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

MARY DAHEIM

Snow

Place

To

Die

A BED-AND-BREAKFAST MYSTERY

In memory of Katharine Dawson Marshall, the last of

the Dawson clan to enter eternal life on January 30,

1998, joining Monica Richardson Dawson, Louis

Dawson, Frances Dawson Webster, Thomas Dawson,

and Helen Dawson Shelley. We will always love you.

CONTENTS

ONE

JUDITH MCMONIGLE FLYNN stacked twenty-four

pancakes on a platter, grabbed…

1

TWO

FRIDAY DAWNED COLD and cloudy. Renie was

driving the Jones’s…

12

THREE

AS SHE’D PREDICTED, Renie’s presentation went

well. “There were the…

29

FOUR

“IT WAS ONE of those things you see, but you…

45

FIVE

A FEW MINUTES before eight, the cousins went

downstairs to…

61

SIX

NEITHER JUDITH NOR Renie screamed. Instead,

they held onto each…

77

SEVEN

IT WAS ALMOST midnight before Judith and Renie

finished recounting…

90

EIGHT

IN THE STRAINED atmosphere of the kitchen,

Judith felt the…

105

NINE

AVA BURIED HER face against Gene’s shoulder.

Max half-carried Nadia…

114

TEN

“HE PASSED OUT upstairs,” Max announced in a

tense voice.

129

ELEVEN

MAX AND WARD had decided to go out through

the…

145

TWELVE

EVERYBODY SCREAMED. GENE spilled his drink

on the Navajo rug,…

161

THIRTEEN

AFTER THE GAME hens and the bean dish had

been…

176

FOURTEEN

UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, it was natural for

everyone to assume…

193

FIFTEEN

“WHO ELSE WAS in the corridor last night?” Judith

asked…

206

SIXTEEN

“THIS…CAN’T…BE…happening,” Judith gasped. 221

SEVENTEEN

JUDITH AND RENIE both started to protest,

meanwhile backpedaling across…

233

EIGHTEEN

246

JUDITH AND RENIE flattened themselves against

the wall, hopefully out…

NINETEEN

FRANK KILLEGREW WAS sulking. “Sh’almost shix,”

he mumbled. “Who drinksh…

266

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ONE

JUDITH MCMONIGLE FLYNN stacked twenty-four pancakes

on a platter, grabbed the syrup pitcher, and opened the

swinging door with her hip. Just behind her, the kitchen

phone rang.

“Damn!” Judith cursed under her breath, then sheepishly

smiled at the eight hungry, curious faces seated around the

old oak dining room table. The phone kept ringing. “Sorry,”

Judith apologized, as she set the pancakes and syrup on the

table, “I don’t usually get calls this early unless they’re reservations from the East Coast.”

The bed and breakfast guests made various incomprehensible sounds, then began dishing up pancakes. Judith returned

to the kitchen just as the phone trunked over to the answering

machine. After delivering bacon, eggs, and extra butter, she

checked the message.

“I know you’re there, you twit!” Cousin Renie’s voice had

an early-morning croak. “Call me! Quick!”

It was 7:36. Judith’s cousin never, ever got out of bed before nine and almost never achieved full consciousness until

ten. Apprehensively, Judith dialed Renie’s number.

“Are you okay?” Judith asked in a breathless voice.

“I’m terrible,” Renie replied crossly. “I’m up the creek, in

the soup, down the toilet.”

1

2 / Mary Daheim

The exaggerated response relieved Judith’s mind. If Renie

had been held hostage or was lying at the bottom of her

basement stairs, she wouldn’t describe her plight so vividly.

Judith poured a mug of coffee and sat down at the kitchen

table. “So what’s really wrong?” she asked, more intrigued

than alarmed.

A big sigh rolled over the phone line from the other side

of Heraldsgate Hill. “It’s the OTIOSE conference—you know,

the Overland Telecommunications and Information Organization of Systems Engineers.”

“It’s called OTIOSE for short?” Judith asked in surprise.

“Do they know what it means?”

“Of course not. They’re engineers. Anyway,” Renie went

on, still sounding vexed, “they used to be part of the local

phone company before the Bell System got broken up by the

Justice Department. Remember I told you I was putting together a really big graphic design presentation for their annual winter retreat? I’m redoing their logo, their colors,

everything right down to the cheap pens they hand out to

lucky customers and members of their board. But there’s a

problem—the caterer backed out at the last minute and

they’ve asked me to find a sub.”

“So? There are a zillion caterers in the Yellow Pages. If

they’re telephone company people, why can’t they let their

fingers do the walking?”

“Because they are telephone company people. Their brains

aren’t attached to their fingers. Plus, these are the top executives. They’re not used to doing things for themselves.”

Renie was clearly exasperated. “Anyway, I opened my big

mouth and told them I knew a topnotch caterer. Believe it

or not, I was referring to you. What do you say?”

“Ohhh…” Judith set her mug down with a thud and

splashed coffee onto the plastic table cover. Running a B&B

was hard enough, especially with the holidays so recently

behind her. Of late she’d been trying to phase out the catering arm of her business. For several years it had

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 3

been a joint venture with Judith’s friend and neighbor, Arlene

Rankers. Her husband, Carl, had retired two years earlier,

and their family of five had expanded. The quiet leisure years

they’d anticipated had turned into a merry-go-round of

grandchildren crawling around in the laurel hedge that separated the Rankers and Flynn properties. Arlene no longer

had the time or the energy to help run a full-scale catering

service, and Judith couldn’t do it without her.

“I really don’t think I can manage on such short notice,”

Judith said at last. “Isn’t the retreat this weekend?”

“Right, over the three-day Martin Luther King holiday.”

Renie paused. “It’d be for only a day, actually. All you have

to do is set up the first meal on Friday, then stock the fridge

and freezer and whatever. The rest of the weekend is…”

“More coffee please,” came a request from the dining room.

“Do you have powdered sugar?” called another guest.

“There’s something gruesome crawling around under the

table,” complained a third, rather frantic voice.

Judith hadn’t heard the last part of Renie’s explanation.

“Coz, I’ll get back to you in half an hour,” she said, feeling

a touch of panic.

The coffee and powdered sugar were delivered, then Judith

dove under the big oak table to retrieve her cat, Sweetums.

The cat arched his back, hissed, and began rubbing against