Margo said, at her most sarcastic, “you’re right, as usual.
Having Ward’s corpse cluttering up the flagstones is pretty
darned unsightly. How come we can’t keep this vessel shipshape and trim-tidy?”
“Margo,” Killegrew roared, “I’ve just about had enough
out of you!”
“You sure have,” she shot back. “All my speeches, all my
words, all my vast vocabulary. If it weren’t for me, you’d be
reciting catch-phrases off of gas station reader boards.”
“Good God Almighty!” The words were torn out of Max’s
throat as he and Gene bent over the body. “It’s a garrote!
Just like—” He jabbed a finger at Judith and Renie. “—they
said about Barry!”
Several people gasped, including Judith, who edged forward. Bending down to peer between Gene and Max, she
saw what looked like a leather belt twisted around Ward
Haugland’s neck. But something was missing. There was no
stick. Judith said nothing, but she had to wonder why.
The unease in the lobby was palpable. Every person in the
room seemed to be casting wary glances in the direction of
everyone else. Margo was hugging her suede handbag, but
fear flickered in her dark eyes.
“Close that door, I said.” Frank Killegrew’s voice sounded
hoarse. “Now! I feel a draft!”
“It’s the hole in your pants, Frank,” said Margo. “Aren’t
you a little old to have pictures on your underwear?”
Killegrew turned crimson. “Close that door!”
Nobody moved. Gene cleared his throat. “We have to face
facts. One of us is a killer. There’s no one else here.”
“Did any of you hear me?” Killegrew roared. “For the last
time, close that damned door!”
Max finally went to the door and gave it a tug. “I can’t,”
he said in a helpless voice. “There’s too much snow blocking
it.”
Someone laughed. The sound did not come from the
lobby. It came from outside, drifting in over the snowbank
and echoing off the knotty pine walls.
The listeners inside the lodge were too stunned to scream,
too scared to move. They just stood there, open-mouthed
and terrified.
Then, their little world became suddenly, ominously silent.
Judith and Renie had taken their very stiff drinks into the
library. “They think we did it,” Judith said. “They think we
have an accomplice outside.”
“Do we?” Renie saw Judith’s puzzled expression, and
continued. “I mean, is someone out there who might be the
killer?”
Judith propped her chin on her fists. “It’s possible. But
hasn’t the lodge been locked until now? And how would
