accidentally knocked over Judith’s shoulder bag. Some of
the contents spilled out onto the floor. Renie let
128 / Mary Daheim
out a little yip. “It’s your pager, you moron! Somebody’s
trying to reach you!”
At that moment, the elevator opened, and Max, Gene, and
Ward entered the lobby. Between them, they were awkwardly
carrying an unconscious Frank Killegrew.
TEN
“HE PASSED OUT upstairs,” Max announced in a tense voice.
“We think he may have had a heart attack.”
Russell, Nadia, Ava, and Margo emerged from the library.
Nadia in particular looked stricken, a thin hand at her throat
and her skin suddenly turning ash-gray. “Not Frank!” she
gasped.
Ava, however, seemed less affected. “Is he dead?” she asked
in a manner that suggested her CEO’s demise wasn’t unappealing.
“No,” Ward responded, as they carefully placed Killegrew
on one of the sofas. “Frank’s going to be just fine. He’s one
tough customer.”
“Really,” Russell squeaked, “if he isn’t, I’d rather be
somewhere else. Terminally ill people upset me.”
“Buck up, Russell,” said Ward. “I’ve seen Helen through
worse crises than this. My wife once had three heart attacks
in one day.”
“I’ll bet,” murmured Margo.
Nadia had rushed to Frank’s side. “Frank! Frank! Wake
up! I’m here, I’ll help, I’ll do anything! Just say something!”
Frank’s eyes remained shut. Nadia started to shake him,
gently at first, then with more vigor. “Frank!
129
130 / Mary Daheim
Please, please, tell me you’re all right! What would I—what
would we—do without you?”
Gene put a hand on Nadia’s shoulder and firmly pulled
her away. “Does anyone know CPR?” he inquired.
“Isn’t that for people who are drowning?” Russell said in
his usual vague tone.
“I’m not certain,” Gene admitted. “We wouldn’t want to
do the wrong thing and have Frank’s heirs sue us.”
“Andrea’d know if she weren’t dead,” Ward murmured.
“Her human resources folks are the ones who handle firstaid classes.”
Judith, who had learned emergency measures to treat
guests, started to speak up just as Killegrew appeared to
come around. “Am I all right?” he demanded, blinking rapidly. “Did someone hit me on the head with an Eskimo?”
“No, Frank, certainly not,” Nadia responded, her slim
shoulders slumping in relief. The antidote to her attack of
nerves appeared to consist of making herself busy. She deftly
poured out a shot of Scotch and offered it to Frank. “Drink
this,” she urged. “It’s a stimulant.”
“It’s Scotch,” Killegrew murmured, but he accepted the
tumbler. “Oh, my God! What’s happening to us? This can’t
be real!” He attempted to sit up; Nadia and Ward each supported his effort.
“What happened?” Judith asked Ward, as the pager went
off again in her purse.
No one seemed to hear the sound. “We were sort of moseying around Andrea’s room, checking things out—without
touching, mind you,” Ward added with a quick glance at
Gene Jarman, “and then we finally decided we’d better have
a look at that pillowcase. Gene allowed as how it probably
would be okay as long as we sort of held it up by the corners.
Sure enough, there were some marks on it—kind of a reddish
one and sort of a blackish one. When Frank saw that, he just
keeled over.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Killegrew grumbled. “My entire
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 131
staff is being wiped out!” Regaining his usual jocund manner,
he gave Margo a belligerent look. “If I knew which one of
you was doing this, I’d use that gun of yours and take matters
into my own hands!”
“If you knew,” Margo said between clenched teeth, “I’d let
you.”
Nadia was leaning into Killegrew. “Are you all right? You
shouldn’t get so upset. It’s bad for your digestion.”
“Screw my digestion,” Killegrew growled. Then he put a
hand on his chest. “If I had a heart attack, I’m over it.
Whatever it was, nobody can blame me for a collapse.” He
glanced at Ward. “You’re right. I’m one tough customer.
Everybody knows that Frank Killegrew is fit as a fiddle and
still captain of the good ship OTIOSE!”
“Yes, sir,” Ward replied with a crooked grin. “I mean, aye,
aye.” He saluted his superior.
“I think,” Gene said slowly, “that one of us has to try to
get out of here and seek help.”
“How?” Margo demanded with a sneer. “The good ship
OTIOSE doesn’t have wings.”
“I looked outside from upstairs,” Gene went on, ignoring
Margo. “The snow is letting up and the wind is down. There
are skis in this lodge. There might even be a snowmobile
around here someplace. If we could dig a path from one of
the entrances, we could get somebody out. Who skis besides
Frank?”
“I do,” Ward responded, “but it’d take hours to shovel the
snow away from the doors.”
“If a path can be cleared, I can get out of here,” Ava volunteered. “I ski, so does Margo.”
Margo was still sneering. “It’s at least a mile to the highway. The snow’s covered all the landmarks. We’d get lost.
Count me out, I’m not going on any suicide mission.”
Russell quivered. “Don’t use that word.”
“Put a sock in it, Russell,” Margo snapped. “Andrea didn’t
commit suicide. She was murdered. Just like everybody else.”
All of Margo’s bravado evaporated, and she
132 / Mary Daheim
swayed slightly, but caught herself on the mantelpiece.
“At least we could try,” Gene persisted. “This situation has
gotten completely out of control.”
“You might say that,” Ward said, acknowledging the understatement.
“Accidents,” Killegrew muttered. “We’ll say they were accidents.”
“For Chrissake!” Max burst out. “Are you talking about a
coverup? That’s crazy, Frank!”
“Let’s talk about it,” Ward said in a calm voice. “It’s about
time we considered damage control.”
“Holy cats!” Renie said under her breath. “Let me out of
here. I can’t listen to this bilge.” She stomped off to the library.
Judith followed, closing the door behind her. “Killegrew
can’t be serious,” she said.
Renie had flopped into a leather wingback chair. “Yes, he
can. You’d be shocked by the things that CEOs and other
executive types think they can get away with. Have you forgotten Watergate?”
“This is far worse,” Judith asserted, sitting down in the
mate to Renie’s chair. “People are being murdered. If they
attempt a coverup, the killer will go free.”
Renie rolled her eyes. “You still don’t get it, do you? The
people—excuse me, the persons in the corner offices don’t
think like the rest of us. They live by a different set of rules
and ethics. Try looking at it from Frank’s point of view. If
they get out of here with most of them still alive, and can
actually pass off the three deaths as accidents, then allowing
the murderer to go unscathed is a small price to pay to preserve not only OTIOSE’s public image, but the company itself. The others would keep their mouths shut in order to
keep their jobs. That’s the way it works—or can—on the