from one of the cupboards. “He should be checked for concussion, though. He seemed a bit confused.”
“No wonder!” Nadia briefly closed her eyes. “Max hit him
awfully hard. It was so unnecessary.”
“Mr. Craven doesn’t strike me as a combative type,” Judith
said, putting coffee into a copper filter.
“He’s not,” Nadia responded. “But he’s very protective of
his R&D people. When someone like Max calls them a bunch
of dreamers and a waste of corporate funds, Russell
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 71
can become very mulish. Max resents all the other departments because he feels they don’t understand marketing. But
he despises R&D most of all, because of the way they work.
Or don’t, from his point of view.”
“You mean…?” Judith frowned. “They just sit and dream
up things?”
“Yes.” Nadia now seemed more relaxed, perhaps because
she was discussing a subject she knew backward and forward.
It was beginning to dawn on Judith that many of the OTIOSE
conferees were like that. They felt on safe ground only when
dealing with corporate matters. The rest of the world, even
everyday occurrences, seemed to threaten them. “You see,”
Nadia went on, “much of the R&D work is conceptual. As
Russell puts it, his people have to dream a long time before
they can even begin to cope with reality.”
That, Judith thought, explained Russell himself, who didn’t
seem quite plugged in. But it didn’t explain his response to
her question about his first name. “Did Russell know Barry
Newcombe?”
Nadia tipped her head to one side. The stylish platinum
pageboy had wilted during the past few hours. “I don’t think
so,” she answered cautiously. “In fact, I recall him asking
several questions about Barry today. As far as I know, Russell
probably never met Barry until he drove us up to the lodge
last January. Why do you ask?” Her blue eyes hardened like
sapphires.
Judith shrugged. “It’s not important.” The coffee was almost ready and she didn’t want to waste time bringing
Russell his cup. “You knew Barry, of course.”
“Oh, yes,” Nadia replied, her expression softening. “Such
a well-mannered young man. I’d worked with him before
when he’d catered some of the other company events. He
was very good at it, even if he tended to…become distracted.”
She lowered her eyes.
Judith and Nadia both returned to the lobby where Russell
Craven was now in a half-sitting position on the sofa.
72 / Mary Daheim
He seemed reasonably alert, and grateful for the coffee. Judith
offered to pour a cup for the others, but only Andrea and
Ward accepted.
“I’ll get it,” Andrea volunteered, taking Russell’s hand and
placing it on the ice bag she’d been holding to his head.
“Easy does it,” she said in a soothing voice.
Frank Killegrew had resumed his place of dominance in
front of the fireplace. His shrewd gaze traveled from Renie
to Judith. “We’re going to get back down to business now,”
he said, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s been a terrific
session this evening, right up until the…” He glanced at
Russell, then at Max. “…the controversy. So this train has
to make up for lost time. It’s just about nine o’clock, and we
can keep the old locomotive running until say, ten-thirty. If
you’ll excuse us, Ms. Jones, Ms.…” His voice trailed off.
“Flynn,” Judith said, barely above a whisper.
“We’re gone.” Renie waved one hand, then trotted out of
the lobby.
Judith followed. In the dining room, they met Andrea,
who was carrying two cups of coffee. “I checked Russell’s
eyes,” she said. “They seem normal. Pay no attention to his
mention of Barry. Russell didn’t know him.”
“So I’ve heard,” Judith replied, ignoring Renie’s puzzled
look.
Andrea’s pretty face flushed slightly, an attractive combination with her silver hair. “I understand why he said what
he did. Russell is terribly sensitive. I’m sure the news of
Barry’s death upset him. You know how creative types tend
to overreact.” She bustled off to the lobby.
“I’m creative,” Renie said in an ingenuous voice. “Do I
overreact?”
“It depends,” Judith said, continuing on into the kitchen.
“I don’t think I’ve ever described you as sensitive.”
“What’s with this about Russell calling himself Barry?”
Renie picked up her plate but dumped her milk into the sink
and poured out a fresh glass.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 73
Judith explained as they went up the back stairs. Renie
thought Andrea’s rationale was probably correct. Judith
didn’t comment further.
It was after ten when the cousins finished their meal. The
storm had not abated. Judith dared to open the window to
get a better view.
“Brrr!” she exclaimed, closing the casement quickly. “It
must be down in the teens, with a wind chill factor of minus
about a hundred. Look at the way the snow is drifting on
the windowsill.”
“It’s drifting, all right,” Renie said without enthusiasm.
“The fire’s almost out. Do you want to stoke it or go to bed?”
Involuntarily, Judith yawned. “It’s getting cold in here
without the fire. We might as well sleep. I’m tired.”
Renie tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. “I’m
hyped. I always get this way after a big presentation. Finding
a dead body also makes me a little…edgy.”
Judith was leaning against the honor bar. “You’re scared?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Sure. But I’ve been scared before. After nineteen years
with Dan McMonigle, I can face almost anything.”
“You do and you have,” Renie said dryly. “Of course
nobody wants to kill us. We’re insignificant bugs on the
corporate highway of life.”
Judith smiled. “Roadkill?”
“That isn’t what I meant.” Renie got out of the chair and
lighted a cigarette. “One for the road,” she said. “Or should
I say one for the corporate highway?”
“If you must,” Judith responded, then turned to make sure
she’d latched the window properly. “Coz!” she hissed.
“There’s that light again!”
Renie rushed to join her cousin at the window. This time,
she, too, saw a faint, blurred light somewhere out in the
swirling snow. “Jeez! Who could it be?”
74 / Mary Daheim
“Maybe it’s not a who,” Judith muttered. “Maybe it’s a
what.”
“You mean some sort of beacon?” asked Renie, all but
pressing her nose against the window pane.
“Yes. Some kind of weather-related signal. Did you notice
anything like that when we were outside today?”
“No. But I’m not even sure where we’re looking,” Renie
pointed out. “We were on the other side of the lodge.”
The light went out, or perhaps it was swallowed up by the
thick flakes that blew past the lodge with renewed frenzy.
Renie paced the small room, puffing and scowling. “Nobody
in their right mind would be outside in this weather,” she finally said. “Maybe there’s a ski lift nearby. The storm might
have shorted the wiring.”
“That’s possible.” Judith moved away from the window.
She tensed as she heard muffled voices in the hall, then the
closing of doors. “The OTIOSE gang must be wrapping it