Выбрать главу

business types are all wrapped up in themselves. They don’t

pay much attention to underlings.”

The executive suite was a world that Judith didn’t understand. The B&B, the Thurlow Street branch of the public

library, and the Meat and Mingle hadn’t prepared her to face

an officer corps. Renie, however, was accustomed to

16 / Mary Daheim

captains of industry. It seemed to Judith that her cousin regarded them much as she would observe animals at the zoo.

They were interesting, they were different, they could even

be amusing, and only upon rare occasions did they do

something vulgar in public that would be better done in

private.

As they approached the summit, driving conditions

worsened, with deep piles of snow alongside the road. Not

once had they glimpsed the mountains. The clouds were low

and heavy, creating a foglike atmosphere that kept the Chev

down to a crawl.

“We take a side road at the summit,” Renie said, again

pointing to the envelope on the seat. “Check the map. I’ve

never been there before, but the directions looked easy.”

It was a few minutes after ten when they reached the

turnoff. Renie pulled into a service station that also featured

a small grocery store. “This is where Barry supposedly went,”

she said. “As you can tell, they don’t carry much beyond the

basics. That’s why he might have gone back down the pass.

I’m going to fill up now because I didn’t take time to stop

at the BP on Heraldsgate Hill.”

While Renie pumped gas, Judith got out of the car and

walked around the wet tarmac. The area around the station

had been plowed, but there was snow everywhere, perhaps

as much as twenty feet. Judith spotted the main ski lodge

through the drifting clouds and managed to catch sight of

some of the chalets utilized by winter sports buffs.

Having used her credit card to pay at the pump, Renie got

back in the car. “It can’t be more than a mile from here,” she

said as Judith refastened her seatbelt. “Let me see that map.”

The road was easy to find, not quite a quarter-mile from

the service station, and on the north side of the interstate.

It, too, had been recently plowed, and the going was relatively easy. Or seemed to be, for the first half-mile. Then the

pavement suddenly ended. Renie found herself driving on

bare gravel.

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 17

“This is stupid,” she complained. “If they can pave half of

the damned thing, why not the rest?”

“Maybe it’s a matter of jurisdiction,” Judith suggested. “The

state or county may keep up part of it and the rest is Forest

Service. I’d guess this was originally a logging road.”

“Probably.” Renie had dropped down to under ten miles

an hour. “I wish Bill were here. I don’t like driving in snow.”

“You’re not in snow. It’s plowed.”

“So far. But who knows what’s up ahead?”

The narrow road zigged and zagged, climbing higher into

the mountains. During the brief intervals when the cousins

could see more than a few feet, they noticed that the trees

grew more sparsely, and were of a different variety than the

evergreens below the snow line. Judith counted lodge-pole

pine, western larch, Engelmann spruce, and Noble fir.

“You should have let me drive,” Judith said. “I could have

taken the Subaru. What if we get into a snowstorm on the

way home this afternoon? You’ll panic and kill us.”

“I’ll panic and let you drive,” Renie responded, already

looking rather grim. “Bill said the Chev would hold the road

better because it’s so big.”

Heavy iron gates stood directly in front of them. Fortunately, they were open. Renie drove through, accelerated up

a little rise, and hit pavement again. “Thank goodness,” she

murmured.

They were no longer on a road but in a sweeping drive

which lead to the lodge and a large parking area. “Who owns

this place?” Judith asked, peering through the foggy clouds

at skimpy views of weathered logs and stone chimneys.

“It’s privately owned,” Renie said, heading for the nearest

parking spot. As far as the cousins could tell, no other

vehicles were present. “It used to belong to the park service

years ago, but it’s changed hands several times. Some group

in the city owns it, and at one time, Frank Killegrew

18 / Mary Daheim

was involved in a partnership with other downtown investors. Now, it’s mostly doctors and dentists who rent it

out to private parties. Not just conferences and retreats like

the previous owners, I gather, but ski groups and church

organizations and whoever else is willing to pay the freight.

This new bunch shut it down last summer and did some

renovations to bring everything up to speed. I don’t think

the lodge rental comes cheap.”

Judith understood why after they carried the first load of

comestibles inside. The lobby was vast, with a high, arched

ceiling hung with multicolored banners. Built entirely of pine

logs, the old wood gleamed under the lights of a half-dozen

cast-iron candelabra suspended from the rafters. Animal skins

and stuffed heads decorated the walls, and the huge stone

fireplace was filled with cedar and fir, awaiting the touch of

a match.

“It’s grand,” Judith said, smiling in appreciation. “Where’s

the staff?”

“I told you, nobody’s here but us and the OTIOSE gang,”

Renie said, setting a carton of groceries down on the hardwood floor. “The staff was due to take off about nine this

morning. The caretaker lives in a cabin about a half-mile

from the lodge, but he won’t be around, either. I was told

he’d leave the door open so we could get in. I don’t think

the phone company folks will be here much before noon.”

“Where’s the kitchen?” Judith turned every which way,

taking in the rustic furnishings, all made of wood and covered

in rich, dark nubby fabrics.

Renie gestured to french doors on her left. “That looks like

the dining room, so I assume the kitchen is off of that. Let’s

finish unloading, and then we can snoop around.”

Three more trips were required to deposit Judith’s weekend

supplies. As Renie had guessed, the kitchen was at the far

side of the dining room. While the lodge appeared to have

been built during the thirties, the kitchen facilities were state

of the art. Judith rubbed her hands in glee as she

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 19

ogled the stainless-steel American range, the Belgian cookware, the German cutlery, and the French skillets.

“This is wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to start

right in on lunch. Ham-filled crepes, raddicchio salad, a fresh

fruit medley, four kinds of cheese, and puff pastries with a

blackberry and cream filling.”

“Go for it,” Renie said, turning toward the door. “I’m going

to the conference room on the other side of the lobby to set

up my stuff.”

“Okay,” Judith replied, still distracted by all the latest appliances and gadgets. Then, as Renie exited, it dawned on

Judith that something was out of kilter. “Coz!” she called.

“What’s with you? Aren’t you hungry?”

Renie turned in the doorway. “No. I’ve got work to do.

That’s why I’m here.”

Judith stared. Renie was always ravenous. She ate often