always so nicely shined.”
Gene frowned at both women. “Let’s skip the sidebar
comments.” He turned back to Judith. “Tell us exactly what
you found near the body.”
Judith listed the items. “That’s how we knew who it was.”
Suddenly she gazed around the room with a dumb-founded
expression on her face. “I still have those things in my purse.
Why didn’t any of you ask about them?”
“I thought we did,” Killegrew said. “Nadia, didn’t I tell
you to recover them?”
Nadia gave a little start. “Did you? Goodness, I must have
forgotten. I was so upset.”
“Do you want me to get them now?” Judith asked. “They’re
in my room.”
“Later,” said Killegrew. “Let’s get on with it.”
Gene Jarman did, posing another thirty or so questions,
most of which Judith didn’t find relevant to the case. At last,
he moved on to the discovery of Leon Mooney’s body. There
was much less to tell, and Jarman concluded by asking Renie
why she’d turned on the kitchen lights.
Renie was miffed. “The better to see him with? Jeez, it
92 / Mary Daheim
was pretty dark in there. Did you want us tripping over poor
old Leon?”
“My point,” Gene said painstakingly, “is that the killer
might have turned the lights off. It’s very likely that you
smudged important fingerprints.”
Renie’s face fell. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.”
Ava had gotten to her feet. “Are we done?” she asked in
a tired voice. “It’s late, and I don’t know about the rest of
you, but I’m beat.”
Gene didn’t look pleased. “We haven’t gone over any of
our whereabouts after the meeting tonight. I think we should
get that down while everything is fresh in our minds.” He
glanced at Nadia. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Nadia replied, though she appeared haggard. “I’m
certainly glad I haven’t forgotten my shorthand.”
“All right,” Killegrew sighed. “Let’s go around the room.
It shouldn’t take long.”
“Let’s start,” Gene began a bit ponderously, “by asking
who saw Leon last.”
No one spoke. Glances were exchanged, throats were
cleared, and drinks were sipped, but nobody responded. Finally, Max Agasias broke the silence.
“He was sitting on that ottoman, the last I remember,”
Max said, pointing to the empty green leather footstool near
the hearth.
Everyone followed his gaze, fixated on the spot as if they
could see the ghost of Leon Mooney.
“He went up in the elevator with me,” Margo finally said.
“You were there, too, Russell. Don’t you remember?”
“Was I? Did he?” Russell stared vaguely at the fireplace.
“Yes,” Margo continued. “We were the last to leave the
lobby. Leon’s so quiet that sometimes we don’t notice him.
Or didn’t,” she added in a softer tone.
“I saw him last.” Andrea held her head high. “We’d
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 93
decided to share another piece of that delicious angel food
cake.”
Everyone stared, and someone snickered. Judith thought
it was Margo. “He went back down almost immediately,”
Andrea said, ignoring the stares and the snicker. “I suppose
that was around ten-thirty-five.”
Another silence followed. The wind no longer howled in
the chimney, and the room was very still. Judith turned to
look outside. She could see nothing but blackness. Perhaps
the storm was finally passing.
“I went right to bed,” Max finally said.
“So did I,” Margo asserted.
“Me, too,” Ward chimed in.
“What else was there to do?” Nadia asked, though she
darted a quick look at Andrea.
“It’d been a long day,” Gene allowed. “I headed straight
for the tub.”
“I read for a few minutes,” Ava said, pulling up the high
collar of her flannel nightgown. “Then I watched the storm
through the window.”
“I went over my notes for tomorrow’s session,” Killegrew
recalled. “We start at nine, with breakfast at eight.”
To Judith’s surprise, no one protested the announcement.
Nadia, however, sagged in her place on the sofa. “I haven’t
checked the food supplies,” she said in apology. “I’m not
sure what…”
“We’ll do the meals,” Judith volunteered. “We might as
well make ourselves useful.”
“Thank you!” Nadia’s slim shoulders slumped in relief.
“Ordinarily, it would be no problem, but so much has
happened, and it’s getting so late, and I…”
“Now, now,” Killegrew said, “don’t be so hard on yourself.
Even I can put a piece of toast in the breader. I mean, bread
in the toaster. Ha-ha!”
The few responding laughs were feeble. As before, Killegrew led the first elevator flight, with Ward, Gene, and
94 / Mary Daheim
this time, Margo. Ava had held back, taking Nadia by the
arm. The two women spoke briefly, then Nadia joined the
others by the elevator.
“She’s worn out,” Ava said in a low voice. “I told her I’d
clean this stuff up. I’m kind of wired anyway.”
“I thought you were tired,” Renie said.
Ava watched Russell, Nadia, Andrea, and Max get into
the elevator. “I am, but I don’t think I could sleep. It just
didn’t seem to me that we were getting anywhere. Gene’s
first idea was better. What’s the point in asking all these
questions? This isn’t a game of Clue, it’s real life.”
“You’re right,” Judith noted as the three women began
collecting the dirty glasses. “Nobody has a real alibi. But of
course they didn’t mention what happened a year ago. Do
you remember much about it?”
Ava used her shoulder to open the dining room door. “You
mean that Friday afternoon when we presume Barry must
have been killed? I’ve certainly been thinking about it. The
problem is, it didn’t seem important at the time. It’s all kind
of fuzzy now.”
Entering the kitchen, Ava stopped on the threshold. Her
face tightened, the strong, handsome features locked in what
might have been grief or horror or both.
“Damn!” she breathed. “You say you found Leon slumped
against that counter?”
“That’s right.” Judith gestured at the dessert plate where
angel food cake crumbs lay scattered on the cold marble
counter.
“Horrible.” Ava took a couple of slow, deliberate steps into
the kitchen. “How ruthless—and reckless—can a killer get?
It’s absolutely terrifying.” Her smooth, nut-brown skin took
on a sallow tinge as she clutched at her throat. “Sometimes
I wonder why I ever went to work for OTIOSE.”
“Where were you before this?” Judith inquired, wondering
if she dared sweep up the cake crumbs.
“WaCom,” Ava replied, making an obvious effort to
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 95
calm herself. “I’d been there since it was founded back in the
mid-’80s by Jim Clevenger, one of the computer boy wonders. Four years ago Frank Killegrew made me an offer I
couldn’t refuse.” Ava’s expression was cynical. “If I’d stayed
at WaCom, I’d probably be president now. As you may
know, Jim died in a skiing accident last winter.”
Judith vaguely recalled the news story, which had made
page one of the local papers. Renie, however, was more