executives, we’re used to being independent and going our
separate ways.”
“No teamwork, huh?” said Renie. “Every man—sorry, every
person—for him or herself.”
“Well,” Ava said lamely, “we do tend to think mostly in
terms of our own departments. You have to. Otherwise,
you’d get shortchanged on personnel, budget, even floor
space and office equipment.”
“Don’t I know it?” Max muttered, starting back into the
corridor. “As Frank would say, you have to chart your own
course.”
“But he also says we have to row together,” Ava countered,
following Max down the hall. “When you’re at the top, like
Frank is, you can see the big…”
Renie closed the door. “I can’t stand another word of that
crap,” she declared. “They’ve got dead bodies all over the
place, the company may be in ruins, they’re all scared out
of their wits—and they still talk the corporate line. It’s sickening.”
Judith wasn’t really listening to Renie. After taking a couple
of bites of her sandwich, she asked her cousin to make sure
the coast was clear in the corridor.
Renie opened the door again. “They’re gone. So what?”
Judith gave Renie a baleful look. “They didn’t lock the
door. Either Max and Ava don’t think we’re dangerous, or
they know we’re not. Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Renie was looking blank.
“The bathroom, remember?” Judith breezed past her
cousin.
“What bathroom? I thought you—oh, never mind.” Renie
trotted behind Judith as they covered the length of the corridor until they reached Leon’s room.
In the struggle to get Killegrew and Russell out of the
242 / Mary Daheim
room and away from Nadia’s corpse, no one had thought
to lock Leon’s door, either. Judith marched right inside,
though Renie lingered briefly on the threshold.
“How many times do we have to view the body?” Renie
asked.
“Avert your eyes,” Judith called over her shoulder as she
went into the bathroom. “At least they already moved Andrea
upstairs.”
With a sigh of resignation, Renie followed. Judith was
pushing back the nylon shower curtain.
“Don’t tell me…” Renie began with a gasp.
Judith shook her head. “No body. Just…the files.”
Several folders covered the empty tub. Judith picked them
up, handing the first batch to Renie. “They had to be somewhere,” Judith said. “It dawned on me that along with Andrea, Nadia knew Barry Newcombe fairly well. Let’s say that
Barry was privy to some of the items in Andrea’s private
files. He worked for her, didn’t he?”
Renie nodded. “Barry might have snooped. Clerks often
do.”
“Okay. So Barry might have passed something juicy on to
someone else. Why not Nadia? Since he was in the business
of bartering gossip, she’d be a likely client because she’d
know what was happening on the executive floor. Let’s say
Nadia got an inkling that more was to come—except Barry
never got the chance to pass the rest of it on. In the normal
course of events at work, Nadia couldn’t get at Andrea’s
private files. But once Andrea was dead, Nadia seized an
opportunity. That must be who Max saw in the corridor
Friday night. Nadia must have beaten him to the punch by
just a few minutes.”
Renie was looking skeptical. “How did Nadia know Andrea
had those files with her?”
Judith waved a hand. “Andrea was dropping hints, especially about the hooker files. I suspect she was passing tidbits
on to the others as well. Gene and Russell and even
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 243
Nadia were being clobbered with some of that data. It had
to come from somewhere.”
The files were somewhat damp, but otherwise appeared
to be intact. The cousins gathered up the folders and hurried
back to their own room, and this time, they locked the door
from the inside.
“The hooker file!” Renie cried. “It’s right on top!”
“Good,” Judith responded, fingering the tabs on the other
folders. “There are files for each of the conferees, including
Andrea. Does that strike you as odd?”
Renie, however, shook her head. “I’ll bet it’s full of stuff
she heard people say about her. Not true necessarily, but
potentially damaging.”
“Corporate paranoia and skullduggery never cease to amaze
me,” Judith marveled. “Shall we start with Ward? He’s first.”
On a gray, wet January afternoon, what little light there
was began to die away shortly after three o’clock. The cousins
had to turn on the bedside lamps before they completed the
dossiers on Ward, Gene, Nadia, Russell, Max, Margo, Leon,
Ava, and Andrea’s own much slimmer folder. Judith and
Renie had learned very little that they hadn’t already heard.
“So what if Ava had had a youthful, unhappy marriage
before she left Samoa?” Renie shrugged. “Russell collects
dead bugs. Big deal. Margo supposedly slept with everybody.
Naturally, Andrea would want to believe that. Ward’s wife
was an albatross. Andrea had fingered Max for running the
hooker ring. No surprise there, either. I’m getting bored.”
“Leon was devoted to his mother,” Judith said, flipping
through the chief financial officer’s file. “He was very secretive
about his personal and his professional life. Obviously, the
latter was a sore point with Andrea. She’s written a note on
this one page that says, ‘Why can’t he tell me?’ ‘Me’ is underlined three times.”
“They were sleeping together,” Renie said. “Like most
244 / Mary Daheim
women, she probably felt they shouldn’t have secrets from
each other. Like most men, Leon may not have agreed.”
Judith looked up from the file. “There’s a page missing.”
“How can you tell?” Renie inquired. “Most of the entries
are fragmentary.”
“Not all of them.” Judith tapped what appeared to be the
last page in the folder. “Andrea has written what must have
been the equivalent of a teenaged girl’s diary. She goes on
at length about some staff meeting and an independent audit
and how Leon stood up to Frank and refused to be badgered
and acted like—I quote—‘ a real man.’ Then she writes that
Frank brought up the audit later…and that’s it. The sentence
stops, and the last page starts in mid-sentence about how
much Leon liked the annual report cover with the photo of
the sun setting behind the microwave tower.”
“It was a cliché shot, though,” Renie said. “I did some of
the interior graphics for that report and…Whoa! That’s the
end of Leon’s file?”
Judith nodded. “That’s it. Why?”
“Because that was last year’s annual report.” Renie
frowned, then started looking through some of the other
files. “Coz, this is weird. Check the last pages of the other
folders. See if you can tell when the final entries were made.”
Surprisingly, Andrea had been haphazard about dating
her material. Still, Judith could find nothing more recent than
the previous January.
“That’s very strange,” Judith remarked. “Why would she
stop keeping her personal files a year ago?”
Renie had no explanation. “We haven’t gone through
Frank’s,” she pointed out. “Let’s see if his file ends abruptly,