MARY DAHEIM
Snow
Place
To
Die
A BED-AND-BREAKFAST MYSTERY
In memory of Katharine Dawson Marshall, the last of
the Dawson clan to enter eternal life on January 30,
1998, joining Monica Richardson Dawson, Louis
Dawson, Frances Dawson Webster, Thomas Dawson,
and Helen Dawson Shelley. We will always love you.
CONTENTS
ONE
JUDITH MCMONIGLE FLYNN stacked twenty-four
pancakes on a platter, grabbed…
1
TWO
FRIDAY DAWNED COLD and cloudy. Renie was
driving the Jones’s…
12
THREE
AS SHE’D PREDICTED, Renie’s presentation went
well. “There were the…
29
FOUR
“IT WAS ONE of those things you see, but you…
45
FIVE
A FEW MINUTES before eight, the cousins went
downstairs to…
61
SIX
NEITHER JUDITH NOR Renie screamed. Instead,
they held onto each…
77
SEVEN
IT WAS ALMOST midnight before Judith and Renie
finished recounting…
90
EIGHT
IN THE STRAINED atmosphere of the kitchen,
Judith felt the…
105
NINE
AVA BURIED HER face against Gene’s shoulder.
Max half-carried Nadia…
114
TEN
“HE PASSED OUT upstairs,” Max announced in a
tense voice.
129
ELEVEN
MAX AND WARD had decided to go out through
the…
145
TWELVE
EVERYBODY SCREAMED. GENE spilled his drink
on the Navajo rug,…
161
THIRTEEN
AFTER THE GAME hens and the bean dish had
been…
176
FOURTEEN
UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, it was natural for
everyone to assume…
193
FIFTEEN
“WHO ELSE WAS in the corridor last night?” Judith
asked…
206
SIXTEEN
“THIS…CAN’T…BE…happening,” Judith gasped. 221
SEVENTEEN
JUDITH AND RENIE both started to protest,
meanwhile backpedaling across…
233
EIGHTEEN
246
JUDITH AND RENIE flattened themselves against
the wall, hopefully out…
NINETEEN
FRANK KILLEGREW WAS sulking. “Sh’almost shix,”
he mumbled. “Who drinksh…
266
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ONE
JUDITH MCMONIGLE FLYNN stacked twenty-four pancakes
on a platter, grabbed the syrup pitcher, and opened the
swinging door with her hip. Just behind her, the kitchen
phone rang.
“Damn!” Judith cursed under her breath, then sheepishly
smiled at the eight hungry, curious faces seated around the
old oak dining room table. The phone kept ringing. “Sorry,”
Judith apologized, as she set the pancakes and syrup on the
table, “I don’t usually get calls this early unless they’re reservations from the East Coast.”
The bed and breakfast guests made various incomprehensible sounds, then began dishing up pancakes. Judith returned
to the kitchen just as the phone trunked over to the answering
machine. After delivering bacon, eggs, and extra butter, she
checked the message.
“I know you’re there, you twit!” Cousin Renie’s voice had
an early-morning croak. “Call me! Quick!”
It was 7:36. Judith’s cousin never, ever got out of bed before nine and almost never achieved full consciousness until
ten. Apprehensively, Judith dialed Renie’s number.
“Are you okay?” Judith asked in a breathless voice.
“I’m terrible,” Renie replied crossly. “I’m up the creek, in
the soup, down the toilet.”
1
2 / Mary Daheim
The exaggerated response relieved Judith’s mind. If Renie
had been held hostage or was lying at the bottom of her
basement stairs, she wouldn’t describe her plight so vividly.
Judith poured a mug of coffee and sat down at the kitchen
table. “So what’s really wrong?” she asked, more intrigued
than alarmed.
A big sigh rolled over the phone line from the other side
of Heraldsgate Hill. “It’s the OTIOSE conference—you know,
the Overland Telecommunications and Information Organization of Systems Engineers.”
“It’s called OTIOSE for short?” Judith asked in surprise.
“Do they know what it means?”
“Of course not. They’re engineers. Anyway,” Renie went
on, still sounding vexed, “they used to be part of the local
phone company before the Bell System got broken up by the
Justice Department. Remember I told you I was putting together a really big graphic design presentation for their annual winter retreat? I’m redoing their logo, their colors,
everything right down to the cheap pens they hand out to
lucky customers and members of their board. But there’s a
problem—the caterer backed out at the last minute and
they’ve asked me to find a sub.”
“So? There are a zillion caterers in the Yellow Pages. If
they’re telephone company people, why can’t they let their
fingers do the walking?”
“Because they are telephone company people. Their brains
aren’t attached to their fingers. Plus, these are the top executives. They’re not used to doing things for themselves.”
Renie was clearly exasperated. “Anyway, I opened my big
mouth and told them I knew a topnotch caterer. Believe it
or not, I was referring to you. What do you say?”
“Ohhh…” Judith set her mug down with a thud and
splashed coffee onto the plastic table cover. Running a B&B
was hard enough, especially with the holidays so recently
behind her. Of late she’d been trying to phase out the catering arm of her business. For several years it had
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 3
been a joint venture with Judith’s friend and neighbor, Arlene
Rankers. Her husband, Carl, had retired two years earlier,
and their family of five had expanded. The quiet leisure years
they’d anticipated had turned into a merry-go-round of
grandchildren crawling around in the laurel hedge that separated the Rankers and Flynn properties. Arlene no longer
had the time or the energy to help run a full-scale catering
service, and Judith couldn’t do it without her.
“I really don’t think I can manage on such short notice,”
Judith said at last. “Isn’t the retreat this weekend?”
“Right, over the three-day Martin Luther King holiday.”
Renie paused. “It’d be for only a day, actually. All you have
to do is set up the first meal on Friday, then stock the fridge
and freezer and whatever. The rest of the weekend is…”
“More coffee please,” came a request from the dining room.
“Do you have powdered sugar?” called another guest.
“There’s something gruesome crawling around under the
table,” complained a third, rather frantic voice.
Judith hadn’t heard the last part of Renie’s explanation.
“Coz, I’ll get back to you in half an hour,” she said, feeling
a touch of panic.
The coffee and powdered sugar were delivered, then Judith
dove under the big oak table to retrieve her cat, Sweetums.
The cat arched his back, hissed, and began rubbing against
the sheer stockings on a pair of rather hefty legs.