Judith gave Russell the sugar and a baleful look. Seeing
that he would not leave the kitchen without them, Judith
hurried through her task. She found some olives and pickles
in the refrigerator, added them to the tray, and headed for
the lobby.
Renie and Russell followed. Killegrew was not the only
one who was drinking by the time Judith put the appetizer
tray down on the coffee table. Max and Gene had returned
after a fruitless search of the third floor. They each held a
martini glass, as did Nadia and Ava. Margo was drinking
straight Scotch from a shot glass.
“I have hot tea,” Russell said in a shy voice, though it was
impossible to tell if the statement was made to assert his
virtue or to prevent an offer of alcohol.
“Gene and I are going to start shoveling after we polish
these off,” Max said, indicating his cocktail. “We can’t wait
around all day for Ward, especially now that it’s started to
snow.”
“I can’t think where Ward would be,” Nadia said in a
fretful voice.
“Who can?” Margo snapped. “You’ve already said that
forty times.”
Judith glanced at the flagstones near the entrance. The
water was getting deeper and wider. “We’d better get back
to work,” she said to Renie. “Otherwise, we’re going to be
at flood stage.”
“Great,” Renie murmured. “I can’t swim.”
The cousins returned to their seemingly endless chore.
They could hear the pressure of the snow against the lodge,
causing creaks and groans in the structure. Despite the new
flakes, there was yet more daylight showing at the top of the
doorway. Judith noted that the branch or piece of roof or
whatever it was that had fallen onto the drift was moving
downward and forward.
“Watch out for that thing,” she said with a warning poke
for Renie. “It’s starting to slide. It might be something heavy.”
It was. As Judith and Renie watched with a sickening sense
of horror, they saw the body of Ward Haugland skid from
the top of the snowbank and fall on the flagstones with a
dull, dead thud.
TWELVE
EVERYBODY SCREAMED. GENE spilled his drink on the Navajo
rug, Margo reached for her gun, Max dropped a gin bottle,
which smashed on the flagstone hearth, and Frank Killegrew
leaped from the sofa so fast that his pants ripped. Ava slid
off the footstool, just missing the broken glass from the bottle
that had slipped from Max’s hands. Nadia and Russell
swayed in their respective places with eyes shut tight and
