call it, Margo?” Ava asked with a smirk.
Color crept into Margo’s plain face. “What do you mean? All I’m saying is that Leon was probably looking for a substitute mother. Andrea had a maternal air, I’ll give her that. But she’d never do anything to ruin her marriage. Hanging on to Alan Roth was her priority.” A note of bitterness had surfaced in Margo’s voice.
“That’s because she was a Catholic,” Russell said doggedly. “They don’t divorce, either.”
“Bull,” snapped Margo. “It’s because she didn’t want anybody else to have Alan.”
“Now, now,” Killegrew injected. “Let’s stop boring holes in this ship’s hull.” He gazed up at Renie from his place on the sofa. “Excuse me, but I don’t see where your opinions come into this situation.”
Gene was on his feet. “I don’t see how you came to this conclusion, Ms. Jones.” He turned to Judith. “I assume this was actually your idea, Ms. Flynn?”
“Well, yes,” Judith admitted as all eyes turned in her direction. With scrupulous attention to detail, she went over her reasoning. “The pillow is the key,” she said after enumerating her deductions. “If you turned it over,” Judith said directly to Gene, “I suspect you’d find traces of lipstick and other makeup on the pillowcase.”