Russell Stover’s chocolate almost as much as she loved
eggnog.
“I certainly hope you can quit smoking when the weight’s
off,” Judith said darkly. “God knows, it was tough for me to
give it up.” Her dark eyes strayed to the open cigarette pack
Renie had left on the counter.
“I will,” Renie said complacently. “I’ll do it for Lent.”
Judith was about to mention the chocolate bunnies when
the cousins heard a commotion in the dining room. Renie
remained in place, but Judith went to see what was going
on.
At first, she thought it was a food fight. Then she realized
that only two people were involved: A plump, pretty woman
with upswept silver hair had just thrown a handful of raddicchio salad at Margo Chang. The white wine vinegar dressing
and the hand-shredded magenta leaves clung to Margo’s flat
chest.
“Now, now,” said a jovial voice. Judith recognized the
speaker. She had seen Frank Killegrew’s picture in the
newspaper often enough to realize that he was the broadshouldered, balding man in the well-cut charcoal suit who
had a slide rule next to his place setting. “We’re steering
26 / Mary Daheim
this ship on a steady course. Let’s not get personal, ladies,”
Killegrew urged good-naturedly.
Margo whirled on Killegrew, who was seated two places
down the table on her left. “I’m not a lady! I’m a person!”
“You’re a slut!” the silver-haired woman shouted, plump
shoulders shaking with wrath.
“That’s kind of mean,” said a tall, lean man on the woman’s right. “Couldn’t we all sort of simmer down?”
“Why should we?” demanded a handsome woman who
looked as if she might be Samoan. “Don’t we come on these
retreats to air our differences?”
“Now, now,” Killegrew repeated, though not quite so
jovially, “we don’t have that many differences. We’re a team,
a seaworthy crew.” The gray eyes suddenly took on a steellike
quality as he gazed at the silver-haired woman. “Andrea, pull
yourself together.” His gaze shifted to Margo. “You’d better
clean up, what do you say?”
Margo said nothing, but got up from the table, threw her
napkin onto the floor, and marched past Judith to the kitchen.
Judith followed.
“Hi, Margo,” Renie said, revealing only a flicker of astonishment at the spray of salad on the other’s woman’s chest.
“How’s it going?”
Margo glared at Renie. “Terrible! Andrea Piccoloni-Roth
is such a bitch that I can hardly stand to be in the same room
with her! See what she did?”
“Owie!” Renie said in a sympathetic tone. “That’s an oil
base. You’d better not try to spot it or it’ll set and stain.”
“I know,” Margo replied. “I’ll have to change. For now, I
just want to scrape off the garbage.” She went to the big
enamel sink and carefully began removing the raddicchio
from her pinstripe coat dress.
“Basically, I went with your colors for the corporate logo,”
Renie said. “I only tweaked them a little. You’ve got a good
eye, Margo.”
“You can’t go wrong with black on red,” Margo replied,
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 27
grimacing as she took in the damage to her outfit. “You did
keep that concept, didn’t you?” Her almond eyes pinioned
Renie.
Renie, however, seemed unperturbed. “I reversed it. TIOSE
isn’t a firefighting unit, it’s a telecommunications company.
You use a red background, you’re stuck with it for everything.
It’s too hot, it lacks class. Black is much more versatile. You’ll
like it when you see it. Your basic colors were a great idea.”
If Margo was taken aback, she didn’t show it. “Okay, we’ll
see. I still think red is vivid and eye-catching. I’ve got Ward
Haugland’s vote on that. Max Agasias is in my corner, too.”
Renie chuckled softly. “I didn’t realize it was a democratic
process.”
Margo’s smooth skin darkened. “It should be.” With great
in thirty minutes,” she said to Renie. “I hope you’re ready.”
Renie smiled and inclined her head. Margo left the kitchen.
Judith started putting the puff pastry on dessert plates.
“She’s dangerous, coz,” Judith said. “Don’t these people
scare you?”
“Not anymore. I don’t know what went on out there in
the dining room, but I’d guess that one or more of them was
acting like a big brat. That’s what they are—spoiled children.
You have to treat them like that. Let them have their little
tantrums and allow them to show off a bit and give them an
occasional ego-massage. Then yank the chain. Every so often,
they have to get a dose of reality. If they don’t like it, I peddle
my wares someplace else.”
Judith didn’t try to hide her admiration of Renie. “You
don’t worry about losing clients?”
Renie shook her head. “That’s bound to happen. But the
marketplace is vast these days. If I lose somebody, two more
pop up. Besides, I don’t intend to lose this bunch.
28 / Mary Daheim
Unless,” she added with a little laugh as she reached for another cigarette, “they die on me.”
It didn’t occur to Judith that Renie’s little joke might not
be so funny.
THREE
AS SHE’D PREDICTED, Renie’s presentation went well. “There
were the usual glitches,” Renie reported to Judith three hours
later, “and of course they got to arguing among themselves.
But Killegrew still has the last word, and he seemed very
pleased.”
Judith gave Renie’s shoulder a congratulatory pat. “Good
for you, coz. I was worried, especially after that scene in the
dining room.”
“You can tell me about that now,” Renie said, opening a
duffel bag and pulling out a pair of old slacks and a Georgetown University sweatshirt. “I didn’t want to know about
it before I went onstage. It might have distracted me.”
While Renie changed, Judith recounted what she knew of
the incident between Margo Chang and Andrea PiccoloniRoth. “Mr. Killegrew took charge, and everything sort of
calmed down. There was another man who intervened, a
tall, lean guy with a faint drawl.”
“Ward Haugland,” Renie said promptly. “He’s the executive vice president, remember?”
Judith did, vaguely. “The only other one who spoke up
was a woman who looked as if she was Samoan. I guessed
her to be Ava Aunuu.”
“Exactly.” Renie slipped into thigh-high boots.
29
30 / Mary Daheim
“Ava’s a computer whiz. Frank Killegrew raided her from
one of the big computer companies about four years ago and
immediately made her a vice president. She’s only in her
thirties, but I’ve been told that she’s the person most responsible for bringing OTIOSE up to speed in terms of technology.
Frank’s strictly from the old school of
engineering. That’s
why he keeps his trusty slide rule at his side. I don’t think
he’s figured out how to use a computer, let alone apply the
new technology to modern communications.”
Judith only half-heard Renie’s comments. It was a quarter
after four, and she was taking final inventory of the foodstuffs
she’d arranged for the rest of the weekend.
“Just before we leave, I’ll set up the supper buffet,” Judith
said, removing the soiled apron she’d worn since arriving at
the lodge. “They plan to eat at seven, right?”
“Yes.” Renie reached for her cigarettes, saw Judith’s disapproving glance, and began to nibble for the first time. A slice
of peach, a chunk of cantaloupe, and a plump strawberry
seemed to satisfy her. “Right now, they’re taking a breather,
then they’ll gather for cocktails around six. You’ve got chafing dishes, so you can put the hot food out around six-thirty.
Then we can head home.” Renie yawned and stretched.
“Sounds good to me,” Judith said. “Is there any reason why
we can’t have a look around now?”
Renie considered. “We probably shouldn’t go upstairs
where the guest rooms are located. But we could snoop
around the main floor. Oh, when I carted all my presentation
materials back to the car, the clouds had lifted, and you could
see the mountains. It’s beautiful outside.”
“Great,” Judith said, putting on the dark red three-quarter
coat Joe had given her for Christmas. “Let’s have a look before it starts getting dark.”
The cousins went out through the dining room, where Judith had cleared away the luncheon debris and reset the table
for the buffet supper. In the lobby, they paused to
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 31
examine some of the art works more closely. There were
soapstone carvings, Native American masks, and a few pieces
of jade, which were kept under glass. The only painting was
a large, rather abstract mountain scene hanging above the
big stone fireplace.
Judith smiled wistfully when she saw the swirling signature
in the lower left-hand corner. “It’s a Riley Tobias,” she said
to Renie. “Doesn’t that bring back a few memories?”
Renie, however, made a face. “Not good ones, seeing how
we found him dead next door to the family cabin.”
Judith inclined her head in assent. “His art lives on, though.
He did some wonderful work at one time.”
“Let’s skip the body count,” Renie said. “You and I have
had our share of stiffs over the years.”
It was true. But Judith rarely marveled at her encounters
with premeditated death. She was married to a homicide
detective; she was engaged in a business which brought together all sorts of people, with all kinds of passions and
quirks; she had a natural curiosity and a penchant for the
unusual; she lived in a violent world. To outsiders, her daily
routine of personal and professional domesticity should have
invited calm. But coping with husbands, children, relatives,
in-laws, neighbors, and friends brought not only joy but
conflict. And the B&B guests ran the gamut from amiable to
zany. If Judith didn’t exactly live life in the fast lane, she was
accustomed to traveling a bumpy road with unexpected detours.
“Here’s the library,” Renie said, standing in the doorway
of a room off the far side of the lobby. “It’s nice.”
Judith agreed. Unlike the rest of the lodge, the room was
paneled in knotty pine. Tall, open bookcases reached almost
to the ceiling. With her librarian’s eye, Judith took in the
collection, from some of the classics to the latest best-sellers.
There was also a combination game-and sunroom, which
faced what was probably a terrace when the snow melted.
32 / Mary Daheim
Renie showed Judith the main conference room, though it
lay in darkness and they couldn’t find the lightswitch.
“You get the idea,” Renie said dryly. “Chairs, tables, a
viewing screen, sound system, etc. Seen one big conference
room, seen ’em all.” She started to close the double doors.
Judith put one hand on Renie’s arm and signaled with the
other for her cousin to be silent. A faint rustling noise could
be heard from somewhere deep within the room.
Renie’s face puckered with curiosity as she stared at Judith.
The rustling stopped, only to be replaced by what sounded
like heavy breathing. Transfixed, the cousins waited.
At last, there was silence. Renie slowly and quietly shut
the doors. “What was that?” she whispered. “People? An
animal? A gas jet?”
“They don’t have gas up here,” Judith murmured. “It’s all
electric. Whatever it is, I don’t think it wants to be interrupted.”
“OTIOSE sex?” Renie put a hand over her mouth to stifle
a giggle. “Why in the big conference room? These people
have private bedrooms, for heaven’s sake!”
“How would I know?” Judith retorted. “You’re the one
who has them all figured out.”
“I’m drawing a blank this time,” Renie admitted. Rapidly,
she opened the doors to the three smaller conference rooms,
including the one where she’d made her presentation.
“Shoot,” she said, espying a folder on the podium. “I must
have forgotten to collect all my stuff.” Hurriedly, she marched
down the aisle between the folding chairs. “This isn’t mine,”
she called back to Judith. “I guess I’ll leave it here. Whoa!”
Judith straightened up from where she’d been leaning in
the doorway. “What is it?”
Staring down at the open folder, Renie shook her head.
“I’m not sure. It’s a list, sort of like a racing form.”
Judith’s curiosity got the better of her. “Let’s see.”
Renie hesitated, then picked up the folder and brought it
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 33
to Judith. “Look. It’s a bunch of names, with comments.
‘Heady Amber—light on her feet; Willy-Nilly—slim, trim,
ready to roll; Algonquin Annie—new to the game.’”
Judith grinned. “You’re right, it’s some sort of handicapping. Which one of your OTIOSE pals plays the ponies?”
“It could be any of them.” Renie closed the folder. “I’ll
leave this on that big coffee table in the lobby. I wonder how
it got up on the podium. I was the last to leave.”
Having completed their exploration of the lodge’s main
floor, the cousins went outside. During the half-hour since
Renie had finished her presentation, the clouds had begun
to settle in again but there were still spectacular views. The
tips of evergreens poking out of the snow looked as if they
had been covered with great dollops of spun-sugar frosting.
The elevation was so high and the mountains so close that
the great peaks loomed above the landscape, their sharp
crags pocketed with new snow.
The afternoon sun apparently had warmed to just above
freezing, for there were signs of thaw. Icicles dripped under
the eaves of the lodge and ice chunks flowed freely
in a creek
that tumbled among big boulders. The footing was just a
trifle soft, forcing the cousins to walk with care.
They followed the creek, not down toward the parking
area, but up a bit where they could see a small waterfall
caught between two large outcroppings of snow-covered
rock. The sun was setting, and the mountains’ long shadows
reached far across the silent world of white.
“This is when I wish I’d learned to ski,” Renie said, puffing
a little with exertion.
“You did try,” Judith responded. “That’s more than I ever
did.”
“I quit after I skied between some tall guy’s legs,” said
Renie, stopping and leaning precariously against a fallen
evergreen limb. “It was up here, at the pass. Gosh, that must
have been thirty-five years ago.”
Judith gazed upward, taking in the majesty of winter.
34 / Mary Daheim
“Doesn’t it seem weird to talk about things that happened
so far back in the past? I remember hearing our mothers
mention things they’d done when they were young and
thinking how old they’d gotten. That was years ago, when
they were a lot younger than we are now.”
Setting her gloved hands on her hips, Renie glowered at
Judith. “What’s with you? Suddenly you’re obsessed with
getting old. For God’s sake, coz, you’re two years younger
than I am, and it never even occurs to me! Besides, we took
a vow. Remember?”
Judith looked puzzled. “What kind of vow? A suicide pact?
Or is it the promise I asked your daughter Anne to make,
that when I got old and impossible like my mother, she’d
put a pillow over my face, slip a Gone with the Wind video
in the VCR, and wait for me to peg out?”
“Jeez!” Renie threw up her hands. “No! It was a few years
ago, when our kids were teenagers, and they were accusing
us of not acting our age. We told them we never would, because we might get older, but we’d never get old.”
“What did the kids say?”
“Who cares? That’s not the point.” Renie began tramping
around in the snow, leaving a circular pattern of foot-prints
between the fallen branch and the tree. “It was our attitude
that mattered. I remember, we looked at each other as if to
say, This is a solemn promise. Except that being solemn
wasn’t part of it. We would always keep our sense of humor
and our slightly screwy perspective on life and uphold the