Killegrew’s laugh was forced. “You might say we’ve had
some nasty accidents. The blizzard, the heavy rains, the
avalanche warnings.” He laughed again. “Then you get into
stress and tensions and all sorts of heavy seas that can rock
the boat. Not to worry, Rudy, old man, we’re managing.”
“Frank!” Judith recognized Margo’s anguished cry.
“He has to know.” Gene’s voice could barely be distinguished.
“I don’t like this,” Russell muttered. “He has a gun.”
“What Rudy needs is a drink,” Killegrew declared. “Come
on, let’s adjourn to the lobby. I wouldn’t pass up a stiff shot
of Scotch myself.”
Judith heard voices muttering and feet shuffling. The
sounds died away. “Let’s cut back through the kitchen and
listen from the dining room,” Judith whispered.
Just as they entered the kitchen, the phone rang. Renie
sprang for it, catching the receiver before the final “brrng”
stopped.
“Joe!” Renie cried. “Thank God! Here, I’ll let you talk to
Judith!”
Judith suddenly felt close to tears. “Where are you? Arlene
said…Never mind, is everything all right?”
“Yeah, it is now,” Joe replied, though he sounded harried.
“Woody and I finally got somebody with a four-wheel drive
to get us out of that place by the lake. What’s going on with
you? Are you stranded up there?”
“Yes,” Judith answered. “It’s raining, though. Maybe we
can get out tomorrow.” She took a deep breath. “Meanwhile,
there’s something you should know.”
“If it’s about that body you found, forget it,” Joe said,
sounding increasingly irritable. “The deputy chief talked to
some bozo or some bimbo up there Friday, and that accidental death you mentioned isn’t our problem. Have them call
the park service. They have jurisdiction.”
“Oh. That’s good. I’ll tell them right away.” Judith took
another deep breath. “While we’re on the subject, I should
come clean about…”
“Clean? Sorry, somebody’s trying to talk to me at this end.
Hold on.” Joe must have put his hand over the receiver; Judith could hear only muffled voices. “Yeah, I need clean underwear,” he said, coming back on the line. “Your goofy
cleaning woman didn’t come Friday because she was afraid
it would snow. I couldn’t find any dark socks yesterday.
Where does she put the clean stuff after it comes out of the
dryer?”
Judith always marveled at her husband’s inability to find
any of his belongings, even when they were right under his
nose. Or, as had occasionally happened, in his hands.
“Phyliss,” she said, referring to her daily help, “keeps three
separate baskets in the basement. The blue one is for the
B&B laundry, the green is for our personal linens and tow-
