Snow Place to Die
Page 27
“Well…Okay, that sounds right.” Westervelt gave an ambiguous nod.
“Hey!” Judith put both hands behind her back and retreated to the window. “This is a terrible mistake! How can you believe him and not me?”
The officers again looked at each other, but it was Killegrew who spoke. “Because you’re nobody. And I’m OTIOSE!”
“Well…He’s right, you know,” Westervelt said to Judith. “Mr. Killegrew is a well-known businessman. I’ve even seen him on TV.”
“You’re darn tootin’,” Killegrew said. “Come on, come on, let’s get going.”
“But…” Judith felt miserable, frustrated, depleted. Was it really impossible to combat Frank Killegrew’s corporate reputation and civic image? Was he actually above the law? Was Judith really a nobody?
Though Nunnally looked vaguely apologetic, he grasped Judith by the forearms and forced her to turn around. She flinched, hearing the click of the handcuffs. But before the officer could lock them in place, she heard an unexpected, yet familiar voice call to her.
“Mom!”
“Mike!” Surprise and shock made Judith limp. She gaped at her son, then turned to the others. “You see?” she said in a voice that shook with emotion. “I am somebody after all. I’m his mother.”
Renie, who had been hiding Margo’s gun under a dish-towel to prevent the rightful owner from attacking her, was right behind Mike. “He’d been told to stay in the lobby with the others because he’s not a law enforcement ranger,” Renie explained, tossing the towel aside. “When none of you came downstairs, I had a heck of a time convincing his partner that we ought to see what was happening.”
While mother and son embraced, Frank Killegrew blustered. Judith’s newly found cachet of giving birth to a park ranger lent her credibility. Nunnally went up to the third floor to see if there really were bodies stashed in the dormer rooms. Westervelt found Nadia lying on Leon’s bed, then called for backup and several ambulances. Killegrew continued to bluster.
Mike, who had been filled in on the situation by his aunt, spoke sharply to the CEO. “The less you say, mister, the better. I may not be a police officer, but at least I know that much. Stick it, will you? You’re getting on my nerves.”
Killegrew looked astonished. “You! You’re just a punk kid! Do you know who you’re talking to?”
Mike turned to Renie. “Who’d you say this guy was?”
Judith regarded Killegrew with unconcealed loathing. “He’s a captain whose ship has been torpedoed. He may not admit it, but he’s just about to hit rock bottom.”
Renie started to say something, but Killegrew hurled himself between her and Mike. Wrenching the gun out of Renie’s hand, he flew into the bathroom. Mike started after him, but it was too late. A sharp report and a flash of light stunned them all. Killegrew’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Renie whispered, crossing herself.
“Don’t look,” Mike ordered, and kicked the bathroom door shut.
Judith had slumped onto one of the twin beds. “I’m…sick,” she said in a weak voice.
Westervelt and Nunnally came rushing in from the corridor where they’d been conferring about the carnage the younger officer had found upstairs. Mike assumed responsibility, succinctly explaining what had just occurred.
“Maybe he was guilty,” Westervelt said in amazement. “My God!”
Nunnally offered Judith his apologies. “I’m kind of new on the job, ma’am, and when you run into some big, important guy like Mr. Killegrew, you tend to…ah…um…”
Judith was trying to pull herself together. “I know, I know. You tend to think he’s right because he’s got a corner office. Don’t worry, you’ll learn better as you get older. Power and privilege have absolutely nothing to do with virtue and goodness.” She turned a wan face to Mike. “Can we get out of here?”
“Sure.” Mike gave his mother a hand and raised her from the bed. “You’ll probably have to answer a bunch of questions, though.”
“Not here,” Judith said with a definite shake of her head. “Anywhere but here. Park headquarters, the ski lodge at the summit, a gopher hole—I don’t care, just so it’s not here. I don’t ever want to see this place or what’s left of these people again.”
Mike grinned, the slightly off-center, engaging expression that Judith loved so well. “I don’t blame you. It must have been quite a weekend. Hey, Aunt Renie, would you really have used that gun if you’d…”
The caterer, the graphic designer, and the park ranger quickly cleared the cousins’ belongings out of the guest room across the hall. Ten minutes later, they were in Mike’s official park service four-by-four, heading for the pass. Judith never looked back.
Joe was soaking his feet in a galvanized tub and watching the eleven o’clock news when Judith finally arrived home that Sunday night. He barely looked up when she came into the third-floor den.
“Hi,” she said, trying to sound cheerful despite her state of exhaustion.
“Hi.” Joe’s gaze was riveted to the TV screen.
Judith leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I got back sooner than I…”
“Shh!” Gesturing at the TV, Joe cut her off.
“…Leading national park service law enforcement officials believe that Killegrew may have killed at least three of his employees in an attempt to retain his position as president and CEO of OTIOSE.” The pert Asian anchor-woman was shown against a stock shot of Mountain Goat Lodge and an inset black-and-white photo of a smiling, benign Frank Killegrew. “While rumors spread this weekend that WaCom plans to merge with OTIOSE, it is not known how the tragedy in the mountains will affect the independent telecommunications company’s future. An unidentified spokesperson told KINE-TV this evening that customer service should not be affected, however.”
The screen changed to highway footage, showing snowplows working along the interstate. Joe hit the mute button.
“Good Lord,” he said, staring at Judith. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Judith sank down next to him on the couch. “I started to, then I lost my nerve. You sounded so grumpy.”
“I was.” Joe put an arm around Judith. “It was a rough weekend. But not as rough as yours.”
“They forgot Barry.” Judith bit her lip and pointed at the silent TV.
“Barry?”
“The staff clerk, the body we found by the creek. Killegrew killed him, too.”
“Jeez.” Joe shook his head. “Want to make us a couple of drinks and tell me all about it?” He indicated his soaking feet. “I’d do it, but…”
Judith grinned. “Yes, you would. You’re not like some men, who have to be waited on.” She got up to fetch their nightcaps.
They had finished their drinks by the time Judith got to the part about Mike’s unexpected arrival. Naturally, Joe was astonished.
“Mike and Kristin got their transfer midweek,” Judith explained. “Because of all the snow and avalanche danger in the pass, they were shipped out of Idaho right away. They’ll both be working in the national park, just an hour away. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“It’s great,” Joe enthused. “You see, Jude-Girl? You worry about all kinds of things that don’t happen.”
“I know.” Judith snuggled against Joe. “I worried tonight I wouldn’t get home, but the driving wasn’t bad at all. Of course the rangers who brought us home knew what they were doing. The worst part was when we got to Heraldsgate Hill. We came up on the north side, to drop Renie off first. That’s much easier than coming up the south side. It’s so steep. The only problem is, Renie tried to drive the Chev.”
“I thought she didn’t drive in snow,” Joe said.
“She doesn’t. The Chev’s piled into a gas station pump at the summit. I’m afraid it’s totaled. Bill will be awfully upset.”
Joe grimaced. “I don’t blame him. I remember when you ran your Nissan into the wall at Falstaff’s Grocery.”
“Maybe Bill won’t reti
re, now that they have to get a new car,” Judith mused. “Have you thought any more about it?”
Joe gave a single nod. “Sure. I’m not changing my mind. Bill won’t either. Hell, we’ve both earned retirement. Why not?”
Judith started to say something, nebulous thoughts about financial uncertainty, changes in lifestyle, the future of the B&B—but she kept silent. Joe and Bill looked forward to retirement. Frank Killegrew had feared it, hated it, fought it—and left a path of death and destruction behind him. Retirement wasn’t a dirty word, it was a new experience. For men like Joe and Bill, who had paid their dues and invested not in corporations but in family, the work place was no magic kingdom.
“You could cook,” Judith said suddenly. “You’ve always been a good cook.”
Joe moved away just enough to look into Judith’s face. “Cook what?”
“You know—some of the meals for the B&B guests. Breakfast, of course. You do wonderful eggs.”
Joe laughed. “Only to serve you in bed. Which sounds like a good idea.”
“What? Eggs?”
Joe shook his head. “No. Bed.” He clicked off the TV where the weatherman was showing lingering snow clouds.
“Bed.” Judith repeated the word and smiled. “You’re right, it’s a good idea.”
“Shall we?” Joe got up, stepping out of the tub.
Judith’s dark eyes danced. “Shall we what?” she asked coyly.
“You know what,” said Joe.
They retired.
About the Author
Seattle native MARY DAHEIM began telling stories with pictures when she was four. Since she could neither read nor write, and her artistic talent was questionable, her narratives were sometimes hard to follow. By second grade, she had learned how to string together both subjects and predicates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. A former newspaper reporter and public relations consultant, Daheim’s first of seven historical romances was published in 1983. In addition to Avon Books’ Bed-and-Breakfast series featuring Judith McMonigle Flynn, Daheim also pens the Alpine mysteries for Ballantine. She is married to David Daheim, a retired college instructor, and has three daughters—Barbara, Katherine and Magdalen.
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Bed-and-Breakfast Mysteries by Mary Daheim
from Avon Books
DEAD MAN DOCKING
THIS OLD SOUSE
HOCUS CROAKUS
SILVER SCREAM
SUTURE SELF
A STREETCAR NAMED EXPIRE
CREEPS SUZETTE
HOLY TERRORS
JUST DESSERTS
LEGS BENEDICT
SNOW PLACE TO DIE
WED AND BURIED
SEPTEMBER MOURN
NUTTY AS A FRUITCAKE
AUNTIE MAYHEM
MURDER, MY SUITE
MAJOR VICES
A FIT OF TEMPERA
BANTAM OF THE OPERA
DUNE TO DEATH
FOWL PREY
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE. Copyright © 2007 by Mary Daheim. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition February 2007 ISBN 9780061752407
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