Snow Place to Die Read online

  Killegrew scowled, then stepped into the elevator, along with Ward, Gene, and Ava. The others waited. Apparently, thought Judith, there was a pecking order even when it came to elevator riding.

  “Why the hell would someone kill Leon Mooney?” Max muttered. “That little guy wouldn’t step on a bug.”

  “Mooney’s money,” Margo said softly. “That’s what we’ve always called the comptroller’s shop, isn’t it? Maybe he was juggling the books.”

  “Not Leon,” Max responded. “What would be the point? The man had no life outside of the job.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Russell said, on the defensive. “Some of us love our work. Usually.” He shot Max a dark glance and rubbed the bump on his head.

  Judith hadn’t mentioned anything about the weapon that had presumably killed Leon. With a sidelong look at Max, she wondered if he’d used it again, and for a more lethal purpose. But anyone could have used the carving to deliver a death blow. The last time Judith had seen the soapstone Eskimo, it had been in the hands of Margo Chang.

  The elevator returned; Russell, Margo, Max, and Nadia got in. The cousins were left alone in the hallway.

  “I guess we know where we fit into the scheme of things,” Judith remarked. “Dead last.”

  Renie elbowed Judith. “Don’t say things like that.”

  Judith gave a nod. “Okay. I’ll stick to conjecture, guess-work, and speculation. I take it Leon wasn’t married?”

  “I don’t think so,” Renie replied as the elevator doors slid open. “Somewhere along the line I heard he lived with his mother until she died a year or so ago.”

  The doors were about to close when a frantic voice called from down the hall. Judith quickly pressed the “open” button. Andrea dashed inside, still in her robe, but with her hair swept back up on top of her head.

  “I heard all the commotion in the corridor,” she said in a breathless voice. “I decided I’d better not miss out on what was happening. Did anyone ask where I was?”

  No one had, at least not as far as the cousins could recall. Andrea looked relieved, then disappointed. Judith wondered if being overlooked was worse than being chastised.

  “How are you feeling?” Renie asked as the car glided to the first floor.

  “I’ll survive,” Andrea replied, but her voice was listless.

  The bar had been reopened in the lobby. Nadia, in fact, was carrying more bottles in from the dining room.

  “I won’t go in the kitchen,” she declared, looking mulish. “You’ll have to reuse your glasses.”

  “I’ll go in the kitchen,” Max volunteered. “I was in ’Nam. Stiffs don’t scare me.” He stalked out of the lobby, his short plaid robe flapping around his pajama-clad legs.

  “I was in Korea,” Killegrew said in a troubled voice, “but I don’t think I want to see poor Leon.” He made a faint gesture in the direction of the kitchen. “The only thing is, we can’t leave him there. We have to eat.”

  But Gene Jarman shook his head. “We can’t move the body. We have to wait for the authorities.” He turned to Judith and Renie, who had managed to squeeze onto one of the sofas next to Ava. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

  “Only the light switch,” Judith said.

  Ward leaned forward from his place on one of the other sofas that ringed the big coffee table. “Did you say you knew the chief of police?”

  “Ah…” Judith hesitated. “Not personally.” It was more or less true. Judith had met the chief at various departmental functions, but she doubted that he would recall to whom she was attached.

  “See here,” Killegrew said, ignoring both Ward’s question and Judith’s response, “we can’t have a dead body underfoot, Gene. I don’t care what the rules and regulations are. We’ve got to keep this ship afloat.”

  “Frank,” Gene began, “we can’t take the law into our own…”

  “The law!” Killegrew made a dismissive gesture. “This is jungle law around here! Some maniac is on the loose, we can’t get through to the authorities—though I’m sure that this is only a temporary lapse and service will be restored promptly—and there’s no way out until the storm breaks. I’m perfectly willing to take responsibility.”

  “I’d like that in writing,” Gene murmured.

  “What I propose,” Killegrew continued, “is that we move poor old Leon down to the basement. There’s a safe behind the desk here in the lobby. We’ll lock up the so-called weapon in there. I’ll do it myself, you can watch me. Then we can restore some semblance of order to this retreat.”

  “Oh, Frank!” It was Andrea, bursting into tears. “How can you? This isn’t normal! This is horrible!”

  “Now, now,” urged Killegrew, coming over to pat Andrea’s heaving shoulders, “there’s no point in going to pieces. The telecommunications industry has gone through more terrible times than this—the great blizzard of 1888, the Johnstown flood, the San Francisco earthquake and fire, the Depression, a bunch of wars, strikes, antitrust suits, Judge Harold Greene, and the breakup of the Bell System. It’s just that what’s happened to us here hits close to home. But bear up, the train’s still on track. We have to show our mettle. After all, we’re OTIOSE.”

  The rallying cry did not go unheeded. “Here, here!” Ward Haugland shouted, clapping his hands. “You’re darned tootin’, Frank. What happened to Barry and now what’s happened to Leon is pretty danged bad, but let’s face it, we’ve got a business to run.” Somewhat clumsily, Ward got to his feet. “Come on, Gene, let’s get Leon out of the way.”

  OTIOSE’s corporate counsel held up both hands. “Sorry, Ward. I won’t be a party to this. It’s not legal.”

  Exasperated, Ward turned to Russell. “How about you?”

  Russell grimaced. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but I’m rather…squeamish. I’d rather remember Leon as he was.”

  “He was one pretty darned homely little bugger, if you ask me,” Ward muttered. “I don’t reckon that being dead has made him look much worse.”

  Andrea’s sobs grew louder. “I can’t bear it! Shut up, Ward! I hate you!”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Ward threw up his hands. “I’ll get Max. He won’t weasel out on me.”

  Reluctantly, Gene got to his feet. “I’ll get the weapon. I’ll wrap it in a towel.”

  Killegrew’s expression was uneasy as he watched his second-in-command and his legal counsel depart. “Did anybody bring a laptop?” he asked.

  Margo sneered. “You told us to leave everything at the office except our fertile brains. No distractions, remember?”

  “Yes, well…hmm.” Killegrew fingered his jutting chin. “Maybe that was a mistake. In retrospect, of course. We might have faxed somebody for help.”

  “Using what?” put in Ava. “If the phone lines are down, so are the fax lines. In case you’ve forgotten, Frank, they use the same wire.”

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten,” Killegrew snapped, though his face turned red. “I just thought that with all your gee-whiz expertise, there might be another way.” He glared at Ava.

  She gave the CEO an arch little smile. “I’m afraid not. We’re helpless. We might as well be living in the nineteenth century.”

  Killegrew turned to Margo. “I hope you’re coming up with some ideas about how to keep this from the media. I don’t want a scandal. OTIOSE can’t afford bad press right now.”

  “It’s a murder case,” Margo said. “Two murders. There’ll be an investigation. You can’t hush that up.”

  “You damned well better try,” Killegrew growled. “It’s your job.” It wasn’t just a reminder; it sounded to Judith more like a threat.

  Andrea’s sobs had finally subsided. She raised a haggard face and spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. “We’ve got another, more important job, if you ask me. In case it slipped everybody’s mind, I’m vice president-human resources. We’ve lost two of those human resources, in a most inhumane manner. I want something done about i
t, and I want to start now.”

  The motherly velvet glove had been thrown down; the plump iron fist was shaking at Frank Killegrew. He drew back, looking unsettled.

  “Now, now, Andrea, I don’t see what we can do.” Killegrew’s glance of appeal fell on Gene Jarman, who had returned from the kitchen and was cradling a towel that contained the freezer bag with the soapstone carving. “What’s your considered opinion, counselor?”

  “For now, I want somebody to open the safe. I don’t much like holding on to evidence like this,” Gene replied.

  Killegrew went behind the registration desk. The safe was in a recessed area below the room slots. “Damn,” he muttered. “It’s locked. We don’t know the combination.”

  Judith felt herself wince. In years gone by, she had become adept at figuring out combination locks. It had begun with necessity, when Dan McMonigle would hide his occasional earnings as a bartender and leave Judith holding the bag for the household bills. Later, the knack had served her well when on the sleuthing trail. She preferred not revealing how she’d acquired her skills. Fortunately, no one asked.

  The combination proved remarkably simple. Judith wrote it down on a piece of lodge stationery and passed it around to the others. There was safety in numbers, she decided.

  With a scowl, Gene handed the towel and the carving over to Killegrew, who put the items inside the safe after only a brief, awkward juggling act. “There we go,” he said, dusting off his hands as if he’d accomplished a feat of derring-do. “Lock it up.”

  Judith complied. The group reassembled around the hearth. Killegrew again turned to Gene Jarman. “That’s that. Safe as houses. Now let’s hear your words of wisdom on what we do next.”

  Gene sat back on the sofa, his brown eyes lifted to the rafters. “I’ll have to think this over,” he said after a long pause.

  “We don’t have time for that,” Killegrew retorted. “Come on, Gene, for once, forget about all that due caution and deliberate care bunk.”

  Gene uttered a heavy sigh. “We can do one of two things. We can all keep our mouths shut and not discuss what’s happened today. That’s what I’d advise. Or,” he went on, with a sardonic look for Killegrew, “we can start asking each other a lot of embarrassing questions and try to get to the bottom of this. If we do that—and again, I’m not advising it from a legal standpoint—we might at least get our stories straight before we have to answer to the authorities.”

  Nadia, who had been mixing Russell Craven a rum and Coca-Cola, stared at Gene. “Are you suggesting that we lie?”

  “Of course not.” Gene’s dark-skinned forehead creased. “I’m saying we pool our knowledge—such as it is—so that we don’t end up looking like babbling idiots when we finally talk to outsiders.”

  Killegrew gave a brief nod. “That makes sense. Okay, Gene, you’re in charge.”

  Max and Ward returned at that moment. They had removed Leon Mooney, not to the basement, but to a room on the third floor. “More homeylike,” Ward said. Andrea began to weep again.

  After Killegrew had filled Max and Ward in on Gene’s alternative plan, Judith noted that the mood shifted. The group was getting down to business, a grisly business perhaps, but they were tackling it in a style they understood. Despite the bathrobes and slippers and cocktails and subject matter, the OTIOSE executives were taking a meeting, and the atmosphere seemed to relax. Even Andrea dried her eyes and reasserted her iron grip.

  Judith poked Renie. “We’re still here,” she whispered. “How come?”

  Renie gave a little shrug and a shake of her head, but said nothing. It didn’t take long for the question to be answered.

  Gene Jarman, who had traded places with Frank Killegrew, addressed the cousins. “It’s unfortunate that the two of you had to be present during such a tragic time for OTIOSE,” he said gravely. “But we can’t change that, and what’s even more unfortunate, is that you both seemed to have played big parts in that you found the bodies. We’d better start by going over what happened this afternoon and now tonight. Nadia, would you take notes, please?”

  Nadia picked up a notebook and a pen from the coffee table, then slipped her glasses from her bathrobe pocket. “I’m ready,” she said through pursed lips.

  “Good.” Gene turned back to Judith and Renie. “One word of caution—you must never speak of what went on in this room tonight. If you do, the gravest of consequences will follow.”

  Given what had already happened at Mountain Goat Lodge, Judith could guess that such consequences might be fatal.

  SEVEN

  IT WAS ALMOST midnight before Judith and Renie finished recounting their stories. Being questioned by Eugene Jarman Jr. was like being on the witness stand. He was precise, exacting, and relentless. The hardest part came when he asked about the items Judith had found at the bottom of the ice cave.

  “You actually went inside the cave?”

  “Yes. There wasn’t much room because of the broken branches, but…”

  “Why did you go inside the cave?”

  “To get a better look.”

  “At what?”

  “The body. And to see if there was anything that might tell us who…”

  “Aren’t you aware that a crime scene should never be touched?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know it was a crime scene.”

  If Gene was taken aback by Judith’s response, he didn’t show it. “So you went ahead and disturbed the area around the body?”

  “I didn’t disturb it. I just picked up some things that were lying on the ground. If I hadn’t, we would never have known who…”

  “Come now, Ms. Flynn, surely you realized that the authorities would eventually search the cave. Why did you feel compelled to do it yourself?”

  Because I was freezing to death and my brain wasn’t working. Because I was bursting with curiosity. Because I’ve done it before. But Judith only voiced these thoughts to herself. To Gene and the others, she merely said, “It seemed right at the time.”

  Gene’s tone reeked of disapproval. “Your heedless actions may cause serious legal problems. Tampering with evidence is a crime. On the other hand, we have only your word for it that Barry Newcombe met with foul play.”

  “Oh, come on, Gene,” said Margo. “If somebody finds a dead body with something tied around its neck, what do you think happened? I doubt that Barry was making a fashion statement.”

  “He did dress well,” Andrea noted. “And his shoes were always so nicely shined.”

  Gene frowned at both women. “Let’s skip the sidebar comments.” He turned back to Judith. “Tell us exactly what you found near the body.”

  Judith listed the items. “That’s how we knew who it was.” Suddenly she gazed around the room with a dumb-founded expression on her face. “I still have those things in my purse. Why didn’t any of you ask about them?”

  “I thought we did,” Killegrew said. “Nadia, didn’t I tell you to recover them?”

  Nadia gave a little start. “Did you? Goodness, I must have forgotten. I was so upset.”

  “Do you want me to get them now?” Judith asked. “They’re in my room.”

  “Later,” said Killegrew. “Let’s get on with it.”

  Gene Jarman did, posing another thirty or so questions, most of which Judith didn’t find relevant to the case. At last, he moved on to the discovery of Leon Mooney’s body. There was much less to tell, and Jarman concluded by asking Renie why she’d turned on the kitchen lights.

  Renie was miffed. “The better to see him with? Jeez, it was pretty dark in there. Did you want us tripping over poor old Leon?”

  “My point,” Gene said painstakingly, “is that the killer might have turned the lights off. It’s very likely that you smudged important fingerprints.”

  Renie’s face fell. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.”

  Ava had gotten to her feet. “Are we done?” she asked in a tired voice. “It’s late, and I don’t know about the rest of you, but
I’m beat.”

  Gene didn’t look pleased. “We haven’t gone over any of our whereabouts after the meeting tonight. I think we should get that down while everything is fresh in our minds.” He glanced at Nadia. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” Nadia replied, though she appeared haggard. “I’m certainly glad I haven’t forgotten my shorthand.”

  “All right,” Killegrew sighed. “Let’s go around the room. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Let’s start,” Gene began a bit ponderously, “by asking who saw Leon last.”

  No one spoke. Glances were exchanged, throats were cleared, and drinks were sipped, but nobody responded. Finally, Max Agasias broke the silence.

  “He was sitting on that ottoman, the last I remember,” Max said, pointing to the empty green leather footstool near the hearth.

  Everyone followed his gaze, fixated on the spot as if they could see the ghost of Leon Mooney.

  “He went up in the elevator with me,” Margo finally said. “You were there, too, Russell. Don’t you remember?”

  “Was I? Did he?” Russell stared vaguely at the fireplace.

  “Yes,” Margo continued. “We were the last to leave the lobby. Leon’s so quiet that sometimes we don’t notice him. Or didn’t,” she added in a softer tone.

  “I saw him last.” Andrea held her head high. “We’d decided to share another piece of that delicious angel food cake.”

  Everyone stared, and someone snickered. Judith thought it was Margo. “He went back down almost immediately,” Andrea said, ignoring the stares and the snicker. “I suppose that was around ten-thirty-five.”

  Another silence followed. The wind no longer howled in the chimney, and the room was very still. Judith turned to look outside. She could see nothing but blackness. Perhaps the storm was finally passing.

  “I went right to bed,” Max finally said.

  “So did I,” Margo asserted.

  “Me, too,” Ward chimed in.

  “What else was there to do?” Nadia asked, though she darted a quick look at Andrea.