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

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,

too.”

Frank Killegrew’s file was thicker than the others. He’d

been born in Molt, Montana, served as a U.S. Army Ranger

in Korea, attended Montana School of Mines in Butte, and

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gone to work for Mountain States Telephone Company in

Helena. His mother’s name was given as Kate Killegrew; no

father was listed. Instead, there was a picture of a cat sitting

on the roof of a house, and a notation that read, “Ha Ha!”

“What does that mean?” Renie demanded.

Judith smirked. “What it shows.” Her dark eyes glittered.

“Frank was born in a cat house. No wonder he’s ashamed

of his origins.”

“Woo-woo,” Renie said under her breath. “That’s funny.”

“No, it’s not.” Judith, who had flipped through the rest of

the pages, suddenly turned serious. “Well, maybe it is, but

the unfunny part is that Frank’s file stops long before last

year. There’s nothing after his years with the Bell System.”

Renie grabbed the folder out of Judith’s lap. “You’re right,”

she said in wonder. “There’s no mention of OTIOSE.”

Rubbing at her temples, Judith got up from the bed and

looked out the window. The rain continued to come down,

a steady sheet with no hint of wind to shift the dark clouds.

“The snow’s still melting…”

Judith screamed. Renie ran to join her cousin.

There was a man at the window, and he was holding a

high-powered rifle.

EIGHTEEN

JUDITH AND RENIE flattened themselves against the wall,

hopefully out of the line of fire. “What do you want?” Judith

cried, finally finding both her courage and her voice.

In answer, the man slammed the butt of the rifle into one

of the smaller panes. Glass shattered onto the floor. Judith

and Renie held onto each other, both shaking like leaves.

The man, who was on the top rung of a tall aluminum extension ladder, reached through the broken pane and tried to

unlatch the window. Judith looked around for something to

hit at his fumbling fingers, but there was nothing within

reach. The window opened, and the man scrambled into the

room. Raindrops and wet snow flew in every direction.

“What’s going on?” he demanded in a rough voice.

Judith blinked several times. The man wore a heavy parka

over ski pants, and rested the rifle butt on the floor next to

his all-weather boots. He had a gray beard and a weathered

face, but wasn’t much taller than Judith.

“Who are you?” Judith asked in a faint voice.

The intruder’s initial reaction was hostile, then he frowned

at the cousins. “Mannheimer, who else?”

“Mannheimer?” Judith echoed the name. “Do we know

you?”

246

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“Hell, no.” Mannheimer shook off the moisture that had

accumulated on his person. “Rudy Mannheimer, Mountain

Goat Lodge caretaker. Who the hell are you ?”

“The caterers,” Judith replied, stretching the truth a bit.

“We got marooned. Where have you been?”

Mannheimer gestured with his head, causing the hood of

his parka to slip down and reveal overlong gray hair. “Back

at my place. Where else?”

“Um…Nowhere,” Judith said. “That is, the weather’s been

terrible. Ah…Why are you here now? I thought you had

orders to stay away.”

Mannheimer lowered his head, as if to charge the cousins.

Instead, he answered the question in his ragged, jerky voice.

“It’s my job, dammit. Orders can change. Like when a blizzard hits. Guests are still my responsibility. Safety first.

Couldn’t get through since Friday. The first floor’s still

snowed in. I saw a light up here. I thought I’d give it a try.”

“You might have asked first,” said Renie, her usual spunk

returning. “You didn’t have to break the blasted window.”

Mannheimer snorted. “You’re not real friendly. So tell me.

Is everything okay?”

“Oh, brother!” Renie twirled around, holding her head.

“Actually, it’s not,” Judith said with regret. “There’s been

some…trouble.”

“Trouble?” Mannheimer’s close-set blue eyes bulged. “What

kind of trouble? Frank doesn’t like trouble.”

“You know Mr. Killegrew?” Judith asked in surprise.

Mannheimer flipped the rifle from one hand to the other.

“Sure. We go way back. To Korea. Same platoon. So what’s

up?” Mannheimer glowered at the cousins.

“I think,” Judith said in an unusually high voice, “you ought

to talk to Frank. He’ll tell you.”

“So where is he?” Mannheimer’s head swiveled, as if he

expected Killegrew to pop out from behind the bathroom

door.

248 / Mary Daheim

“Downstairs,” Judith answered promptly. “Go ahead, we’ll

stay here.” She gave Mannheimer a phony smile.

“Okay.” The caretaker headed for the door, the rifle now

cradled in his arms. He paused on the threshold, unlocking

the door the cousins had secured behind them. “Don’t worry.

I’ll fix that window. It’s my job.” Mannheimer left.

Renie sat back down on the bed. “I wouldn’t mind hearing

what happens when Frank tells Mannheimer what’s been

going on.”

“And so you shall,” Judith said, moving to the door. “Give

him a minute to get downstairs.”

The cousins used the back stairs. They tiptoed through the

kitchen, down the hall, and edged toward the lobby. Judging