The man had no life outside of the job.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Russell said, on the
defensive. “Some of us love our work. Usually.” He shot Max
a dark glance and rubbed the bump on his head.
Judith hadn’t mentioned anything about the weapon that
had presumably killed Leon. With a sidelong look at Max,
she wondered if he’d used it again, and for a more lethal
purpose. But anyone could have used the carving to deliver
a death blow. The last time Judith had seen the soapstone
Eskimo, it had been in the hands of Margo Chang.
The elevator returned; Russell, Margo, Max, and Nadia
got in. The cousins were left alone in the hallway.
“I guess we know where we fit into the scheme of things,”
Judith remarked. “Dead last.”
Renie elbowed Judith. “Don’t say things like that.”
Judith gave a nod. “Okay. I’ll stick to conjecture, guesswork, and speculation. I take it Leon wasn’t married?”
“I don’t think so,” Renie replied as the elevator doors slid
open. “Somewhere along the line I heard he lived with his
mother until she died a year or so ago.”
The doors were about to close when a frantic voice called
from down the hall. Judith quickly pressed the “open” button.
Andrea dashed inside, still in her robe, but with her hair
swept back up on top of her head.
“I heard all the commotion in the corridor,” she said in a
breathless voice. “I decided I’d better not miss out on what
was happening. Did anyone ask where I was?”
No one had, at least not as far as the cousins could recall.
Andrea looked relieved, then disappointed. Judith wondered
if being overlooked was worse than being chastised.
84 / Mary Daheim
“How are you feeling?” Renie asked as the car glided to
the first floor.
“I’ll survive,” Andrea replied, but her voice was listless.
The bar had been reopened in the lobby. Nadia, in fact,
was carrying more bottles in from the dining room.
“I won’t go in the kitchen,” she declared, looking mulish.
“You’ll have to reuse your glasses.”
“I’ll go in the kitchen,” Max volunteered. “I was in ’Nam.
Stiffs don’t scare me.” He stalked out of the lobby, his short
plaid robe flapping around his pajama-clad legs.
“I was in Korea,” Killegrew said in a troubled voice, “but
I don’t think I want to see poor Leon.” He made a faint gesture in the direction of the kitchen. “The only thing is, we
can’t leave him there. We have to eat.”
But Gene Jarman shook his head. “We can’t move the
body. We have to wait for the authorities.” He turned to Judith and Renie, who had managed to squeeze onto one of
the sofas next to Ava. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”
“Only the light switch,” Judith said.
Ward leaned forward from his place on one of the other
sofas that ringed the big coffee table. “Did you say you knew
the chief of police?”
“Ah…” Judith hesitated. “Not personally.” It was more or
less true. Judith had met the chief at various departmental
functions, but she doubted that he would recall to whom
she was attached.
“See here,” Killegrew said, ignoring both Ward’s question
and Judith’s response, “we can’t have a dead body underfoot,
Gene. I don’t care what the rules and regulations are. We’ve
got to keep this ship afloat.”
“Frank,” Gene began, “we can’t take the law into our
own…”
“The law!” Killegrew made a dismissive gesture. “This is
jungle law around here! Some maniac is on the loose, we
can’t get through to the authorities—though I’m sure that
this is only a temporary lapse and service will be re- SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 85
stored promptly—and there’s no way out until the storm
breaks. I’m perfectly willing to take responsibility.”
“I’d like that in writing,” Gene murmured.
“What I propose,” Killegrew continued, “is that we move
poor old Leon down to the basement. There’s a safe behind
the desk here in the lobby. We’ll lock up the so-called
weapon in there. I’ll do it myself, you can watch me. Then
we can restore some semblance of order to this retreat.”
“Oh, Frank!” It was Andrea, bursting into tears. “How can
you? This isn’t normal! This is horrible!”
“Now, now,” urged Killegrew, coming over to pat Andrea’s
heaving shoulders, “there’s no point in going to pieces. The
telecommunications industry has gone through more terrible
times than this—the great blizzard of 1888, the Johnstown
flood, the San Francisco earthquake and fire, the Depression,
a bunch of wars, strikes, antitrust suits, Judge Harold Greene,
and the breakup of the Bell System. It’s just that what’s
happened to us here hits close to home. But bear up, the
train’s still on track. We have to show our mettle. After all,
we’re OTIOSE.”
The rallying cry did not go unheeded. “Here, here!” Ward
Haugland shouted, clapping his hands. “You’re darned
tootin’, Frank. What happened to Barry and now what’s
happened to Leon is pretty danged bad, but let’s face it,
we’ve got a business to run.” Somewhat clumsily, Ward got
to his feet. “Come on, Gene, let’s get Leon out of the way.”
OTIOSE’s corporate counsel held up both hands. “Sorry,
Ward. I won’t be a party to this. It’s not legal.”
Exasperated, Ward turned to Russell. “How about you?”
Russell grimaced. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but
I’m rather…squeamish. I’d rather remember Leon as he was.”
“He was one pretty darned homely little bugger, if you ask
me,” Ward muttered. “I don’t reckon that being dead has
made him look much worse.”
86 / Mary Daheim
Andrea’s sobs grew louder. “I can’t bear it! Shut up, Ward!
I hate you!”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Ward threw up his hands. “I’ll get
Max. He won’t weasel out on me.”
Reluctantly, Gene got to his feet. “I’ll get the weapon. I’ll
wrap it in a towel.”
Killegrew’s expression was uneasy as he watched his
second-in-command and his legal counsel depart. “Did anybody bring a laptop?” he asked.
Margo sneered. “You told us to leave everything at the office except our fertile brains. No distractions, remember?”
“Yes, well…hmm.” Killegrew fingered his jutting chin.
“Maybe that was a mistake. In retrospect, of course. We
might have faxed somebody for help.”
“Using what?” put in Ava. “If the phone lines are down,
so are the fax lines. In case you’ve forgotten, Frank, they use
the same wire.”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” Killegrew snapped, though
his face turned red. “I just thought that with all your gee-whiz
expertise, there might be another way.” He glared at Ava.
She gave the CEO an arch little smile. “I’m afraid not.
We’re helpless. We might as well be living in the nineteenth
century.”
Killegrew turned to Margo. “I hope you’re coming up with
some ideas about how to keep this from the media. I don’t
want a scandal. OTIOSE can’t afford bad press right now.”
“It’s a murder case,” Margo said. “Two murders. There’ll
be an investigation. You can’t hush that up.”
“You damned well better try,” Killegrew growled. “It’s your
job.” It wasn’t just a reminder; it sounded to Judith more like