Mary Daheim - Snow Place to Die - A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

right?”

“Right. We can come and go together, because my

presentation should take about two hours, plus Q&A, plus

the usual yakkity-yak and glad-handing. You’ll get to see me

work the room. It’ll be a whole new experience. I actually

stay nice for several minutes at a time.”

Judith couldn’t help but smile. Her cousin wasn’t famous

for her even temper. “How many?” she asked, getting down

to business.

“Ten—six men, four women,” Renie answered, also

sounding equally professional. “All their officers, plus the

administrative assistant. I’ll make a list, just so you know

the names. Executives are very touchy about being recognized

correctly.”

Judith nodded to herself. “Okay. You mentioned a lodge.

Which one?”

“Mountain Goat,” Renie replied. “It’s only an hour or so

from town, so we should leave Friday morning around nine.”

Judith knew the lodge, which was located on one of the

state’s major mountain passes. “I can’t wait to tell Joe. He’ll

be thrilled about the money. By the way, why did the other

caterers back out?”

There was a long pause. “Uh…I guess they’re sort of superstitious.”

8 / Mary Daheim

“What do you mean?” Judith’s voice had turned wary.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Renie said, sounding unnaturally

jaunty. “Last year they had a staff assistant handle the catering

at Mountain Goat Lodge. Barry Something-Or-Other, who

was starting up his own business on the side. He…ah…disappeared.”

“He disappeared ?” Judith gasped into the receiver.

“Yeah, well, he went out for cigarettes or something and

never came back. Got to run, coz. See you later.”

Renie hung up.

Joe wasn’t excited about Judith’s bonanza. Indeed, Joe

didn’t really hear her mention the OTIOSE catering job. He

was uncharacteristically self-absorbed and depressed, though

the reasons had nothing to do with his wife.

“It’s these damned drive-bys,” he complained, accepting a

stiff Scotch from Judith. “They’re always kids, both victims

and perps, and sometimes they’re innocent bystanders. The

victims, I mean. God, it’s such a waste.” He loosened his tie

and collapsed into a kitchen chair.

Judith came up behind him and massaged his tense

shoulders. “It’s sad. What are they trying to prove?”

“That they belong.” Joe sighed. “It doesn’t matter that it’s

a gang of punks just like themselves. They fit in somewhere,

there’s a place for them, a niche they can’t find with family,

because they don’t have any. Not a real family, I mean.

They’re the new outcasts, and they can only prove their worth

by blowing some other poor kid away.”

“It’s an awfully stupid way to prove anything,” Judith said,

turning back to the stove where mussels boiled in a big pot.

“You usually catch them, though.”

“That’s the frustrating part,” Joe said, taking a deep drink.

“The perps end up in the slammer for fifteen, twenty years,

wasting their young lives. What’s even worse is that the rest

of them don’t learn by what happens to the ones we send

away. There are times when I hate my job. Do you realize I

could retire in three years?”

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 9

Judith, who was draining the mussels into a colander, almost dropped the pot. She’d never heard Joe mention retirement before. “Do you want to?” she gulped.

Joe sighed again, his green eyes troubled. “I’ve been

thinking about it lately. Hell, I’ve been on the force for thirtythree years. Plenty of guys burn out by fifty-five. I’m past

that already. I figure I’m lucky to have lasted this long.”

So was Judith. Only in the five and a half years of her

marriage to Joe had she been able to count on financial

support from a spouse. During her nineteen years with the

unemployed and unemployable Dan McMonigle, Judith had

worked two jobs. By day she had served as a librarian, and

at night, she had toiled behind the bar at the Meat and

Mingle. The daytime and evening clientele neither met nor

mingled. Most of the hard-fisted drinkers were lucky they

could read the bar specials posted on a chalkboard set next

to the blinking sign depicting a hula-skirted chipmunk.

“Well,” Judith said, tossing the mussels into a bowl of

vermicelli and rice, “it’s your decision.” She gave her husband

a quick, keen look. The red hair had more gray in it, the

forehead was growing higher, the laugh and worry lines were

etched more deeply. Joe was still the most attractive man in

the world to Judith, but he was getting older. She’d hardly

noticed. After a twenty-five-year separation, their time together had seemed so brief. “You’ll know when it’s time to quit,”

she added a bit lamely.

“Hmm.” Joe sipped more Scotch. “The retirement package

is fairly good, all things considered.”

Which, Judith realized, Joe had considered. “Medical,

dental?”

“Right. I’d have Social Security, too.”

There had been no security with Dan, social or otherwise.

At over four hundred pounds, her first husband had offered

only verbal abuse and demands for more vodka, Ding-Dongs,

apple fritters, and whatever else he could stuff into his fat,

lazy face.

10 / Mary Daheim

“I guess we’ll have to think about it,” Judith said, sounding

slightly wistful.

Joe didn’t reply. He has thought about it. Plenty. Why hasn’t

he mentioned it to me? Judith felt betrayed.

Maybe this wasn’t the time to discuss the three grand for

the OTIOSE conference. Maybe Judith should start building

her own little nest egg. Certainly she wasn’t prepared to give

up the B&B. She’d worked too hard to turn it into a successful venture.

“Did you hear me say I’ll be gone most of Friday?” she

asked, spooning green beans onto a plate for Gertrude. “I’m

catering a phone company conference for Renie.”

Joe had picked up the evening paper and was reading the

sports page. “Since when did Renie go to work for the phone

company?”

“She’s freelancing, as usual.” Judith was getting exasperated.

“Bill’s retiring next year.” Joe turned a page of the newspaper.

“ What? ” Judith gaped at her husband.

He nodded, but didn’t look up. “Thirty-one years in the

university system. Why shouldn’t he?”

“Renie hasn’t said a thing!” Now Judith’s annoyance spread

to her cousin.

“Maybe Bill hasn’t told Renie. Where the hell is the Hot

Stove League news? I heard there was a big trade brewing.”

Joe riffled the pages, in search of baseball reports.

“Bill wouldn’t not tell Renie,” Judith seethed. “Bill and

Renie communicate .”

“Maybe she forgot to mention it to you. Ah, here we are…”

Joe disappeared behind the paper.

Judith marched out to the toolshed with Gertrude’s dinner.

For once, she put the covered plate outside the door, knocked

twice, and raced back to the house. Gertrude hated mussels.

Judith wasn’t in a mood to hear her mother gripe. Judith, in

fact, was feeling mutinous. Joe wasn’t usually secretive, especially not when it came to making decisions

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 11

that affected them as a couple. And Renie always told Judith

everything. The cousins were as close as sisters, maybe closer,