Those things aren’t important to me.”
“What difference does it make?” Margo asked in a vexed
voice. “That’s ancient history. How did we get off on this
stupid subject, anyway?”
“The caretaker,” Judith said meekly. “I was wondering if
the laugh we heard this afternoon might have been him.”
No one seemed very comfortable with the suggestion. “It
better not be,” Killegrew said, still irked. “He’s supposed to
stay away.”
“Then who was it?” Ava inquired. “Ms. Flynn has a point.
Nadia, who had poured herself a glass of white wine,
waved a slim, dismissive hand. “It’s a moot point. We can’t
see outside, so we don’t know what’s happening. It could
have been the ski patrol.”
“We might see from upstairs,” said Max. “When Gene and
I took Ward to the third floor, we got a better view, at least
to the east. I didn’t see anything. Did you?” He turned to
Gene.
Gene shook his head. “I didn’t look. All I wanted to do
was get out of there. It’s not pleasant being in a room with
corpses.”
“Rudy Mannheimer.” It was Max who spoke. “That was
the caretaker’s name. Ward told me he’s been up here for
several years. He’s an antisocial S.O.B., and this is a perfect
job for him.”
“We can see to the east and west,” Killegrew noted, his
manner more amiable. “From our rooms on the second floor,
I mean. Not now, though. It’s dark.”
Judith frowned at the non sequitur. There wasn’t an opportunity to dwell on it; Max wanted to know where Nadia had
gotten her wine.
“Over there,” Nadia replied, indicating a mahogany cabinet
that reached almost to the ceiling. “That’s where they keep
several types of wine, including some rather nice French
vintages.”
Gene, Margo, and Ava fairly galloped to the cabinet. A
supply of glasses filled one shelf. Amid the extraction of corks
and pouring of wine, Frank Killegrew requested “something
reddish but not real dark.” Nadia found a rose, and refilled
her own glass. Russell shyly asked if he might have a sweet
wine, perhaps with blackberries. Max said to hell with it, he
wasn’t much of a wine drinker, and went off to the lobby to
mix another martini.
“He went alone!” Nadia gasped, handing Russell a blackberry cordial. “Do you think…?”
Judith found Max quite safe, unless the double he was
pouring construed a potential danger. “I’m the one who was
on the second floor with the killer, remember?” he said when
Judith expressed concern. “Whoever it was went for Ward,
