Snow Place to Die Page 14

  “Fingerprints,” Renie said doggedly. “You’ll ruin any fingerprints.”

  “No, I won’t,” Judith replied from the bathroom. “I’m very carefully putting the glasses back in the paper wrappers they were set out in by the staff. I’m also going through the wastebasket.”

  “I’m going through the window,” Renie said. “I wish I’d never mentioned that we were about to be killed.”

  The wastebasket yielded nothing except the paper covers for the glassware and an empty plastic garbage bag. “Let’s go,” Judith said, grabbing Andrea’s purse. “I’ve checked out everything I can think of.”

  Renie was still on the bed. “I think it’s safer to stay here with Andrea. At least she’s not babbling like a self-destructive idiot.”

  “That’s because she already self-destructed.” Seeing Renie’s curious look, Judith clarified her statement. “I don’t mean suicide. I mean that something she did—or more likely something she knew—caused her death. I’m guessing that the same holds true for Barry and Leon.”

  Reluctantly, Renie stood up. “If you’re referring to the exchange of gossip, I can see that with Andrea and Barry. But not with Leon. Did he strike you as someone who would sit around savoring juicy corporate tidbits?”

  “No,” Judith admitted, “he didn’t. But I keep thinking of that phrase somebody mentioned—‘Mooney’s Money.’ Money is always an excellent motive.”

  The cousins went out into the hall. “We’ve got to find a good hiding place,” Judith said when they were in their own room. “It’s too obvious to hide anything in here. Think, coz.”

  “How about the safe?” Renie said off the top of her head. “You can change the combination. Nobody will know.”

  Judith beamed at Renie. “Perfect. Let’s check out the briefcase and purse before we go back downstairs. If there’s nothing of interest, we can put them back in Andrea’s room.”

  They went through the black leather handbag first. Andrea’s wallet contained a great many credit cards and even more business cards. There were also several receipts, apparently saved for the purpose of possible returns or for income tax records.

  “She hadn’t cleaned this out for a while,” Judith remarked. “Most of this stuff goes back to November and December. Wow!” She held up a small piece of paper. “Andrea bought somebody a Rolex watch! A Christmas present for Alan, maybe?”

  “A bribe’s more like it,” Renie said, sorting through the rest of the handbag. “Maybe Andrea was trying to buy her husband’s fidelity.”

  “This is kind of interesting,” Judith said, holding up another receipt. “It’s from Thursday, and it’s for lunch at the Manhattan Grill. Andrea filled in all the tax-required info. Apparently, she treated Patrice Killegrew.”

  “So? I imagine it doesn’t hurt to butter up the boss’s wife now and then.” Renie dug deep into the leather handbag. “Hey, I found another wallet. More keys, too. No wonder this sucker’s so heavy…” Renie stared at the items in her hand. “This is Barry’s stuff!”

  Judith put Andrea’s wallet down on the bed. “I’ll be darned. What about the notebook and the rest of it?”

  “It’s all here.” Renie handed the weathered notebook to Judith.

  For a few moments, Judith was silent. “These things were meant to be found,” she said at last. “If Andrea was a suicide, and the Leon Mooney affair story didn’t wash, then we were supposed to believe that Andrea had killed Barry. Let me see those keys.”

  Renie handed over the ring that Judith had found in the cave. “Six keys,” Judith said, spreading them out on the counterpane. She pointed to the first key on the ring. “House or apartment key, right? The next one’s the same type, probably for a second lock. The big one’s a car key. It looks a lot like the one to my Subaru. These three smaller ones are—what? A gym locker? A filing cabinet? Luggage?”

  “They could be any of those things,” said Renie, looking puzzled. “What’s your point?”

  “Did Barry have a car?”

  “How would I know?” Renie sounded mildly annoyed, then snapped her fingers. “He must have. How else could he transport his catering supplies?”

  “Okay.” Judith seemed satisfied. “So that big key would be his. Where then is the key to the company van he drove to Mountain Goat Lodge?”

  “Maybe it’s still in the cave,” Renie suggested. “You might have missed it.”

  Judith shook her head. “Not possible. They left in that van, with Nadia driving, remember?”

  “Ah.” Enlightened, Renie smiled at Judith. “Good thinking. So what you’re saying is that the killer made sure he—or she—retrieved the van key from Barry after he was dead.”

  “That’s right. Now we have to find out from Nadia who gave her that key. And why.”

  “Why what?” The puzzled expression returned to Renie’s round face.

  “If Barry had supposedly run off, he wouldn’t have left the key behind,” Judith reasoned. “So how did the killer explain having the key in his—or her—possession?”

  “Maybe,” Renie said, “we should go downstairs and leave the rest of this stuff until later.”

  “You mean we should get to Nadia while she’s still alive?” Judith thought for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea, but I’d like to finish our search so we can return this stuff in case somebody else comes looking for it.”

  The briefcase was full of what looked like personnel folders along with Andrea’s notes, many of which had been taken at the previous day’s meetings. “See what you make of these,” Judith said, handing the notes to Renie. “I don’t speak corporate lingo.”

  Renie scanned the handwritten pages. “Most of the references are about planning for the future. Frank’s vision for OTIOSE, comments from the others, suggestions, ideas, all that sort of thing. It’s pretty bland, if you ask me.”

  “I did,” Judith replied absently, flipping through a fat daily planner. Since it started with January first, there weren’t many entries, and most of them struck Judith as routine. She did, however, find Patrice Killegrew’s name written in three times.

  “Isn’t this too much buttering up?” she asked of Renie. “Here’s dinner with Patrice on Wednesday, January third, lunch on Friday, the fifth, and again last Thursday.” Judith sifted through the receipts again. “I can find only the one from the Manhattan Grill. Patrice must have treated on the other two occasions. They lunched both times at that bistro in the public market.”

  “It might have something to do with Frank’s retirement,” Renie said, removing several folders from the briefcase. “You know, planning a big bash to honor the occasion.”

  “Wouldn’t Nadia be involved in that?” Judith inquired.

  “Well—yes, but sometimes human resources people get sucked in, too.” Renie opened one of the folders. It was the same one she had found on the podium in the conference room. “Andrea played the horses?”

  “Why not? We do when we get the chance.” Judith put the receipts back in Andrea’s wallet.

  “I suppose she needed a vice besides Leon Mooney,” Renie allowed. “He wouldn’t make me feel steeped in sin. Hey, this is weird.” Renie had turned to the second page of material in the folder. “There’s another list, but it’s names and titles and companies, along with a bunch of other really strange stuff.”

  Judith took the sheet of paper from Renie. The first listing read, “Charles E. Fisher, vice president—customer services, S.W. Com.; Oct. 8–10, Cascadia Hotel, Room 608, bouncy blonde or redhead, no S&M.”

  The cousins stared at each other. “Hookers.” Judith formed the word silently. “Look at this—James L. blah-blah, assistant vice present, blah-blah, Plymouth Hotel, blah-blah, Asian or Hispanic, plumpish, into bondage. Here’s one that says, African-American dressed as Little Miss Muffet, and right below it is some guy who wants a tall Scandinavian wheat-thrasher.”

  Renie started to giggle. “Somebody was running a hooker ring out of OTIOSE? That’s rich!”

 
; Judith wasn’t laughing. “Andrea?” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s possible, I suppose. In another life, she could have been a madam.”

  “No.” Renie grew serious. “Not Andrea, not any of these top level female executives. They wouldn’t exploit other women. I know I said that the sisterhood is a myth, but there is a code. Prostitution isn’t part of it.”

  “So this was planted along with Barry’s stuff?” Judith was puzzled.

  “Maybe.” Renie, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, rocked back and forth. “Or Andrea found it on the coffee table where we left it and was going to take somebody to task.”

  Judith leafed through the remaining four pages in the folder. There were more names and descriptions, similar to the ones they’d originally thought belonged to race horses. “Bronze Beauty—long-legged, aloof, can dominate”; “Crinkles—nicely padded, fun-loving, extensive costume wardrobe, wigs, undergarments, etc.”; “Frangipani—exotic, erotic, no funny stuff.”

  The cousins, however, didn’t recognize any of the supposed clients’ names. They all appeared to be from out of town, mostly from the officer corps, and almost exclusively connected to the communications business.

  “Who?” Judith demanded, handing the folder back to Renie.

  “In this bunch? I could only guess, which would get me nowhere, because I wouldn’t put it past any of the men.” Renie hesitated before putting the folder back into the briefcase. “Evidence? Or not?”

  Judith considered. “That folder seems to have a life of its own. Let’s leave it and see what happens to it next. As long as we know where it is now, maybe we can learn something if it turns up somewhere else.”

  Renie complied. “I might exclude Killegrew,” she said as they headed back into the hall. “He wouldn’t dare dirty his hands with this sort of thing.”

  “He must know about it,” Judith said as they approached Andrea’s door.

  “Maybe not,” said Renie. “Maybe that was Andrea’s fatal mistake. Maybe Frank Killegrew was about to find out.”

  After creeping downstairs, the only items the cousins put into the safe were the pillowcase, the water glasses, the pill bottle, and Barry’s belongings. Inside the safe, the Eskimo carving still lay on the towel. Judith breathed a sigh of relief. The remainder of their pilfered collection had been returned to Andrea’s room.

  The OTIOSE staff, or what was left of them, had retired to the library. “If any more of them get bumped off,” Renie said as they cleared away the lunch plates in the dining room, “they can start meeting in the elevator.”

  “That’s not funny, coz,” Judith snapped. “You’re the one who thinks we’re next on the hit list.”

  Renie sobered. “Not next. Last.”

  “Swell.” Judith paused, holding several coffee mugs against her chest. “We’ve got to figure this out, coz. I really want to know who is going to try to do us in.”

  “That’d be nice,” Renie admitted, then gave Judith an apologetic look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be flippant. I just don’t know how else to keep the horror at bay.”

  “Margo’s gun might do that,” said Judith as they returned to the kitchen. “Maybe we can eliminate some of these people.”

  Renie was startled. “With Margo’s gun?”

  “No.” Judith gave her cousin a twisted smile. “I mean, as suspects. Russell, for example. Can you see him as a cold-blooded killer?”

  “He’d be very cunning,” Renie said, again quite serious. “Devious, too. Under that supposedly squeamish, vague exterior lurks genius. He’s the R&D man, remember. I never put anything past people who sit around and just think.”

  “Okay, we leave Russell in,” Judith said with reluctance. “If Margo was the killer, would she brandish that gun?”

  “Why not? It’s a great cover. No one’s been shot. Yet.”

  “I like Ava,” Judith said, putting away the uneaten ham and turkey. “Maybe it’s because she lent me her clothes. Couldn’t we cross her off the list?”

  This time, Renie’s response didn’t come so promptly. When it finally did, it was qualified. “I like her, too, but she’s ambitious. Don’t you remember what she said about how she could be running WaCom if she’d stayed on? That implies she’d like to be running OTIOSE.”

  “I thought you said Ward Haugland was a shoo-in for Killegrew’s job.”

  “There are no shoo-ins in the corporate world,” Renie responded. “He’s the heir apparent. The key word is ‘apparent.’”

  Judith began unloading the dishwasher. “How about Ward?”

  “Ward’s viable. Under that ‘aw-shucks’ manner there’s big-time drive and determination. Of course,” Renie added, “he’s been very loyal to Frank. I’ve heard that Ward has turned down a couple of other offers this past year.”

  “I suppose we can’t rule out Max, if only because he has a hot temper and a lot of resentment,” said Judith.

  “He’s strong, too,” Renie noted.

  “Which Nadia isn’t. Could we skip her?” Judith’s tone was hopeful.

  “She’s thin, but wiry. Like me, before I got fat. I’d never trust me. I can be vicious when aroused.” Renie finished clearing off the counter. “Nadia’s another one who’s very loyal to Frank. I could see her committing a crime not for herself, but for him.”

  Judith stared at Renie. “Is she in love with Frank?”

  “I don’t know. Naturally, there have been rumors. A man and a woman don’t work that closely together without having people talk about them.”

  “There’s Gene,” Judith said disconsolately. “Too prudent, too cautious, right?”

  “Precisely the kind that can snap,” Renie said. “Pressure—you don’t understand what it can do at the executive level.”

  “So we’re left with Frank Killegrew.” Judith picked up a dish towel, gave it a frustrated yank, and tossed it onto the counter. “He founded OTIOSE. Why would he ruin it by killing off his employees?”

  “Good question. To be honest, I can’t think of an answer. He is OTIOSE. The perfect solution is that someone is out to get him, indirectly. If there was an outsider in this bunch, everything would make sense. But that’s not the case, and we’re up a stump.” Renie heaved a big sigh just as Max and Ward entered the kitchen.

  “We’re looking for shovels,” Max announced. “Crazy as it sounds, we’re going to try to tunnel our way out.”

  “The snow stopped,” Ward said on a note of optimism. “We may get a thaw.” The two men headed for the basement.

  Judith and Renie exchanged curious glances. “Tunnel?” said Judith.

  “Thaw?” said Renie. “Don’t count on it.”

  “They can’t tunnel for a mile,” said Judith. “That’s crazy.”

  “They’re desperate,” Renie responded.

  Judith gave a slight shake of her head. “Aren’t we all?”

  ELEVEN

  MAX AND WARD had decided to go out through the front entrance because it faced west and the snow might not be as deep. Judith and Renie joined the others in the lobby as Gene and Russell attempted to open the big double doors.

  “One at a time!” Killegrew shouted. “We don’t want an avalanche in here!”

  The knotty pine door on the left slowly swung inward. As feared, the snow came with it, spilling onto the flagstones and showering the onlookers with frozen particles.

  “Eeek!” cried Nadia. “We’ll be buried alive!”

  But the pile of snow only reached about four feet into the lodge. Near the top of the open door, they could see daylight. Max, with hands on hips, surveyed the task that lay ahead.

  “We’re snowed in, all right,” he said, stating the obvious. “This is going to take some time.”

  “Better bundle up,” said Killegrew, going over to the coffee table. “Say, Nadia, could you fix me a Scotch and soda?”

  Nadia busied herself with bottles and glasses. Judith noticed that the liquor supply was getting low. She wondered if there was more in the basement.
Given all that had happened so far, it wouldn’t do to run out of booze.

  Max and Ward headed for the elevator, presumably to put on their all-weather gear. Gene and Ava wandered back into the library. Margo and Russell followed Judith and Renie into the kitchen.

  “Do we have enough food?” Margo inquired.

  “We’re fine,” Judith assured her. “In fact, I was just wondering about the liquor. Maybe we could all go downstairs and see if there’s a backup supply.”

  “They should have a wine cellar,” Margo said. “Come on, Russell. It’ll give us something to do.”

  Russell trailed Margo like a well-behaved pup. Judith and Renie joined them, carefully going down the narrow stairway. The basement wasn’t quite what Judith had expected. It was partitioned into rooms. They passed the storage area for outdoor equipment, the game room with billiard and ping-pong tables, a large, well-stocked woodpile, a much larger laundry room than the small alcove off the kitchen, a heating and furnace room, another storage room where extra furniture was kept, and finally what passed for a wine cellar.

  The bottles were stored in their original cases. To Judith’s relief, there were also boxes filled with every imaginable liquor as well as two kegs containing beer, light and dark. Each member of the foursome grabbed as many bottles as possible and returned upstairs.

  The lobby was empty and quite cold. The snow was melting on the flagstones, creating puddles of water. Judith and Renie went in search of a mop and some rags.

  “When do we make our big threat?” Renie asked after they were in the supply room.

  “I’d like to have more evidence first,” Judith replied. “The pillowcase might prove that Andrea was murdered, but except for possible DNA results, it doesn’t tell us who smothered her.”

  They didn’t find any rags in the cupboards, so they had to make do with towels. Renie piled such a tall stack in her arms that only her eyes and hair showed. “Hold it. You said we had a life insurance policy. Show them, tell them.” Renie bit off the words. “Now, before we expire, right along with your stupid policy. Come on, coz—we can’t wait to get more evidence.”