aware of what went on in the world of commerce. She tipped
her head to one side and looked rueful.
“Clevenger was really sharp,” she said. “I’m surprised you
left him to work for OTIOSE.”
“Jim Clevenger was also a jerk,” Ava declared. “He was
extremely hard to work for, not just demanding, but unreasonable and erratic. It was a relief to come to OTIOSE. And
the money was better. At the time.”
Judith made up her mind. She and Renie couldn’t work
on a counter that was covered with cake crumbs. It wasn’t
like blood splatter or gunpowder tattooing. As long as the
body had been moved, there was no evidence to preserve.
She rinsed off the glass plate, brushed the bigger pieces of
cake into a garbage bag, and wiped the counter clean. If
there’d been fingerprints, more were to come. People, even
corporate executives, tended to congregate in the kitchen.
The crime scene was bound to be disturbed. This was a
working kitchen, and Judith had mouths to feed.
“…So much competition in the industry these days,” she
overheard Renie say to Ava. “Which reminds me, what’s
going on with the Alien Tel lawsuit? I did a project for them
last October, and I heard their suits were going up against
your suits in court.”
Ava shook her head, a despairing gesture that sent her
long, dark hair rippling around her shoulders. “I’m keeping
my mouth shut on that one. But you’re right. It’s a matter
of record. The case comes up in superior court next month.”
“It sounded kind of cut-and-dried,” Renie remarked,
96 / Mary Daheim
loading dirty cocktail glasses into the dishwasher. “Alien Tel
likes to call itself ‘An Out of This World Telecommunications
Company,’ but they got caught poaching off of some of
OTIOSE’s microwave towers. Maybe they should have
launched a space satellite instead.”
“They’re small, they’re new, they thought they could get
away with it.” Ava shrugged.
“I heard from one of their p.r. types,” Renie continued,
unwilling to let the topic rest, “that Alien Tel agreed to pay
for usage along with any fines or penalties. But OTIOSE
wants to make a public example of Alien Tel.”
“That’s possible.” Ava had turned her back on Renie and
was putting a couple of empty liquor bottles into the recycling
bin.
“I never heard of Alien Tel,” Judith said, feeling left out of
the conversation. “Are they located around here?”
“Their customer base is mostly east of the mountains,”
Renie replied. “That’s where they butted heads with OTIOSE.
As I recall, one of the towers was up here near the summit.”
Ava didn’t respond directly. “I think we’ve got everything
cleared away,” she said, dusting off her hands. “I’ll make one
last check of the lobby, then I’m heading for bed. Good
night.”
The cousins watched her leave. “Touchy, touchy,” murmured Renie.
“I didn’t think so,” Judith said. “You can’t blame her for
not tattling about a big lawsuit.”
Renie opened the refrigerator door and took out two carrot
sticks and a radish. “It’s no secret, coz. It’s been in the paper.
You know, the business section, which you only use to line
the bird cage. Except you don’t have a bird cage because you
don’t have a bird.”
“I think I call it my mother’s apartment,” Judith remarked
absently.
“Anyway, the whole thing should have been settled out of
court months ago,” Renie went on, popping the radish
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 97
in her mouth. “But OTIOSE refused to deal. The Alien folks
told me it was a personal vendetta.”
Judith, who hadn’t been terribly interested in the court
case, now focused her full attention on Renie. “You mean
Frank Killegrew?”
Renie shook her head. “I mean Gene Jarman. His ex-wife,
Sabine Bristow-Jarman, is the attorney for Alien Tel. He’s
out to get her, and damn the expense. Gene’s not really a
trial attorney, but he’s had some experience and intends to
try the case himself.”
“Killegrew must support the suit,” Judith said, taking one
last look around the kitchen.
“Publicly, yes,” Renie replied, following Judith through the
laundry room to the back stairs. “Now I want to know why
Ava wouldn’t talk.”
“Are you referring to motive?” Judith asked over her
shoulder.
“There’s got to be one, right?” Renie said as they ascended
the stairs. “You got any better ideas?”
Judith made a frustrated gesture with her hands. “That’s
where I feel at a loss. I don’t know these people, and I certainly don’t know anything about the business world.”
The cousins stopped talking as they proceeded down the
hall. It seemed to Judith that an unnatural calm had settled
over the lodge. Not only had the wind died down, but there
were no noises coming from any of the guest rooms. Yet Judith had a feeling that behind the closed doors, none of the
guests were sleeping soundly.
“You forgot your snack,” Renie said after they got to their
own room.
“I lost my appetite,” Judith admitted. “Finding a dead body
on the kitchen counter will do that.”
Judith and Renie decided to sleep in the bathrobes
provided by the lodge. They rinsed out their underwear, then
realized that the garments probably wouldn’t dry in the chilly
room. Renie suggested that they take their things down to
the laundry room and put them in the dryer; Judith
98 / Mary Daheim
told her she wasn’t going back downstairs for a million
bucks.
“There’s no telling what—or who—we’d find this time,”
she said, piling kindling and logs into the fireplace. “Let’s
hang the stuff next to the hearth and hope for the best.”
“I’m game,” said Renie, flopping down on one of the twin
beds and lighting a cigarette. “Gamy, too, if we have to stay
here very long.”
“We can wear the robes and do another load of laundry
tomorrow,” Judith said, wishing Renie hadn’t decided to
smoke just before they retired for the night. “But we only do
it when other people are around.”
“Good thinking.” Renie, who had unearthed a glass ashtray
bearing the imprint of the old Milwaukee Road railway
company, tapped her cigarette. “Bad thinking,” she added.
“About what?” Judith had slipped under the covers and
already had her eyes closed. “I really wish you wouldn’t
smoke in bed.”
“Motive. If Gene’s on the spot, he should have been one
of the victims,” Renie reasoned. “Why kill a lowly staff assistant like Barry?”
“You are watching that cigarette, aren’t you?” Judith
opened one eye.
“Leon Mooney I could understand,” Renie continued. “He
controls the budget. If he went to Gene—or Frank Killegrew—and said ‘The window is closed on wasteful litigation’, then Gene might want him out of the way. But that
would only be a temporary stop-gap. Someone would be
promoted almost immediately, and the funds would still be
cut off.”
“Once when Dan was smoking in bed, he melted his DingDong.” Judith rolled over, her back to Renie.
“Promotions!” Renie exclaimed. “Who’ll get Leon’s job?
Nobody here. It’ll be some assistant vice president from
treasury or accounting.”