“Who tidied up?” Judith inquired, noting that the big
round table had been cleared away and the sideboard swept
clean.
“Nadia, I suppose,” Renie replied, opening the refrigerator.
“Maybe someone was kind enough to help her.”
The cousins loaded plates with ham and turkey sandwiches, raw vegetables, and what was left of the potato salad
Judith had made from Gertrude’s legendary recipe. They
were about to return upstairs when Ward Haugland entered
the kitchen.
“You’re still here, huh?” His smile was off-center and selfconscious. “I guess you can’t get out in this storm.”
“That’s right,” Renie replied. “We’re marooned. I don’t
suppose you’ve heard a weather forecast?”
Ward shook his head. “Nope. There’s no radio or TV at
Mountain Goat. That’s one of the reasons we pick this place
for the retreats. Frank doesn’t want any pleasurecraft bobbing
around our corporate ship of state. Or something like that,”
he added with an uncertain frown.
Judith held up a hand, feeling like a grade-school pupil.
“Did you ever get hold of the police chief?”
Ward winced. “Not yet. The deputy chief called but Frank
won’t deal with him. He wants to go straight to the top.”
Judith bit her cheeks to keep from smiling. “I see. Well,
good luck. With a three-day weekend at hand, I suspect the
chief has gone off to ski in Canada. He usually does, during
the winter.”
Ward’s pale blue eyes widened. “You know the chief?”
Embarrassed, Judith coughed. “Ah—sort of. It’s a complicated story.” It wasn’t, of course, but Judith didn’t think it
was a good idea to mention that her husband was a homicide
detective. “We’ve…um…crossed paths from time to time.”
“Oh.” Ward seemed satisfied. “I’m sorry you folks got
stranded up here. I hope you realize that our meetings are
real confidential.” His off-center smile was apologetic.
Renie waved a hand. “Sure, Ward, I know how these retreats work. We’ll stay in our little tiny room and amuse
ourselves by watching each other’s faces sag with age.”
Ward didn’t seem to see the humor in Renie’s remark. His
long bony fingers fiddled with the belt loops on his khaki
pants. “I think there’s a game room in the basement. You
know—billiards, ping-pong, chess.”
“What fun.” Again, Renie’s irony was lost on OTIOSE’s
executive vice president.
Judith, however, decided to take advantage of Ward’s
hesitation. “What do you remember about Barry’s disappearance last year, Mr. Haugland?”
Ward, who had started for the refrigerator, paused in
midstep. “Barry? Shoot, I don’t recollect much about it.
He took off and never came back. The only thing I remember
