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

  Russell Stover’s chocolate almost as much as she loved

  eggnog.

  “I certainly hope you can quit smoking when the weight’s

  off,” Judith said darkly. “God knows, it was tough for me to

  give it up.” Her dark eyes strayed to the open cigarette pack

  Renie had left on the counter.

  “I will,” Renie said complacently. “I’ll do it for Lent.”

  Judith was about to mention the chocolate bunnies when

  the cousins heard a commotion in the dining room. Renie

  remained in place, but Judith went to see what was going

  on.

  At first, she thought it was a food fight. Then she realized

  that only two people were involved: A plump, pretty woman

  with upswept silver hair had just thrown a handful of raddicchio salad at Margo Chang. The white wine vinegar dressing

  and the hand-shredded magenta leaves clung to Margo’s flat

  chest.

  “Now, now,” said a jovial voice. Judith recognized the

  speaker. She had seen Frank Killegrew’s picture in the

  newspaper often enough to realize that he was the broadshouldered, balding man in the well-cut charcoal suit who

  had a slide rule next to his place setting. “We’re steering

  26 / Mary Daheim

  this ship on a steady course. Let’s not get personal, ladies,”

  Killegrew urged good-naturedly.

  Margo whirled on Killegrew, who was seated two places

  down the table on her left. “I’m not a lady! I’m a person!”

  “You’re a slut!” the silver-haired woman shouted, plump

  shoulders shaking with wrath.

  “That’s kind of mean,” said a tall, lean man on the woman’s right. “Couldn’t we all sort of simmer down?”

  “Why should we?” demanded a handsome woman who

  looked as if she might be Samoan. “Don’t we come on these

  retreats to air our differences?”

  “Now, now,” Killegrew repeated, though not quite so

  jovially, “we don’t have that many differences. We’re a team,

  a seaworthy crew.” The gray eyes suddenly took on a steellike

  quality as he gazed at the silver-haired woman. “Andrea, pull

  yourself together.” His gaze shifted to Margo. “You’d better

  clean up, what do you say?”

  Margo said nothing, but got up from the table, threw her

  napkin onto the floor, and marched past Judith to the kitchen.

  Judith followed.

  “Hi, Margo,” Renie said, revealing only a flicker of astonishment at the spray of salad on the other’s woman’s chest.

  “How’s it going?”

  Margo glared at Renie. “Terrible! Andrea Piccoloni-Roth

  is such a bitch that I can hardly stand to be in the same room

  with her! See what she did?”

  “Owie!” Renie said in a sympathetic tone. “That’s an oil

  base. You’d better not try to spot it or it’ll set and stain.”

  “I know,” Margo replied. “I’ll have to change. For now, I

  just want to scrape off the garbage.” She went to the big

  enamel sink and carefully began removing the raddicchio

  from her pinstripe coat dress.

  “Basically, I went with your colors for the corporate logo,”

  Renie said. “I only tweaked them a little. You’ve got a good

  eye, Margo.”

  “You can’t go wrong with black on red,” Margo replied,

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 27

  grimacing as she took in the damage to her outfit. “You did

  keep that concept, didn’t you?” Her almond eyes pinioned

  Renie.

  Renie, however, seemed unperturbed. “I reversed it. TIOSE

  isn’t a firefighting unit, it’s a telecommunications company.

  You use a red background, you’re stuck with it for everything.

  It’s too hot, it lacks class. Black is much more versatile. You’ll

  like it when you see it. Your basic colors were a great idea.”

  If Margo was taken aback, she didn’t show it. “Okay, we’ll

  see. I still think red is vivid and eye-catching. I’ve got Ward

  Haugland’s vote on that. Max Agasias is in my corner, too.”

  Renie chuckled softly. “I didn’t realize it was a democratic

  process.”

  Margo’s smooth skin darkened. “It should be.” With great

  thoroughness, she wiped her hands on a towel. “You’re on

  in thirty minutes,” she said to Renie. “I hope you’re ready.”

  Renie smiled and inclined her head. Margo left the kitchen.

  Judith started putting the puff pastry on dessert plates.

  “She’s dangerous, coz,” Judith said. “Don’t these people

  scare you?”

  “Not anymore. I don’t know what went on out there in

  the dining room, but I’d guess that one or more of them was

  acting like a big brat. That’s what they are—spoiled children.

  You have to treat them like that. Let them have their little

  tantrums and allow them to show off a bit and give them an

  occasional ego-massage. Then yank the chain. Every so often,

  they have to get a dose of reality. If they don’t like it, I peddle

  my wares someplace else.”

  Judith didn’t try to hide her admiration of Renie. “You

  don’t worry about losing clients?”

  Renie shook her head. “That’s bound to happen. But the

  marketplace is vast these days. If I lose somebody, two more

  pop up. Besides, I don’t intend to lose this bunch.

  28 / Mary Daheim

  Unless,” she added with a little laugh as she reached for another cigarette, “they die on me.”

  It didn’t occur to Judith that Renie’s little joke might not

  be so funny.

  THREE

  AS SHE’D PREDICTED, Renie’s presentation went well. “There

  were the usual glitches,” Renie reported to Judith three hours

  later, “and of course they got to arguing among themselves.

  But Killegrew still has the last word, and he seemed very

  pleased.”

  Judith gave Renie’s shoulder a congratulatory pat. “Good

  for you, coz. I was worried, especially after that scene in the

  dining room.”

  “You can tell me about that now,” Renie said, opening a

  duffel bag and pulling out a pair of old slacks and a Georgetown University sweatshirt. “I didn’t want to know about

  it before I went onstage. It might have distracted me.”

  While Renie changed, Judith recounted what she knew of

  the incident between Margo Chang and Andrea PiccoloniRoth. “Mr. Killegrew took charge, and everything sort of

  calmed down. There was another man who intervened, a

  tall, lean guy with a faint drawl.”

  “Ward Haugland,” Renie said promptly. “He’s the executive vice president, remember?”

  Judith did, vaguely. “The only other one who spoke up

  was a woman who looked as if she was Samoan. I guessed

  her to be Ava Aunuu.”

  “Exactly.” Renie slipped into thigh-high boots.

  29

  30 / Mary Daheim

  “Ava’s a computer whiz. Frank Killegrew raided her from

  one of the big computer companies about four years ago and

  immediately made her a vice president. She’s only in her

  thirties, but I’ve been told that she’s the person most responsible for bringing OTIOSE up to speed in terms of technology.

  Frank’s strictly from the old school of
engineering. That’s

  why he keeps his trusty slide rule at his side. I don’t think

  he’s figured out how to use a computer, let alone apply the

  new technology to modern communications.”

  Judith only half-heard Renie’s comments. It was a quarter

  after four, and she was taking final inventory of the foodstuffs

  she’d arranged for the rest of the weekend.

  “Just before we leave, I’ll set up the supper buffet,” Judith

  said, removing the soiled apron she’d worn since arriving at

  the lodge. “They plan to eat at seven, right?”

  “Yes.” Renie reached for her cigarettes, saw Judith’s disapproving glance, and began to nibble for the first time. A slice

  of peach, a chunk of cantaloupe, and a plump strawberry

  seemed to satisfy her. “Right now, they’re taking a breather,

  then they’ll gather for cocktails around six. You’ve got chafing dishes, so you can put the hot food out around six-thirty.

  Then we can head home.” Renie yawned and stretched.

  “Sounds good to me,” Judith said. “Is there any reason why

  we can’t have a look around now?”

  Renie considered. “We probably shouldn’t go upstairs

  where the guest rooms are located. But we could snoop

  around the main floor. Oh, when I carted all my presentation

  materials back to the car, the clouds had lifted, and you could

  see the mountains. It’s beautiful outside.”

  “Great,” Judith said, putting on the dark red three-quarter

  coat Joe had given her for Christmas. “Let’s have a look before it starts getting dark.”

  The cousins went out through the dining room, where Judith had cleared away the luncheon debris and reset the table

  for the buffet supper. In the lobby, they paused to

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 31

  examine some of the art works more closely. There were

  soapstone carvings, Native American masks, and a few pieces

  of jade, which were kept under glass. The only painting was

  a large, rather abstract mountain scene hanging above the

  big stone fireplace.

  Judith smiled wistfully when she saw the swirling signature

  in the lower left-hand corner. “It’s a Riley Tobias,” she said

  to Renie. “Doesn’t that bring back a few memories?”

  Renie, however, made a face. “Not good ones, seeing how

  we found him dead next door to the family cabin.”

  Judith inclined her head in assent. “His art lives on, though.

  He did some wonderful work at one time.”

  “Let’s skip the body count,” Renie said. “You and I have

  had our share of stiffs over the years.”

  It was true. But Judith rarely marveled at her encounters

  with premeditated death. She was married to a homicide

  detective; she was engaged in a business which brought together all sorts of people, with all kinds of passions and

  quirks; she had a natural curiosity and a penchant for the

  unusual; she lived in a violent world. To outsiders, her daily

  routine of personal and professional domesticity should have

  invited calm. But coping with husbands, children, relatives,

  in-laws, neighbors, and friends brought not only joy but

  conflict. And the B&B guests ran the gamut from amiable to

  zany. If Judith didn’t exactly live life in the fast lane, she was

  accustomed to traveling a bumpy road with unexpected detours.

  “Here’s the library,” Renie said, standing in the doorway

  of a room off the far side of the lobby. “It’s nice.”

  Judith agreed. Unlike the rest of the lodge, the room was

  paneled in knotty pine. Tall, open bookcases reached almost

  to the ceiling. With her librarian’s eye, Judith took in the

  collection, from some of the classics to the latest best-sellers.

  There was also a combination game-and sunroom, which

  faced what was probably a terrace when the snow melted.

  32 / Mary Daheim

  Renie showed Judith the main conference room, though it

  lay in darkness and they couldn’t find the lightswitch.

  “You get the idea,” Renie said dryly. “Chairs, tables, a

  viewing screen, sound system, etc. Seen one big conference

  room, seen ’em all.” She started to close the double doors.

  Judith put one hand on Renie’s arm and signaled with the

  other for her cousin to be silent. A faint rustling noise could

  be heard from somewhere deep within the room.

  Renie’s face puckered with curiosity as she stared at Judith.

  The rustling stopped, only to be replaced by what sounded

  like heavy breathing. Transfixed, the cousins waited.

  At last, there was silence. Renie slowly and quietly shut

  the doors. “What was that?” she whispered. “People? An

  animal? A gas jet?”

  “They don’t have gas up here,” Judith murmured. “It’s all

  electric. Whatever it is, I don’t think it wants to be interrupted.”

  “OTIOSE sex?” Renie put a hand over her mouth to stifle

  a giggle. “Why in the big conference room? These people

  have private bedrooms, for heaven’s sake!”

  “How would I know?” Judith retorted. “You’re the one

  who has them all figured out.”

  “I’m drawing a blank this time,” Renie admitted. Rapidly,

  she opened the doors to the three smaller conference rooms,

  including the one where she’d made her presentation.

  “Shoot,” she said, espying a folder on the podium. “I must

  have forgotten to collect all my stuff.” Hurriedly, she marched

  down the aisle between the folding chairs. “This isn’t mine,”

  she called back to Judith. “I guess I’ll leave it here. Whoa!”

  Judith straightened up from where she’d been leaning in

  the doorway. “What is it?”

  Staring down at the open folder, Renie shook her head.

  “I’m not sure. It’s a list, sort of like a racing form.”

  Judith’s curiosity got the better of her. “Let’s see.”

  Renie hesitated, then picked up the folder and brought it

  SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 33

  to Judith. “Look. It’s a bunch of names, with comments.

  ‘Heady Amber—light on her feet; Willy-Nilly—slim, trim,

  ready to roll; Algonquin Annie—new to the game.’”

  Judith grinned. “You’re right, it’s some sort of handicapping. Which one of your OTIOSE pals plays the ponies?”

  “It could be any of them.” Renie closed the folder. “I’ll

  leave this on that big coffee table in the lobby. I wonder how

  it got up on the podium. I was the last to leave.”

  Having completed their exploration of the lodge’s main

  floor, the cousins went outside. During the half-hour since

  Renie had finished her presentation, the clouds had begun

  to settle in again but there were still spectacular views. The

  tips of evergreens poking out of the snow looked as if they

  had been covered with great dollops of spun-sugar frosting.

  The elevation was so high and the mountains so close that

  the great peaks loomed above the landscape, their sharp

  crags pocketed with new snow.

  The afternoon sun apparently had warmed to just above

  freezing, for there were signs of thaw. Icicles dripped under

  the eaves of the lodge and ice chunks flowed freely
in a creek

  that tumbled among big boulders. The footing was just a

  trifle soft, forcing the cousins to walk with care.

  They followed the creek, not down toward the parking

  area, but up a bit where they could see a small waterfall

  caught between two large outcroppings of snow-covered

  rock. The sun was setting, and the mountains’ long shadows

  reached far across the silent world of white.

  “This is when I wish I’d learned to ski,” Renie said, puffing

  a little with exertion.

  “You did try,” Judith responded. “That’s more than I ever

  did.”

  “I quit after I skied between some tall guy’s legs,” said

  Renie, stopping and leaning precariously against a fallen

  evergreen limb. “It was up here, at the pass. Gosh, that must

  have been thirty-five years ago.”

  Judith gazed upward, taking in the majesty of winter.

  34 / Mary Daheim

  “Doesn’t it seem weird to talk about things that happened

  so far back in the past? I remember hearing our mothers

  mention things they’d done when they were young and

  thinking how old they’d gotten. That was years ago, when

  they were a lot younger than we are now.”

  Setting her gloved hands on her hips, Renie glowered at

  Judith. “What’s with you? Suddenly you’re obsessed with

  getting old. For God’s sake, coz, you’re two years younger

  than I am, and it never even occurs to me! Besides, we took

  a vow. Remember?”

  Judith looked puzzled. “What kind of vow? A suicide pact?

  Or is it the promise I asked your daughter Anne to make,

  that when I got old and impossible like my mother, she’d

  put a pillow over my face, slip a Gone with the Wind video

  in the VCR, and wait for me to peg out?”

  “Jeez!” Renie threw up her hands. “No! It was a few years

  ago, when our kids were teenagers, and they were accusing

  us of not acting our age. We told them we never would, because we might get older, but we’d never get old.”

  “What did the kids say?”

  “Who cares? That’s not the point.” Renie began tramping

  around in the snow, leaving a circular pattern of foot-prints

  between the fallen branch and the tree. “It was our attitude

  that mattered. I remember, we looked at each other as if to

  say, This is a solemn promise. Except that being solemn

  wasn’t part of it. We would always keep our sense of humor

  and our slightly screwy perspective on life and uphold the