was happening. Did anyone ask where I was?”
No one had, at least not as far as the cousins could recall.
Andrea looked relieved, then disappointed. Judith wondered
if being overlooked was worse than being chastised.
“How are you feeling?” Renie asked as the car glided to
the first floor.
“I’ll survive,” Andrea replied, but her voice was listless.
The bar had been reopened in the lobby. Nadia, in fact,
was carrying more bottles in from the dining room.
“I won’t go in the kitchen,” she declared, looking mulish.
“You’ll have to reuse your glasses.”
“I’ll go in the kitchen,” Max volunteered. “I was in ’Nam.
Stiffs don’t scare me.” He stalked out of the lobby, his short
plaid robe flapping around his pajama-clad legs.
“I was in Korea,” Killegrew said in a troubled voice, “but
I don’t think I want to see poor Leon.” He made a faint gesture in the direction of the kitchen. “The only thing is, we
can’t leave him there. We have to eat.”
But Gene Jarman shook his head. “We can’t move the
body. We have to wait for the authorities.” He turned to Judith and Renie, who had managed to squeeze onto one of
the sofas next to Ava. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”
“Only the light switch,” Judith said.
Ward leaned forward from his place on one of the other
sofas that ringed the big coffee table. “Did you say you knew
the chief of police?”
“Ah…” Judith hesitated. “Not personally.” It was more or
less true. Judith had met the chief at various departmental
functions, but she doubted that he would recall to whom
she was attached.
“See here,” Killegrew said, ignoring both Ward’s question
and Judith’s response, “we can’t have a dead body underfoot,
Gene. I don’t care what the rules and regulations are. We’ve
got to keep this ship afloat.”
“Frank,” Gene began, “we can’t take the law into our
own…”
“The law!” Killegrew made a dismissive gesture. “This is
jungle law around here! Some maniac is on the loose, we
can’t get through to the authorities—though I’m sure that
this is only a temporary lapse and service will be re-
stored promptly—and there’s no way out until the storm
breaks. I’m perfectly willing to take responsibility.”
“I’d like that in writing,” Gene murmured.
“What I propose,” Killegrew continued, “is that we move
poor old Leon down to the basement. There’s a safe behind
the desk here in the lobby. We’ll lock up the so-called
weapon in there. I’ll do it myself, you can watch me. Then
we can restore some semblance of order to this retreat.”
“Oh, Frank!” It was Andrea, bursting into tears. “How can
