by Mary Daheim
He continued to sob for several seconds. Then, suddenly,
he turned his head and stared at Judith. “I can do…I can
do…I can do…” His entire body sagged as he slipped off the
bed. “I can’t do,” he breathed in an incredulous voice. “I can’t
do.”
For Frank Killegrew, it appeared to be a revelation.
It took a great deal of coaxing and soothing for the cousins
to get Killegrew and Russell out of Leon’s room. The bereaved CEO rejected Judith’s suggestion that Max and Gene
carry Nadia up to the third floor where the other bodies lay
at rest. Killegrew adamantly refused to have Nadia moved.
Judith understood, and backed off.
The others had already returned to the lobby from the
basement. Since Killegrew appeared to be in shock and
Russell still claimed to feel sick, the burden of making the
tragic announcement fell on Renie, who hurriedly consulted
with Judith.
“The four of us found Nadia Weiss dead in Leon Mooney’s
room. Cause of death can’t be determined without an
autopsy.”
Ava began to cry again, Margo collapsed in a side chair,
Gene held his head in his hands, and Max exploded with a
stream of obscenities. It was clear that the OTIOSE contingent had completely fallen apart.
“There’s no logic to this!” Gene exclaimed. “It’s irrational,
insane, beyond understanding! I can’t deal with it anymore!”
He whirled around, looking as if he were trying to escape.
Ava stopped crying and raised her head. “It’s not a cutand-dried legal issue you can find in one of your RCW law
books,” she said, compassion evident in her voice. “But it
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 231
is real, Gene. What’s so horrible is that I can’t see beyond
the next few minutes. It’s like the future has been canceled
for all of us.”
“It sure as hell has for some of us,” Max declared savagely.
“Who’s next?” His homely face was a mixture of fury and
fear.
“Not me,” Margo averred, gripping her suede bag. But for
once, she didn’t sound very confident.
Killegrew, who was now drinking straight from a bottle
of Scotch, turned bleary eyes on the others. “It had to be
suicide,” he mumbled.
“Can it, Frank,” Margo said wearily. “We know better.
Stop kidding yourself.”
“I don’t blame her,” Killegrew said, as if he hadn’t heard
Margo. “I feel like jumping off a cliff.”
“Oh, please don’t!” Russell begged. “Really, this is all so…”
Slumped on the footstool, he ran a hand through his
disheveled fair hair. “It’s exactly what Ava just mentioned—it’s real. I don’t know much about real things, only
ideas and theories and concepts. But,” he continued, hiking
himself up to a full sitting position, “I do know how to conjecture, it’s part of my job. I saw that pill bottle on the
nightstand in Leon’s room. It was given to Nadia by the
company physician, Dr. Winslow, who is somewhat oldfashioned. Triclos—or triclofos or chloral hydrate, to call it
by its more common name—is not often prescribed any more.
I recall this from my days as an army medic. It can be lethal,
of course, especially if it’s taken with an alcoholic beverage.
There was also an empty gin bottle on the floor by the bed.
I must assume—or conjecture, if you will—that whoever
murdered poor dear Nadia must have put the chloral hydrate
tablets into the gin.”
A little gasp went up around the lobby, but the usually
reticent Russell Craven hadn’t finished. “You see, I have been
thinking. It’s what I do. And I’ve come to one unalterable
conclusion. The deaths have not been caused by any
232 / Mary Daheim
of us. We’ve wondered a great deal about an outsider committing these crimes. That can be the only answer.” From
behind his round, rimless glasses, Russell stared at Judith
and Renie. “It must be those two women. They are the killers,
and we must act at once.”
SEVENTEEN
JUDITH AND RENIE both started to protest, meanwhile
backpedaling across the lobby. But no one actually came
after them. The OTIOSE executives appeared depleted, as if
the latest horror had sapped their collective will.
“We can’t stop them,” Killegrew finally said in a lethargic
voice. “It’s inevitable. We’ve come here to die.”
“It’s like the Nazis with the concentration camps,” Ava
said in wonder. “You get on a bus, you think you’re simply
being sent to some harmless place, but you never come back.”
“My grandparents were slaughtered by Mao’s henchmen,”
Margo said, her grip slackened on the suede bag. “They
thought they were being taken to a political meeting in another village.”
“My family fled Armenia during the First World War,”
Max said in a toneless voice, “but some of our relatives were
massacred by the Turks. It was a bloodbath.”
“I had two great-grandfathers who were lynched,” Gene
said, staring into space. “One in Alabama, the other in South
Carolina. My uncle was almost beaten to death during the
freedom marches in Mississippi. In Oakland, two white cops
gave my father a concussion
233
234 / Mary Daheim
for no reason. Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.”
“Really,” Russell said in a huffy tone, “none of you are
showing much spunk. All we have to do is lock them in their
room. Then we’ll be safe until we can get out of here.”
The suggestion was met with apathy. Slowly, the cousins
moved back towards the others.
“Russell,” Judith began in what she hoped was a reasonable
tone, “you’re off base. If you’re relying on logic, let’s put it
to the test. For openers, we weren’t here last year, which is
when all this may have started. We have nothing to do with
OTIOSE or any other telecommunications outfit except for
my cousin’s tenuous connection through her freelance design
business. I was asked to fill in for some other caterer at the
last minute, as at least some of you may know. Why on earth
would either of us come to Mountain Goat Lodge and start
killing people? It makes absolutely no sense.”
Russell adjusted his rimless glasses. “Killing often doesn’t.
People go on rampages.”
“We don’t,” Renie declared. “Margo, I’ve worked with you
before. Have you ever had any reason to doubt who and
what I am?”
Margo’s expression was unusually vague. “No—I guess
not. But then I never pay much attention to consultants as
individuals. They come in, do their job, and leave.”
Renie sighed. “Yes, I understand that part. But if we’d
wanted to kill you, we’ve had ample opportunity. Why didn’t
we poison your food?”
“Too obvious,” Max responded.
“Poison can be extremely subtle,” declared Judith, who’d
had experience with its cleverly disguised lethal effects. When
the others regarded h
er with wide-eyed alarm, she hastened
to explain. “I read a lot of mysteries. There are poisons that
can’t be detected, poisons with delayed reactions, poisons
that can be masked in various ways.”
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 235
“That’s true,” Margo said glumly. “I read mysteries, too.”
“So what do we do?” Max asked, automatically turning to
Killegrew.
The CEO scratched an ear. “I don’t know. Eat lunch, I
suppose.” Somehow the callousness of his remark was diluted
by his desolate manner.
Margo got to her feet. “Ava and I’ll make lunch.” Seeing
the startled expressions on the men’s faces, she waved an
impatient hand. “Okay, so it’s women’s work, but this is
different. It’s like…a safety precaution.”
Russell pointed a bony finger at Judith and Renie. “What
about them?”
“Lock them in the library,” Margo retorted as she and Ava
started for the kitchen. “Let them read some more mystery
novels. If they’re so smart, maybe they can figure all this
out.”
The cousins didn’t protest their incarceration. “What a
morning,” Renie sighed as she and Judith sank into the library’s wing-back armchairs. “So much for gratitude. I guess
Russell forgot about that hot tea you made for him.” She
sighed again, gazing at one of the two tall windows which
were flanked by muted plaid drapes. “I wonder how long it
will be until the snow has melted enough that we really can
get out of here?”
Judith shook her head. “It’ll take a while. And don’t forget
the avalanche danger.”
Looking glum, Renie didn’t respond right away. “Somebody out there knows we didn’t do it,” she finally said.
“That’s right,” Judith agreed in a strange voice.
Renie’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know who it is?”
Now it was Judith who didn’t answer immediately. “I’ve
got a hunch,” she admitted at last. “Do you?”
Renie nodded slowly. “I think so, yes.”
“We have no proof,” Judith remarked bleakly. “Those files
might help us, if we could find them.”
236 / Mary Daheim
“You don’t think they’ve been destroyed?”
Judith shook her head. “I don’t think the killer has found
them. Damn,” she cursed under her breath, “I have to go to
the bathroom. Do you think they’ll let us out?”
“Pick the lock,” Renie said. “You can do it.”
Judith brightened. “Maybe I can. It’s worth a try.” Just as
she fished into her shoulder bag for something that would
trip the lock, the pager went off again. “How annoying! I
don’t need that thing bothering me right now. I feel like
throwing it out the window.”
“Stop worrying about something you can’t help,” Renie
advised. “We’ve got more urgent problems here.”
“You’re right.” Judith hauled an oversized paper clip out
of her purse and began straightening it. “Let’s hope these
locks aren’t as daunting as they look. The ones on this floor
are obviously much newer than the ones on the guest room
doors.”
Renie watched while Judith plied the paper clip. The library door had a sophisticated lock, and presented a serious
challenge. After almost five minutes, Judith was forced to
give up.
“We’ll have to knock and yell to get out of here,” she said,
tossing the now useless paper clip into a wastebasket made
of woven branches. “I hope they can hear us.”
Renie began pounding on the door and shouting. Nothing
happened. “I don’t hear any hurrying feet,” she said.
The cousins suddenly heard something else.
The library telephone was ringing.
Judith snatched up the receiver. “Hello? Hello?” she virtually yelled into the mouthpiece.
“Goodness!” exclaimed Arlene Rankers. “Why are you
shouting, Judith? You practically broke my eardrum!”
“Arlene!” Judith collapsed into one of the armchairs.
“What’s wrong, Arlene?”
Renie hovered over Judith, who held the phone away from
her ear just enough so that her cousin could hear, too.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 237
“I’ve been paging you for two days,” Arlene said in an irritated voice. “I found your pager number on the bulletin board
in the kitchen. I didn’t even know you had a pager, Judith.”
“Ah…Neither did I. I mean, I forgot. But the phones have
been out up here at the lodge and…Never mind, what’s the
problem? Is it Mother?”
“Your mother?” Arlene laughed. “Of course not! Your
mother is wonderful, as always. She had such a nice time
going to Mass and out to breakfast with us. She said you
never took her for rides in the snow any more.”
Judith’s head was spinning. Gertrude hadn’t attended Mass
for almost three years, claiming that she was too feeble. She
managed, however, to get to her bridge club meetings around
the hill and occasionally, to the church itself for a bingo
session. Judith considered her mother a fraud.
“It’s snowing at home?” Judith inquired. “I don’t usually
drive in the snow.”
“It doesn’t bother Carl,” Arlene declared. “But of course
we’re midwesterners and know how to handle it. Now tell
me, Judith, how do I get into your computer program for
future reservations? I’ve been doing them all by hand.”
“The computer!” Judith felt giddy. “That’s all?”
“All?” Arlene sounded irked. “I can’t get into the cancellation program, either, and there have been several of those,
what with this bad weather and people being so timid about
getting around in it. Honestly, you’d think that just because
the planes have been grounded and some of the roads are
closed and the metro buses have been taken off their runs…”
Judith and Renie exchanged startled looks. “How much
snow is there, Arlene?” Judith interrupted.
“Mm…Two feet? Your statue of St. Francis in the backyard
is completely covered. The poor birds have nowhere to land.”
“Oh, my. That’s quite a lot of snow for us in town,”
238 / Mary Daheim
Judith said. “Okay, let me tell you how to get into those
programs…” She jiggled a bit in the chair, fighting off nature’s
urges. When she had finished her instructions, most of which
required questions from Arlene, Judith asked if Joe was home.
“Poor Joe.” Arlene’s voice dropped a notch. “Poor man.
Poor soul. He’s fine,” she added on a far more chipper note.
Accustomed to her friend and neighbor’s peculiar contradictions, Judith grimaced only slightly. “Is he home? Can I
talk to him?”
“No. Yes. I must run, Judith. I’ve got a million things to
do, since Carl and I are leaving next week for…”
“Wait! Do you mean he’s home but I can’t talk to him or
he’s not home and I can…That is, I can’t…”
“He’s at work,” Arlene broke in. “He’s been at work since
the snow started Saturday during the night
. He got called in
late Friday on a very big case. Then he got stuck downtown.
It’s really terrible here, Judith. We’re completely marooned.”
“But…you said…” Realizing it was pointless to argue, Judith sighed. “Okay, Arlene. Thanks for all your help. We
may be able to get out of here by tomorrow. It’s melting
fairly fast.”
“Not here,” Arlene said. “The wind changed last night,
coming from the south. We got another four inches, with
more coming tonight. Take care, and say hello to Serena.”
Arlene rang off.
Judith stared at Renie. “The phone works. Who shall we
call?”
“The bathroom?” Renie said with a quirky little smile.
“I forgot about that,” Judith admitted. “I can wait. Let’s
start with the police.”
“Which police? As I recall,” Renie said dryly, “that was
our first obstacle.”
“My police,” Judith responded, punching in digits. “At least
Joe will be able to tell us who we should contact.”
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 239
“Oh, God!” Renie cried. “Are you going to tell him about
our body count?”
“I have to,” Judith said, then held up a hand as someone
answered at the other end. “Joe Flynn, please…He’s not?
But I thought…Oh…Oh, I see. All right. Yes, please have
him call me at this number. This is his wife.” Judith replaced
the receiver. “Joe didn’t get stuck downtown,” she said to
Renie. “He and Woody are out in that snazzy neighborhood
between downtown and the lake. That’s where their victim
was found.”
Renie recognized the neighborhood. “They’ve got tons of
little hills and short, narrow streets,” she said. “It’s not as
steep as Heraldsgate Hill, but it’d be really difficult navigating
in the snow.”
“At least Joe’s in a classy part of town,” said Judith, and
then she laughed, a rueful sound. “I guess he’s stuck with a
stiff, too.” Suddenly, she jumped out of her chair. “The
bathroom! We’ve got to get to the bathroom!”
“So you mentioned,” Renie smirked. “How about using
that wastebasket?”
Judith stared at Renie. “I don’t mean that,” she responded,
going to the door. “Help!” she screamed. “Help! Help!”
“What in the…?” But Renie was at her side, pounding on
the heavy pine panels.
The cousins were almost hoarse by the time Margo and
