downstairs and smoke a lot.”
Judith started to trudge after Renie to the elevator, then
called to her cousin to wait up. “Leon—we forgot about him.”
220 / Mary Daheim
“He’s eminently forgettable,” Renie responded. “Alas, poor
Leon.”
The room was unlocked. The bed, where Andrea had
waited for the man who never came to share his angel food
cake, was still in disarray. The extra pillow, which Judith
had put behind Andrea’s head, remained in place.
The only difference was that Nadia Weiss was lying on
the spare bed, and she was obviously quite dead.
SIXTEEN
“THIS…CAN’T…BE…happening,” Judith gasped.
Renie was stunned. She neither spoke nor moved, but
simply stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Nadia with
unblinking eyes.
“Coz…” Judith began, but also found herself at a loss for
words.
Nadia Weiss lay on her side, the right arm extended, the
left curled around her stomach. Her face was contorted and
her stockinged feet dangled over the edge of the bed. She
was fully clothed, though her large-rimmed glasses lay carefully folded on the nightstand.
Judith knew it was useless, but she finally moved closer
and tried to take Nadia’s pulse. “She’s still warm.” Judith let
Nadia’s right arm fall away.
“Of course she’s still warm,” Renie murmured. “We saw
her downstairs not more than an hour ago.”
Judith gazed at the spectacles, then noticed the glass and
the pill bottle. “Good grief! It’s the old sleeping pill trick,
just like Andrea. Or almost,” she added on a more thoughtful
note. “Look, coz.”
Edging closer, Renie’s foot struck something under the
bed. “Hold it—what’s this?” With her toe, she nudged the
obstacle into plain view.
221
222 / Mary Daheim
It was an empty pint of gin. “An added attraction?” Judith
remarked, then turned her attention back to the pill bottle.
“Triclos. ‘Take one capsule before bedtime. Do not mix with
alcohol.’ The prescription is dated last week and made out
by a Dr. Robert Winslow for Nadia Weiss. The pharmacy
is located above downtown, in the hospital district.”
Renie nodded. “Nadia mentioned having her own sleeping
pills, and she told me once that she’s lived forever in one of
those elegant older apartments within walking distance of
downtown. But this time the killer was more thorough.”
Renie pointed to the empty water glass, then to the gin bottle.
“Maybe the stuff’s more lethal if you mix it with booze. The
killer might have known that and added the gin for effect.”
“Maybe.” Judith seemed distracted as she gestured at the
fireplace. “Why light a fire? No one’s staying in this room.”
Renie turned. “That is odd. It’s not much of a blaze,
though. It’s practically out.”
Rushing to the hearth, Judith all but shoved Renie out of
the way. “Look! There’s no sign of a log in the grate. Kindling, maybe—and paper.” She gazed at Renie, who had joined
her in front of the fireplace. “What do you think got burned
in here? Andrea’s files?”
Renie grabbed the poker and leaned down. “There’s not
much left, but I see some charred paper clips and those
metal fasteners that hold files together.” She stood up. “You’re
right, maybe Nadia burned the files.”
“Why?” Judith’s dark eyes scanned the room. “Did she
take them from Andrea’s room? Did they include the socalled hooker files? Look, coz,” she continued, pointing back
to the grate, “there’s not a lot of paper in there. Andrea’s
files were two, three inches thick, which is why we didn’t
take time to go through them.”
“Maybe Nadia only wanted to burn certain incriminating
data,” Renie suggested.
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 223
“Incriminating to whom?” Judith asked, beginning to pace
the small room.
Renie shrugged. “I don’t know. Herself, maybe. Or whoever killed her.”
“This is wrong,” Judith declared, making a slashing motion
with her hand. “This seems all out of kilter.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renie admitted.
“I don’t either. That’s the problem.” Judith bit her lower
lip and scowled.
Renie started for the door. “Shall we go break the latest
bad news?”
Judith shook her head. “Not this time.”
“What?” Renie was flabbergasted.
“No. We’ll go back downstairs, as if nothing’s happened.
Let’s see how the rest of them—what’s left of them—react.”
Renie gritted her teeth. “Okay—if you say so. I’m not much
of an actress.”
“You’ll manage,” Judith said dryly. “Just play dumb. I know
you can do that.”
Upon reaching the game room, the cousins discovered a
fragmented contingent. Max Agasias was furiously hurling
darts at a board on the far wall. Ava Aunuu was lying on
the pool table, crying her eyes out. Gene Jarman, Jr., stood
under mounted elk antlers, chewing on his knuckles. The
rest were nowhere in sight. The big windows that ran along
most of one wall showed nothing but snow, a bleak, suffocating sight.
Of the three who remained in the game room, Gene
seemed the most approachable. “What’s going on?” Judith
asked in a hushed voice.
Gene recoiled as if Judith had slapped him. “Nothing,” he
said sharply. “Nothing you need to know.”
Judith backed off. Renie had gone to Ava, gently prodding
her heaving shoulders.
“Go away,” Ava blubbered. “Leave me alone.”
224 / Mary Daheim
With a puzzled glance for Judith, Renie withdrew. Max
was still throwing darts, going dangerously wide of the target.
Margo entered the lobby from the direction of the women’s
restroom. She looked absolutely furious.
“I hate everybody,” she announced. “I wish I could shoot
you all.” For good measure, she jiggled her suede bag, then
glanced at the elk antlers, as if she were envisioning one of
her co-worker’s heads in the same place.
“There must be a reason for your hostility,” said Renie in
a strange, strangled voice. “You might feel better if you talked
about it.” She turned to Judith, speaking in a whisper. “Do
I sound like Bill?”
“You sound like hell,” Judith shot back. “But go for it.”
Ignoring Renie, Margo stalked past the cousins and went
to the near wall which was decorated with Haida masks and
jewelry. With her back to the others, Margo stood rigidly,
one hand clenching at her side, the other clutching her suede
bag.
“What happened to the buddy system?” Judith murmured.
Renie shook her head. “I don’t know. Who’s missing?
Frank and Russell?”
She’d hardly finished speaking when both men entered
the game room. Frank Killegrew looked distraught and
Russell Craven appeared miserable. Max whirled around,
unleashing a dart that sailed between the two men’s heads.
“We’ve got to calm down!” Killegrew cried, jerking around
to watch the dart land out in the hall. “A mutinous crew can
cause a shipwreck.”
“Sorry,” Max mumbled. “That was an accident.”
Margo turned her head. “The ship has sunk, Frank. Glub,
glub, glub. That was my point. That’s why I’m quitting.