what level. Second link—each other. They knew each other.”
“Hold it.” Judith gestured with her soda can. “That’s not
precisely true. Barry worked for two different departments,
human resources and public relations. Except for his occasional catering jobs and driving the conferees to the lodge
last year, how would the others have known him? Russell
doesn’t even seem to remember Barry.”
“Russell’s a dreamer,” Renie responded. “People aren’t
important to him, only ideas matter. A week from now,
Russell won’t remember us. As for the others, Barry would
have had contact with all of them. Human resources and p.r.
deal with all the other departments. He certainly knew Nadia,
and therefore, no doubt came into contact with Frank and
Ward.”
“The files,” Judith murmured. “Andrea’s personnel files
have disappeared—according to Max—and there must be
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 209
a reason.” She set down the soda can and clapped her hands.
“That’s it! That’s the link! Barry and Andrea worked in human resources. Andrea had all the dirt. Barry loved dirt, he
traded bits of gossip. As a staff assistant, wouldn’t he have
access to her files?”
Renie nodded. “To her official files, yes. But Andrea may
have had CYOA files, too. She may have kept them in a safe
place.”
Judith looked blank. “What’s a CYOA file?”
Renie grinned. “It stands for ‘Cover Your Own Ass,’ excuse
my French. It’s anything you keep that you can use to protect
yourself or hold over someone else. It can be as simple as a
phone message you received from somebody who might later
deny they called you. Or it can be photographs of your CEO
in bed with a donkey.”
Judith’s excitement returned. “That’s good. That’s great.
Like I said, the files are the link.”
“Maybe.” Renie was definitely dubious. “How do they link
up with Ward and Leon?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but they must,” Judith insisted.
Renie finished her Pepsi. “Sleep on it. I’m tired, let’s turn
out the lights.”
Judith regarded Renie with wonderment. “You’re not
afraid?”
“You’re the one who dreamed up our insurance policy.”
She glanced at Judith with alarm. “Don’t tell me you think
it lapsed?”
“So far, so good.” But Judith got up and started moving
one of the two armchairs to the door. “Just in case the policy
expires,” she said with a sickly smile. “And to make sure that
we don’t.”
“What about the windows?” Renie asked.
Judith glanced across the room. “They’re latched from the
inside. We’re okay. Oh!” She put a hand to her head. “Which
is another reason why an outsider couldn’t have gotten in.”
210 / Mary Daheim
Renie went to one of the windows and jiggled the catch.
“It wouldn’t take much to break this. Besides, we don’t know
what the third-floor windows are like.”
“Forget it,” Judith said with finality. “It’s after eleven, you’re
right, we’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”
Renie was still fiddling with the window catch. “Let’s take
turns sleeping.”
“Fine. You stay up first. Wake me around eight.” Judith
got into bed.
“To hell with it.” Renie got into bed, too.
The cousins slept.
They were awakened by an explosion. Judith jumped up,
got entangled in the bedclothes, and struggled to free herself.
Had someone set off a bomb? She panicked, but finally
managed to extricate herself and looked in every direction.
Renie was wrestling with the pillow, trying to cover her
head. “Stupid Bulgarians,” she muttered. “Why are they always working on their damned condos across the street?
Why don’t they build something back home in Blagoevgrad?”
Judith was at the door, shoving the armchair out of the
way. “Wake up, you’re not on Heraldsgate Hill, you’re at
Mountain Goat Lodge.” As she cautiously opened the door,
another explosion sounded. “It’s outside. What now?” She
rushed to the windows, then gaped. “It’s raining! Maybe that
was thunder!”
“It’s the Bulgarians,” Renie repeated, her voice muffled by
the pillow. “Ignore them and go back to sleep.”
Judith ignored Renie. A glance at her watch told her it was
just after seven-thirty. The morning was very gray, with rain
pelting the snow. Judith waited for a flash of lightning, but
heard only another loud, shuddering noise.
“That’s not thunder,” she said. “What could it be?”
Renie finally removed the pillow and struggled to sit up.
“Damn. You’re determined to annoy me.” She rubbed her
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 211
eyes, yawned, and stretched. “Okay, you win. What explosions?”
Judith turned away from the window. “Didn’t you hear
them?”
Renie yawned again. “I heard something, or else I wouldn’t
be awake. I told you, it sounds like the Bulgarians across the
street from our house. They’re always renovating or adding
on or digging up or tearing…”
A fourth explosion interrupted Renie. “That’s not the
Bulgarians,” Judith declared.
“Probably not,” Renie agreed, cocking her head. “It’s the
avalanche crew.”
Judith was startled. “What avalanche crew?”
“You said it’s raining?” Renie yanked back the covers and
sat on the edge of the bed. “Then it’s gotten much warmer
during the night, which, after a heavy snowfall, means there’s
an avalanche danger. To prevent disasters, the crews set off
explosions to break up the snow. I thought everybody knew
that.”
“If I did, I’d forgotten,” Judith murmured, moving away
from the windows. “Great—now the roof will cave in. What
next, plague and locusts?”
“Floods,” Renie responded. “Maybe fires.” She reached for
a cigarette.
“Oh, no! Not this early!” Judith railed. “Haven’t you run
out of those things yet?”
Renie shook her head. “I brought a whole carton with me.
Why do you care? Your mother still smokes. Joe has his cigars. What’s wrong with Little Renie’s little weedies?”
“They stink,” Judith retorted, waving away a cloud of
smoke. “Mother shouldn’t smoke. She’s so forgetful, but
when I try to talk to her about it, she gets ornery. The last
time I caught her putting a lighted cigarette in her housecoat
pocket, she pulled it out and tried to stick it in Sweetums’s
mouth. I swear I saw Sweetums inhale.”
212 / Mary Daheim
“Ghastly,” Renie remarked, puffing away. “Are we doing
breakfast?”
“Not for them,” Judith said, jerking a thumb in the direction
of the corridor. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m tired of waiting
on those spoiled brats.”
“There might be fewer of them this morning,” Renie noted
with an ominous look.
“Don’t say that,” Judith shot back. Suddenly she went back
to the window. “Look,” she called to Renie, “the snow outside
the sill has melted a good four or five inches. Do you think
we might get out of here today?”
“Not if there are avalanche warnings,” Renie replied,
stubbing out her cigarette and heading for the bathroom.
“They’ll close the pass. They always do.”
As soon as Renie disappeared, Judith opened both windows to air out the room. The explosions had stopped. Judith