Snow Place to Die : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

“I could use another Scotch and soda,” Killegrew called

from his place near the hearth.

Nadia set down her stack of towels and hurried over to

serve her master. Judith and Renie exchanged sardonic

glances. A moment later, Gene, Max, and Margo appeared

in the hallway.

“No luck,” Max stated, looking disturbed. “We searched

every freaking nook and cranny. No Ward.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Killegrew said in a gruff voice. “He has

to be somewhere. What about the other rooms?”

Margo gave Killegrew a skeptical look. “Why would Ward

be in somebody else’s room? That doesn’t make sense.”

“We know he went to his own,” Gene put in. “We saw his

clothes.”

Killegrew drew back on the sofa, squaring his broad

shoulders and tossing his slide rule from one hand to the

other. “That doesn’t mean he stayed there. For God’s sake,

use your brains. My executive vice president didn’t just

evaporate in a cloud of smoke! I say, everybody check out

their own rooms. Andrea and Leon’s, too. Let’s hit it!”

Everyone scurried for the elevator except the cousins and

Killegrew, who gave his key to Nadia. Even Russell was

dragged along by Margo, despite his squeals of protest.

“We’ll go last,” Renie said. “We can’t all get in the elevator

anyway.”

“You bet you’ll stick around,” Killegrew said ominously.

“I’m not staying down here by myself. It’s not that I’m

afraid,” he added hastily. “It’s just that we agreed on the

buddy system. If you don’t sail your ship by the book, you’ll

end up on the skoals.”

“That’s shoals, Frank,” Margo called, just before the elevator doors closed on her and Max, Gene, and Russell.

Nadia and Ava decided to take the stairs. Killegrew, with

SNOW PLACE TO DIE / 155

his fresh drink, put his feet up and stared off into the crackling fire. The cousins returned to their task of mopping up.

“Consider the big picture,” Frank Killegrew said suddenly.

Judith and Renie turned curious gazes on OTIOSE’s CEO.

“Which big picture?” Renie finally asked.

“The future of telecommunications in the Northwest,”

Killegrew said, sounding sententious. “Where do you see

yourselves ten years from now?”

“Paris?” Renie had gotten to her feet.

Killegrew waved a beefy hand, then retrieved his slide rule

from the coffee table. “I’m talking about your lifestyle, your

quality of communications service, your wants and needs

when it comes to…ah…”

“I think,” Renie said slowly, “you need to be more specific.”

Killegrew’s blue eyes narrowed. “Okay, try this. If OTIOSE

goes down the toilet, a whole bunch of other, smaller, less

efficient companies will leap into the breach. You think it’s