She lighted a cigarette, took a few puffs, blew smoke in
Margo’s direction, remembered the gun, and apologized.
“Sorry, I’m kind of nervous. We don’t bring good news.”
“Oh, my God!” cried Margo. “Is someone else dead?” She
glanced around the room, taking a head count. “We’re all
here,” she announced on a sigh of relief.
“It’s about Andrea,” Renie began, nervously teetering on
the flagstone hearth. “We don’t believe she committed suicide. We think she was smothered with a pillow.”
“My God!” Killegrew seemed incredulous.
“That’s ridiculous,” Gene said with a faint sneer.
“Don’t Catholics go to hell if they kill themselves?” Russell
asked in a mild voice.
“Of course she didn’t kill herself,” Margo asserted. “Andrea
was too tough for that kind of cowardly act. And even if she
and Leon had something going, I wouldn’t exactly call it
grand passion.”
“What would you call it, Margo?” Ava asked with a smirk.
Color crept into Margo’s plain face. “What do you mean?
All I’m saying is that Leon was probably looking for a substitute mother. Andrea had a maternal air, I’ll give her that.
But she’d never do anything to ruin her marriage. Hanging
on to Alan Roth was her priority.” A note of bitterness had
surfaced in Margo’s voice.
“That’s because she was a Catholic,” Russell said doggedly.
“They don’t divorce, either.”
“Bull,” snapped Margo. “It’s because she didn’t want anybody else to have Alan.”
“Now, now,” Killegrew injected. “Let’s stop boring holes
in this ship’s hull.” He gazed up at Renie from his place on
the sofa. “Excuse me, but I don’t see where your opinions
come into this situation.”
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Gene was on his feet. “I don’t see how you came to this
conclusion, Ms. Jones.” He turned to Judith. “I assume this
was actually your idea, Ms. Flynn?”
“Well, yes,” Judith admitted as all eyes turned in her direction. With scrupulous attention to detail, she went over her
reasoning. “The pillow is the key,” she said after enumerating
her deductions. “If you turned it over,” Judith said directly
to Gene, “I suspect you’d find traces of lipstick and other
makeup on the pillowcase.”
Nadia blanched at the implied violence. “That’s awful!
Who would do such a thing?”
All eyes avoided Nadia. “We could check,” Gene said, his
usual self-confidence slipping a notch.
“Then do it,” Killegrew ordered. “We’ll all go this time.”
He stood up. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“No!” Nadia cried. “I’m not going back to that room!”
“Neither am I,” Ava declared.
“Dead people make me throw up,” Margo asserted.
“I’m squeamish,” said Russell.
In the end, Killegrew, Gene, Max, and Ward headed upstairs. The others retreated into the library, apparently in
search of a different venue. Judith had tried to prod Renie
into joining the upstairs contingent, but there wasn’t room
for a fifth person in the elevator. Renie suggested that she
and Judith take a look at the room later.
“How do we get in?” Judith asked, putting another log on
the fire.
“Good question,” Renie replied. “Ava said Andrea’s door
wasn’t locked when she and Nadia went up there this
morning. As far as we know, the key is still in Andrea’s room.
I assume someone will look for it now. We’ll have to ask.”
“With Gene on hand, they won’t search the place,” Judith
pointed out. “Which means they’ll have to leave the door
unlocked.”
“Good point,” said Renie, taking a cigarette from her
126 / Mary Daheim
purse and indicating the bottles on the coffee table. “Dare
we?”
“At ten A.M.?” Judith gave a little shake of her head.
“It’s ten-thirty,” Renie said dryly. “Anyway, who’s counting? This isn’t exactly a typical Saturday morning in January.”
“It sure isn’t,” Judith began, and then stopped. A strange
buzzing noise sounded from somewhere close by. “What is
that? A timer?”
“It sounds like my new oven,” Renie said. “It beeps at me
when the temperature gets up to whatever I’ve set it for.”
The noise stopped. Judith went to the big front windows,
gazing out at the snow. “It’s drifted so that I can hardly see
anything,” she said. “I wonder how much fell during the
night.”
“Three, four feet maybe? Can you tell if it’s still snowing?”
“Not from this part of the lodge,” Judith responded, glancing toward the big windows where the snow had piled up
almost to the top frame. “I don’t suppose I dare open the
door.”
“I wouldn’t.” Renie finished her cigarette and threw it into
the grate. “It’s sure quiet around here. At least it is between
murders.”
But the quiet was broken by the buzzing noise. Judith came
back to the sofa, a puzzled expression on her face. “Is it a
clock? The electrical system? An intercom?”
The cousins gazed around the lobby. There was nothing
to suggest what had caused the sound. “Maybe it came from
one of the conference rooms,” Renie offered as the noise
stopped again. “Somebody might have left a microphone
on.”
Judith didn’t agree. “It’s closer than that. It’s right here,
in this part of the room.”
“Weird.” Renie stared at the collection of bottles. “To
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 127
hell with it,” she said, and reached for a fifth of Canadian
Club. “I’ve had too much coffee and I’m not in the mood
for my usual daily half-gallon of Pepsi.”
“Okay, okay,” Judith sighed. “Pour me some of the Dewar’s
scotch. How’s the ice holding up?”
Renie shot Judith an ironic glance. “I don’t think ice is a
problem around this place, coz. What did you make of
Margo’s comments regarding Andrea and her husband,
Alan?”
“It sounded as if Margo has the hots for Alan Roth,” Judith
replied, examining her fingernails. “Drat, I wrecked a nail
somewhere along the line.” She dug into her shoulder bag
for an emery board, then continued speaking. “That would
explain the flare-up between Margo and Andrea at lunch
yesterday. Just now I got the impression that Margo wanted
to marry the guy. I mean, why else would she care if Andrea
wouldn’t divorce him?”
“Exactly,” Renie agreed. “Margo may be painfully plain,
but she doesn’t seem to have any trouble getting men. A
regular boudoir bawd, goes the rumor mill.”
“She’s not all that plain,” Judith noted, filing her snagged
nail. “She has lovely eyes and perfect skin. Not to mention
a vivid personality.”
“She dresses well, despite the fact she has no figure,” Renie
said, then tensed as the mysterious noise sounded again.
“Damn! What is that? It’s really close by.”
Judith looked all around the sofa where she was sitting.
She dug among the cushions, feeling deep into the sides and
back. “Maybe somebody dropped something down here,”
she said, her voice muffled.
Renie was on her hands and knees, searching under the
sofas, chairs, and coffee table. “I don’t see anything. Maybe
we should get that flashlight.” She started to stand up and