“What is it?” she asked in a low voice.
Renie swallowed hard. “It’s Leon Mooney. I’m afraid—I’m
really sorry, Andrea—but he’s dead.”
In a flurry of lavender satin, Andrea Piccoloni-Roth collapsed onto the brightly colored Navajo rug.
“It would have been nice,” Renie said as Judith tried to
rouse Andrea, “if they’d included the company medical chief
on this trek. Not to mention their head of security.”
Judith didn’t respond. Her concern was for Andrea, who
was beginning to move, though her eyes were still shut. At
last, the heavy lids fluttered open.
“Oh,” Andrea said in a lifeless voice. “It’s you.”
“Do you want to sit up?” Judith inquired.
Andrea’s eyes, which were a light brown with flecks of
green, wandered around the room “I don’t know. I don’t
care.” She pressed a plump fist to her carefully made-up
cheek. “What happened?” Her voice was hollow.
“We’re not sure,” Judith temporized.
As usual, Renie was less tactful. “Somebody hit Leon
80 / Mary Daheim
on the back of the head with that soapstone carving. I’m
sorry, Andrea, but it looks like he was murdered, too.”
Andrea’s mouth fell open, her eyes bulged, and then she
began to hiccup. It was a struggle, but Judith managed to
raise her to a sitting position.
“Get some water,” she said to Renie.
Renie went off to the bathroom. Andrea’s wide shoulders
were heaving; the hiccups continued. Judith fought to keep
the other woman upright.
Renie, wearing a curious expression, returned with the
water. Andrea tried to drink, sputtered, hiccuped, and finally
choked. The hiccups stopped. “Lord have mercy,” she
whispered, and crossed herself.
The cousins automatically followed suit. “Was Leon a
Catholic?” Judith asked.
Andrea shook her head. The upswept silver hair had come
loose, and strands trailed down her back. “No. But I am.”
“So are we,” Judith replied, hoping the religious affinity
might somehow comfort Andrea. “Would you like to lie
down?”
Together, Judith and Renie got Andrea to her feet and
guided her to the nearest of the twin beds. The room was
almost identical to the one shared by the cousins, except that
the painting was of an alpine meadow, and the photograph
showed the completed lodge.
“What’s happening?” Andrea asked in a frantic voice as
Judith propped an extra pillow from the other twin bed behind her. “Could there be a serial killer loose in these
mountains?”
“I don’t know,” Judith replied in all honesty. “I think we’d
all better watch out for ourselves from now on.”
“Oh, my.” Andrea covered her face with her hands. “I can’t
believe this!” she wailed. “Who would kill a decent little man
like Leon? Or Barry, for that matter. It’s insane!”
Judith sat down on the other twin bed. “If you have an
idea—any idea at all—who’d want to harm them, you
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 81
ought to say so. This situation is getting more than ugly.”
“But I don’t!” Andrea removed her hands, revealing a face
drained of color except for a touch of blush on each cheek.
“This isn’t the Mafia, this is the phone company!”
Neither Judith nor Renie responded immediately. Finally,
Renie spoke up. “The others have to be told. Are you up to
it, Andrea?”
Andrea frowned, appeared to concentrate, then slumped
back against the pillows. “No. In fact, I’d like to be left
alone.”
There was no choice. Judith and Renie went back into the
corridor. They had barely shut the door behind them when
Renie grabbed Judith by the arm. “Coz! That’s not Andrea’s
room! Didn’t you notice that there were no female-type items
anywhere? When I went into the bathroom, there was a
man’s shaving kit.” In her excitement, Renie’s voice had
started to rise. She quickly lowered her tone, and glanced
around to make sure no one had heard her. “There was also
a prescription for allergies,” she whispered. “It was made out
to Leon Mooney.”
Judith usually wasn’t so unobservant. But between the
shock of finding Leon’s body and trying to cope with Andrea,
she simply hadn’t noticed the absence of feminine articles.
“She was wearing makeup,” Judith said, then grimaced.
“You think she was having an affair with Leon? ”
“It’s possible. Men and women possess strange attractions
for each other that are sometimes hard for the rest of us to
fathom.” Renie pointed to the door where they’d gotten no
response. “I’ll bet that’s Andrea’s room. She was in his,
waiting for him. Maybe…” Renie paused and swallowed
hard. “Maybe he was bringing them both a piece of cake.”
“Is Andrea married or divorced?” Judith asked, still marveling at the thought of an amorous Leon Mooney.
“Married,” Renie responded, beginning to pace the corridor. “Her husband, Alan Roth, is an unemployed com- 82 / Mary Daheim
puter genius. You know the type.” Renie raised her eyebrows.
“I know the unemployed part, but the genius eludes me,”
Judith replied just as Ward Haugland poked his head out of
the door directly across from them.
“What’s going on out here?” he demanded, exhibiting
uncharacteristic testiness. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Renie, who disliked being snapped at under any circumstances, turned sharply. “Leon Mooney’s been murdered.
Pleasant dreams, Ward.”
“What?” Ward’s usual drawl was swallowed up in a single
bellow.
Renie had turned her back on the executive vice president,
but perceiving what appeared to be both shock and horror
on his face, Judith took pity. “It’s true, Mr. Haugland. We
found his body in the kitchen about half an hour ago. Do
you think you could tell the others?”
There was no need. Doors were now opening on both
sides of the corridor. Margo, Max, Gene, Russell, Ava, Nadia,
and finally Frank Killegrew all peered out of their respective
rooms.
Ward delivered the bad news, then waited for the cousins
to elaborate. This time, Renie deferred to Judith. “She saw
him first,” Renie declared in a slightly sulky voice.
Judith explained, briefly, if a bit haltingly. The circle of
faces ranged from a distraught Nadia Weiss to a stoic Gene
Jarman. Naturally, Frank Killegrew assumed command.
“Let’s go down to the lobby,” he said, his usually broad
shoulders slumped under a bright blue bathrobe. “Nadia,
call the police. Again.”
“It seems the phone lines are down,” Renie said, not
without a trace of satisfaction. “It’s too bad you don’t have
underground wiring up here.”
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.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 83
“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?