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