these? I’ll bet red’s your color.”
“It is.” Judith smiled. “Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t worry about returning them right away.” Ava’s
strong, handsome features seemed to radiate good will.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 43
“I’ll probably be seeing your cousin at corporate headquarters
in a week or two.”
Judith grabbed the garments and headed for the laundry
room to dress. She had just slipped into her own boots when
Renie joined her.
“Nadia’s stuff is going to be a squeeze,” Renie said, shaking
out a gray cashmere sweater that had been carefully wrapped
in tissue paper. “But Margo’s too thin and Andrea’s too
plump. It was Nadia or nobody, unless I wanted to wear
one of Russell Craven’s soup-stained suits.”
“Let’s go back,” Judith said abruptly.
“Back? Back where?” Renie’s head poked through the
sweater’s mock turtleneck. “We can’t go home until you’ve
set up the buffet.”
Judith was searching the drawers in the laundry room. “I
know, plus we have to wait at least a half-hour for our clothes
to dry. Ah, here’s a flashlight.”
Renie stared at Judith. “What are we doing?”
“We’re going back to the cave.” Judith was now at the
linen closet. She tossed a blanket at Renie.
“Come on!” Renie cried. “It’s almost dark! What’s the
point?”
Judith was covering herself in a striped Hudson Bay
blanket. “Are you coming or not?”
“Not.” Renie planted both feet firmly on the floor.
“Okay.” Judith swept out into the kitchen, the blanket
trailing behind her.
It wasn’t quite dark, but it was very cold and a few drops
of snow were drifting down. The wind had picked up,
blowing from the north. Judith had to hold up the pants legs
of Ava’s slacks while trying to keep the blanket wrapped
around her. She didn’t try to cross the creek this time, but
squatted on the opposite bank and turned on the flashlight.
“Has he moved?” The voice belonged to Renie, who had
crept up behind Judith.
Judith gave a little start. “He’s still there.” She handed
44 / Mary Daheim
the flashlight to Renie. “Look. See if you see what I thought
I saw.”
Renie, who had only glimpsed the skeletal remains of the
dead man, steeled herself. “I see a really convincing Halloween costume. Except this is January, and it’s not very
funny.” She shuddered, then tried to give the flashlight back
to Judith.
Judith rebuffed Renie. “Look again.”
Sighing, Renie complied. “I see what’s left of his
clothes—jacket, pants, shirt, whatever. It’s hard to tell.
Oh—he’s got a watch on his left wrist.” Starting to shiver
again, Renie had trouble keeping the flashlight from wavering. “There’s a leather thong around his neck, but I don’t see
any medal or jewelry or decoration.”
“That’s not what it’s for,” Judith said in a hollow voice.
As the snow began to fall harder, Renie steadied the
flashlight with both hands. “Then it must be part of whatever
he was wearing.”
Judith took the flashlight from Renie. “No. I saw it from
the back when I was in the cave earlier. It hasn’t anything
to do with apparel. It looks as if it’s been twisted around
something at the base of the neck. I believe you call it a garrote.” She stood up and switched off the flashlight. “Barry
didn’t freeze to death, coz. He was murdered.”
FOUR
“IT WAS ONE of those things you see, but you don’t take in,”
Judith explained as the cousins trudged back to the lodge.
“It was such a shock finding the body in the first place, and
we were so wet and cold that the garrote didn’t really register
until much later, probably when Ava opened her leather
suitcase. But it had been niggling at me all along.”
“Incredible,” Renie murmured. “Barry must have been
murdered a year ago this very weekend.” She stopped suddenly, a stricken expression on her face. “Oh, God—he may
have been murdered by one of them!” Her brown eyes were
riveted on the lodge.
“You’re right,” Judith said in wonder. “Let’s hurry, coz.
We’ve got to finish up and get the hell out of here.”
They were met at the door by the African-American man
who had exchanged his pinstripe suit for a turtleneck sweater
and corduroy pants. “I’d appreciate it,” he said in a grave,
concise voice, “if you’d tell me what’s going on. It’s not safe
to have outsiders wandering around in the snow. OTIOSE
isn’t legally covered for such contingencies.”
“Coz,” Renie said, sounding tired, “meet Eugene Jarman,
Junior, vice president-legal, as if you couldn’t
45
46 / Mary Daheim
guess.” She offered the attorney a small smile. “Gene, you
honestly don’t want to know.”
Gene Jarman quietly closed the doors behind the cousins.
Frank Killegrew and Ward Haugland were both in the lobby,
wearing worried expressions and virtually matching outfits
of plaid flannel shirts, tan khaki pants, and brown suspenders. Beyond them, Russell Craven huddled by the fire, his
face averted.
“I’m afraid it’s my business to know,” Gene responded,
his blunt features solemn. He was average height, but the
self-assured way he carried himself made him seem much
taller. “Let’s sit down and discuss this.”
Judith and Renie looked at each other. “Okay,” said Renie,
removing her blanket and tossing it over one arm. “Has
anybody unlocked the liquor cabinet? This isn’t going to be
pretty.”
“Liquor,” Ward Haugland echoed, his lanky form twisting
around. “There must be liquor somewhere.”
Judith had spotted what might have been a wet bar in the
dining room. “I’ll check,” she said. “Give me a hand, coz.”
Five minutes later, the cousins had lined up bottles, glasses,
mixer, and a bucket of ice on the big polished burl coffee
table in the lobby. By then, other members of the OTIOSE
executive corps were streaming in. It appeared that their
master had spoken.
“Who’s missing?” Killegrew asked, not bothering to look
around. Judith guessed that others did that for him.
In this case, the task was performed by Ward Haugland,
as befitted his executive vice president’s status. “Ava and
Leon,” Ward said in his faint drawl. “They’ll be here any
minute, Frank. That dinky elevator can’t hold but four or
five people at a time.”
“Persons!” snapped Margo Chang. “How often do I have
to remind you persons that we’re not just people?”
Judith nudged Renie. “Who’s the big bald guy who
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 47
looks like number nine on the chart showing the Ten Steps
From Ape to Man?”
“Max Agasias, vice president-marketing,” Renie whispered.
“He’s sharper than he looks.”
“I hope so. He practically mowed me down when lunch
was served.” Judith glanced at the elevator in the corner of
the lobby which was discharging Ava Aunuu and the small,
wizened man with buck teeth who Judith also remembered
from the midday stampede.
“Leon Mooney,” Renie murmured, “vice president and
comptroller.”
Judith’s brain raced. Not only was she trying to put names