Snow Place to Die

by Mary Daheim

  “Lousy,” Max retorted. “Honest to God, we have this sense of impending doom.”

  “But Max,” Ava said, giving his sleeve a little tug, “it is melting. By tomorrow morning, I’ll bet we can get out of here.”

  “Tomorrow’s a long way off,” Max replied in a grim voice. “I won’t go to my room tonight. I’ll stay up, and insist that everybody else does, too. We can take turns sleeping on those sofas in the lobby. Three on guard duty, three catching some Z’s. The buddy system was a bust.”

  “That’s because we’re not used to doing things in pairs,” Ava pointed out, then turned to the cousins. “I mean, we’re executives, we’re used to being independent and going our separate ways.”

  “No teamwork, huh?” said Renie. “Every man—sorry, every person—for him or herself.”

  “Well,” Ava said lamely, “we do tend to think mostly in terms of our own departments. You have to. Otherwise, you’d get shortchanged on personnel, budget, even floor space and office equipment.”

  “Don’t I know it?” Max muttered, starting back into the corridor. “As Frank would say, you have to chart your own course.”

  “But he also says we have to row together,” Ava countered, following Max down the hall. “When you’re at the top, like Frank is, you can see the big…”

  Renie closed the door. “I can’t stand another word of that crap,” she declared. “They’ve got dead bodies all over the place, the company may be in ruins, they’re all scared out of their wits—and they still talk the corporate line. It’s sickening.”

  Judith wasn’t really listening to Renie. After taking a couple of bites of her sandwich, she asked her cousin to make sure the coast was clear in the corridor.

  Renie opened the door again. “They’re gone. So what?”

  Judith gave Renie a baleful look. “They didn’t lock the door. Either Max and Ava don’t think we’re dangerous, or they know we’re not. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Renie was looking blank.

  “The bathroom, remember?” Judith breezed past her cousin.

  “What bathroom? I thought you—oh, never mind.” Renie trotted behind Judith as they covered the length of the corridor until they reached Leon’s room.

  In the struggle to get Killegrew and Russell out of the room and away from Nadia’s corpse, no one had thought to lock Leon’s door, either. Judith marched right inside, though Renie lingered briefly on the threshold.

  “How many times do we have to view the body?” Renie asked.

  “Avert your eyes,” Judith called over her shoulder as she went into the bathroom. “At least they already moved Andrea upstairs.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Renie followed. Judith was pushing back the nylon shower curtain.

  “Don’t tell me…” Renie began with a gasp.

  Judith shook her head. “No body. Just…the files.”

  Several folders covered the empty tub. Judith picked them up, handing the first batch to Renie. “They had to be somewhere,” Judith said. “It dawned on me that along with Andrea, Nadia knew Barry Newcombe fairly well. Let’s say that Barry was privy to some of the items in Andrea’s private files. He worked for her, didn’t he?”

  Renie nodded. “Barry might have snooped. Clerks often do.”

  “Okay. So Barry might have passed something juicy on to someone else. Why not Nadia? Since he was in the business of bartering gossip, she’d be a likely client because she’d know what was happening on the executive floor. Let’s say Nadia got an inkling that more was to come—except Barry never got the chance to pass the rest of it on. In the normal course of events at work, Nadia couldn’t get at Andrea’s private files. But once Andrea was dead, Nadia seized an opportunity. That must be who Max saw in the corridor Friday night. Nadia must have beaten him to the punch by just a few minutes.”

  Renie was looking skeptical. “How did Nadia know Andrea had those files with her?”

  Judith waved a hand. “Andrea was dropping hints, especially about the hooker files. I suspect she was passing tidbits on to the others as well. Gene and Russell and even Nadia were being clobbered with some of that data. It had to come from somewhere.”

  The files were somewhat damp, but otherwise appeared to be intact. The cousins gathered up the folders and hurried back to their own room, and this time, they locked the door from the inside.

  “The hooker file!” Renie cried. “It’s right on top!”

  “Good,” Judith responded, fingering the tabs on the other folders. “There are files for each of the conferees, including Andrea. Does that strike you as odd?”

  Renie, however, shook her head. “I’ll bet it’s full of stuff she heard people say about her. Not true necessarily, but potentially damaging.”

  “Corporate paranoia and skullduggery never cease to amaze me,” Judith marveled. “Shall we start with Ward? He’s first.”

  On a gray, wet January afternoon, what little light there was began to die away shortly after three o’clock. The cousins had to turn on the bedside lamps before they completed the dossiers on Ward, Gene, Nadia, Russell, Max, Margo, Leon, Ava, and Andrea’s own much slimmer folder. Judith and Renie had learned very little that they hadn’t already heard.

  “So what if Ava had had a youthful, unhappy marriage before she left Samoa?” Renie shrugged. “Russell collects dead bugs. Big deal. Margo supposedly slept with everybody. Naturally, Andrea would want to believe that. Ward’s wife was an albatross. Andrea had fingered Max for running the hooker ring. No surprise there, either. I’m getting bored.”

  “Leon was devoted to his mother,” Judith said, flipping through the chief financial officer’s file. “He was very secretive about his personal and his professional life. Obviously, the latter was a sore point with Andrea. She’s written a note on this one page that says, ‘Why can’t he tell me?’ ‘Me’ is underlined three times.”

  “They were sleeping together,” Renie said. “Like most women, she probably felt they shouldn’t have secrets from each other. Like most men, Leon may not have agreed.”

  Judith looked up from the file. “There’s a page missing.”

  “How can you tell?” Renie inquired. “Most of the entries are fragmentary.”

  “Not all of them.” Judith tapped what appeared to be the last page in the folder. “Andrea has written what must have been the equivalent of a teenaged girl’s diary. She goes on at length about some staff meeting and an independent audit and how Leon stood up to Frank and refused to be badgered and acted like—I quote—‘a real man.’ Then she writes that Frank brought up the audit later…and that’s it. The sentence stops, and the last page starts in mid-sentence about how much Leon liked the annual report cover with the photo of the sun setting behind the microwave tower.”

  “It was a cliché shot, though,” Renie said. “I did some of the interior graphics for that report and…Whoa! That’s the end of Leon’s file?”

  Judith nodded. “That’s it. Why?”

  “Because that was last year’s annual report.” Renie frowned, then started looking through some of the other files. “Coz, this is weird. Check the last pages of the other folders. See if you can tell when the final entries were made.”

  Surprisingly, Andrea had been haphazard about dating her material. Still, Judith could find nothing more recent than the previous January.

  “That’s very strange,” Judith remarked. “Why would she stop keeping her personal files a year ago?”

  Renie had no explanation. “We haven’t gone through Frank’s,” she pointed out. “Let’s see if his file ends abruptly, too.”

  Frank Killegrew’s file was thicker than the others. He’d been born in Molt, Montana, served as a U.S. Army Ranger in Korea, attended Montana School of Mines in Butte, and gone to work for Mountain States Telephone Company in Helena. His mother’s name was given as Kate Killegrew; no father was listed. Instead, there was a picture of a cat sitting on the roof of a house, and a notation that read, “Ha Ha!”

/>   “What does that mean?” Renie demanded.

  Judith smirked. “What it shows.” Her dark eyes glittered. “Frank was born in a cat house. No wonder he’s ashamed of his origins.”

  “Woo-woo,” Renie said under her breath. “That’s funny.”

  “No, it’s not.” Judith, who had flipped through the rest of the pages, suddenly turned serious. “Well, maybe it is, but the unfunny part is that Frank’s file stops long before last year. There’s nothing after his years with the Bell System.”

  Renie grabbed the folder out of Judith’s lap. “You’re right,” she said in wonder. “There’s no mention of OTIOSE.”

  Rubbing at her temples, Judith got up from the bed and looked out the window. The rain continued to come down, a steady sheet with no hint of wind to shift the dark clouds. “The snow’s still melting…”

  Judith screamed. Renie ran to join her cousin.

  There was a man at the window, and he was holding a high-powered rifle.

  EIGHTEEN

  JUDITH AND RENIE flattened themselves against the wall, hopefully out of the line of fire. “What do you want?” Judith cried, finally finding both her courage and her voice.

  In answer, the man slammed the butt of the rifle into one of the smaller panes. Glass shattered onto the floor. Judith and Renie held onto each other, both shaking like leaves. The man, who was on the top rung of a tall aluminum extension ladder, reached through the broken pane and tried to unlatch the window. Judith looked around for something to hit at his fumbling fingers, but there was nothing within reach. The window opened, and the man scrambled into the room. Raindrops and wet snow flew in every direction.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded in a rough voice.

  Judith blinked several times. The man wore a heavy parka over ski pants, and rested the rifle butt on the floor next to his all-weather boots. He had a gray beard and a weathered face, but wasn’t much taller than Judith.

  “Who are you?” Judith asked in a faint voice.

  The intruder’s initial reaction was hostile, then he frowned at the cousins. “Mannheimer, who else?”

  “Mannheimer?” Judith echoed the name. “Do we know you?”

  “Hell, no.” Mannheimer shook off the moisture that had accumulated on his person. “Rudy Mannheimer, Mountain Goat Lodge caretaker. Who the hell are you?”

  “The caterers,” Judith replied, stretching the truth a bit. “We got marooned. Where have you been?”

  Mannheimer gestured with his head, causing the hood of his parka to slip down and reveal overlong gray hair. “Back at my place. Where else?”

  “Um…Nowhere,” Judith said. “That is, the weather’s been terrible. Ah…Why are you here now? I thought you had orders to stay away.”

  Mannheimer lowered his head, as if to charge the cousins. Instead, he answered the question in his ragged, jerky voice. “It’s my job, dammit. Orders can change. Like when a blizzard hits. Guests are still my responsibility. Safety first. Couldn’t get through since Friday. The first floor’s still snowed in. I saw a light up here. I thought I’d give it a try.”

  “You might have asked first,” said Renie, her usual spunk returning. “You didn’t have to break the blasted window.”

  Mannheimer snorted. “You’re not real friendly. So tell me. Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, brother!” Renie twirled around, holding her head.

  “Actually, it’s not,” Judith said with regret. “There’s been some…trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Mannheimer’s close-set blue eyes bulged. “What kind of trouble? Frank doesn’t like trouble.”

  “You know Mr. Killegrew?” Judith asked in surprise.

  Mannheimer flipped the rifle from one hand to the other. “Sure. We go way back. To Korea. Same platoon. So what’s up?” Mannheimer glowered at the cousins.

  “I think,” Judith said in an unusually high voice, “you ought to talk to Frank. He’ll tell you.”

  “So where is he?” Mannheimer’s head swiveled, as if he expected Killegrew to pop out from behind the bathroom door.

  “Downstairs,” Judith answered promptly. “Go ahead, we’ll stay here.” She gave Mannheimer a phony smile.

  “Okay.” The caretaker headed for the door, the rifle now cradled in his arms. He paused on the threshold, unlocking the door the cousins had secured behind them. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix that window. It’s my job.” Mannheimer left.

  Renie sat back down on the bed. “I wouldn’t mind hearing what happens when Frank tells Mannheimer what’s been going on.”

  “And so you shall,” Judith said, moving to the door. “Give him a minute to get downstairs.”

  The cousins used the back stairs. They tiptoed through the kitchen, down the hall, and edged toward the lobby. Judging from the sound of Frank Killegrew’s voice, the OTIOSE contingent had regrouped in the game room.

  “…real brave of you, Rudy,” Judith heard Killegrew say to the caretaker. “What are our chances of getting out of here?”

  Mannheimer must have been standing further away. His response was muffled. “Melting…trouble…what…?”

  Killegrew’s laugh was forced. “You might say we’ve had some nasty accidents. The blizzard, the heavy rains, the avalanche warnings.” He laughed again. “Then you get into stress and tensions and all sorts of heavy seas that can rock the boat. Not to worry, Rudy, old man, we’re managing.”

  “Frank!” Judith recognized Margo’s anguished cry.

  “He has to know.” Gene’s voice could barely be distinguished.

  “I don’t like this,” Russell muttered. “He has a gun.”

  “What Rudy needs is a drink,” Killegrew declared. “Come on, let’s adjourn to the lobby. I wouldn’t pass up a stiff shot of Scotch myself.”

  Judith heard voices muttering and feet shuffling. The sounds died away. “Let’s cut back through the kitchen and listen from the dining room,” Judith whispered.

  Just as they entered the kitchen, the phone rang. Renie sprang for it, catching the receiver before the final “brrng” stopped.

  “Joe!” Renie cried. “Thank God! Here, I’ll let you talk to Judith!”

  Judith suddenly felt close to tears. “Where are you? Arlene said…Never mind, is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, it is now,” Joe replied, though he sounded harried. “Woody and I finally got somebody with a four-wheel drive to get us out of that place by the lake. What’s going on with you? Are you stranded up there?”

  “Yes,” Judith answered. “It’s raining, though. Maybe we can get out tomorrow.” She took a deep breath. “Meanwhile, there’s something you should know.”

  “If it’s about that body you found, forget it,” Joe said, sounding increasingly irritable. “The deputy chief talked to some bozo or some bimbo up there Friday, and that accidental death you mentioned isn’t our problem. Have them call the park service. They have jurisdiction.”

  “Oh. That’s good. I’ll tell them right away.” Judith took another deep breath. “While we’re on the subject, I should come clean about…”

  “Clean? Sorry, somebody’s trying to talk to me at this end. Hold on.” Joe must have put his hand over the receiver; Judith could hear only muffled voices. “Yeah, I need clean underwear,” he said, coming back on the line. “Your goofy cleaning woman didn’t come Friday because she was afraid it would snow. I couldn’t find any dark socks yesterday. Where does she put the clean stuff after it comes out of the dryer?”

  Judith always marveled at her husband’s inability to find any of his belongings, even when they were right under his nose. Or, as had occasionally happened, in his hands. “Phyliss,” she said, referring to her daily help, “keeps three separate baskets in the basement. The blue one is for the B&B laundry, the green is for our personal linens and towels, and she puts our clothes in the yellow one. They should all be lined up by the washer and dryer, which, in case you’ve forgotten, is in the basement laundry room.”

  “Hey!” Joe ba
rked. “What’s with the sarcasm? I not only get called in on a weekend, I get stuck with a stiff in a house that hardly has any food in it. Plus, I have to share a bed with the M.E. who snores like a steam engine and smells like…well, like an M.E. Woody was smart—he grabbed one of the twin beds in the master bedroom.”

  “Why didn’t you take the other one?” Judith asked.

  “Because the stiff was lying on it.” Joe sounded as if he were gnashing his teeth.

  “Oh.” Judith’s urge to tell Joe about the other murders faded. “I’m sorry about that. Really. Will you be able to get home?”

  “I don’t know.” Joe now sounded glum. “Even with four-wheel drive, it’s almost impossible to get up Heraldsgate Hill in snow this deep.”

  “Maybe we’ll both be home by tomorrow,” Judith said with what she hoped was optimism.

  “Maybe.” Joe obviously wasn’t convinced. “I’ve got to go. There’s a pile of paperwork on my desk.”

  “Okay. Be careful. Please.”

  “Right. You, too.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.” Joe rang off.

  “He’s in a bad mood,” Judith said, replacing the receiver and looking for the telephone directory, which he finally found under a turkey roaster.

  “He’d be in a worse one if you’d told him about the other bodies,” Renie pointed out. “Who’d he say to call?”

  “The park service.” Judith ran her finger down the listings under federal government. “Here’s the number.”

  Renie’s round face was troubled. “Why you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s their problem.” Renie jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Tell them to call. Why get involved?”

  “We are involved,” Judith countered. “We’ll be questioned, we’ll have to give statements.”

  “So? Deal with that when the time comes. But for now, have one of the survivors out there call. Better yet, tell Mannheimer. He’s the caretaker, it’s his job.”

  Judith put the receiver back in its cradle. “Okay, I will. Let’s see how the rest of them are faring.”