“I’ve been with them,” Ava replied, gesturing at Judith and
Renie. “How’s…everything?”
Margo blinked at the cousins but didn’t question their
liberation. “Awful,” she replied, making a face. “Frank and
that horrid Mannheimer are drunk as skunks. If you ask me,
that caretaker is an alcoholic. Gene and Max have hardly
said a word in the last half-hour, and Russell just stares off
into space.”
Judith frowned. The last thing she wanted was to have
Frank pass out. “We’ll make coffee,” she said quickly. “Ava,
Margo, you start pouring it down all of those men as soon
as it’s ready. And keep them away from the liquor.”
By five-thirty, Margo reported that Frank and Rudy were
still drunk, but in upright positions. Refilling the men’s coffee
mugs, she hurried back to the lobby.
Grimly, Judith turned to Renie. “You’re going to have to
let the park personnel in through the second floor. They can
use Mannheimer’s ladder. I’ll be with Frank in his room.
Remember, it’s opposite ours—the other corner room.”
Renie nodded. “I don’t like this. What if they don’t come?”
Judith grimaced. “Then you’ll have to rescue me.”
“Oh, swell!” Renie twirled around the kitchen, hands
clasped to her head. “How do I do that?”
“With Margo’s gun,” Judith said, pointing to the suede bag
that Margo had left on the counter before carrying out the
coffee refills. “Take it now.”
“Oh, good grief!” Renie reeled some more.
“Do it quick, before she comes back.”
With a big sigh, Renie opened the suede bag and removed
the handgun. “I haven’t fired a gun since my dad took me
target shooting forty-odd years ago. It was up at the family
cabin, and I blew a hole through Uncle Corky’s picnic ham.”
“Better than blowing a hole through Uncle Corky.” Ju- SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 265
dith gazed at the gun. “Is it really loaded?”
Renie checked the chambers. “Yes, ma’am. And so’s Frank.
Now what?”
Judith squared her shoulders. “Now we nail him. This may
be our finest hour.”
She didn’t say that it could also be their last.
NINETEEN
FRANK KILLEGREW WAS sulking. “Sh’almost shix,” he
mumbled. “Who drinksh coffee at shix? Time for martoonis
and shotch. Cocktail time, cockroach hour, cock-a-doodledoo!”
“Chicken if you don’t,” Judith said with forced cheer.
“Frank, I’d like to talk to you for a minute. Do you mind?
Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’m the cock of the walk,” Killegrew declared, trying to
get up off the sofa. “I can do anything I damned well…” He
fell back, but was given a hand by Max.
“There you go, Frank,” Max said. “I think you’ve got a
customer with a complaint. Turn on the service-is-us charm,
okay? You big dumb moron,” Max added under his breath.
“Customer? Complaint?” Glassy-eyed, Killegrew gazed at
Judith. “So what’s the problem, little lady? Not enough lines?
Interference on toll calls? Equipment not up to Western
Electric standards? Well, let me tell you, ever since we started
letting those little yellow people over there in Chinkville build
phones, we’ve had…”
“Frank!” Margo screamed right into the CEO’s ear. “Stop
it! You’re the most bigoted man I ever met!”
“Hey!” Killegrew whirled on Margo. “I hired you, didn’t
I? And Gene and Ava and…and a bunch of
266
SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 267
other ethnic types. Get off my back before I fire your scrawny
Asian ass!”
“I already quit!” Margo yelled back. “You’re a disgrace,
Frank! You embarrass everyone, especially yourself!”
“Awww…” Killegrew waved a hand in disgust. “Got to see
what this little lady wants. Need to set things straight. Service, that’s what counts. Where’s m’ slide rule?”
Judith finally got Killegrew into the elevator. She was filled
with doubts about her proposed plan. In the CEO’s current
inebriated state, she wondered if he’d even remember his
terrible crimes, let alone be incited to act in a manner that
would incriminate him.
“I thought,” Judith said in an uncertain voice as they moved
slowly down the second-floor corridor, “we might speak
privately in your room. I’d prefer not to have anyone overhear what I have to say.”
“Privacy,” Killegrew murmured, his speech no longer
slurred. “Confidential. No letters to the editor, no complaints
to the state utilities commission, no calls to the FCC. That’s
the way it ought to be, just one-on-one, as if you were a real
person.”
“Yes,” Judith agreed, though Killegrew’s ramblings weren’t
uppermost in her mind. “Here we go—your room, right?”
“My room. My corner room. My beds. My…stuff.” He
staggered inside, allowing Judith to close the door behind
them.
“Well.” Judith put her hands together in a prayerful attitude. “Do you remember when my cousin and I told you
about our insurance?”
“Insurance?” Killegrew’s expression was puzzled. “Wait a
minute—are you selling insurance?”
Judith shook her head. This wasn’t going to be easy, she
thought. Maybe she had miscalculated. “I’m speaking of the
insurance we have regarding the killer. We know who has
killed all these people, Mr. Killegrew.” She paused,
268 / Mary Daheim
taking a deep breath. “We know it was you.”
Frank Killegrew’s gray eyes narrowed. And then he
laughed. It was a hearty sound, full-bodied and rich. “That’s
good! I killed Andrea and Leon and Ward! That’s damned
good! Ha-ha!”
“You left out Barry.” Judith’s tone was solemn.
“Barry?” Briefly, Killegrew again looked puzzled. “Oh, that
clerk. He was queer. I don’t get it. Why do people want to
be queer?”
Judith wasn’t about to explain homosexuality to Frank
Killegrew. Indeed, she was beginning to think she couldn’t
explain anything to him. “You didn’t kill Nadia,” she said,
hoping to strike close to the heart. “She killed herself because
she couldn’t bear to see what would happen to you when
you were found out. She really loved you, Frank. And, in
your own weird way, I think you loved her.”
“Nadia.” Killegrew spoke the name with a certain reverence.
“What’ll I do without her?”
“Life, with no possibility of parole,” Judith retorted. “You’re
crazy, Frank, drunk on power and prestige.”
Killegrew tipped his head to one side. “Well…I am a little
drunk. But you’re the crazy one.” He held the slide rule in
one hand and tapped it against his leg as his gray eyes
hardened. “Your insurance isn’t worth ten cents. Where’s
your proof?”
With a flash of insight, Judith glanced at the slide rule. “In
your hand. You used that stupid slide rule to garrote Barry
and Ward by twisting the leather thong and the belt around
their necks. Oh, I’ll admit it would be impossible to prove
in court. But circumstantial evidence is admissible, Frank.
You’ll be charged and brought to trial. Any hope you’ve had
of staying on as CEO is doomed. The other members of the
board will vote you out even before you’re due to retire. It’s