Snow Place to Die : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery Read online

  “You’re not in snow. It’s plowed.”

  “So far. But who knows what’s up ahead?”

  The narrow road zigged and zagged, climbing higher into

  the mountains. During the brief intervals when the cousins

  could see more than a few feet, they noticed that the trees

  grew more sparsely, and were of a different variety than the

  evergreens below the snow line. Judith counted lodge-pole

  pine, western larch, Engelmann spruce, and Noble fir.

  “You should have let me drive,” Judith said. “I could have

  taken the Subaru. What if we get into a snowstorm on the

  way home this afternoon? You’ll panic and kill us.”

  “I’ll panic and let you drive,” Renie responded, already

  looking rather grim. “Bill said the Chev would hold the road

  better because it’s so big.”

  Heavy iron gates stood directly in front of them. Fortunately, they were open. Renie drove through, accelerated up

  a little rise, and hit pavement again. “Thank goodness,” she

  murmured.

  They were no longer on a road but in a sweeping drive

  which lead to the lodge and a large parking area. “Who owns

  this place?” Judith asked, peering through the foggy clouds

  at skimpy views of weathered logs and stone chimneys.

  “It’s privately owned,” Renie said, heading for the nearest

  parking spot. As far as the cousins could tell, no other

  vehicles were present. “It used to belong to the park service

  years ago, but it’s changed hands several times. Some group

  in the city owns it, and at one time, Frank Killegrew

  18 / Mary Daheim

  was involved in a partnership with other downtown investors. Now, it’s mostly doctors and dentists who rent it

  out to private parties. Not just conferences and retreats like

  the previous owners, I gather, but ski groups and church

  organizations and whoever else is willing to pay the freight.

  This new bunch shut it down last summer and did some

  renovations to bring everything up to speed. I don’t think

  the lodge rental comes cheap.”

  Judith understood why after they carried the first load of

  comestibles inside. The lobby was vast, with a high, arched

  ceiling hung with multicolored banners. Built entirely of pine

  logs, the old wood gleamed under the lights of a half-dozen

  cast-iron candelabra suspended from the rafters. Animal skins

  and stuffed heads decorated the walls, and the huge stone

  fireplace was filled with cedar and fir, awaiting the touch of

  a match.

  “It’s grand,” Judith said, smiling in appreciation. “Where’s

  the staff?”

  “I told you, nobody’s here but us and the OTIOSE gang,”

  Renie said, setting a carton of groceries down on the hardwood floor. “The staff was due to take off about nine this

  morning. The caretaker lives in a cabin about a half-mile

  from the lodge, but he won’t be around, either. I was told

  he’d leave the door open so we could get in. I don’t think

  the phone company folks will be here much before noon.”

  “Where’s the kitchen?” Judith turned every which way,

  taking in the rustic furnishings, all made of wood and covered

  in rich, dark nubby fabrics.

  Renie gestured to french doors on her left. “That looks like

  the dining room, so I assume the kitchen is off of that. Let’s

  finish unloading, and then we can snoop around.”

  Three more trips were required to deposit Judith’s weekend

  supplies. As Renie had guessed, the kitchen was at the far

  side of the dining room. While the lodge appeared to have

  been built during the thirties, the kitchen facilities were state

  of the art. Judith rubbed her hands in glee as she

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  ogled the stainless-steel American range, the Belgian cookware, the German cutlery, and the French skillets.

  “This is wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to start

  right in on lunch. Ham-filled crepes, raddicchio salad, a fresh

  fruit medley, four kinds of cheese, and puff pastries with a

  blackberry and cream filling.”

  “Go for it,” Renie said, turning toward the door. “I’m going

  to the conference room on the other side of the lobby to set

  up my stuff.”

  “Okay,” Judith replied, still distracted by all the latest appliances and gadgets. Then, as Renie exited, it dawned on

  Judith that something was out of kilter. “Coz!” she called.

  “What’s with you? Aren’t you hungry?”

  Renie turned in the doorway. “No. I’ve got work to do.

  That’s why I’m here.”

  Judith stared. Renie was always ravenous. She ate often

  and in large amounts. It never ceased to amaze Judith how

  her cousin could consume so much food and stay slim. Metabolism, Judith told herself, and envied Renie’s gene pool.

  All her life, Judith had fought to keep weight off, and only

  now, in her fifties, did she feel comfortable with a couple of

  extra pounds on her tall, statuesque figure.

  “Do you feel okay?” Judith finally asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I feel fine.” Renie sounded cross. “It’s going on

  eleven. I’ve got to get organized. Good luck.” She disappeared from sight.

  Judith didn’t have time to worry about her cousin’s sudden

  lack of appetite. For the next hour, she immersed herself in

  making crepes, dicing ham, rolling out puff pastry, and cutting up fruit. It was a joy to work under such splendid conditions, and best of all, with no interruptions from guests,

  the telephone, or her mother.

  The bus arrived at ten to twelve. Judith didn’t hear it pull

  in, but Renie came to alert her. “It’s actually a big van,” she

  told Judith from the doorway. “The driver won’t stay, of

  course. He’s already headed back to the city.”

  Judith, who was in the middle of fashioning her puff

  20 / Mary Daheim

  pastries, merely nodded. “Lunch at twelve-thirty, right?”

  “Right.” Renie left again.

  The lodge’s staff had already set up a large round table

  for ten in the dining room. Judith checked the table settings,

  admired the centerpiece of yellow gladioli, purple freesia and

  white lilies, then returned to the kitchen. She was filling the

  industrial-size coffeemaker when a small woman with big

  glasses and a platinum blonde pageboy entered the kitchen.

  “Are we on schedule?” the woman asked, tapping a huge

  wristwatch that looked as if it could weigh down her arm.

  “We are,” Judith replied with a smile. “My name’s Judith

  Flynn.” She wiped her hands on a cloth and reached out to

  the other woman.

  “Nadia Weiss, administrative assistant,” Nadia replied with

  a faint New York accent. She didn’t budge, let alone shake

  hands. “If you have any problems, come to me.” With a swish

  of cashmere skirts, she departed.

  Judith uttered a self-conscious little laugh and went back

  to work. Two minutes later, another woman appeared in the

  doorway. “You must be the caterer,” she said.

  Judith looked up from the crepe pan she was heating on

  the stove. A slim, plain woman of Chinese ances
try fixed

  mesmerizing dark eyes on Judith. “Yes,” she gulped. “I’m

  Judith Flynn.”

  “The caterer,” the other woman said in a tone that indicated

  Judith wasn’t a person, she was merely a service. “My name’s

  Margo Chang. If a Ms. Weiss contacts you, ignore her. I’m

  the vice president in charge of public relations, and I handle

  jobbers like you.”

  Judith imagined that a small smirk tugged at Margo’s tight,

  thin mouth. “Okay,” Judith said, still subdued. “If I need

  anything, I’ll ask you.”

  “You shouldn’t need anything. You should have come

  prepared.” Margo’s voice dropped a notch in what sounded

  to Judith like a threat.

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 21

  “I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” Judith said hastily.

  Margo gave a curt nod and left. Judith’s wide shoulders

  relaxed. She stiffened again when she heard someone else

  enter the kitchen. To her relief, it was Renie.

  “Thank heavens!” Judith cried. “I’ve just been visited by

  two of the three witches.”

  “Which ones?” Renie asked. “By my count there’re four.”

  Judith winced. “Are all the women who work for this outfit

  like Ms. Weiss and Ms. Chang?”

  Renie’s round face grew thoughtful. “I’m not sure. By

  chance, I’ve dealt mostly with those two. You have to realize,

  coz, that I don’t know most of these people very well myself.

  I’ve only done a handful of smaller projects until now.”

  “But you’ve actually worked with the ones I just met?” Judith was aghast.

  Renie nodded as she surveyed her cousin’s handiwork in

  the kitchen. “I’m used to it. You have to remember that all

  these executive types must be fairly tough to get to the top.

  The women have to be even tougher.”

  Judith, who was slicing kiwi, looked a bit puzzled. “But

  Whatshername—Weiss, right?—isn’t a vice president or an

  officer. Or is she?”

  “That’s the problem,” Renie said, leaning against the

  marble countertop. “She feels she should be. As administrative assistant, she wields a lot of power, but she doesn’t get

  the same perks or the big salary. In the last few years that

  I’ve dealt with Nadia and the p.r. v.p., Margo, I haven’t seen

  any love lost between them. Nor with Andrea and Ava, if it

  comes to that.”

  “Andrea and Ava? They sound like a dance team.” Judith

  tried to visualize the list Renie had given her. “Which ones

  are they?”

  Renie smiled indulgently. “Ava Aunuu is vice president–information technology services. Andrea Piccoloni-Roth is vice

  president–human resources, which used to be

  22 / Mary Daheim

  known as personnel. I’ve never understood the name change

  in a world that keeps dehumanizing people.”

  A quick glance at the digital clock on the stainless-steel

  range told Judith that it was 12:25. “I’d better start serving

  the food. When are you going to eat?”

  Renie shrugged. “Later. I don’t like to make presentations

  on a full stomach.”

  Judith started to say, since when? , thought better of it, and

  began dishing the fresh fruit onto heavy brown earthenware

  plates. “I’m surprised they didn’t ask for a buffet.”

  “Everything else will be buffet,” Renie said, rummaging in

  her big purse. “Since you’re here only for one meal, they

  decided they’d like it to be a sit-down event.” Renie took out

  a package of cigarettes and lighted up.

  “Coz!” Judith almost dropped a crepe. “What are you do-

  ing?”

  “Smoking,” Renie responded through a thin haze.

  “You don’t smoke! You haven’t smoked since we went to

  Europe where we had to smoke!”

  “Well, I’m smoking now.” Renie sounded unnaturally

  calm. She exhaled a large blue puff.

  Judith was flabbergasted. She herself had quit smoking

  almost ten year earlier, and had never quite gotten over her

  desire to start again. Renie, however, was another matter:

  She had been what Judith called a party smoker, enjoying

  cigarettes only when accompanied by reasonable amounts

  of adult beverages and loud decibels of rock ’n roll.

  But there was no time to discuss her cousin’s newly acquired vice. “I could use some help with these plates,” Judith

  said, picking up two of them.

  “Can’t.” Renie puffed some more. “It’d ruin my image.”

  “Very funny,” Judith said, heading for the dining room.

  “Hold the plates steady. I don’t want to screw up the

  presentation.”

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  “I’m not kidding,” Renie called after her. “I can’t help you.”

  Judith stopped at the door and turned to look at her

  cousin. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I’m serious.” Renie had put on what Judith referred to as

  her cousin’s boardroom face. “I can’t be a waitress one

  minute and a graphic designer the next. Those people out

  there would think I was nuts.”

  For the first time, Judith had a glimpse of Serena Grover

  Jones, graphics specialist to the stars. Or whatever. While

  she’d watched Renie at work in her basement office, she’d

  never actually seen her deal with clients. Judith wasn’t sure

  she liked her cousin in this other guise.

  “Fine,” said Judith, annoyed. “I’ll manage without you.”

  The OTIOSE executives were clustered in little groups of

  twos and threes. Judith tried to place them, but recognized

  only Nadia, who was chatting with a self-possessed AfricanAmerican man, and Margo, who had been cornered by a

  wildly gesticulating male whose thinning fair hair stood up

  in several places on his very round head.

  On the third and fourth trips, Judith managed to carry

  four plates at a time. The conferees still seemed absorbed in

  their various conversations. Not wanting the crepes to get

  cold, Judith picked up a spoon and tapped a water glass.

  “Luncheon is served,” she announced.

  No one paid any attention. Judith tapped the glass again

  and raised her voice. Nothing happened. Judith hesitated.

  Then, at precisely twelve-thirty, Nadia Weiss glanced at

  her big watch. “Lunch!” she bellowed.

  A stampede of conservatively dressed animals headed for

  the table. Judith back-pedaled out of the way just before a

  very large man with a completely bald head and a wizened

  little fellow with buck teeth almost ran right over her. A

  moment later, everyone was seated. No one so much as

  looked at Judith.

  24 / Mary Daheim

  Feeling humbled, she returned to the kitchen where Renie

  was lighting another cigarette. “Coz!” Judith cried. “What is

  all this? You’re smoking, you’re not eating, you’ve turned

  into a stranger!”

  Renie examined her fingernails. “I’m working. You’re not

  used to it, that’s all. Don’t you behave a bit differently with

  your guests than you do when you’re with me or Joe or your

  m
other?”

  “Of course,” Judith replied. “But it’s not just that.

  It’s…this.” She jabbed a finger at Renie’s cigarette.

  “And…that.” She pointed to the untouched leftovers on the

  marble counter.

  Renie expelled more smoke and a big sigh. “Okay, okay.

  We haven’t seen much of each other since the holidays because I’ve been putting this presentation together and you’ve

  been really busy with the B&B. You know my eggnog diet?”

  Judith knew it well, though she was skeptical about how

  it worked. Renie claimed that from Thanksgiving until New

  Year’s, she lived on eggnog, the richer the better. It was one

  of her favorite things, and she refused to dilute it with milk

  or liquor. Because she was so busy with holiday preparations

  and annual report designs, there was barely time to eat. Thus,

  she fueled herself with eggnog from morning until night, and

  insisted that since she wasn’t eating many regular meals, she

  actually lost instead of gained weight over the holidays.

  “I flunked it,” Renie declared. “The eggnog diet finally

  failed me. Or I failed it.”

  Judith couldn’t help but laugh. “Coz! You mean you didn’t

  lose weight this year?”

  Renie shook her head. “Not only that, I gained seven

  pounds. I’m wearing my fat suit.”

  The tailored brown wool with the faux fur collar didn’t

  look like a fat suit to Judith. “I can’t tell you’ve gained anything,” she said.

  “I have,” Renie insisted, patting her midsection. “This

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  outfit is just camouflage. I should be wearing Armani for the

  presentation, but trying to get into my other suits is like

  squeezing toothpaste back into the tube. It just doesn’t quite

  make it.”

  Judith’s amusement faded. “So you’re starving yourself

  and smoking? That’s dumb, coz.”

  “Only until I lose seven pounds. Two are already gone or

  I wouldn’t have gotten into this suit, either.” Renie stubbed

  her cigarette out in a saucer. “I had to do something with

  my mouth and hands before I went to the post-holiday sales

  and bought up all the Russell Stover chocolate Santas I could

  find.”

  Judith recalled how Renie had eaten her way through

  seventy-eight dollars worth of chocolate bunnies during an

  infamous Lenten season a few years earlier. Her cousin loved