other sofas. “Brandy would be in order,” he said to no one
in particular.
Judith started to bolt out of the room, then looked at
Margo. “May I?” she asked, feeling childlike and stupid.
Margo lowered the gun. “Go ahead. But don’t anybody
forget I won’t hesitate to use this.” She patted the weapon,
then slipped it back into her suede bag.
Renie went into the dining room with Judith, where they
found two half-empty bottles of brandy. “I don’t blame
Margo,” Renie said in a tense voice. “This is absolutely horrible.”
“It sure is,” Judith agreed, gathering up some of the other
liquor bottles and motioning for Renie to get some glasses.
“I’m beginning to feel as anxious to get out of here as Margo
is.”
“At least she’s armed,” Renie said. “I wouldn’t mind having
an AK-47 about now.”
Judith gave a little snort. “You’d be lucky not to shoot
yourself. Or me.”
Giving Judith a hapless look, Renie led the way back into
the lobby. Once again, Gene had taken over the questioning,
but his manner had become slightly more deferential.
No one refused the brandy. Indeed, Killegrew swallowed
his in a gulp, and Nadia inhaled the fumes for such a long
time that Judith thought she’d suck the liquor right up her
nose.
“Let’s begin,” Gene said calmly, “with you, Ava. You
116 / Mary Daheim
mentioned that Andrea’s door was unlocked?”
“It was.” Ava gave a short, grim nod. “We knocked, of
course, but she didn’t respond. We thought maybe she was
in the bathroom, so we went in.” Ava hesitated, lifted her
chin, and continued. “Andrea was in bed, and we assumed
she was asleep.”
“What did you do then?” Gene asked quietly.
Ava glanced at Nadia, as if for confirmation. “I called to
her. Nadia had stayed in the doorway.”
“And?” Gene prompted.
“Nothing. I knew Andrea was upset about Leon,” Ava went
on, speaking more rapidly, “so I thought maybe she’d taken
something to help her sleep and was really out of it. Frank
was anxious to start the meeting, so I went to the bed and
gave Andrea a little shake. I couldn’t rouse her. Then I saw
the pill bottle and the note.”
Gene cleared his throat. “Let’s back up a moment, please.”
He turned to Nadia, whose eyes seemed to have grown as
large as the big glasses she wore over them. “Does this account agree with what you recall so far?”
“Yes.” Nadia’s voice was toneless.
“All right.” Gene offered Ava a slight smile of encouragement. “Do you have the note with you?”
Ava shook her head. “I remembered what you said last
night about not touching anything. I left it on the nightstand.”
“What did it say?”
Ava swallowed hard. “It said, ‘Leon, I’m coming to join
you.’”
“Did you recognize Andrea’s handwriting?”
“Not really,” Ava admitted, “but Nadia did. She’d come
all the way into the room when she saw I had trouble waking
Andrea.”
Gene turned again to Nadia. “You’re certain it was Andrea’s writing?”
“Yes,” Nadia answered, still without inflection. “I’ve
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seen it many times. She often sent Frank handwritten notes.”
“What did you do next?” Gene asked Ava.
Ava put a hand to her forehead. “I’m not sure. I think we
both realized at the same time that Andrea was dead. We
ran out of the room and came down here.”
Gene sought corroboration from Nadia, who nodded. “We
may have screamed,” she said. “It was so…ghastly.” Nadia
shuddered at the memory.
“In other words,” Gene mused, “Andrea is still lying up
there in bed…dead.”
“I haven’t heard her walking around,” Margo snapped.
“What’s wrong with everybody? Can’t this crew accept the
“Sleeping pills,” murmured Russell. “Did you say Andrea
took sleeping pills?”
“Sometimes she did,” Nadia said. “Last night she offered
me one, but I have my own prescription. I can hardly blame
Andrea for taking something to help her sleep. She was so
upset.”
Ward stretched out his long legs. “Could it have been an
accident?” he asked.
“Not with that note,” Killegrew put in. “My God, I had no
idea she and Leon were…so close. Sometimes,” he added
darkly, “I wonder what really goes on behind my back in
this company. Sometimes I think the caboose is running this
ship.”
“I think you mean ‘train.’” Margo’s tone was mocking.
Killegrew glowered at her, but said nothing. Indeed, no
one responded until Gene spoke again. “Someone will have
to go up there and check things out. I suppose I should do
it, since I’m the legal counsel.” He grimaced, then uttered a
choked little laugh. “Max, would you come along? We’d
better stick to the buddy system.”
Max, however, demurred. “I already helped cart Leon upstairs, for which the cops are going to jump me. Count me
out on this one.”
118 / Mary Daheim
“Remember,” said Russell in a small voice, “I’m squeamish.”
“I wouldn’t go near that room for a billion dollars,” Margo
declared.
“I’ll go.” Judith was so surprised by her impulsive announcement that she hardly recognized her own voice.
“I don’t think that’s a…” Ward began.
“Good idea,” interrupted Killegrew. “It’s probably smart
to have an outsider on hand for something like this.”
In other words, Judith thought with a sinking feeling,
there’d be someone else to blame. But she’d opened her mouth
and put her foot into it. As a flummoxed Renie watched,
Judith accompanied Gene to the elevator.
“This might not be pleasant,” Gene said as they moved up
to the second floor.
“I’ve done it before,” Judith said without thinking.
“Of course. Leon. And Barry.” Mournfully, Gene shook
his head.
“Yes,” Judith agreed hastily. “Leon and Barry.” It wouldn’t
do to enumerate a few other corpses she’d stumbled across
in the past.
The door to Andrea’s room was wide open. Judith quickly
calculated that it was the same room she and Renie had first
tried the previous night. As they had guessed, Andrea had
been waiting for Leon in his room.
Gene stepped aside to let Judith enter first. She found
herself tiptoeing, but stopped abruptly when she saw Andrea
lying peacefully on the bed. The dead woman could have
been asleep; only her head and shoulders were exposed.
Andrea was on her back, with the silver hair splayed out on
the pillow. Her plump face seemed blotchy, perhaps bruised.
Remembering that Andrea was a fellow Catholic, Judith
crossed herself and said a silent prayer.
“Poor woman,” Gene sa
id softly. “Suicide’s such a desperate act.”
Judith turned sharply. “It is. Andrea didn’t strike me as a
desperate woman.”
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 119
“You never know what people are really like,” Gene remarked, coming around to study the nightstand that stood
between the twin beds. “Ah—here’s the note and the empty
pill bottle. Halcion, made out to Andrea Piccoloni-Roth last
month. It’s a popular prescription sleeping drug, I believe.”
“Yes.” Judith’s mind was racing. On the other bed lay the
extra pillow, which had been removed from under the spread.
“What do you think of that note?” Judith asked, coming
around to join Gene.
The company attorney kept his hands carefully pressed
against his sides. “It’s clear, isn’t it?”
“In what way?” Judith queried.
Judging from the scowl on Gene’s face, he didn’t like being
on the other end of questions. “Andrea couldn’t live without
Leon. What else could it mean?”
Judith said nothing. She stared again at the pillow on the
empty bed. “Where’s the water glass?” she asked.
“What water glass?” Gene sounded annoyed.
Judith pointed to the pill bottle. “There’s no sign of a glass
on the nightstand. Why would anyone take a bunch of
sleeping tablets without water?” Judith didn’t wait for a response, but went into the bathroom. “The glass is in here,”
she called. “Two glasses, in fact. One’s clean, the other has
a bit of water in the bottom.”
Gene had moved to the bathroom door. The scowl was
gone, but he looked puzzled. “What’s your point?”
A sudden, paralyzing fear gripped Judith. She didn’t know
Gene Jarman. He seemed like a diligent, somewhat stiffnecked man who had brought himself up by the bootstraps.
Yet his very success was evidence of not just ambition and
determination, but perhaps ruthlessness as well. The same
might be said of all the OTIOSE executives. And one of them
was a killer. It could be Eugene Jarman, Jr.
“Nothing,” Judith said in a careless voice. “I was just
speculating.”
120 / Mary Daheim
“Is there anything unusual in the bathroom?” he inquired,
gazing around the small but economical space.
“No.” Judith started to come back into the other room;
Gene stepped aside. “Have you noticed anything we should
report on?” Judith asked in an unusually meek voice.
Gene didn’t answer right away. He was standing at the
foot of the bed, staring morosely at Andrea. “She was a nice
woman, if you didn’t cross swords with her. Then she could
be a real tiger.” He moved between the beds. “I shouldn’t do
this, but I feel I must.” Carefully, he lifted the sheet and pulled
it over Andrea’s face.
“That’s…better,” Judith said, relieved that Gene hadn’t
suggested they move Andrea upstairs with Leon. “Finished?”
Gene said he was. In silence, they returned to the lobby.
The brandy bottles had been emptied, replaced by gin,
rum, vodka, and whiskey. The mood, however, was scarcely
festive. When Judith got out of the elevator, she noticed the
look of relief on Renie’s face.
“I think we should make more coffee,” Renie whispered.
“These people are going to need it once they kill all the
booze.”
“Don’t use that term,” Judith urged, but was quick to follow Renie out of the lobby. “Did anything happen in my
absence?” she asked when they reached the dining room.
“No, just a lot of maundering about poor Andrea,” Renie
replied, unplugging the big urn on the buffet table. “Her
husband was a lazy dreamer, she was the breadwinner, all
Alan Roth ever wanted was a meal ticket, she wouldn’t divorce him because she was Catholic.”
“Sounds familiar,” Judith murmured, heading for the kitchen. “After nineteen years of marriage to Dan, I can sympathize with Andrea.”
“I’ll bet you can,” Renie said as Judith firmly shut the door
behind them.
“That’s not all,” Judith said, pressing her back against
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the door. “Much as I hate to say this, coz, I think Andrea
was murdered.”
Renie winced. “I hate to hear you say that,” she breathed,
“but why am I not surprised?”
“Because we’re in the middle of a bloodbath, that’s why.”
Judith closed her eyes for a moment, then squared her
shoulders and walked over to the counter where she sat down
on one of the tall stools. “First of all, Andrea wasn’t the type
to commit suicide. Even if she was in love with Leon
Mooney—and we don’t know that for sure—the Andrea
Piccoloni-Roths of this world do not kill themselves.”
Renie perched on one of the other stools. “It didn’t sound
right to me from the start.”
“This isn’t just amateur psychology,” Judith went on.
“I hope not. Bill hates competition,” Renie said, referring
to her husband’s staff position at the university. “Bill says
that besides being simplistic and superficial, most non-professionals…”
Judith held up both hands. “Stop! Your husband’s brilliant,
but this isn’t the time for one of your long-winded wifely
essays. I’m talking facts here, coz. As in fact number
one—there was an empty Halcion bottle on the nightstand
next to the bed. Fact number two—the water glass, which
you gave Andrea last night, was in the bathroom. Now who
swallows pills in the bathroom with the water glass, and
then takes the bottle with them into the bedroom?”
“Is ‘nobody’ the right answer?” Renie had assumed her
middle-aged ingenue’s air.
“Right. Fact number three,” Judith continued. “The note
said what Ava told us—‘Leon, I’m coming to join you.’ Andrea undoubtedly wrote that, but I’ll bet she wrote it last
night to slip under Leon’s door. It simply meant that she
was going to meet him in his room, which is where we found
her when we went to tell her about Leon. But now she’s in
her own room, next door. My guess is that the killer found
that note—probably on Leon—and used it to fake a suicide.”
122 / Mary Daheim
“Clever,” Renie remarked. “And fortuitous.”
“Exactly. Then we get to fact number four—which isn’t
really a fact, but a conjecture.” Judith gave Renie an apologetic look. “The extra pillow that I’d put under Andrea was
lying on the empty twin bed. Now it’s possible that she removed the pillow herself. But I’m thinking that she came
back to her room and simply flopped onto the bed. Under
the circumstances, wouldn’t you? She was worn out, she
was upset, she very well may have taken Halcion to help
herself sleep. Why remove the pillow?”
“She didn’t.” Renie’s face was expressionless.
“Of course she didn’t,” Judith continued, “because…”
“Because she wasn’t in Leon’s room.”
“What?” Judith made a face at Renie.
“You said so yourself.” R
enie lifted her hands, palms up.
“The water glass and the pillow you’re talking about were
in Leon’s room, not Andrea’s. So what are you trying to
say?”
Judith looked blank, then exhilarated. “What I was saying
all along. Except that now I’m sure I’m right. The killer removed the extra pillow from under the spread of the other
twin bed. Andrea didn’t die from an overdose of sleeping
pills. She was smothered.”
Judith and Renie weren’t sure how to break the news to
the others. It hadn’t seemed to Judith that Gene Jarman was
suspicious. On the other hand, he wasn’t the type to reveal
what he was thinking. As the cousins made fresh coffee, they
mulled over the problem.
“Andrea must have let in whoever killed her,” Renie pointed out, running water from the tap into the urn.
“Of course she would,” Judith agreed. “Despite Leon’s
death, she must have trusted whoever came to her door.”
“Which could be anybody,” Renie noted. “The only person
she really seemed on the outs with was Margo.”
“Andrea had probably already taken the Halcion,” Ju- SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 123
dith said, opening the kitchen door for Renie, who was carrying the urn back to the dining room. “She was probably
drowsy. Maybe whoever called on her offered to sit with her
until she nodded off. Then he—or she—applied the pillow.”
Judith winced. “I thought her face looked sort of bruised, but
then I don’t know what effects an overdose of Halcion has
on a person.”
“I don’t know, either,” Renie admitted, plugging in the
urn. “Didn’t somebody say they heard noises during the
night?”
Judith stared at Renie. “You’re right. It was Margo. She
thought someone was trying to get into her room. I’ll bet
Leon was on one side of Andrea’s room and Margo was on
the other.”
“That’s right,” Renie responded. “I saw Margo come from
that room last night when everybody heard the commotion.”
The cousins gazed at each other. “Shall we?” Judith finally
said.
“I suppose,” Renie said reluctantly. “Our popularity is
about to plummet to minus zero.”
“Our popularity isn’t the issue,” Judith said bluntly. “Trying
to stop a killer from striking again is what matters.”
While not exactly drunk, the OTIOSE crew wasn’t quite
sober, either. Ava was curled up against Gene; Nadia appeared to be asleep; Ward and Max were arguing goodnaturedly; Russell was talking to himself; Margo was sitting