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

The OTIOSE executives were clustered in little groups of

twos and threes. Judith tried to place them, but recognized

only Nadia, who was chatting with a self-possessed AfricanAmerican man, and Margo, who had been cornered by a

wildly gesticulating male whose thinning fair hair stood up

in several places on his very round head.

On the third and fourth trips, Judith managed to carry

four plates at a time. The conferees still seemed absorbed in

their various conversations. Not wanting the crepes to get

cold, Judith picked up a spoon and tapped a water glass.

“Luncheon is served,” she announced.

No one paid any attention. Judith tapped the glass again

and raised her voice. Nothing happened. Judith hesitated.

Then, at precisely twelve-thirty, Nadia Weiss glanced at

her big watch. “Lunch!” she bellowed.

A stampede of conservatively dressed animals headed for

the table. Judith back-pedaled out of the way just before a

very large man with a completely bald head and a wizened

little fellow with buck teeth almost ran right over her. A

moment later, everyone was seated. No one so much as

looked at Judith.

24 / Mary Daheim

Feeling humbled, she returned to the kitchen where Renie

was lighting another cigarette. “Coz!” Judith cried. “What is

all this? You’re smoking, you’re not eating, you’ve turned

into a stranger!”

Renie examined her fingernails. “I’m working. You’re not

used to it, that’s all. Don’t you behave a bit differently with

your guests than you do when you’re with me or Joe or your

mother?”

“Of course,” Judith replied. “But it’s not just that.

It’s…this.” She jabbed a finger at Renie’s cigarette.

“And…that.” She pointed to the untouched leftovers on the

marble counter.

Renie expelled more smoke and a big sigh. “Okay, okay.

We haven’t seen much of each other since the holidays because I’ve been putting this presentation together and you’ve

been really busy with the B&B. You know my eggnog diet?”

Judith knew it well, though she was skeptical about how

it worked. Renie claimed that from Thanksgiving until New

Year’s, she lived on eggnog, the richer the better. It was one

of her favorite things, and she refused to dilute it with milk

or liquor. Because she was so busy with holiday preparations

and annual report designs, there was barely time to eat. Thus,

she fueled herself with eggnog from morning until night, and

insisted that since she wasn’t eating many regular meals, she

actually lost instead of gained weight over the holidays.

“I flunked it,” Renie declared. “The eggnog diet finally

failed me. Or I failed it.”

Judith couldn’t help but laugh. “Coz! You mean you didn’t

lose weight this year?”

Renie shook her head. “Not only that, I gained seven

pounds. I’m wearing my fat suit.”

The tailored brown wool with the faux fur collar didn’t

look like a fat suit to Judith. “I can’t tell you’ve gained anything,” she said.

“I have,” Renie insisted, patting her midsection. “This

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outfit is just camouflage. I should be wearing Armani for the

presentation, but trying to get into my other suits is like

squeezing toothpaste back into the tube. It just doesn’t quite

make it.”

Judith’s amusement faded. “So you’re starving yourself

and smoking? That’s dumb, coz.”

“Only until I lose seven pounds. Two are already gone or

I wouldn’t have gotten into this suit, either.” Renie stubbed

her cigarette out in a saucer. “I had to do something with

my mouth and hands before I went to the post-holiday sales

and bought up all the Russell Stover chocolate Santas I could

find.”

Judith recalled how Renie had eaten her way through

seventy-eight dollars worth of chocolate bunnies during an

infamous Lenten season a few years earlier. Her cousin loved

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,

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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.